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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Web, by Anthony Partridge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Golden Web
+
+Author: Anthony Partridge
+
+Illustrator: William Kirkpatrick
+
+Release Date: January 13, 2011 [EBook #34945]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WEB ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            THE GOLDEN WEB
+
+                         BY ANTHONY PARTRIDGE
+
+_Author of "Passers-By," "The Kingdom of Earth" "The Distributors,"
+etc._
+
+
+    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+    WILLIAM KIRKPATRICK
+
+    BOSTON
+
+    LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
+
+    1911
+
+    _Copyright, 1909, 1911,_
+
+    BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+    Published, January 1911
+
+    THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
+
+
+[Illustration: He held the telegram in front of her face. "Read," he
+said.]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK ONE
+
+I A LIFE FOR SALE
+
+II THE PURCHASE
+
+III A FAMILY AFFAIR
+
+IV A MURDER
+
+V A DEBT INCURRED
+
+VI AN IMPERIOUS DEMAND
+
+VII LOVE OR INTEREST?
+
+VIII AN AWFUL RESPONSIBILITY
+
+IX WINIFRED ROWAN
+
+X AT THE THEATRE
+
+XI AN APPEAL
+
+XII RUBY SINCLAIR
+
+XIII AN INFORMAL TEA-PARTY
+
+XIV AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
+
+XV THE EFFECT OF A STORM
+
+XVI A REPRIEVE
+
+XVII A NEW DANGER
+
+XVIII AN EXPENSIVE KEY
+
+XIX THE SEARCH
+
+XX IN DOUBT
+
+XXI RUBY IS DISAPPOINTED
+
+
+BOOK TWO
+
+I FREE TO DIE
+
+II A LAPSE OF MEMORY
+
+III A PAINFUL INTERVIEW
+
+IV A QUESTION
+
+V MUTUAL INFORMATION
+
+VI AN OPPORTUNE ARRIVAL
+
+VII HEFFEROM IS OPTIMISTIC
+
+VIII A BOLD MOVE
+
+IX LORD NUNNELEY IS FRANK
+
+X A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT
+
+XI BITTER WORDS
+
+XII A STRANGE BETROTHAL
+
+XIII DESPERATION
+
+XIV AN AFTERNOON'S SHOPPING
+
+XV A FRIEND
+
+XVI PASSION
+
+XVII A DESPAIRING CALL
+
+XVIII WINIFRED IS TRAPPED
+
+XIX MISS SINCLAIR'S OFFER
+
+XX THROUGH THE MILL
+
+XXI ALL AS IT SHOULD BE
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+He held the telegram in front of her face. "Read," he said
+
+Lady Olive came slowly forward to meet him
+
+"There was some matter which you wished to discuss, then?" Deane asked
+
+"I hate him!" she declared to herself. "I hate him now more than ever!"
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN WEB
+
+
+
+
+BOOK ONE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A LIFE FOR SALE
+
+
+The contrast in personal appearance between the two men, having regard
+to their relative positions, was a significant thing. The caller, who
+had just been summoned from the waiting-room, and was standing before
+the other's table, hat in hand, a little shabby, with ill-brushed hair
+and doubtful collar, bore in his countenance many traces of the wild and
+irregular life which had reduced him at this moment to the position of
+suppliant. His complexion was pale almost to ghastliness, and in his
+deep-set, sunken eyes there was more than a suggestion of recklessness.
+He was so nervous that his face twitched as he stood there waiting, and
+the fingers which held his hat trembled. His lips were a little parted,
+his breathing was scarcely healthy. There was something about his whole
+appearance indicative of failure. The writing upon his forehead was the
+writing of despair.
+
+The man before whom he stood was of an altogether different type. His
+features were strong and regular, his complexion slightly bronzed, as
+though from exposure to the sun and wind. He had closely-cropped black
+hair, keen gray eyes, and a determined chin. He sat before a table on
+which were all the modern appurtenances of a business man in close touch
+with passing events. A telephone was at his elbow, his secretary was
+busy at a smaller table in the corner of the room, a typist was waiting
+respectfully in the background. His confidential clerk was leaning over
+his chair, notebook in hand, receiving in a few terse sentences
+instructions for the morrow's operations. Stirling Deane, although he
+was barely forty years old, was at the head of a great mining
+corporation. He had been the one man selected for the position when the
+most important and far-reaching amalgamation of recent days had taken
+place. And this although he came of a family whose devotion to business
+had always been blended with a singular aptitude for and preeminence in
+sports. Deane himself, until the last few years, had played cricket for
+his county, had hunted two days a week, and had by no means shown that
+whole-hearted passion for money-making which was rife enough in the
+circles amid which he moved.
+
+He wound up his instructions, and dismissed his clerk with a few curt
+and final words. Then he turned round in his chair and faced his
+visitor.
+
+"I am sorry to have kept you, Rowan," he said. "This is always rather a
+busy day in the city, and a busy time."
+
+His visitor, who had been waiting for an hour in an ante-room, and was
+then esteemed fortunate to be accorded an interview, looked around him
+with a little smile.
+
+"So you've prospered, Deane," he said.
+
+"Naturally," the other answered. "I always meant to. And you, Rowan?"
+
+The visitor shook his head. "I have tried many things," he said; "all
+failures,--disposition or luck, I suppose. What is it, I wonder, that
+keeps some men down while others climb?"
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "Disposition," he said, "is only an
+appendage, and luck doesn't exist. In nine cases out of ten, if a man's
+will is strong enough, he climbs."
+
+Rowan nodded gloomily. "Perhaps that's it," he assented. "I never had
+any will, or if I had, it didn't seem worth while to use it."
+
+"Take a seat," said Deane. "You don't look fit to stand. What can I do
+for you? We shall be interrupted in a few moments."
+
+"I want something to do," Rowan said.
+
+"I can't give it to you," answered Deane, firmly but not unkindly.
+
+"You don't beat about the bush," the other declared, with a hard little
+laugh.
+
+"Why should I?" Deane asked. "It would only waste our time, and be,
+after all, a mistaken kindness. There isn't a man about my place who
+hasn't grown up under my own personal observation. It's an important
+business this, Rowan. I daren't risk a single weak link. To be frank
+with you,--and you see I am being frank,--I'd sooner pay your salary
+than have you here."
+
+"Give me a letter to someone else, then," Rowan begged. "I'm just back
+from Africa, broken."
+
+"I can't do that," Deane answered. "I know you well. I like you. We have
+been friends. We have been together in difficulties. More than once you
+have been in a way useful to me. I have every disposition to serve you.
+But you were never made for business, or any form of regular work. I
+would not offer you a place in my own office, and I cannot pass you on
+to my friends. What else can I do for you?"
+
+Rowan looked into his hat, and laughed a little bitterly. "What the
+devil else is there anyone can do for me?" he demanded.
+
+"I can lend you some money," Deane said shortly.
+
+"I shall take it," Rowan answered; "but it will be spent pretty soon,
+and I doubt whether you'll ever get it back. I want a chance to make a
+fresh start."
+
+Deane shook his head. "I can't help you," he said,--"not in that sort of
+way, at any rate. If you wanted to settle down in the country, I'd try
+and find you a place there."
+
+"No good," Rowan answered. "I want to make money, and I want to make it
+quick."
+
+The telephone bell rang, and Deane was busy for several moments
+answering questions and giving instructions. Then he turned once more to
+his visitor.
+
+"Rowan," he said, "you talk like all the others who come down into the
+city expecting to find it a sort of Eldorado. I can do nothing for you.
+How much money shall I lend you? Stop!" he said, holding out his hand.
+"I don't want to seem unkind, but I am a busy man. I don't want to lend
+you ten pounds to-day, and have you come and borrow another ten pounds
+next week, and another the week after. You and I went through some rough
+times together. We've heard the bullets sing. We've known what a licking
+was like, and we've shouted ourselves hoarse with joy when the good time
+came. I don't forget these things, man. I don't want you for a moment to
+believe that I have forgotten them. Ask me for any reasonable sum, and
+I'll give it you. But afterwards we shake hands and part, at any rate so
+far as the city is concerned. You understand?"
+
+Rowan leaned forward in his chair. He wetted his dry lips nervously with
+his tongue. The look of ill-health in his features was almost painfully
+manifest. The writing which it is not possible to mistake was on his
+face.
+
+"Look here, Deane," he said hoarsely, "don't think I am ungrateful.
+You've put the matter straight to me like a man, and, if needs be, I'll
+ask you for a good round sum and go, and I'll take my oath you'll never
+see me again. But listen. I am in a bad way. I was in the hospital last
+week, and they told me a few things."
+
+"I am sorry," said Deane. "You shall go away and recuperate. When you're
+feeling stronger you can think about some work."
+
+Rowan shook his head. "That isn't it," he said. "I'm a sick man, but I'm
+not that kind of invalid. I have somewhere about twelve months to
+live--no more. I want, somehow or other, before I die, to make a little
+money. I don't want a fortune--nothing of that sort--but I want to make
+just a little."
+
+"You have a wife?" Deane asked quietly.
+
+Rowan shook his head. "A sister. Poor little girl, she's wearing herself
+out typing in an office, and I can't bear the thought of leaving her all
+alone with nothing to fall back upon."
+
+Deane drummed with his fingers upon the table. His manner was not
+unsympathetic, but betrayed the slight impatience of a man of affairs
+discussing an unpractical subject with an unpractical person.
+
+"My dear Rowan," he said, "don't you see that your very illness makes it
+absurd to imagine that you can take a position and save any amount of
+money worth mentioning in it, in twelve months? The idea is absurd."
+
+"I suppose it sounds so," Rowan admitted. "But listen, Deane. You know I
+have many weak points, but I am not a coward. I like big risks, and I am
+always willing to take them. The doctor gives me twelve months--that
+means, I suppose, about seven months during which I shall be able to get
+about, and five months of slow torture in a hospital. I mention this
+again so that you can understand exactly how much I value my life. Isn't
+there any work you could put me on to where the risk was great--the
+greater the better--but if I succeeded I could make a reasonable sum of
+money? Think!"
+
+Deane shook his head. "My dear Rowan," he said, "we are not in Africa
+now, you know. We are in a civilized city, where life and death have no
+other than their own intrinsic worth."
+
+"You are sure?" persisted Rowan. "I don't mind what I do," he added, in
+a lower tone. "I've lived in wild countries, and I've lived a wild life.
+My conscience is elastic enough. I'd take on anything in the world which
+meant money. You have great interests under your control. You must have
+enemies. Sometimes there are enterprises into which a man in your
+position would enter willingly enough if he could find a partner who
+would be as silent as the grave, and who would risk everything--I mean
+that--not only his life, but everything, on the chance of success."
+
+Deane shook his head slowly, and then stopped. A sudden change came into
+his face. He had the air of a man absorbed with an unexpected thought. A
+flickering ray of sunshine had come struggling through the dusty window
+from the court outside. It found its way across Deane's desk, with its
+piles of papers and documents. It rested for a moment upon his dark,
+thoughtful face. Rowan watched him eagerly. Was it his fancy, or was
+there indeed a shadow there greater than the responsibilities of his
+position might warrant?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PURCHASE
+
+
+Deane looked across the room towards his secretary. "Give me five
+minutes alone, Ellison," he said,--"you and Miss Ansell there. See that
+I am not interrupted."
+
+The young man got up at once and left the room, followed by the typist.
+Deane waited until the door was closed. Then he turned once more to his
+visitor.
+
+"Listen, Rowan," he said. "Do I understand you rightly? Do you mean that
+you would be willing to undertake a commission which you would certainly
+find unpleasant, and perhaps dangerous?"
+
+"I do mean that," Rowan declared, beating the palm of one hand with his
+clenched fist. "I am a desperate man. I have no time for long service,
+for industry, for perseverance, for any form of success which is to be
+won by orthodox means. I am like a man who has mortgaged every farthing
+he has in the world to take a thirty-five to one chance on a number.
+Don't you understand? I want money, and I can't wait. I haven't time.
+Give me a chance of something big. Remember what I have told you. Twelve
+months of suffering life is worth little enough in the balance."
+
+"You misunderstand me a little," Deane said slowly. "What I am going to
+suggest to you may seem difficult enough, and, under the circumstances,
+unpleasant, but there is no actual risk--at least," he corrected
+himself, "there should be none."
+
+Rowan laughed scornfully. "For Heaven's sake, don't pick your words so
+carefully," he begged. "If the thing is big enough, I am not afraid. If
+it is dishonest, say so. I am not a pickpocket, but I am past scruples."
+
+Once more Deane was silent for several moments. It was a chance,
+this,--just a chance. He looked out of the window, and he seemed to see
+in swift panorama all the splendid details of his rise to power. He saw
+himself as the central figure of that panorama--respected, honored,
+envied, wherever he went, east or west. It was a life, his, for a man to
+be proud of. There was no one who had a word to say against him,--no one
+who did not envy him his rapid climb up the great ladder. He carried
+power in both hands, so that when he moved even amongst the great people
+of the world a place was found for him. He realized in that one moment
+what it might mean to lose these things, and he drew a little breath. He
+must fight to the end, make use of any means that came to his hand. It
+was a chance this, only a chance, but he would take it!
+
+"Listen, Rowan," he said, turning once more to the man who had been
+watching him so eagerly, "I am taking you at your word. I am believing
+that you mean exactly what you say."
+
+"God knows I do!" Rowan muttered.
+
+"Very well, then," Deane continued, "I want you to understand this. The
+company of which I am managing director owns, as you may have heard, the
+greatest gold-fields in the world. Our chief possession, though, is the
+Little Anna Gold-Mine, which was once, as you may have heard, my
+property, and for which the corporation paid me a very large sum of
+money. Did you ever hear anything of the history of the Little Anna
+Gold-Mine, Rowan?"
+
+Rowan nodded. "It was a deserted claim which you and some others had a
+shy at. Dick Murray was one of them. That brute Sinclair put you on to
+it."
+
+Deane nodded. "You have spoken the truth, Rowan," he said. "It was a
+deserted claim. Four of us took possession, but the other three never
+knew what I knew. I bought up their shares one by one. I won't go into
+the matter of law now. I simply want you to understand this. The mine
+grew and prospered. What it has become you know. I sold it to this
+corporation, as I wished to have no outside interests, and the price
+paid me was close upon a million sterling. Three days ago, in this room,
+the man whom you have just spoken of--Richard Sinclair--produced
+documents, and tried to convince me that he was the real owner of the
+Little Anna Gold-Mine, that it had never been deserted, and that our
+taking possession of it was nothing more nor less than an illegal jump."
+
+Rowan was plainly amazed. "But it was Sinclair," he exclaimed, "who gave
+you the tip."
+
+Deane nodded. "That," he said, "may have been part of his scheme. He
+hadn't the money or the patience to work it himself, and it may have
+occurred to him that if he could get someone else to do all the work,
+believing that they had acquired the mine, it might be worth his
+claiming afterwards. I have weighed it all up," Deane continued. "I have
+been to some mining lawyers, and I have spent a small fortune in cabling
+to the Cape. The conclusion I have come to is this. If Sinclair
+prosecutes his claim--and he means business--and goes to law, there is
+just a reasonable chance that he might win."
+
+"A reasonable chance," Rowan repeated.
+
+"It isn't only that, though," continued Deane. "There are other things
+to be taken into consideration. We don't want a lawsuit. Several of our
+smaller mines are doing rather badly just now, and we have been spending
+an immense amount of money upon developments. Any suspicion as to the
+validity of our title to the Little Anna Mine would be simply disastrous
+at the present moment. Our shares would have a tremendous drop, just at
+the time when we are least prepared for it."
+
+"Where do I come in?" Rowan asked quietly.
+
+"Sinclair," Deane said, "has only been in the country three days. He has
+no friends, he drinks most of the day, and he is staying at the
+Universal Hotel, where I imagine that he spends most of his time at the
+American bar. Now I can't treat with the fellow, Rowan. That's the
+trouble. If I were to show the least sign of weakness, the game would be
+up. My only chance was bluff. I laughed in his face and turned him out
+of the office. But bluff doesn't alter facts. You and he are old
+acquaintances. I know very well that you never hit it off together,
+although I never knew what was the cause of your quarrel. However,
+there's nothing to prevent your going to see him. He's in that sort of
+maudlin state when he'd welcome anybody who'd drink with him and let him
+talk. That is where you come in, Rowan. You can drink with him, and
+listen. Find out whether this is a put-up thing or whether he believes
+in it."
+
+Rowan nodded. "Anything else?" he asked in a low tone.
+
+"There is no reason," Deane continued, "why you should not, if he gets
+confidential, open up negotiations on your own account."
+
+"He has some documents, I suppose?" Rowan asked.
+
+"His claim to our mine," Deane answered, "is contained in a single
+paper, which he told me never left his person. You were a lawyer once,
+Rowan. You know how to argue, to handle facts, to make a bargain. The
+return of that document to me would be worth ten thousand pounds."
+
+Rowan's breathing seemed suddenly to have become worse. His lips were
+parted, there was a strange glitter in his eyes. "Ten thousand pounds!"
+he muttered.
+
+"It is a great deal of money, I know," Deane said, "but understand this,
+Rowan, once and for all. If this enterprise appeals to you, you must
+undertake it absolutely and entirely at your own risk. Above all things,
+it is important that neither Sinclair nor anyone else in the world
+should ever dream that I had been behind any offer you might make, or
+any course of action which you might pursue. All that I say to you is
+that I am willing to give ten thousand pounds for that document."
+
+"Ten thousand pounds!" Rowan muttered. "It would be enough--more than
+enough."
+
+"If you fail," continued Deane, "and find yourself in trouble, I know
+nothing of you. I shall not raise a finger to help you. I demand from
+you your word of honor that you do not mention my name, that you deal
+with Sinclair simply as a speculative financier disposed to be his
+friend. Remember that the slightest association of my name with yours
+would give him the clue to the whole thing, and would mean ruin here. On
+the other hand, before you go, if you tell me that you are going heart
+and soul into this enterprise, I shall give you five hundred pounds.
+Some of this you will need for clothes, to make a presentable
+appearance, and to be able to entertain Sinclair, and play your part as
+a capitalist. If you fail, you can keep the balance as a loan or a gift,
+whichever you like. Now you can take your choice. I am placing a good
+deal of confidence in you, but I think that I know my man."
+
+Rowan struck the end of the table with his hand. "Yes, you do, Deane!"
+he declared, looking at him with kindling eyes. "You do know him,
+indeed. If I were to die to-morrow, Dick Sinclair is the one man in the
+world I should die hating. He served me a shabby trick once, and I've
+never forgotten it. Perhaps," Rowan added,--"perhaps I may now turn the
+tables upon him."
+
+"No mention of my name, mind," Deane repeated emphatically.
+
+Rowan held out his hand. "I take my chance, Deane," he said, "and on my
+honor I'll play the game."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A FAMILY AFFAIR
+
+
+A few hours later, Stirling Deane sat at a small round dining-table,
+side by side with the father of the girl to whom he had been engaged for
+exactly three days. His hostess, the Countess of Nunneley, and her
+daughter, Lady Olive, had only just left them. It had been a dinner
+absolutely _en famille_.
+
+"Draw up your chair, Deane, and try some of this port," Lord Nunneley
+said.
+
+"Thank you," replied Deane, "I'll finish my champagne, if I may."
+
+"Just as you like," his host answered. "I notice you are very careful
+never to mix, Deane. Perhaps you are right. There's nothing like being
+absolutely fit, and you fellows in the city must have a tremendous lot
+on your minds sometimes. I suppose, however prosperous you are, you
+never have a day without a certain amount of anxiety?"
+
+"Never," Deane assented quietly.
+
+Lord Nunneley, who had a great reputation as a peer of marked sporting
+proclivities, crossed his legs, and, leaning back in his chair, lit a
+cigarette.
+
+"I never thought," he continued, "that I should be glad to give Olive to
+anyone--to anyone--you won't mind if I say it--outside our own immediate
+circle. Of course, I know your people were all right. I've ridden to
+hounds with your father many a time, but when a family drifts into the
+city, one naturally loses sight of them. You will find me a model
+father-in-law, though, Deane. I never borrow money, I wouldn't be a
+director of a public company for anything in the world, and I haven't a
+single relation for whom I want a berth."
+
+Deane smiled. His manner was natural enough, but only he knew how
+difficult he found it to continue this sort of conversation--to keep his
+attention fixed upon the somewhat garrulous utterances of his
+prospective father-in-law.
+
+"You are very wise to steer clear of all that sort of thing, sir," he
+said. "The city is no place for men who have not been brought up to it,
+and the days of guinea-pig directors are over."
+
+Lord Nunneley nodded. "My lawyers have been making inquiries about you
+to-day, Deane," he said. "You insisted on my doing so, so I let them,
+although it was more for your satisfaction than mine. According to their
+report, you seem to have rather underestimated your position. They tell
+me that yours is one of the richest corporations in the mining world,
+and that you yourself are very wealthy."
+
+Deane inclined his head slowly. He leaned across the table, and helped
+himself to a cigarette. A few nights ago he could have listened to such
+a speech with a feeling of genuine satisfaction. Now, everything seemed
+changed. The rock upon which he had stood seemed to have become a
+shifting quicksand. Dick Sinclair was a blackmailer and a thief, he told
+himself, with a fierce desire to escape from the shadow which seemed
+somehow to have settled upon him. The document he had brandished was not
+worth the paper it was written on! His attack, even if he ventured to
+make it, could prove no more venomous than the sting of an insect. Yet
+the shadow remained. Deane, for the first time, possibly, in his life,
+felt that his nerve had temporarily gone. It was all that he could do to
+sit still and listen to his companion's easy talk.
+
+"Of course, I am glad enough for Olive to marry a rich man, especially
+as her tastes seem to run that way," Lord Nunneley continued; "but I
+tell you frankly that I shouldn't have fancied a marriage for money pure
+and simple. I am not a wealthy man, but I can keep my places going
+pretty comfortably, and I don't know the meaning of a mortgage. Olive
+will have her thousand a year settled upon her for life when she
+marries, and something more when I die. In a sense, it's nothing, of
+course, but it will help pay for her frocks."
+
+"I am sure you are very generous," Deane murmured. "I had not even
+considered the question of dowry so far as Olive was concerned."
+
+Lord Nunneley nodded. "As I remarked just now," he went on, "I should
+have hated the idea of a marriage for money pure and simple. I have seen
+you ride to hounds, Deane, as well as any man I know, and there's no one
+I'd sooner trust to bring down his birds at an awkward corner than you.
+That sort of thing counts, you know. I always meant to have a sportsman
+for a son-in-law, and I am thankful that your city life hasn't spoiled
+you for the other things. By the way, how old are you, Deane?"
+
+"I shall be forty my next birthday," Deane answered.
+
+His host nodded. "Well," he said, "you won't want to go wearing yourself
+out making more millions, surely? Why don't you retire, and buy an
+estate?"
+
+"I have thought of it," Deane answered. "I mean to take things easier,
+at any rate, after my marriage."
+
+Lord Nunneley sipped his wine reflectively. "I have never done a stroke
+of work all my life," he remarked, "beyond looking after my agent's
+accounts, which I have never been able to understand, and trying a
+little scientific farming, by which I have invariably lost money. I do
+respect a man, though, who has been through the mill and held his own,
+and against whom no one has a word to say. At the same time, Deane," he
+added, "don't stick at it too long. If you'll forgive my mentioning it,
+you don't look quite the man you did even two or three years ago."
+
+"I am a little run down," Deane said. "I am going to take a holiday in a
+few weeks."
+
+"You are coming to us in Scotland, of course," said Lord Nunneley. "But
+holiday or no holiday, take my advice, and even if you have to sacrifice
+a bit, don't stay in harness too long. The money you can't spend isn't
+worth a snap of the fingers. You and Olive could live on the interest of
+what you have, and there's scarcely a thing you need deny yourselves."
+
+Deane hesitated for a moment. "That is true enough," he said, "but it is
+never quite so easy, when one is involved in things as I am, to escape
+from them. The Devil Spider spins a golden web to catch us mortals, and
+it's hard work to get out of it. I am afraid that my shareholders would
+consider themselves very much aggrieved if I sent in my resignation
+without at least a year's warning."
+
+"A year," Lord Nunneley remarked reflectively. "Well, I should feel
+quite satisfied if I thought that you were going to chuck it then. Don't
+misunderstand me, Deane," he went on. "Please don't for a moment believe
+that I am such an arrant snob as to mind having a son-in-law who's
+engaged in business. I look upon yours as a jolly fine position, and I
+can assure you that I have a sincere respect for a man who has attained
+to it at your age. It is simply that I fancy you are carrying a much
+heavier burden than you sometimes realize--simply for your own sake and
+Olive's that I would like to hear of your taking things more easily."
+
+"I understand," Deane said,--"I quite understand. You are really very
+kind, Lord Nunneley! Even if it is impossible for me to escape just for
+the moment, I can assure you that I shall take the first opportunity of
+doing so."
+
+The butler, with an apologetic bow, came softly across the room and
+delivered a message. Lady Olive was going to a party, and would be glad
+if Mr. Deane could come into the drawing-room at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A MURDER
+
+
+Deane, with the air of one who was an _habitue_ to the house, found his
+way to the drawing-room, where Lady Olive was seated before the piano,
+playing softly. She rose as he entered, and came to meet him.
+
+"I have barely a quarter of an hour, Stirling," she said. "It was too
+absurd of you to be sitting there talking to father all the time. Come
+and say nice things to me. Mother has gone upstairs to put on her
+tiara."
+
+He held her at arm's length for a moment, looking at her. She was not
+very tall, but she was graceful, and she carried herself as the women of
+her family had done since the days of Elizabeth. Her face was a little
+cold, except when she smiled, and her eyes were large and brilliant.
+There was about her toilette and her features a sort of trim perfection,
+which left no room for criticism. She was considered, amongst those whom
+she called her friends, handsome rather than beautiful, and ambitious
+rather than affectionate. Nevertheless, she blushed most becomingly when
+Deane stooped to kiss her, and her face certainly seemed to lose for the
+time its somewhat cold expression.
+
+"You are going to the Waldrons', I suppose?" he remarked. "You look
+charming, dear."
+
+She made a little grimace. "It's too bad that you won't be there.
+However, in a few days that will be all right. Now that our engagement
+is announced, everyone will send you cards, of course, for everywhere I
+go."
+
+He smiled a little doubtfully. "You won't expect too much of me in that
+way, will you?" he asked. "My afternoons, for instance, are nearly
+always occupied."
+
+"You will not find me exacting," she said, with a reassuring nod. "I
+don't expect you to play the part of social butterfly at all, and
+although we must be seen together sometimes, of course, I haven't the
+least desire to keep you dangling at my heels. Tell me, what has father
+been talking to you about?"
+
+"He has been urging me to leave the city," Deane said, "and buy an
+estate."
+
+Lady Olive looked thoughtful. "That is very interesting," she said.
+
+"What have you to say about it?" he asked.
+
+"It depends," she answered, "very much upon circumstances. I am not sure
+that I approve of a man having nothing whatever to do. Besides, I have
+no idea how rich you are, Stirling. I think I ought to warn you that I
+am very extravagant."
+
+"I am delighted to hear it," he assured her. "I should dislike a wife
+who wouldn't spend my money."
+
+They were sitting side by side upon a sofa, and she toyed with her fan
+for several moments. Then she held out her right hand to him, and
+allowed it to remain in his grasp. For Lady Olive, this was distinctly a
+lover-like proceeding. She was not at all sure in her own mind whether
+such a liberty was judicious, having been brought up always to consider
+any display of affection as utterly _bourgeois_.
+
+"It seems a curious question to ask," she said thoughtfully; "but, after
+all, it would be only affectation to pretend that I was not interested.
+Tell me what your income is--about, Stirling?"
+
+"In round figures," he answered, "it is to-day, I should think, a trifle
+over twenty-five thousand a year."
+
+She nodded approvingly, and yet without a great deal of enthusiasm. "We
+ought to be able to make that do," she said. "Do you mean that it would
+be as much as that if you gave up business? Perhaps you could give it up
+partially, and keep a few directorships, or something of that sort?"
+
+"I could not give up my work at all," he told her, "for two years. I get
+a very large income from my company, and I have an agreement with them.
+Besides, my own interests are so woven up with theirs that I could not
+run the risk of having anyone at the head of affairs in whom I had not
+complete confidence."
+
+She nodded. "That is quite reasonable," she admitted. "You get holidays,
+of course?"
+
+"Naturally," he answered.
+
+There was a short silence. Lady Olive was half inclined to wonder why,
+having possessed himself of her hand, he made none of the other
+overtures which she had always understood were usual. Deane, however,
+was in no humor for love-making. She had represented to him, only a few
+days ago, a part of his future life which was altogether inevitable, and
+which he could easily come to find pleasant enough, but just now there
+seemed to be a barrier between them. Notwithstanding Lord Nunneley's
+kindness, and his wife's approval, he knew very well that it was not
+only Stirling Deane who had been accepted as a suitor. It was the
+millionaire, the man of great affairs, the man of untarnished
+reputation. Dick Sinclair's threats were still ringing in his ears. He
+somehow felt that he was not even playing the game to be sitting there,
+holding the hand of this most exclusive young lady.
+
+"You are a little quiet to-night," she remarked.
+
+"Perhaps," he answered, smiling, "I am a little shy."
+
+She was inclined to take his words seriously. There had been moments
+before their engagement when he had certainly looked at her in a very
+different manner, when she had realized that if she really did say "yes"
+to him, she might find herself in danger of having to submit to
+something a little more vigorous than the ordinary love-making she knew
+anything of. She had even made up her mind, with a faint blush, to
+submit to it,--had grown to expect it. Somehow, although she would have
+found the admission distinctly humiliating, she was a trifle
+disappointed.
+
+"I wonder," she whispered, looking down upon the carpet, "if you
+need--if you really need encouragement."
+
+She felt a sudden thrill as his arm touched her, a sudden sense of his
+enveloping presence. Then the door opened, and she withdrew herself
+quickly. The Countess came into the room, a curious replica of her
+daughter, except that her hair was gray, and the light in her eyes a
+little steelier.
+
+"So sorry you are not going with us," she remarked to Deane. "Inquire if
+the brougham is waiting," she continued, turning to her maid. "No, don't
+bother, Stirling," she added, as he moved toward the door. "We are
+really in plenty of time."
+
+Lord Nunneley came in, with the evening paper in his hand.
+
+"Is there any news, George?" his wife asked.
+
+He shook his head. "There never is," he answered. "The evening papers
+aren't worth looking at now. Shocking murder, by the bye, at one of the
+big hotels."
+
+Deane turned slowly round. "A murder?" he repeated.
+
+His host nodded as he lit a cigarette. "Fellow just arrived in the
+country," he remarked,--"supposed to have had a lot of money in his
+pocket. Found dead in his room at about seven o'clock to-night."
+
+"Do you remember the name of the hotel?" asked Deane.
+
+Lord Nunneley glanced at the paper which he still held in his hand. "The
+Universal," he answered,--"that huge new place, you know, near the
+Strand."
+
+"Was the murderer caught?" Deane asked.
+
+"Arrested just as he was leaving the hotel," Lord Nunneley
+answered,--"at least they arrested the man they thought had done it.
+Here's the paper, if you have a taste for horrors."
+
+Deane stood perfectly still for several minutes. Lady Olive was
+buttoning her gloves, and did not notice him. Her mother was standing at
+the further end of the room, helping herself to coffee. Lord Nunneley
+alone was conscious of the change in his guest's expression.
+
+"Nothing wrong, I hope, Deane?" he asked. "You didn't know the fellow,
+by any chance, did you?"
+
+Deane shook his head. He spoke very quietly and very distinctly. Except
+that he was unusually pale, his manner showed no signs of emotion. And
+yet, all the time he felt that he was being stifled! In his ears was the
+singing of tragedy!
+
+"No!" he said. "I never heard of him in my life."
+
+He crossed the room to help Lady Olive with her cloak.
+
+"Stay and have a smoke with me," Lord Nunneley suggested. "I am going
+round to the club in about an hour's time, and then I am going to pick
+these people up at a ball somewhere."
+
+"You are very kind," Deane answered. "To tell you the truth, I have just
+remembered a very important letter which I ought to have written. If you
+will excuse me, I am going to hurry away at once. I should like to catch
+my secretary before he leaves."
+
+Lord Nunneley nodded. "You will have to get him to give it up," he said
+to his daughter. "Fancy having to write a business letter at ten o'clock
+at night! Perfect slavery!"
+
+"Shall I see you to-morrow, Stirling?" Lady Olive asked, walking with
+him into the hall.
+
+"We'll lunch, if you like," he said. "Or shall I come to tea? I shall
+not be busy much after noon."
+
+"I am not quite sure what I have to do to-morrow," she answered, "but I
+think that I would rather that you came here. We'll meet sometime,
+anyhow. Good-bye!"
+
+He raised her fingers to his lips. "Enjoy yourself," he said.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. "Absolutely a duty dance," she murmured,
+waving her hand. "I know that I shall be bored to death! By the bye,
+Stirling, don't forget that in about three weeks' time I want you to
+give a luncheon party at the Carlton to Julia and her husband, and some
+of the others."
+
+"As soon as you like," Deane answered.
+
+"Julia won't be back till then," Lady Olive said. "Au revoir!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A DEBT INCURRED
+
+
+A little stream of people came suddenly out from the dark,
+forbidding-looking building into the sun-lit street. The tragedy was
+over, and one by one they took their several ways, and were swallowed up
+in the restless life of the great city. Yet there was not one of them
+who did not carry in his face some trace of those hours of gloomy
+excitement, some reminiscent shadow of the tragedy which had spread
+itself out into passionate life before their eyes. The most callous was
+conscious of a few minutes' unusual gravity. Some of the more
+impressionable carried with them the memory of that hot, crowded room,
+the air of tense excitement, the slowly spoken, solemn words, throughout
+that day and many days to come.
+
+"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!"
+
+There was one man who issued from the building and made his way into the
+street, who seemed altogether dazed. His lips were drawn tightly
+together, his eyes were set in an unseeing stare. It was not until he
+had walked fifty yards or so that he seemed even to realize where he
+was. Then he came to a sudden standstill, and retraced his steps.
+Standing outside the building which he had just quitted was a small
+electric brougham, in front of which he stopped. He glanced at his
+watch. It was a few minutes past one o'clock. All around was the great
+stream of city men and clerks, hurrying to their mid-day meal. Once
+more, as he stood with the handle in his hand, he looked back down the
+dark passage, guarded by a single policeman, through which he had come a
+moment or two before. The scene in the little courthouse spread itself
+out with almost hideous precision before his reluctant eyes. He saw once
+more what is certainly the greatest tragedy which the mechanical side of
+our every-day life can offer to the seeker after sensations. He saw a
+man stand up and listen to the words pronounced which are to deprive him
+of life,--"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!"
+
+Deane turned to his chauffeur. "The Carlton!" he said, and stepped
+inside.
+
+The brougham glided away, swung in and out of the traffic, and ran
+smoothly along the Embankment, westward. Deane let down both the
+windows, took off his hat and placed it on the seat opposite him. Then
+he drew a small fine cambric handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his
+forehead.
+
+"God in Heaven!" he muttered to himself. "Twelve men, and not one of
+them could see the truth. Twelve men, all fools!"
+
+He took a cigarette from a small gold case, and lit it with trembling
+fingers. Then he leaned out of the carriage window. "Stop at the
+Metropole, Richards," he ordered.
+
+The man was just swinging into Northumberland Avenue, and he pulled up
+in front of the hotel. Deane went in hurriedly, and made his way to the
+smoking-room, exchanging abrupt greetings with one or two acquaintances.
+There he ordered and drank quickly a large brandy-and-soda. When he
+retraced his steps, he felt more composed.
+
+"To the Carlton now," he ordered. "Hurry, please. I fancy that I am a
+little late."
+
+In the foyer of the restaurant, Lady Olive came slowly forward to meet
+him. She was beautifully dressed, and she wore her clothes with the air
+of one who has been accustomed to be clad in silk and laces from the
+days of her cradle. She had been a beauty for so long that no one
+questioned her looks. It seemed even incredible that she was twenty-nine
+years old. One realized that she was of the order of women who refuse to
+grow old,--women without nerves, unruffled by emotions, women who come
+smiling through the years, unconscious devotees of the essential
+philosophy. To Deane she had never seemed more desirable than when she
+greeted him with a slight uplifting of her eyebrows, and turned to
+present him to another man and woman who were standing by.
+
+[Illustration: Lady Olive came slowly forward to meet him.]
+
+"Mr. Deane is going to make the usual excuses, I know," she declared.
+"Let us anticipate him, and say nothing about our wait. We won't even
+ask whether it was a directors' meeting, or a message from the governor
+of the Bank of England. Stirling, this is my cousin, Mary Elstree, and
+her husband, Major Elstree--Mr. Deane! The others are somewhere about.
+What a tiresome person Julia is! She has drifted away over there with a
+lot of people whom I don't know. That is the worst of taking Julia
+anywhere. I think that she would discover acquaintances in an A B C
+shop. Do find her, Stirling. No, don't bother! Here she comes."
+
+A tall, dark woman detached herself from a neighboring crowd, and came
+up to Deane with outstretched hands. "My dear man!" she exclaimed. "How
+dare you look so cool and nonchalant! Do you realize that we are all
+starving? We have been waiting here for you for more than half an hour."
+
+"I am sorry," answered Deane. "You see, you people here have taken to
+lunching so early nowadays. You make it hard for a man to get through
+any work at all in the city."
+
+"Early lunches have come in with the simpler life," Julia Raynham
+declared. "One has so many more hours to look forward to dinner, and so
+much more appetite when it comes. I suppose we must forgive you," she
+went on. "At any rate, you are better than my husband, who won't come
+out to lunch at all. He says that all restaurant food is poisonous, and
+I can't drag him away from the club. Why a man should put his digestion
+before our society, I can't imagine. I hope you will never be so
+ungallant, Mr. Deane. Shall we go in, Olive?"
+
+"If you will excuse me for one moment," Deane said, passing on ahead, "I
+will just see that the table is all right. I telephoned to Gustave, but
+even a _maitre d'hotel_ forgets sometimes."
+
+He looked into the room, and nodded to the presiding genius who came
+hurrying up. The table was there, duly reserved, and covered with the
+dark red roses which he had ordered. He turned to Mrs. Elstree and the
+others who were following her.
+
+"I think we can go in," he said. "I hope you people have not lost all
+your appetites waiting for me."
+
+Lady Olive looked at him a little curiously as she took the seat at his
+left, hers by unspoken consent as his fiancee. "My dear Stirling," she
+whispered, "have you had a very trying morning? You look somehow as
+though you had been worried."
+
+He hesitated. "Well," he answered, "scarcely that, perhaps. I had rather
+a bad hour or so. Things don't go always our way, you know, in the city,
+even when one is most prosperous."
+
+"You are foolish to worry," she said calmly. "Half the people in the
+world spoil their lives by giving way to that sort of thing. I should
+have thought that your temperament would have saved you from that."
+
+Deane smiled. "Remember," he said, "that I have been in other places
+when I might have been with you, and excuse me."
+
+"You are much too gallant," she said, with a little laugh, "to argue
+with seriously."
+
+"By the bye," Major Elstree asked, "has anyone seen a special edition? I
+wonder if the Rowan case is finished."
+
+Deane set down the wineglass which he had just raised to his lips. "The
+verdict was given just as I left the city," he answered. "Rowan was
+found guilty!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+AN IMPERIOUS DEMAND
+
+
+There was a little murmur of interest. On the whole, although the result
+of the trial had seemed fairly certain, everyone was surprised.
+
+"Guilty of murder or manslaughter?" Major Elstree asked.
+
+"Of murder," answered Deane. "There was not even a recommendation to
+mercy."
+
+Lady Olive looked reproachfully at him. "My dear Stirling, you really
+shouldn't have told us at luncheon time. If I hadn't been so very
+hungry, I am sure it would have taken my appetite away. He was such a
+good-looking fellow, and he has been so brave all through the trial."
+
+"Brave or callous, do you think?" Major Elstree asked.
+
+"Brave, I think," Julia Raynham declared, leaning forward in her place.
+"I went to the trial the first day. He followed every question that was
+asked, and he was always making suggestions to his solicitor. I think
+when one understands like that, when one's intellect is working all the
+time, that you cannot call it callousness."
+
+"I agree with you," Lady Olive declared. "I was there myself, and except
+that he looked so ill, he seemed quite indifferent, and absolutely free
+from nervousness. Yet I am quite sure that he realized his position. My
+dear Stirling, how thoughtful of you to remember the _Homard
+Americaine_. I adore hot lobster, don't you, Julia?"
+
+"Delicious!" Julia murmured.
+
+"I wonder," Major Elstree said reflectively, "what must be the state of
+mind of a man who has gone through a trial lasting four or five days,
+and suddenly realizes that it is over and finished, and that he has
+lost. This poor fellow, for instance. When he woke up this morning, he
+perhaps hoped to be free to-night,--things went altogether his way
+yesterday. And instead of being free, he has been taken back to his
+cell, and knows--even at this minute he is realizing--that he will never
+leave it again until he leaves it to die. Personally," he continued, "I
+think that the period of time between the pronouncement of a sentence
+and its execution ought to be swept away. I cannot imagine anything more
+horrible, especially to a man who has to spend the long nights alone
+with that one thought racking his brain!"
+
+Lady Olive laid down her fork. "My dear Harry," she declared, "do be a
+little more considerate. How are we to enjoy our luncheon if we think of
+that poor man?"
+
+Major Elstree bowed across the table. "I forgot," he said. "Let us enjoy
+our luncheon, by all means. At the same time, I am going to drink my
+first glass of wine to a reprieve. We won't discuss the question of
+whether he deserves it or not. We will talk instead, if you like, of
+directoire gowns, and Flying Star's chance for the gold cup. But--I
+drink my toast."
+
+"You are very quiet, Stirling," Lady Olive murmured to the man who sat
+by her side.
+
+Deane smiled at her. "I am afraid that sometimes when I come away from a
+maze of figures, my brain, or at any rate my tongue, is not so nimble as
+it should be. I'll keep pace with you all presently."
+
+A frock-coated, white-waistcoated _maitre d'hotel_ came smiling up and
+addressed him confidentially. "Mr. Deane," he said, "you are wanted for
+a moment upon the telephone."
+
+"You are sure that it is I who am wanted?" Deane asked, a little
+doubtfully.
+
+"Quite sure, sir," the man replied. "The inquiry was for Mr. Stirling
+Deane."
+
+Deane rose to his feet. "You will excuse me?" he begged, turning to his
+guests. "I suppose they have found out at the office that I am here, and
+they have probably something to say to me."
+
+Nevertheless, as he left the room and crossed the hall Deane was
+conscious of feeling more than a little puzzled. He was quite certain
+that he had not told a soul at the office of the Incorporated Gold-Mines
+Association, over which he presided, that he was lunching at the
+Carlton. He was equally certain that he had not told anyone else. He
+took up the receiver of the instrument with some curiosity.
+
+"Who is it?" he asked.
+
+"Who are you?" was the reply.
+
+"I am Stirling Deane," Deane said. "Who are you, and what do you want
+with me? Is it the office?"
+
+"No!" was the reply, in a voice wholly unfamiliar to him. "It is not the
+office, Mr. Deane. It is someone with news for you."
+
+"News?" Deane repeated. "I should like to know who you are first, and to
+hear your news afterwards."
+
+"Who I am is of no consequence," was the reply. "My news is that Basil
+Rowan has been found guilty, and has been sentenced to be hanged. The
+verdict has just been pronounced."
+
+The receiver nearly fell from Deane's fingers. He restrained himself,
+however, with an effort. "Well," he said, "what is that to you or to
+me?"
+
+"That is a matter which we will not discuss over the telephone," was the
+calm reply. "I rang you up to tell you this because I thought it was
+well that you should know quickly. I ask you now what you are going to
+do."
+
+Deane's was the face of a strong man--a man who scarcely knew the
+meaning of the word "nerves." Yet he felt himself struggling with a
+sudden sense of being stifled. Something seemed to be hammering at his
+brain. His breath was coming in little sobs. He answered this mysterious
+voice almost incoherently.
+
+"What do you mean? How can it concern me? Tell me who you are at once,"
+he said.
+
+"It does not matter who I am," was the reply. "You have no time to think
+about that. What you want to realize is that Basil Rowan has been found
+guilty, and that he will be hanged within a fortnight, unless--"
+
+"Unless what?" Deane gasped.
+
+"Unless someone intervenes," was the quiet answer.
+
+"Who could intervene?" he demanded hoarsely. "How can anyone intervene?"
+
+"You know," was the quiet answer.
+
+Deane staggered out of the telephone box with those last words ringing
+in his ears. He felt dazed, scarcely master of himself. The healthy
+color seemed to have been drawn from his cheeks, as he turned
+mechanically back toward the restaurant. Half-way there, however, he
+paused. For the moment, he felt it impossible to face his guests. He
+turned into the little smoking-room and sat down. The place was empty.
+Even the little bar was deserted. He sat in one of the green leather
+chairs, his hands clutching the cushioned arms, his eyes fixed steadily
+upon the wall. Slowly it seemed to fall away--to crumble into
+nothingness--before his rigid gaze. Again he saw the sombre-looking
+courthouse, the judge upon the bench, his sphinx-like face set in an
+attitude of cold attention. He saw the barristers, with their wigs and
+gowns, the few distinguished strangers upon the bench, the crowd of
+sightseers behind the barriers. And in the centre of it all--Basil
+Rowan, his pale face and drawn features standing out vividly against the
+gloomy background. It was no ordinary trial, this. The subtle, dramatic
+excitement, which only a question of life or death seems to generate,
+was throbbing through the dreary court. It was only, comparatively
+speaking, a few days ago that the man who stood there now waiting to
+hear his doom had found his way down into the city, and sat in his
+office, and made his passionate appeal. Deane's hands gripped the sides
+of the chair, and his lips moved. He told himself, as he had told
+himself a hundred times before, that this act was none of his doing,
+that not a single word of his had suggested or approved of it. He had
+spoken of arguments, of influence. Was it any responsibility of his that
+the man who had listened had gone further--had chosen to gamble instead
+with life and death? Deane went back through that conversation, word by
+word. No, he was guiltless! He had not suggested violence! He even told
+himself that he would not have approved of it. And yet the weight upon
+his heart was not lightened. The little picture was still there,
+reproduced with almost photographic exactness. Was it his fancy, or had
+the trembling man's eyes really turned towards him--had his white lips
+really framed that passionate, unspoken appeal which seemed to ring in
+his ears?
+
+Deane rose to his feet with a little stifled cry. He seemed to
+understand now how men who were left alone with their thoughts might
+find madness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LOVE OR INTEREST?
+
+
+Deane found his little party drinking their coffee in the palm lounge.
+Lady Olive greeted him with upraised eyebrows.
+
+"My dear Stirling!" she exclaimed. "Have you been telephoning to the
+other end of the world?"
+
+"I am so sorry," he answered, taking the vacant chair by her side. "I
+came away from the office feeling that I had forgotten something, and it
+took me quite a long time to straighten things out. Tell me, what are
+you all going to do this afternoon?"
+
+"We are going down to Ranelagh," said Lady Olive. "There is some tennis,
+and Dicky is playing polo in the regimental finals. Don't you think that
+you could take an hour or so off, and come down with us? You really look
+as though you needed some fresh air."
+
+Deane shook his head. "Nothing in the world," he declared, "is more
+impossible. I have an appointment in the city at half-past three, and
+another at four. After that I have at least a hundred letters to
+dictate."
+
+"I am beginning to discover," Lady Olive remarked, with an air of
+resignation, "that there are disadvantages in being engaged to a city
+man."
+
+Deane smiled. "Let us hope," said he, "that after you are married you
+will still regard the situation in the same light. Your friend Julia,
+for instance, declares that she would never have married anyone who was
+not kept away from home at regular intervals."
+
+Lady Olive leaned a little towards him. After all, he had been very
+nice. The Elstrees had found him delightful, and there was no man in the
+lounge half so good-looking. She decided to say something charming.
+
+"Julia," she whispered, "was never in love with her husband, even before
+she married him."
+
+"And you?" Deane murmured.
+
+She laughed at him and looked away, but he was suddenly insistent,
+taking her hand, and forcing her to turn again towards him.
+
+"Tell me," he said quietly, "do you really care for me, Olive? Oh! I
+know you care enough to justify you in marrying me, but I mean something
+different. I mean do you really care in the great fashion, you know,
+like the people one reads of,--like Iseult, and Amy Robsart, and those
+others?"
+
+She looked at him as though he were speaking some foreign language. The
+earnestness in his face was unmistakable. She answered him with a
+perplexed little frown upon her forehead. "Ah, I wonder!" she murmured.
+"What a very strange question to ask me, Stirling, just now! Frankly, I
+don't know. I can only tell you that there is no other man. You are
+quite alone."
+
+The others were all discussing some subject of kindred interest. Deane
+felt curiously prompted to continue his questioning. His engagement had
+been such a very matter-of-fact affair. To a certain extent it was
+understood that he was marrying for position, and she for wealth. And
+yet in all their conversations they had discreetly concealed the fact.
+They had told each other that they cared, if not with passion, at least
+in the most approved manner. There had been no suggestion in their many
+tete-a-tetes that they were about to embark upon a _mariage de
+convenance_.
+
+"Tell me," Deane persisted, "if things should go wrong with me, or if
+you had met me simply as a struggler, with my feet upon the early rungs
+of the ladder,--tell me, could you have cared then, do you think?"
+
+She looked at him curiously. There was something in his face which
+compelled the truth. "I do not know," she said. "Let me think."
+
+"Think, by all means," he continued. "Remember that I was introduced to
+you, even, as one of the youngest millionaires. Forgive me if I seem
+egotistical, but I have a fancy to put things plainly. There is a
+glamour about wealth. I came to you with that glamour about my name. I
+am rich, of course, and wealth means power. How much of your affection,
+Olive, came out to the man, and how much to the millionaire?"
+
+"You want me to give you a perfectly honest answer?" she asked.
+
+"Absolutely," he assured her. "Don't be afraid of hurting my vanity. I
+want nothing but the truth."
+
+"At first, then," she told him, "nothing to the man, and everything to
+the millionaire. This afternoon," she continued, "I rather fancy that
+the man has the larger share. You are quite a fascinating person,
+Stirling, when you choose to make yourself agreeable."
+
+"You can't accuse me," he remarked, "of making any special efforts in
+that direction to-day."
+
+"No!" she answered. "You were rather quiet, but still you were yourself.
+Personally, I am beginning to find something very attractive about a
+silent man. You speak quite often enough, and what you say is to the
+point. It seems always to be the pronouncement of the man who knows. You
+have what Julia calls an air of reserved strength about you, which I
+fancy that my sex finds a little attractive. Tell me, why all this
+questioning?"
+
+Deane looked away--through the cluster of palms into the little
+smoking-room from which he had issued a few minutes before.
+
+"Even the houses," he said, "which according to the injunctions of
+Scripture are built upon a rock, are liable to destruction by
+earthquakes. So, even, the strongest of us in the city have always the
+hundredth chance working in the world against us. The most amazing
+collapses have taken place. I was really wondering what would
+happen--how greatly it would affect you--if my riches were to vanish
+into thin air."
+
+"What an unpractical person you are this afternoon!" she murmured,
+looking at him curiously. "Supposing I were to sit here and worry about
+the fit of the dress which Madame Oliver is sending me home this
+afternoon for the ball to-night. I could make myself miserable in five
+minutes without the shadow of a reason."
+
+"Madame Oliver," he declared, "would deserve bankruptcy if she failed to
+fit a figure like yours."
+
+Lady Olive laughed. "Really," she said, "you are becoming quite a
+courtier."
+
+"Dear people," Julia Raynham murmured, leaning over, "if we may bring
+you back to the mundane world, everybody else is dying to start for
+Ranelagh."
+
+Lady Olive made a little grimace, and rose to her feet at once.
+"Stirling and I have only been boring one another because you all seemed
+so occupied," she declared. "Ranelagh, by all means. It is quite time we
+made a move."
+
+They made their way toward the Pall Mall entrance of the restaurant.
+Lady Olive fell back once more with Deane.
+
+"It's such a nuisance about this wretched dinner to-night," she said. "I
+think it was very bad taste indeed of the Duchess to ask us without you.
+You won't forget to come in and see me for half-an-hour before we go on
+to the ball? I shall be in my room at eleven o'clock punctually, and I
+will arrange so that I can take you on to Amberley House."
+
+He bowed. "I shall be with you."
+
+"Where are you dining?" she asked.
+
+"At the club, most likely. I never dine out on Wednesdays, if I can help
+it. We are always so busy. I shall have a quiet, comfortable evening."
+
+"Au revoir, then!" she said, stepping into one of the two automobiles
+which were waiting.
+
+Deane made his adieux to the rest of the party and watched them drive
+off. Then he called a hansom.
+
+"Messrs. Hardaway and Sons, Bedford Row," he told the man. "Drive as
+quickly as you can."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AN AWFUL RESPONSIBILITY
+
+
+John Hardaway, although he was a solicitor in a very busy practice, did
+not keep his friend waiting for a moment. "Come in, Deane, old chap," he
+said. "Is this business or friendship?"
+
+"Mostly business," declared Deane.
+
+Hardaway glanced at the clock. "Twelve minutes, precisely," he said.
+"Fire away, there's a good fellow. You are not going to give me the
+affairs of the Incorporated Gold-Mines Association to look after, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Not I," Deane answered. "They need a more subtle brain than yours, I am
+afraid. I have come to see you about the other affair."
+
+The lawyer nodded. "You heard the result?" he asked. "We did what we
+could."
+
+"Perhaps," Deane answered. "The only thing is that you did not do
+enough. I am perfectly convinced, Hardaway, that that man did not go
+there with the intention of murdering Sinclair."
+
+"The evidence," Hardaway remarked, "was exceedingly awkward."
+
+"Do you think," Deane asked, "that there is any chance of a reprieve?"
+
+"As things stand at present," said Hardaway, "I am afraid not."
+
+Deane for the first time sat down. With frowning face, he seemed to be
+engaged in a deliberate study of the pattern of the carpet. "Hardaway,"
+he said finally, "I want to ask you a question in criminal law."
+
+The lawyer laughed dryly. "Not on your own account, I hope?"
+
+"You can call it curiosity, or whatever you like," Deane answered. "The
+only point is that I want you to answer me a question, and forget that I
+have ever asked it you. Your lawyer is like your confessor, isn't
+he--your lawyer and your doctor?"
+
+"He should be," Hardaway answered gravely.
+
+"Then here goes," Deane said. "I put a case to you. I mention no names.
+You can imagine, if you like, that I am writing a novel. A man is tried
+for murder, and he is sentenced to be hanged. All the time there has
+been watching this case, listening to every word of the evidence, a
+person who knows quite as much of it as the prisoner himself,--someone
+who, if it had been possible, could have gone into the witness box and
+could very likely have induced the jury to have reduced the charge from
+murder to manslaughter. Never mind the reasons which made that man hold
+his tongue. Consider only the fact that he did hold his peace, believing
+in his heart that it was not possible, on the evidence which was
+submitted, for the man to be sentenced. As it happened, the case for the
+prosecution was worked up with almost diabolical cleverness, and the
+prisoner was found guilty--guilty of murder. He was sentenced to be
+hanged. What can this person do to save his life? The trial is closed.
+It is too late for him to offer himself as a witness."
+
+Hardaway nodded. "I understand," he said. "The procedure is very simple.
+He should go to the solicitors for the defence, and they will
+communicate with the Home Secretary."
+
+"The case cannot be reopened?" Deane asked.
+
+"No!" answered Hardaway, with a shake of the head. "Our criminal law has
+many anomalies. The only thing that could happen in the prisoner's favor
+would be that if this favorable evidence were convincing enough, the
+prisoner might be granted a free pardon, and the facts made known
+through the Press. Anything more I can tell you?"
+
+"Nothing," Deane answered, rising. "Many thanks, old fellow. You have
+told me just what I want to know."
+
+"Six-and-eightpence, please," Hardaway remarked, holding out his hand.
+
+Deane laughed, and shook his head. "I sha'n't pay," he declared. "You
+can run it in with the other account, or I'll stand you a dinner when
+and where you please,--a dinner and a box at the Alhambra, if you like."
+
+Hardaway smiled. "We can't run our office on such clients as you," he
+remarked, pressing the bell.
+
+"You should never try to fleece your friends," Deane said.
+
+"Referring for one moment to the other affair--" began Hardaway.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"The only real chance of a reprieve that I can see," Hardaway continued,
+"is on account of the fellow's health. I believe he is really very much
+worse than he appears, and I fancy that if we had a medical examination
+it would give us at least a chance. The trouble is that he really seems
+quite indifferent. Are you thinking of trying to see him, Deane?"
+
+Deane shook his head. "No!" he said. "I am afraid I must not do that.
+There are reasons why I dare not let my name be associated in any way
+with this affair. They may come out later on, but just at present I
+would rather not tell even you what they are. By the bye, has anyone
+representing the dead man turned up at all--I mean has anyone claimed
+his effects?"
+
+"No one," the lawyer answered. "From what I can learn they are very
+insignificant."
+
+Deane nodded. "Can I rely upon you," he asked, "to let me know at once
+if anyone should come forward to claim them?"
+
+"By all means," Hardaway answered.
+
+Deane went out into the street, and stood there for a few moments a
+little aimlessly. Then he called a cab and was driven to his offices, a
+great block of buildings like a bank, situated in a small court off
+Throgmorton Street. He passed through the outer offices slowly, asking
+several questions, and shaking hands with one or two acquaintances. When
+at last he reached the inner room, his own sanctum, he turned out his
+secretary ruthlessly, and locked the door. He sat in his leather chair
+in front of the open table, covered with letters and books of reference.
+It was before this table that he had built up the fortunes of the great
+corporation at whose head he was. He sat there now, erect in his chair,
+with his hands stretched out on the table before him, and his eyes
+looking through the frosted panes of glass opposite. Was there any
+compromise, he asked himself,--any possible compromise? Again he was
+looking into the gloomy court. Again he saw the white face of the man
+who so short a time ago had sat in this very room, only a few feet away,
+and had begged so hard for his chance! The whole scene came flashing
+back to Deane as he sat there. How much of blame, after all, was his? He
+had not suggested violence. He refused even to admit that it had entered
+into his head. Yet he had known what manner of men these two were! He
+had known, and their meeting had been all his making! Never in this
+world would he be able to escape from the responsibility of it,--never
+in this world would he be able to hear those awful words without a sense
+of real and personal guilt,--"And may the Lord have mercy upon your
+soul!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+WINIFRED ROWAN
+
+
+The clerk who brought in the little slip of paper was both timid and
+apologetic. He felt himself between two fires. The young lady outside
+had been a little more than insistent. The man into whose presence he
+had come was one who never forgave a mistake.
+
+"You will pardon me, sir," he said. "I hope that I have not done wrong.
+The young lady outside positively declined to go away until she had seen
+you. I thought that I had better at least bring you in her name. I
+remembered that a few weeks ago you saw a gentleman of the same name,
+although it was one of your busiest mornings."
+
+Deane held out his hand, frowning. "A young lady," he remarked shortly.
+"Well?"
+
+He took the little slip of paper into his hands, and read--_Winifred
+Rowan_. He looked up into the clerk's impassive face, and back again at
+the slip of paper. "The young lady is waiting outside?" he asked.
+
+"She is outside, sir," the clerk answered. "I explained to her that you
+were not in the habit of seeing any callers except by appointment, and I
+begged her to write and fix a time, if she really had business with you.
+She declared, however, that the matter was an urgent one. Mr. Sawday and
+I both heard what she had to say, sir, and we thought it best that I
+should bring you in her name."
+
+Deane nodded slowly. "I daresay you were right, Gray," he said. "Since
+the young lady is so persistent, you had better show her in. See that I
+am not disturbed again this afternoon, however. I have a good deal to
+do."
+
+The clerk departed with a great weight off his mind. It was obvious that
+he had done the right thing. He left the door ajar, and Deane sat with
+his hands clenching the sides of his luxuriously padded writing chair.
+Winifred Rowan! It was a relative, then,--most likely the sister of whom
+he had spoken. What was he to say or do? How much was he to admit?
+Perhaps she had brought him a message. Perhaps she could tell him the
+one thing which he was on fire to know. Winifred Rowan! Half
+unconsciously he uttered the name aloud. What sort of a woman would she
+be, or girl, or child? He had no knowledge of Rowan save as a fellow
+adventurer, a seeker after fortune in a strange land, a brave man,
+willing always to take his life into his hands if the goal were worthy.
+Perhaps it might be that she had been with him. Perhaps she was bringing
+a message.
+
+He heard the murmur of voices outside. The door was pushed open. The
+clerk stood on one side.
+
+"This is the young lady, sir," he announced,--"Miss Winifred Rowan."
+
+Deane rose for a moment to his feet. The clerk, with a little
+deferential movement, closed the door and departed. They were alone in
+the room together. Deane, whose self-control was one of the personal
+characteristics which had counted for something in his rapid access to
+prosperity, felt a nerveless exclamation break from his lips. The girl
+who came so slowly into the room seemed so perfectly to represent what
+Rowan himself might have become. She was an idealized likeness of the
+man by whose side he had fought and suffered and rejoiced, the man who
+only a few weeks ago had stood in her place and made his desperate
+appeal,--an idealized likeness, perhaps, in more ways than one. She was
+younger, and the stress of life had only lately set its mark upon her.
+She was fair, as he was fair, with gray-blue eyes, brown hair, and
+quivering lips, a figure slim and yet pliant, a manner, even in silence,
+appealing,--enticing. Deane felt himself curiously moved at the sight of
+her. Then he remembered suddenly how great was his need of self-control.
+She was the sister of this man who lay under sentence of death. Perhaps
+she had come to plead for his help. He must be careful. All the time he
+must be careful!
+
+"You wish to see me?" he asked, a little brusquely. "I am Stirling
+Deane. Will you take a chair, and tell me in as few words as you can
+what you want?"
+
+She ignored his gesture of invitation. She came on until she had reached
+the table before which he was seated. Then she leaned across, and the
+light of her eyes, the very insistence of her presence, seemed like
+things from which no escape was possible.
+
+"Mr. Deane," she said, "I am Basil Rowan's sister. I have come from the
+Old Bailey prison. I have come," she added, with faltering voice, and a
+sudden new terror in her face, "from the condemned cell."
+
+Deane had a reserve stock of courage to draw upon, and he drew upon it
+freely. He looked at her with upraised eyebrows. "You have come to me,"
+he repeated. "Why?"
+
+"First of all, then," she answered, "I will tell you why."
+
+"I think," he interrupted, "that you had better take a seat."
+
+She seemed, indeed, in need of some support. She sank into the chair
+which he had indicated. It was close to his side, and yet placed so that
+the light which fell upon her face left him in the shadow.
+
+"You have come from your brother," he said. "Do I understand that he
+sent you--that he knew you were coming to me?"
+
+"Yes!" she answered. "He told me to be very careful, to be sure that no
+one else knew, and never to mention your name, but I have come at his
+bidding."
+
+"Very well," Deane said, "I shall be glad to hear your message."
+
+"He gave me no explanation," she said. "He allowed me to ask for none.
+He told me to come to you and say this. There is no one," she asked, in
+a lower tone, looking nervously around, "who could possibly overhear
+us?"
+
+"Not a soul."
+
+"He told me to say," she continued, leaning forward, and with her eyes
+suddenly a little distended, "that he had no difficulty in finding the
+man of whom you two had spoken--the man whom you used to call Bully
+Sinclair. He spent the evening with him, drank with him, went back to
+his hotel by invitation. Then he tried very carefully to open up
+negotiations. Sinclair became at once suspicious. He was very violent,
+and declined to discuss the matter at all. He swore all the time that he
+had been robbed, and that he was going to have his revenge. My brother
+tried to reason with him, and in the end they quarrelled. It was
+Sinclair who struck Basil. My brother only returned the blow. And then
+he told me to say that before he could search him, before he could
+search the room, he found that the man was dead."
+
+"Anything else?" Deane asked.
+
+"He told me to say that any papers which the man Sinclair might have had
+must be in the room among his effects, which have all been put together,
+and are still there, locked up, waiting for someone to come and claim
+them. He told me to say that he had done his best, and that whatever the
+consequences might be he was ready to face them. If you cared to run
+risks, the number of the room at the Universal Hotel is 27. It is locked
+and guarded, but there might be ways. That is what he said."
+
+Deane leaned a little forward across the table. "But of himself?" he
+demanded. "Did he say nothing of himself?"
+
+She shook her head. "It is wonderful," she said, "but he never thinks of
+himself. He is more composed, more cheerful, than when I bade him
+good-night at Southampton, the day he left home. He made me promise that
+I would tell you these things first, before I uttered a word on my own
+account. I have kept my promise. You understand what I have told you?"
+
+"Perfectly," Deane answered.
+
+"Then I am going to speak to you now on my own account," she said,
+raising her eyes to his. "Mr. Deane, I do not pretend to be a clever
+person, but one thing is perfectly clear to me. Basil entered into this
+adventure for your sake. Your name was never mentioned in the trial, and
+they all seem to have believed that it was to rob Sinclair, and for
+nothing else, that Basil went there that night. Mr. Deane, I don't
+believe it. His quarrel with Sinclair, and its awful termination, was an
+accident. You must come forward and say that he went there to serve you,
+and not for purposes of robbery. It is for you to save his life. You can
+do it, and he is my only brother."
+
+Deane's eyebrows came a little closer together. The girl who looked at
+him wondered no more at the hopeless way in which her brother had spoken
+of this man. His face was as though it were carved out of a stone.
+
+"Miss Rowan," he said, "if there is anything which I can do for your
+brother, I will do it, for the sake of the days when we lived together,
+and when we were so near the very heart of life and death. But I tell
+you frankly that I see very little chance of successful intervention on
+my part. It takes a good deal in this country to stay the arm of the
+law, and your brother has grievously offended against it."
+
+She struck the table before which he sat, with the palm of her hand. "If
+he did," she cried, "it was for your sake! I am sure of it! He went to
+do your bidding, and you must save him!"
+
+"May I ask," said Deane, "why you are so sure that he went to do my
+bidding?"
+
+"Yes! Ask, if you will, and I will answer you. I know it because this
+was the real point of all his message to you. This was what I had to
+say. This is really why I have come. The document--the document,
+mind,--he said no more, but he told me to make this very clear to
+you--the document is in a worn leather case, sewn inside the breast
+pocket of the coat Sinclair was wearing when he died."
+
+Deane drew a little breath. "Young lady," he said, "it seems to me that
+you have been unnecessarily prolix. Your brother sent you here to tell
+me this?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"He did not send you here," Deane continued, "to beg for help--to waste
+my time in purposeless recriminations?"
+
+"No!" she answered faintly.
+
+"He knew very well," Deane continued, "that no mortal man can help him.
+The trial is over and the case is lost. The only thing to work for now
+is a reprieve."
+
+"But that is not what I want," she interrupted. "He must be pardoned!"
+
+"That," answered Deane, "is impossible. Neither I nor anyone breathing
+can work miracles."
+
+She leaned towards him with accusing eyes. "But it was you," she
+declared,--"it was you for whom he undertook this enterprise!"
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "My dear young lady," he said, "you are
+mistaken. I cannot explain to you yet the full significance of those
+various messages which you have brought me from your brother, but
+believe me, what he did, he did knowing well the risks he undertook, and
+without any thought or hope of aid from me if he should fail. I will be
+quite honest with you, if you like. I will tell you the exact truth.
+Your brother and Sinclair were once friends. Sinclair and I were always
+enemies. There was a little matter of business open between us, and I
+thought that your brother might very well arrange it. I had no idea of
+his quarrelling with Sinclair. I did not encourage him to do so in any
+way."
+
+"You sent him there," she persisted doggedly.
+
+"I send messengers to every part of the world," Deane answered, "but I
+do not incite them to enter into murderous quarrels with the people whom
+they go to see. I will do what I can for your brother, but it must be in
+my own way."
+
+"You will be able at least to save him from--from--"
+
+Deane held out his hand. "Of course," he answered. "You need not think
+about that. His health alone would be sufficient to put that out of the
+question. What I can do for him, I will. I promise you that."
+
+The girl rose up, and held out her hands a little piteously. "Remember,"
+she begged, "I have no one else to go to, no other hope but in you. If I
+lose Basil, I shall be alone in the world!"
+
+The tears were in her eyes. Every line of her face, every feature,
+seemed to be pleading with him. Deane led her to the door himself. His
+tone was unusually kind.
+
+"I will do my best," he promised once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+AT THE THEATRE
+
+
+The door had barely closed upon his visitor when Deane was back once
+more in the throes of business, answering questions, giving quotations,
+receiving offers. The telephone was reconnected, and rang out its
+impatient summons every few seconds. He signed half-a-dozen drafts,
+deputed an understudy to receive some of his visitors who were weary of
+waiting, and dictated several important letters. When once more the
+pressure had abated, and the telephone had ceased to ring, he leaned
+back in his chair with a little exclamation of relief. The visit of
+Rowan's sister, and her passionate appeal, had unnerved him for a
+moment. He found himself trying to recall her last words, even at the
+moment when he realized that she was still in the room, sitting at a
+distant corner.
+
+"Miss Rowan!" he exclaimed. "Why, I thought that you had left!"
+
+"I went as far as the outer office," she said apologetically, "and then
+I slipped back again. You were so busy that I did not like to
+interrupt."
+
+Deane rose to his feet,--he was a little cramped from long sitting. He
+lowered the blind and turned on the electric light, walking around the
+room, and casually touching the door to see that it was closely shut.
+Then he came back to his place, and leaned over once more toward the
+girl. "Why have you come back?" he asked.
+
+"To ask you a question," she answered.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Basil went on your behalf to see this man, Sinclair," she said. "He had
+a commission from you, had he not, and he failed?"
+
+"Yes!" Deane said. "He failed!"
+
+"It was to make an offer for some document, was it not?"
+
+Deane nodded. "Yes!" he said. "It was."
+
+"You are doing your best for Basil," she said, her voice trembling a
+little. "You paid for his defence, I know. You have promised that you
+will do all that you can, even now. I thought, perhaps, I might be able
+to do something in return. Why couldn't I get this paper for you?"
+
+He looked at her steadily for several moments. "You could," he answered,
+"if you had the pluck."
+
+"Tell me how?" she asked.
+
+"You are his sister," he said. "Presumably you are interested in his
+defence. The details of the struggle between those two are, of course,
+important. It makes all the difference between manslaughter and murder
+if a weight, for instance, be held in the hand or thrown. You know the
+lawyers who defended him?"
+
+"Of course," she answered. "Go on."
+
+"If they apply to the proper authorities," he continued, "they can
+obtain an order to re-examine the apartments in the Universal Hotel in
+which the struggle took place. No doubt you also could find your way
+there. Supposing I tell you the truth. Supposing I admit that your
+brother did take upon himself a desperate enterprise, and that that
+enterprise was to recover from this man Sinclair, by purchase or guile,
+or any means which suggested themselves to him, the pocket-book of which
+you have brought me news. Remember I commit myself to nothing. I make no
+definite statement. I simply tell you that it may have been so."
+
+"It was," she said firmly. "You and I know that. Well?"
+
+"You are his sister," Deane said, "and you have exceptional facilities.
+If you could gain possession of that pocket-book, you would be doing me
+a service which I should find it hard indeed to repay."
+
+She rose to her feet. "Very well," she said, "it shall be done. I
+promise you that it shall be done."
+
+For the first time, when he saw her standing up, and realized how frail
+a creature she really was, a wave of pity swept away his own predominant
+sense of self-interest.
+
+"But you are not strong enough for such work as this," he declared.
+"Better let things drift. I can take care of myself."
+
+She shook her head. "I have made up my mind," she said. "I am going to
+make my effort, whatever happens."
+
+"You will remember," he said, "that my name must never pass your lips.
+No, don't look at me like that!" he added quickly. "Don't think of me as
+a coward, or an utterly selfish person! I am here for what I represent.
+Welfare in this concern or business undertaking--call it what you
+like--doesn't mean only ruin or wealth for me. There are hundreds of us,
+hundreds who are dependent upon the reins I hold. It isn't for myself so
+much that I care. Try and believe that, will you?"
+
+She looked into his eyes. "I will," she murmured. "I will believe
+everything, but you must save Basil."
+
+"Whether you bring me the pocket-book or not," he answered, "I shall
+assuredly do all that a man can do for him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For the rest of the day, Stirling Deane was his normal self. He
+transacted business with his usual acumen. He received his callers, and
+went through the ordinary routine of his position, with no indication of
+any mental disturbance. He had, indeed, little time to spare for
+thought. At half-past six he was whirled away westward in his electric
+brougham, changed his clothes, dined hurriedly in his room, and at a
+quarter to nine was in the stalls of the St. James' Theatre, sitting
+between Lady Olive and her mother. The mechanical part of the day's
+arrangements he had found it easy enough to carry out, but to keep his
+thoughts engrossed upon his surroundings was a sheer impossibility. He
+was not even conscious when the curtain went down, until he found Lady
+Olive's eyes fixed curiously upon him.
+
+"Stirling," she said, "I don't think I like you when you have been at
+the office all day. Tell me, what can there be about this money-making
+so engrossing that you carry it about with you after you have finished
+your work, like a shadow?"
+
+He was at once duly apologetic. "My dear Olive," he said, "if I was
+_distrait_ for a moment, please forgive me. Consider. It is not my
+occupation alone which is engrossing. Supposing, for instance, that I
+were a politician. Don't you think that I should be better employed in
+thinking over an impending crisis than in listening to an exceedingly
+dull play?"
+
+"Perhaps," she admitted, "but crises do not occur in political affairs
+every day. I might even be vain enough to suggest another and a simpler
+means of escape from your boredom."
+
+"I am very justly rebuked," he admitted, holding her fingers for a
+moment, "only you must remember that it is new for me to have so
+delightful a means of escape ready by my side. Give me a little time to
+realize my good fortune."
+
+"So long as it doesn't become a habit," she murmured. "I am sure I am
+not exacting, but I should hate to feel that you were always so
+engrossed in your thoughts that you did not even realize whom you were
+sitting next."
+
+He touched her fingers once more, and his pressure was gently returned.
+Then, as if conscious that she had been a little more than ordinarily
+complacent, she withdrew her hand, and leaning over began to talk with
+her mother about some people whom Deane knew nothing of. A man from
+behind touched him on the shoulder. He looked up quickly and recognized
+Hardaway.
+
+"Come and have a cigarette," the lawyer said. "It is a quarter of an
+hour's interval, and I should like to have a word with you."
+
+Deane excused himself to his companions, and joined his friend in the
+foyer. "Well?" he asked tersely.
+
+Hardaway toyed with a cigarette case, and glanced quietly around. He was
+tall and thin, clean-shaven, with hard, pronounced features and sunken
+eyes, gray hair parted in the middle, and a single eyeglass suspended
+around his neck by a narrow black ribbon. He looked exactly what he
+was--a criminal lawyer.
+
+"I wanted to have a word with you, Deane," he said, "about this Rowan
+case."
+
+Deane nodded. "Is there anything fresh?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing particular," the lawyer answered. "Come upstairs for a moment."
+
+They found a corner of the refreshment room where no one else was within
+hearing. Deane lit his cigarette with perfectly steady fingers. There
+was nothing in his face to indicate the fierce anxiety which was
+consuming him.
+
+"With reference to that case," his companion commenced, "the facts were
+all so simple that there was no need for the prosecution to consider any
+other motive than the obvious one of attempted robbery. Therefore, no
+very searching investigation has been made into the dead man's papers.
+Yesterday afternoon, it occurred to me to look them through once more,
+in case anything had been overlooked. I came across a clumsy sort of
+document purporting to be the deeds of a gold-mine. I should not have
+taken any particular notice of it but for the title of the mine."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It was the Little Anna Gold-Mine," Hardaway continued. "These deeds
+stated that Sinclair himself was the sole owner."
+
+"A very extraordinary document," Deane remarked. "I suppose you couldn't
+manage things so that I could have a look at it?"
+
+"It would be quite impossible," the lawyer answered. "Mine was, of
+course, a privileged inspection, and I am going beyond my duty in
+mentioning this affair to you. It certainly did seem very singular."
+
+"Especially," Deane remarked, with a faint, hard smile, "since you are
+in a position to know that I have paid for the defence of the prisoner."
+
+"It is not my business to connect such facts," the lawyer remarked.
+
+"Someone will appear upon the scene sooner or later, of course," Deane
+said, "and claim this man's effects."
+
+"Naturally," Hardaway answered, "although, except for this rather
+remarkable document, they do not seem to have been very valuable."
+
+"If you should hear of anyone," said Deane, "I should be glad if you
+would let me know without a second's delay."
+
+"I will do so," the lawyer promised.
+
+The bell tinkled. The men at the bar finished their drinks, threw away
+their cigarettes, and hurried off. Deane and his companion rose to their
+feet.
+
+"Hardaway," Deane said, "some of the papers are talking about a reprieve
+for this man Rowan. Will it come to anything, do you think?"
+
+"I do not know," the lawyer answered cautiously.
+
+They moved along the passage leading down to the stalls. Deane held his
+companion back until the little throng of hurrying men had passed by.
+
+"Listen, Hardaway," he said, "I speak to you as one speaks to the dead,
+because you know the secrets of your profession, and because I trust
+you. Is there any way in which a man of great wealth, who had the
+command of money say up to fifty thousand pounds,--is there any way in
+which such a man could help towards obtaining a reprieve?"
+
+Hardaway hesitated for a moment. "Of course," he admitted, "influence is
+always a useful thing. Those who have the ruling of these matters are
+sometimes hesitating between two minds. A very straw might turn the
+balance."
+
+Deane nodded his head. He looked for a moment behind. His hand rested
+upon the curtain which led into the stalls. There was not a soul in
+sight. The play had recommenced.
+
+"Hardaway," he said, "I will give fifty thousand pounds, if necessary,
+to have that man reprieved. The verdict should have been one of
+manslaughter. I am convinced of that. I was in court. I heard the
+sentence. I saw Rowan's face. I saw the judge put on the black cap, and
+I heard those hateful words. Up to fifty thousand pounds, mind,
+Hardaway, and I sha'n't have your bill of costs taxed...."
+
+Lady Olive was almost petulant. "What a time you have been, Stirling!"
+she said.
+
+"Do forgive me," he begged. "I met a man outside who kept me gossiping
+about trifles. Tell me, do you think that we can persuade your mother to
+come out to supper?"
+
+"We've nowhere else to go," Lady Olive answered. "Do see if you can talk
+her into it. It would be very pleasant."
+
+"I'll try," he promised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+AN APPEAL
+
+
+A morning paper, apparently in lack of a new sensation, suddenly took up
+the cause of Basil Rowan. An evening paper, conducted under the same
+auspices, promptly followed suit. This was a case, they both declared,
+of obvious manslaughter. The evidence clearly pointed to a quarrel
+between the two men. A prominent criminal lawyer allowed his name to be
+associated with what rapidly grew to be an agitation. Petitions began to
+appear. The Home Secretary was bombarded with documents. Everywhere
+people were saying that the man should never have been put on his trial
+for murder. The jury had been confused by their instructions. It was a
+case of manslaughter, pure and simple.
+
+Three days after her first visit, Winifred Rowan sat once more in
+Deane's office. There were lines underneath her eyes. She seemed to have
+become thinner and more fragile. Deane himself, save that he was a
+trifle paler, was unchanged,--carefully dressed as usual, and with
+unruffled demeanor. He sat in his accustomed place, and guided the
+destinies of those great affairs which lay under his control. For the
+moment he had relaxed. He was doing his best to console the girl who had
+come to him in a sudden whirl of terror.
+
+"My dear Miss Rowan," he said, "I have certain intelligence from my
+friends. I have gone to great lengths in this matter, and I can assure
+you that there is not the slightest doubt about a reprieve being
+forthcoming."
+
+She glanced at the calendar. "But think," she said, "already for three
+days he has lain there, sentenced to death. Think of what he must be
+suffering. Oh, it is horrible! It isn't only death," she cried. "Think
+of the manner of it,--the hideous disgrace, the cruel, cold ugliness of
+it! Oh, if it should come--"
+
+He held out his hand. She was on the verge of hysteria. "It shall not
+come," he declared firmly. "I have promised you that."
+
+"If they are going to reprieve him," she continued, "why do they let him
+suffer these agonies? Why do they not tell him so at once? I saw him
+this morning. He says nothing. He is as brave as a man can be, but his
+eyes are awful, and when he tries to speak his voice dies away. Oh! Mr.
+Deane, do something! Oh! do something!"
+
+She laid her hands suddenly upon his shoulders. He took them gently in
+his.
+
+"My dear Miss Rowan, I am doing everything that man can do. Believe me
+that I am. I only wish that your brother had done as he threatened, and
+walked into the river, before he came to me."
+
+She went away at last. Deane lay back in his chair, feeling absolutely
+unfit for work. Twice he laid his hand upon the telephone, and twice he
+withdrew it. Then he turned to his secretary, who had just entered the
+room.
+
+"Get Mr. Hardaway upon the telephone," he directed. "I want to speak to
+him."
+
+In a few moments the bell of the instrument by his side tinkled. He put
+the receiver to his ear.
+
+"Is that Hardaway?" he asked.
+
+"Yes!" was the answer.
+
+"This is Stirling Deane. You remember the subject of our conversation
+the other night at the theatre? I am referring now to the matter of
+documents of which you spoke."
+
+"I remember," Hardaway answered.
+
+"In whose possession are those documents at the present moment?" Deane
+asked.
+
+"In whose possession," Hardaway repeated. "Do you mean--"
+
+"I mean have they been sent to Scotland Yard, or are they still in that
+locked-up room at the Universal Hotel?"
+
+There was a moment's pause. Then Hardaway answered. "To the best of my
+belief," he said, "they are still in the room at the hotel. They may be
+removed to Scotland Yard at any time, though."
+
+"No one has yet claimed Sinclair's effects, then?" asked Deane.
+
+"No one," was the answer.
+
+Deane was on the point of ringing off, but Hardaway suddenly put a
+question to him. "Shall you be in your office for ten minutes, Mr.
+Deane?"
+
+"For longer than that," Deane answered.
+
+"I am coming around," the lawyer said. "I hope you can spare me a
+moment."
+
+Deane set down the telephone with a frown. Perhaps his question had been
+a clumsy one, or was Hardaway already suspicious? He welcomed the
+lawyer, when he arrived, a little coldly.
+
+"Five minutes, please," he said. "I have a large mail to go through, and
+an early dinner-party to-night."
+
+The lawyer nodded. "I don't want to detain you, Deane," he said. "Send
+your secretary away for a moment, there's a good fellow. What I have to
+say can be said in half-a-dozen words if we are alone."
+
+Deane pointed to the door. "One moment, if you please, Ellison," he
+said. "Get everything ready for me that you can."
+
+The two men were alone. Hardaway, who had not taken a seat, deliberately
+drew off his glove, and tapped the table with his fingertips.
+
+"Deane," he said, "have you any idea of paying a visit to the Universal
+Hotel?"
+
+Deane met him on his own ground, coolly, and with perfect
+self-possession. "I have not made up my mind," he said. "It might be
+worth it."
+
+"It wouldn't," the lawyer said. "There's nothing haphazard about the way
+these things are conducted. There's a detective watching Number 27, day
+and night."
+
+"It occurred to me," Deane remarked, "that as there is no mystery about
+this affair, Scotland Yard would not have thought that necessary."
+
+"It is as I have told you," said Hardaway. "At any time after to-morrow,
+the man's clothing and documents, and everything belonging to him, will
+be removed, unless they are claimed. Until they are claimed they are
+watched. It wouldn't do, Deane, for a man in your position to be seen in
+this place, especially when one of those papers bears the name of your
+mine, and Sinclair has just been murdered by a man for whose defence you
+have paid."
+
+"That's plain speaking," Deane remarked.
+
+"It's what I came to say," Hardaway answered. "Don't do it, Deane. We
+are not in Africa, you know. Your methods were splendid there. They
+might spell ruin here. Good-night!"
+
+"The reprieve?" Deane asked.
+
+"A certainty," Hardaway answered, looking back from the door. "It may be
+a week before it is issued, but it is a certainty all the same."
+
+Deane sat in his chair, looking through the dusty window out into the
+court,--a dull vista enough, and uninspiring. Of the lawyer's words he
+took little enough notice. The reprieve would come, of that he was
+certain, but nevertheless he was beginning to feel the severity of the
+strain. He was a man who would have been kind-hearted but for the
+continual pressure of business obligations. He was a great schemer, a
+man of imagination, and a brilliant financier. There had been little
+room in his life for the gentler side of his nature to develop. Yet it
+had been a genuine horror which he had felt, which he had carried about
+with him since the day he had visited the court and looked into Rowan's
+white face, and heard those awful words of condemnation amid a silence
+intense, unnatural, hideous. It was a memory from which he could not
+easily rid himself, a memory which had penetrated even that splendid
+armor of indifference in which the man of toil and thought gradually
+encases himself. The girl's white face, too, and her plaintive eyes, had
+touched his heart. He felt that this period of suspense was growing
+almost unendurable!
+
+His secretary entered the room quietly. "Did you wish me to make any
+arrangements, sir," he asked, "for the journey to Scotland?"
+
+Deane looked at him for a moment as a man without understanding. Then he
+suddenly remembered that to-morrow was the day on which he was to leave
+London to join the Nunneley's house-party.
+
+"I am not sure, Ellison," he said doubtfully. "I will let you know in a
+few minutes."
+
+Once more he was alone. More impossible, even, than the grim monotony of
+the days in town seemed the thought of that prim country house, with its
+well-ordered days, its fashionable, easy-going crowd of people. He
+suddenly lost heart as he thought of Lady Olive and the prosecution of
+his well-ordered courtship. These things for the moment he felt were
+impossible. He wrote out a telegram and sent for a Bradshaw. The next
+day he disappeared from London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+RUBY SINCLAIR
+
+
+Twenty-four hours later, Deane walked upon a wilderness of marshy sands,
+glittering here and there with the stain of the sea, blue in places with
+the delicate flush of sea lavender. In the background, a village of
+red-tiled roofs. Before him, an empty sea. Behind and around, nothing
+but this stretch of bare, flat country, empty even of the sea until the
+tide should come and thrust its long arms of glittering silver up into
+the heart of the land. A few wandering gulls screamed overhead. From
+inland, a great silence. Here, too, the sea, flowing in upon the level
+sands, was quiet and noiseless. Deane felt every nerve of his body at
+rest. He realized to the full the marvelous joy of solitude. All the
+strain of those last few days seemed to have fallen away. He looked back
+upon that passionate chapter of his life as a stranger might look back
+upon recorded happenings. The tragedy of Basil Rowan, condemned to death
+amid the awful silence of that spell-bound court, sitting now in his
+cell with his head turned toward the door, passing through long hours of
+torture waiting for the reprieve which might never come, appealed to him
+now only as it might appeal to a million others who read the newspapers.
+He was almost able to forget that it was he in a measure who was
+responsible for that episode. He was able, even, to forget the tragical
+side of Winifred Rowan's visits,--to remember only her gentle, appealing
+ways, her passionate pleading, her gratitude, tempered still with
+anxiety, which had triumphed at their last interview over the repugnance
+which she had at first plainly shown towards him. All these doings and
+happenings were of another world. Here, trouble and anxiety were like
+the noxious playthings of a race of children. The sea that rippled in so
+softly on to the firm sands remained untroubled. The seagulls wheeling
+above his head in lazy content filled the air with their soothing cries.
+Everywhere the sunshine lay about the sea-stained places. The green
+marshes sparkled like emeralds. The wet seaweed, lying about in little
+heaps, seemed struggling to express new subtleties of color. Down one of
+the reaches came a brown-sailed fishing-boat, steered by a man who lay
+at full length upon the deck, his head upon a coil of rope, one hand
+only grasping the tiller. A few cows were standing about in the drier
+part of the marshes, swinging their tails, and moving slowly from one to
+another of the little plots of herbage. The very smoke from those
+red-tiled cottages went straight to Heaven, unruffled by even the
+faintest of breezes. To Deane it seemed that he had found an idyll of
+still life, and with a strong instinct of relief, he felt the desire for
+sleep, so long denied him, creeping over his hot eyes. The drowsiness of
+the place numbed his senses. The pain ceased. He was content to forget.
+He threw himself upon the sands, with his back to a sandy knoll covered
+with weedy green grass, and with the murmur of the sea in his ears, he
+slept.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deane was awakened by a light touch upon his arm. He sat up, and was
+aware of a girl bending over him.
+
+"I am sorry to disturb you," she said, "but if you sit there for another
+five minutes, you will be very wet."
+
+The tide was already within a few feet of them. Deane realized the
+position and struggled to his feet. "It was very kind of you to wake
+me," he said. "I have come down here for a rest, and I suppose I was
+entering into the programme a little too thoroughly. After London, the
+sea air is just a little strong."
+
+She looked at him with interest, and he returned the gaze. She was
+tall--almost as tall as he was himself--slim, with dark eyes, heavy
+eyebrows, and complexion burnt brown by exposure to all sorts of
+weathers. She wore plain tweed clothes, in the cut of which his critical
+eye quickly detected the village tailor. Yet there was something about
+her appearance which seemed to remove her definitely from behind the
+pale of rusticity. Her eyes were long, and a little narrow, her eyelids
+heavy, her mouth had a discontented turn at the corners, her whole
+expression was a trifle sullen. He was not in the least prepared for the
+change in her face when her forehead suddenly relaxed, the corners of
+her mouth softened, and her lips parted in a dazzling smile.
+
+"You are a Londoner?" she asked simply.
+
+"Very much so, I am afraid."
+
+"Afraid?" she repeated incredulously.
+
+"Why not?" he asked. "I am one of the slaves of the world, a man who
+sits in his office and toils, year in and year out. We're caught in the
+Golden Web, you see. The time comes," he continued, "when we find our
+way into a little corner of the earth like this, and one realizes the
+gigantic folly of it."
+
+"Your point of view is interesting but unconvincing," she said.
+
+"Why unconvincing?"
+
+"Have you ever thought of the matter from the other point of view?" she
+asked,--"thought about those poor people, for instance, who have to live
+in a corner of the world like this, always? All these things, which rest
+and soothe you here, are beautiful by sheer force of contrast. For a few
+days--a week or so, perhaps--the contemplation of them would be restful.
+You would lie about on the sands and in the sunshine and believe that
+you had found Paradise. And then I think that you would begin to get
+just a little discontented. The sun doesn't always shine here, you know,
+and when the sun doesn't shine, all the land is colorless. The sea is
+gray and ugly, the marshes are flat and dreary, the wind, even in the
+summer time, is cold."
+
+He looked at her with interest. She had turned inland, walking very
+slowly, and he somehow or other found himself by her side, her
+self-invited companion.
+
+"That is rather a pathetic picture," he said. "Anyhow, the solitude
+remains, and when one has lived with the roar in one's brain, year in
+and year out, the solitude itself is marvelous."
+
+"And when one has lived," she said, "with the solitude always on one's
+nerves, lying about one's senses, as though one were the only live thing
+in a dead and forgotten world, don't you think that one may long for the
+roar, even as you have come here longing for the solitude?"
+
+"We apparently represent the opposite poles," he remarked lightly. "Tell
+me, do you live here? I presume, from the feeling with which you speak,
+that you are a native."
+
+"I have lived here for nine years," she answered. "I live in a small
+house, which you can see just behind the village there. It is very tiny,
+but very pretty to look at. I have lived there with an aunt who was a
+farmer's daughter, and is very domestic, and an uncle who was invalided
+early in life from the Indian Civil Service, and who has done nothing
+but play golf and fish and study his constitution for the last fifteen
+years."
+
+"You don't travel much, then?"
+
+"I have not been out of this county," she answered, "since I first set
+foot in it, nine years ago. I had almost given up all hope of ever
+leaving it, until," she added, with a little sigh of content, "a few
+weeks ago."
+
+He nodded sympathetically. "You are going to travel at last, then?" he
+asked.
+
+"I hope so," she said. "I have an uncle come home from abroad, who, I
+believe, is very rich. He wrote to me the day he landed, saying that he
+was going to send for me to pay him a visit. I am expecting to hear from
+him now any day."
+
+"He is in London?"
+
+"In London!" with a little sigh. "Fancy," she went on, turning towards
+him, "I have never been in London! Just say that to yourself, and
+imagine what it means. The biggest town I have ever seen is King's Lynn.
+Have you ever been to King's Lynn?"
+
+He shook his head. "I am afraid not."
+
+"Then you can't understand," she said,--"I couldn't make you
+understand--what it means to me to think that very soon I shall have a
+glimpse, at any rate, into the world. If I had met you three weeks ago,
+probably I shouldn't have dreamed of waking you up. I should have let
+you get wet and then laughed at you. If you had ventured to speak to me,
+I should probably have stuck my nose in the air and walked away. You see
+how mellowing an influence even the possibility of escape is."
+
+"What a disagreeable young person you must have been!" he remarked.
+
+She nodded. They were walking side by side now on the top of a tall
+dyke. On their left-hand side was the creek which flowed into the
+village from the sea.
+
+"That is precisely my reputation," she declared. "My aunt detests me. My
+uncle is always irritable because I can beat him at golf. He is out
+playing over there now," she remarked, with a wave of her hand toward
+the furthest stretch of the marshes. "Do you play golf?"
+
+Deane admitted that he did not.
+
+"You came here, then, only to rest?" she said.
+
+"Only to rest," he answered.
+
+"Where are you staying?"
+
+He turned around and pointed to the square stone tower which stood on
+the edge of the sea. "I am stopping there," he answered,--"the old
+Coastguard's Tower they call it, I believe. It is the queerest
+habitation I have ever been in."
+
+"You wonderful person!" she declared. "How ever did you get old Pegg and
+his wife to clear out?"
+
+"I paid them well," he answered. "At least I didn't do it myself. My
+servant comes from these parts, and he told me about the place and
+arranged everything. I am hoping to be able to buy it."
+
+There was, as he had remarked from the first, not the slightest
+reticence about her. She had almost the frankness of a child.
+
+"You have a servant?" she asked, looking at him with renewed interest.
+"Do you mean that he is there with you now?"
+
+Deane nodded. "I could scarcely be expected to cook for myself, could
+I?" he inquired. "He completes my establishment."
+
+"I suppose," she said, "you are a rich man."
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "Wealth," he remarked, "is a relative
+thing."
+
+"Oh! I don't understand those fine sayings!" she declared, a little
+impetuously. "I only know that to have money is grand, is wonderful. I
+would give anything in the world to be rich, to have money to spend as I
+wanted to spend it, and clothes, and jewels, and all the delightful
+little things of life, to go where I wanted, live as I wished, buy the
+things I wanted to buy. There's something hideous about being a pauper."
+
+He looked at her curiously. She was certainly, for all her frankness, a
+new type. Her frankness was more the frankness of a child than the
+outspokenness of _gaucherie_.
+
+"Some day," he said, "you may probably have your wish. There is your
+uncle, for instance."
+
+She nodded. "It is my one hope," she said, "my one hope. I go to meet
+the postman every morning. It is three weeks since he wrote and said
+that he was going to send for me. You don't think that he would change
+his mind?" she asked, turning suddenly towards him with almost tragic
+intensity.
+
+"Very unlikely, I should say," he answered. "Has he any other
+relatives?"
+
+"None," she answered. "Even my uncle and aunt with whom I live here are
+not relatives of his. You see, he was my father's brother. Mr. Sarsby
+was my mother's brother."
+
+"It is Mr. and Mrs. Sarsby with whom you live?" he remarked.
+
+She nodded. "Yes! And my name is Sinclair," she said,--"Ruby Sinclair."
+
+He stopped short for a minute in the middle of the dyke path. She was
+walking a little ahead, and missing him in a few moments, turned around.
+He was standing like a man turned to stone.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked. "Are you tired, or aren't you well?"
+
+He recovered himself with a little effort. "It is all right," he said.
+"You know I told you I'd come down here to recoup a little. I get
+nervous attacks. I was suddenly giddy then."
+
+She came back. Her face was once more softened in its expression of
+kindly concern. "Would you like to take my arm?" she asked, a little
+timidly. "We are close to the cottage now. Perhaps you would like to
+come in and sit down. My aunt would be glad to see you."
+
+"No!" he said. "Let us rest here for a moment."
+
+They sat down on the edge of the high, grassy bank. He tortured himself,
+gazing into her face, trying to find some likeness between her and the
+murdered man. There was none, he told himself,--none. The name was a
+common one--one of the commonest. It was ridiculous to connect this girl
+in any way with the tragedy under whose shadow he had passed. Yet he
+felt his fingers nervously clutching the bank upon which they were
+sitting. The seagulls still wheeled their way across his head. The tide
+was flowing softly up into the creek below them. A fishing-boat came
+gliding by. A lark rose almost from their feet, and was singing just
+above their heads. Everywhere around was peace and quiet. It was the
+same land in which he had found content only a few hours ago, yet it
+seemed to him that already the shadow had come.
+
+It was she who rose first. She shook out her skirts a little
+reluctantly, and turned toward the village, saying: "I am sorry, but I
+must go. Meals at our house are the one thing more certain than the
+rising of the sun. We lunch at one, and it is ten minutes to. Do you
+feel well enough to get back, or will you come on with me?"
+
+"I will go back," he said. "I wonder," he continued, "what are you going
+to do this afternoon?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. "There is nothing," she answered. "Come out
+here, I suppose, and pray that I may have a letter to-morrow morning."
+
+"Be unconventional," he begged. "Take pity upon an invalid, and come and
+have tea with me."
+
+"I'd love to," she answered, "if I can get away. About half-past four?"
+
+"Yes," said he. "I shall be waiting for you."
+
+"Don't come to meet me," she begged,--"not that it matters, of course,
+only if uncle knew that you were staying there, and that you came from
+London, and that I had talked to you, he would want to come and call. He
+is one of those fussy people who like to hear themselves talk, and to
+make acquaintances. It's all very well for you to shiver," she added,
+with a little smile, "but I have to live with him."
+
+With a laugh he said: "I'll hide, until I see you actually before the
+door. You will come, though?"
+
+"I'll come," she promised, turning away with a little wave of the hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+AN INFORMAL TEA-PARTY
+
+
+After all, the element of unconventionality was absent from Deane's
+tea-party. About four o'clock, looking landwards from a little sandy
+knoll just in front of his strange abode, he saw two figures coming
+along the dyke path. A few minutes later, Ruby Sinclair and her
+companion came across the last little strip of shingle, and approached
+the spot where Deane was waiting for them.
+
+"My uncle would like to make your acquaintance, Mr. Deane," she said.
+
+Deane held out his hand and welcomed his visitor--a small, fussy-looking
+little man with a gray moustache, and a somewhat awkward air of being at
+his ease. He wore a tweed knickerbocker suit,--very old-fashioned, and
+of local make,--a flannel collar, and an ill-chosen tie. He shook hands
+with his host in a perfunctory sort of manner.
+
+"Thought I must just look you up," he explained, "living out here. Such
+a lonely spot, too! You are going to play golf, of course?"
+
+Deane shook his head. "I never play," he answered. "I have come here to
+rest."
+
+To rest! The word seemed a strange one to the fussy little man, who was
+already taking stock of his surroundings. Photographs in silver frames,
+a pile of books--all new, a gun and fishing-rod, and other such
+belongings--all, naturally, the best of their sort!
+
+"Well, but you must do something!" Mr. Sarsby remarked. "You cannot sit
+here all day and look at the sea,--like the fishermen," he continued,
+with a little laugh. "A very lazy lot--our fishermen," he went on.
+"Never go out if there's a ripple on the sea."
+
+Deane nodded. "The tides," he remarked, "are rather treacherous, I
+should think."
+
+The servant brought in tea and a great dish of strawberries, at which
+Mr. Sarsby gazed in amazement.
+
+"Strawberries!" he exclaimed. "Why, we don't begin to think about them
+for another six weeks!"
+
+"Is that so?" answered Deane, carelessly. "I never know anything about
+seasons, and my man is doing the catering. Miss Sinclair, you must make
+the tea for us. I am afraid our methods are a little crude, but you see
+we are trying to get along without any women-servants."
+
+Mr. Sarsby was a little abashed. He had seldom sat down to a table
+covered by a cloth of such fine linen, and he had certainly never been
+waited upon, of late years, by a man-servant. His little eyes roved
+inquisitively around. "You come from London, sir, my niece tells me," he
+remarked.
+
+"From London," Deane replied.
+
+"A wonderful place!" Mr. Sarsby said, with a sigh. "Since I retired,
+unfortunately, I have had to drop out of life altogether."
+
+"Your health?" Deane suggested politely.
+
+"My health, and my ridiculously small pension," Mr. Sarsby answered. "I
+can't make out what the country is coming to. Years ago, pensions were
+altogether on a different scale. To-day, it seems to me that every
+government is always trying to shirk its obligations to those who go out
+and help to build up the empire."
+
+This was Mr. Sarsby's favorite little speech, which he made regularly
+several times a week in the village, and once a year at a club dinner.
+Deane received it in sympathetic silence.
+
+"Tell me how you spend your time, Miss Sinclair?" he asked. "You play
+golf, I think you told me."
+
+"Oh! I do all the obvious things one has to do, living in such a place,"
+she said. "I swim and I fish, I play golf and tennis when I can get any,
+and I sail a boat when I can borrow one. Those things are all sport to
+you, I suppose. When they become not a part of your life, but the whole
+of it, they are a dreary sort of pursuits."
+
+"My niece is seldom satisfied," Mr. Sarsby said sharply.
+
+"Why should I be?" she asked. "You, at least, have had your day. You
+have seen something of life, in however small a circle. I haven't! I
+dare say, after twenty years away, I might be content with these things.
+Life for you is simply a satisfactory thing or not according to whether
+you have beaten Colonel Forsitt or whether he has beaten you, whether
+you are heeling your mashie shots or laying them dead, holing your putts
+or leaving them short. You see, I haven't quite come to the stage when I
+find these things sufficient."
+
+"At any rate," Mr. Sarsby remarked, with what he imagined was a
+dignified air, "there is no need to take a stranger into your
+confidence. Mr. Deane is scarcely interested."
+
+"On the contrary," Deane answered, with a little bow. "But I thought you
+told me, Miss Sinclair, that you were probably leaving us before long."
+
+"Oh, I hope so!" she replied. "My uncle was not a man to break his
+promise, and he did promise. I am expecting to hear now every day."
+
+After tea, they wandered out on to the little stretch of sandy shingle
+which alone separated the cottage from the sea. The girl had walked on a
+little ahead, and Deane laid his hand for a moment upon her uncle's
+shoulder.
+
+"Mr. Sarsby," he said, "did I understand that the name of your niece's
+uncle was Sinclair--the same as her own?"
+
+Mr. Sarsby nodded. "Yes, sir!" he said,--"Richard Sinclair. He was her
+father's brother, you see,--a queer, wandering sort of fish. However, he
+certainly did write the girl, a few weeks ago, saying that he was back
+in England, and hoped to realize a large sum of money on some of his
+investments, and promised to send for her to come up to town. Since
+then, we have heard nothing from him."
+
+"Do you read the papers, Mr. Sarsby?" Deane asked.
+
+"I read the _Times_ for an hour every afternoon between five and six,"
+Mr. Sarsby admitted. "I have a special arrangement with Mr. Foulds--the
+vicar--which enables me to do this,--a special arrangement!" he
+concluded, with a little gurgle of satisfaction. "Our vicar, by the bye,
+Mr. Deane, is a highly intelligent man. He will doubtless be coming
+across to see you."
+
+"I am here for so short a time," Deane said. "It is very kind of people,
+but really it is scarcely worth their while to trouble to come to see
+me. I am going on to Scotland in a few days. It is only that I was a
+little run down, and scarcely felt up to a large house-party, that I
+came here first."
+
+"You are one of those fortunate people, I see," Mr. Sarsby remarked, a
+little enviously, "who mix in the world."
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "More or less, I suppose," he admitted.
+"But I was asking you whether you read the papers. I did so for an
+object. I wonder whether you have noticed the details of a very sordid
+murder that was committed in a London hotel a short time ago?"
+
+"I never read of such things, sir!" Mr. Sarsby declared. "They do not
+interest me. I read the political news and the foreign intelligence.
+Anything that pertains to India, also, naturally claims my attention. I
+have always contended," he continued, "that a golf column in the
+_Times_, say twice a week, would be much appreciated. We who study the
+game from the scientific point of view would like to see the attitude
+the _Times_ would take on certain matters. For instance, I myself--"
+
+"Pardon my interrupting you, Mr. Sarsby," Deane said, with his eyes upon
+the returning figure of the girl, "but I was speaking about this murder.
+Curiously enough, the unfortunate man was named Sinclair, and he had
+just returned from abroad."
+
+Mr. Sarsby slowly opened his mouth. Looking up at his companion blankly,
+"You don't for a moment imagine," he began, "that there could be any
+connection between this person and Ruby's uncle?"
+
+"I haven't any idea," Deane answered, "but when she mentioned his name,
+and told me that he had just come back from Africa, and that she had
+been waiting for a letter which did not come, it certainly occurred to
+me to be rather in the nature of a coincidence!"
+
+"Have you a paper?" Mr. Sarsby asked hurriedly.
+
+Deane shook his head. "No!" he said. "But there must be a village
+library, or some place where the London papers are preserved."
+
+"There is," Mr. Sarsby declared. "I will hurry back. I will go and read
+about it at once. Does it say whether the unfortunate man," he
+continued, "was possessed of any means?"
+
+"I do not remember," Deane said. "The object of the murder was supposed
+to be robbery, but the hotel he was staying at scarcely seemed to be one
+likely to attract a man of wealth."
+
+"I shall hurry back at once," Mr. Sarsby declared. "If there is anything
+in this, I must come and ask your advice."
+
+"If the thing seems in any way possible," Deane remarked, "you will have
+to run up to town and make inquiries."
+
+Mr. Sarsby opened his mouth. "My dear sir!" he exclaimed. "Go to London?
+But there, there!" he added. "I forgot! If there is anything in it, the
+estate would, of course, pay my railway fare. Such a busy week, too, as
+I have next week," he added, taking out his memorandum book and glancing
+at it for a moment. "I have seven golf matches,--three foursomes and
+four singles. I scarcely see how I could get away. Ruby," he called,
+"come along, my dear. We must be getting back."
+
+The girl stifled a yawn. She was beginning to be a bit curious as to why
+their host had devoted all his attention to her uncle. "Very well," she
+answered laconically. "I am quite ready. Good-bye, Mr. Deane!"
+
+"If I may," he said, "I will walk a little way with you."
+
+They crossed the strip of shingly beach together. Afterwards, by
+necessity, the party became detached. Mr. Sarsby walked on ahead. Deane
+and the girl followed him, a few yards behind.
+
+"You seem to have found plenty to say to my uncle," she remarked
+curiously.
+
+"If you will spoil an interesting tea-party," he murmured, "by bringing
+in an elderly male relative,--"
+
+"It wasn't my fault," she interrupted. "He would come--insisted upon
+it--as soon as he knew that I had spoken to you. Your man has been
+making purchases and sending telegrams in the village, which has made
+every one curious. People who live in small places are always such
+snobs."
+
+He laughed. "Well, I had to talk to your uncle, anyhow," he said.
+
+She nodded. "You know now what I have to put up with," she said. "He is
+a dull, ignorant, pompous little bore. You have probably found that out
+for yourself by now."
+
+"You dismiss your relatives a little summarily," he remarked.
+
+"I try to speak the truth," she answered. "I believe in being just to
+people. If I knew of any good quality that he possessed, I would tell it
+to you,--but I don't!"
+
+She believed in being just! He looked at her as she walked by his side,
+stepping along with the delightful freedom of healthy youth, her limbs
+clearly defined beneath her thin skirt,--for they were facing a land
+breeze which played havoc, also, with her hair. She walked well, her
+head a little thrown back. Deane recognized the graceful lines of her
+neck and throat, the carriage of her chin. There was something
+particularly rhythmic about her movements. She was a believer in
+justice! Well, she looked like that. The mouth, in repose, was a little
+hard,--the jaw determined. He found himself wondering, with a nervous
+sort of morbid curiosity, exactly what she would say and do if she had
+known with whom she was walking, and if Dick Sinclair had indeed been
+her uncle! Supposing she knew the whole truth,--knew of that heated
+interview, knew of Rowan's enterprise, knew of the paper which was still
+sewn into the dead man's coat! She would scarcely be an easy person to
+deal with, he thought.
+
+Her uncle had turned round. They had reached the end of the dyke. A
+little grass-grown footpath led them now to the side of the harbor,
+beyond which lay the village.
+
+"Mr. Deane," he said,--"Mr. Deane, I should like to show you the village
+schoolroom."
+
+Deane nodded. "I should be very glad," he said.
+
+Mr. Sarsby turned to his niece. "Ruby," he said, "go home and tell your
+aunt where we are. I shall be home in half-an-hour,--perhaps
+five-and-twenty minutes. If there is any message for me from the golf
+club, the boy can wait till I return. This way, Mr. Deane,--this way."
+
+The girl turned away with a little grimace, and waved her hand to Deane
+as she disappeared. The two men climbed the village street side by side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
+
+
+Mr. Sarsby, like most men of his stamp, when brought in touch with
+larger things than his world knew of, was nervous and helpless. He
+seemed to throw the whole weight of further action upon this stranger at
+whose instigation he had commenced the search.
+
+The reading-room was empty except for these two men. Deane was sitting
+in the little bow window, looking down with apparent interest into the
+narrow, tortuous street. Sarsby, with a pile of torn and crumpled
+newspapers in front of him, was still standing, leaning over the long
+table in the centre of the room. His search was finished. He had no
+doubt whatever in his mind. The murdered man was indeed Ruby's uncle!
+
+"Mr. Deane!" he exclaimed hoarsely.
+
+Deane turned his head. "Well?"
+
+"There's no doubt at all about it," declared Mr. Sarsby, striking the
+little pile of papers with the back of his hand. "It's the man--it's
+Ruby's uncle! The date of his arrival corresponds, and the hotel is the
+one from which he wrote to Ruby."
+
+Deane nodded. "I fancied that it must be the same," he said.
+
+"It is the same," Mr. Sarsby declared. "What are we to do? Something
+must be done at once!"
+
+"Exactly," Deane remarked. "Your niece, of course, must claim her
+inheritance--that is, if the man was really worth anything."
+
+"Of course!--Of course!" Mr. Sarsby said. "Dear me, what an unfortunate
+business this all is! I suppose I must go to London with her, and London
+always upsets me horribly."
+
+"I am afraid that you must make up your mind to that," Deane remarked.
+"As I said before, if there is anything I can do to help you, I shall be
+delighted."
+
+"But you won't be there," Mr. Sarsby said. "You are going from here to
+Scotland."
+
+Deane hesitated. "I might," he said,--"in fact I think that I certainly
+should,--go to Scotland by way of London."
+
+"But we must leave at once!" Mr. Sarsby declared. "At least I suppose
+so."
+
+Deane rose to his feet. He had not much sympathy for the frightened
+little man, whose eyes were continually seeking his as though for help
+and advice.
+
+"Well," he said, "I scarcely see how you can keep away, under the
+circumstances. You must talk it over with your niece, and let me know
+what you decide."
+
+They left the place together. As they stepped out on to the pavement,
+Mr. Sarsby coughed apologetically. "I suppose," said he, "you would
+consider it necessary for me to tell my niece about this? It will be a
+shock to her, of course. She had hoped so much from the coming of this
+uncle, and I am afraid that she is not particularly contented here."
+
+"I scarcely see," Deane answered, "how you can keep it from her."
+
+"There is no mention of any property," Mr. Sarsby remarked,--"none at
+all. In fact, the papers say that his effects were so small that it
+seemed difficult to believe that robbery was the motive of the crime.
+Still, I suppose she must be told."
+
+Deane walked down the narrow street, his hands behind his back, his eyes
+fixed upon the arm of the river below, dotted now with brown-sailed
+fishing-boats. Here, after all, was a simple way out of the difficulty!
+The murdered man had no other relatives. In all probability, no one
+would ever tell the girl. No one would ever claim the possessions of the
+dead man, whatsoever they might be. Then common sense reasserted itself
+in his brain, and he stifled the instinct which he had so nearly yielded
+to.
+
+"She must be told, Mr. Sarsby," he said. "If you would rather not tell
+her yourself, I will do so."
+
+Mr. Sarsby shook his head. "It isn't that," he said. "I don't mind
+telling her. But it's the journey to London, and the excitement, and all
+that. I hate worry of any sort. It's bad for my health, anyhow."
+
+They stood upon the little quay, and Deane hesitated. "If there is
+anything further which I can do," he said, "come out and look me up. In
+any case, let me see you before you start for London."
+
+Mr. Sarsby wrung his hand. "It is very good of you," he declared. "I
+shall certainly come out before we start,--most certainly! I can't
+imagine what Ruby will say. Poor girl! Poor girl!"
+
+Deane retraced his steps along the high dyke bank to the marshes which
+surrounded his tower. Once or twice he looked behind, looked toward the
+low white front of the cottage which the girl had pointed out as her
+abode. Once he fancied that he saw something moving in the garden, and
+he stood on the top of the dyke, gazing with a curious interest at the
+slowly moving speck passing in and out amongst the trees. Then it
+vanished. He turned and made his way homeward....
+
+Towards sunset, the heat of the day seemed suddenly to increase. A
+curiously hot wind sprang up from the land, black clouds gathered in the
+sky, and unusual darkness hung over the land. The air seemed charged
+with electricity. Every moment it seemed as though the clouds must break
+and the storm come. The tide came rolling in, no longer with a faint,
+insistent ripple, but with great powerful waves, throwing their spray
+far and wide. Deane left his dinner more than once to stand outside on
+the little knoll and watch. Every moment he expected to see the banks of
+black clouds riven with lightning, to hear the far-off muttering across
+the sea grow nearer and nearer. The whole world seemed to be in a state
+of suspended animation. The seagulls had ceased their screaming, and had
+taken shelter in some hidden haunt. A little fleet of fishing-boats had
+furled their sails. Not a soul was to be seen upon the marshes.
+
+Deane finished his dinner and sat by the wide-open window, leaning upon
+his folded arms, looking out at the foam-flecked sea,--foam which seemed
+to glitter with a clear, white phosphorescence in the failing light.
+There were books by his side, but he felt no inclination to
+read;--cigarettes and cigars at his elbow, but he lacked the enterprise
+to smoke. There was something almost theatrical, something breathless,
+in this pause before the storm! He himself was in an emotional frame of
+mind. Another page of this tragic chapter had opened before him. The
+coming of this girl was in itself a catastrophe. She would take
+possession of the papers belonging to the murdered man,--would show
+them, probably, to a lawyer. After that, only the worst could happen!
+
+Then, as he sat there, the profound silence was suddenly broken. He
+heard the crunch of the gravel beneath flying footsteps, the rustle of a
+skirt, a little half-subdued cry! He looked up in amazement. It was
+Winifred Rowan who was coming towards him, her hair disordered, her eyes
+lit with fear,--a strange, half-terrified figure, flying from the storm!
+
+"Miss Rowan!" he exclaimed breathlessly.
+
+Even as he spoke, the clouds were parted at last with a dazzling blaze
+of forked lightning. The girl gave a little cry and held out her hands.
+He leaned over, and, as the thunder shook the building, took her into
+his arms, lifting her over the narrow window-sill into the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE EFFECT OF A STORM
+
+
+Deane was never quite sure how it had happened. The sudden crash of the
+storm, the vivid play of the lightning in the darkened room, the curious
+exultation which any outburst of nature seems to kindle in the forgotten
+places, had somehow generated a curious excitement--something
+electrical, incomprehensible, yet felt by both of them. His hands were
+still about her for a moment after she was in the room. It was perhaps a
+harmless instinct enough which caused her to draw a little nearer still
+to him with fear, as the thunder crashed overhead and the ground beneath
+their feet rocked. Then there happened what he was never able to
+explain. She was in his arms, her panting breath fell hot upon his
+cheek, his lips were pressed to hers, before he even realized what was
+happening. Her head fell a little back, her lips seemed to meet his
+freely, unresistingly. It was one of those moments of madness which seem
+to be born and die away, without reason, almost without volition. Deane
+himself was no Lothario. In his office he had talked kindly with this
+girl, and it had never occurred to him for a single second even to hold
+her hand in his. Her comings and goings, except for their association,
+had left him unmoved. Afterwards, when he tried to think of it, his
+senses were simply benumbed. Yet the fact remained that she had come
+into his arms as though she had heard the call of his heart for her,
+that their lips had met with all the effortless certainty of fate.
+
+The thunder ceased. She disengaged herself from his arms with a little
+cry. Her bosom was still heaving, her cheeks were white almost to
+ghastliness, with one little patch of brilliant color where his lips had
+rested for a moment. She tried to speak, but the words seemed stifled in
+her throat. He led her to a chair, arranged cushions for her back, and
+stood over her.
+
+"Is there news?" he asked.
+
+"None!" she faltered.
+
+He shook his head. He was completely bewildered. "How did you find me
+out?" he asked. "What brings you here at this hour?"
+
+"It is because there is no news," she cried, speaking with difficulty.
+"I cannot rest or sleep. Every moment that passes tears at my
+heartstrings. Life has become nothing but a living nightmare. Don't be
+angry with me that I came. I was obliged to do something or I should
+have gone mad."
+
+"I am not angry," he said. "I am only amazed, I cannot understand--"
+
+"Oh, I found out where you were!" she said. "I did everything that was
+mean. I bribed someone to tell me. This morning I saw Basil. I think I
+came to him at a weak moment. The horror was in his eyes. I shrieked
+when I saw him. Even now when I think I must shriek. Mr. Deane, I have
+come to pray, to beg you to go back. You are very rich. There must be
+ways of saving him. You have influence with people. Go back and use it.
+What can you do here in the wilderness? It seems almost as though you
+had left him to die."
+
+He stooped down and took her hands once more in his. "My dear little
+friend," he said, "remember what I told you in my office. Believe me, I
+should not have left London if the slightest doubt had remained as to
+your brother's safety. Never mind how I managed it. You had better not
+ask; you had better not know. But your brother will be reprieved. It is
+a certain thing."
+
+She drew a long breath. Once more her face was at any rate human. The
+lightning filled the room with a sudden glare. She caught at him with a
+scream. "Oh! I am afraid, I am afraid!" she moaned.
+
+He passed his arm around her reassuringly. "You are overwrought," he
+said. "You are almost at the end of your strength."
+
+He poured out some brandy and water, and made her drink it. Her hand
+shook so that he had to guide the glass to her lips.
+
+"Listen," he said, "you must keep calm or you will be ill, and you will
+not be able to help your brother. Tell me, have you eaten anything
+to-day?"
+
+"I don't remember," she gasped.
+
+Deane rang the bell. "Something to eat," he ordered, "for one, as
+quickly as you can. And some wine--anything will do."
+
+It was to the man's credit that he received his orders without comment
+or surprise. Once more they two were alone.
+
+"If you have any faith in me," Deane said, "or any belief, remember what
+I have told you. Your brother is safe. To-morrow or the next day the
+reprieve will be signed."
+
+"Say it again!" she gasped, clinging to his hand.
+
+"To-morrow or the next day," he repeated firmly, "the reprieve will be
+signed. There can be no mistake. There will be none."
+
+"Ah!" she murmured, half closing her eyes. "It was to hear you talk like
+this that I came. I could not have borne it alone for another second.
+Something in my head seemed to be giving way."
+
+"The storm, too, is terrifying," he said. "You were fortunate not to be
+ten minutes later. Look!"
+
+He led her to the window. Across the marsh was a darkness that was less
+of the atmosphere than of the falling torrents of rain,--rain that fell
+in sheets, flung up again from the hard paths of the marshes in a white,
+fringe-like foam. Seaward, the waves had become breakers. The one white
+line had become a dozen.
+
+"You would have been drowned," he said, leading her back to her chair.
+
+"It is good of you," she said, "not to be angry. I ought not to have
+come. I know that. Only I was afraid. In London I should have gone mad."
+
+The servant entered with a tray. Deane stood over her while she ate,
+walking up and down the room, talking in a disconnected manner of many
+things. Outside, the storm was passing away. Through the wide-open
+windows fresh salt air came stealing into the room. Deane stood looking
+out for a few minutes, and then turned towards his visitor with an air
+of perplexity. She met his gaze, and her eyes suddenly filled with
+tears.
+
+"Oh! I know I have been foolish," she said. "I am here and you don't
+know what to do with me. Isn't that what you were thinking? I have been
+very foolish," she added, with a sudden flood of color streaming into
+her cheeks. "But remember, when I came I was mad. You will remember
+that?"
+
+"Yes!" he answered reassuringly. "I will remember that."
+
+There was an awkward silence. Deane felt that it would have been torture
+to her if he had alluded to that moment of madness, and yet it was hard
+altogether to avoid it.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that you will have to put up with bachelor
+quarters to-night. You can have my room here. I have another which will
+do, but you would find it a little rough."
+
+She looked at him timidly. "Couldn't I--get back to the village?"
+
+He led her outside and pointed. The storm, coming with the full tide,
+had wrought a strange change in the face of the land. Up to the very top
+of the dykes was a turbulent waste of waters. The tower had been left as
+though upon an island. Nowhere in sight was any land to be seen.
+
+"You see," Deane said to the girl, "it would not be safe to try and get
+to the village. The water is up to within a few inches of the dyke, and
+in the half darkness one might easily make a false step. From here one
+cannot quite see, but I should imagine that the flood is over the
+village street."
+
+She turned back toward the little gray stone building. "If you will let
+me sleep in your sitting-room, then," she said timidly. "I will not turn
+you out of your room."
+
+He laughed. "My dear young lady," he said, "if anyone in the world ever
+needed sleep to-night, it is you. I am going to send you up to lie down
+at once. You must promise me, promise faithfully, that you will remember
+what I have said, that you will say this to yourself: 'The reprieve will
+come!' It is the truth, mind. Say that to yourself and sleep."
+
+Then he touched the bell and spoke to his servant. "Grant, please make
+my room as habitable as possible for this young lady. We are on an
+island, and no one will be able to leave to-night. Put out anything of
+mine you think may be useful to her."
+
+She turned towards him impulsively. "You are very good to me," she said.
+
+"My dear Miss Rowan, I only wish that it were in my power--"
+
+Then he stopped short. After all, it was not wise to tell her too much.
+He raised her fingers to his lips, and avoided, with a sudden twinge of
+self-reproach, the soft invitation of her timidly raised eyes.
+
+"You must sleep well," he said, as he pointed the way up the stairs.
+"Remember, you can take what I have told you as a promise."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A REPRIEVE
+
+
+Morning dawned upon a land still as though from exhaustion. The long
+waves, sole remnant of the storm, came gliding in with a slow, lazy
+motion, and broke noiselessly upon the firm sands. The sky was blue. Of
+wind there was none at all. Inland, the flood-tide was still high. Only
+the tops of the dykes were visible. Everywhere the sea had found its way
+into unexpected places. Little patches of the marsh from which it had
+just receded shone with a new glory--a green glitter like the sparkle of
+emeralds. Deane, who was out early, for his bed had been no more than a
+sofa, gave a little start of surprise as he opened the door and found
+Winifred Rowan standing on a little knoll by the side of the flagstaff,
+looking seaward.
+
+She turned towards him at once with the sound of the opening door. He
+realized then, more completely than in the dusk of the evening, how
+great the strain of these last few days had been,--the strain which had
+driven her into this strange journey. The black rings under her eyes
+seemed as though traced with a pencil, her cheeks were thinner, there
+was something pathetic about the quick, startled look which flashed into
+her eyes at the sound of Deane's approaching footsteps.
+
+"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that you have not slept."
+
+"As much as usual," she answered. "Tell me, what time do your letters
+come?"
+
+He looked inland. "Generally about eight. They may be a little later
+to-day."
+
+She nodded. "I must go back," she said vacantly. "When is there a
+train?"
+
+It was impossible to ask her to stop, and yet he felt all the pathos of
+sending her back to face alone the shadow of her terrible anxiety.
+
+"There is no hurry," he said. "We will look out the trains after
+breakfast."
+
+"Are you--going to stay here?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"If I thought," he answered, "that there was the slightest thing I could
+do in London which I have not already done, I would go back by the first
+train this morning, but, indeed, you must remember what I told you last
+night. The matter is practically settled. In a few days he will know."
+
+"It is those few days," she said softly, "which are so terrible."
+
+It was hard to try and make use of any conventional phrase of
+reassurance. Deane, remembering how intense, how real and startling a
+thing this tragedy really was, found it hard, impossible, indeed.
+
+"Tell me," he asked, "do you live absolutely alone?"
+
+"Yes!" she told him. "There was a cousin who was with me for some time,
+but she got a situation the other side of London, and had to move. I was
+in a boarding-house," she continued, after a moment's hesitation,
+"until--this happened. Then all the people--well, they meant to be
+kind," she broke off, "but the woman who kept it thought I had better
+leave, and I suppose she was right."
+
+"We will go in to breakfast," he said, a little abruptly.
+
+Every moment he seemed to realize more completely the pathos of her
+position. They turned towards the house. Suddenly her fingers fell upon
+his arm. "Who is that?" she asked, pointing landwards.
+
+Deane followed her outstretched finger. Riding along the top of one of
+the dykes, as though unconscious of the sea flowing on either side, came
+a boy on a bicycle. The bicycle was painted red, and the boy had on a
+cap whose high peak gave it a semi-official look.
+
+"He is coming here," said Deane. "It may be my letters. Or I think--"
+
+He stopped short. He knew very well that it was a telegram the boy was
+bringing, but he almost feared to say anything which would bring hope
+into her face.
+
+"It isn't--it couldn't be a telegram?" she asked, a little wistfully.
+
+"It might be," he admitted. "I get a good many, of course."
+
+He told the lie unblushingly. All the time he watched, with an anxiety
+which seemed incredible, for the coming of the messenger.
+
+"You must remember," he said, "that even if this should be a telegram, I
+really do not expect any news yet."
+
+She said nothing. She stood with parted lips by his side, and they
+watched the boy drive his bicycle along the sea-stained bank. Once he
+skidded, and she gave a little scream. Deane laughed at her, surprised
+to discover something unnatural in the sound.
+
+"Well," he said, "we will meet the boy here. I am afraid you will find a
+few stock exchange quotations inside the envelope, even if he should
+be--"
+
+"It is a telegraph boy," she interrupted. "I can see the wallet."
+
+She clung to his arm. Deane found himself patting her fragile hand with
+his strong fingers. He drew her arm through his, and led her a few steps
+further forward. The boy jumped off his bicycle and opened his wallet,
+as he approached, with a familiar movement. Deane took the telegram into
+his fingers and tore it open. His arm suddenly went round her waist.
+
+"Miss Rowan," he said, "be brave and I will tell you some good news.
+See, you can read it for yourself. The reprieve is signed."
+
+She suddenly fell a dead weight upon his arm, and almost as quickly she
+recovered herself. Her closed eyes were opened, she clung to him
+passionately. "It is true?" she cried out.
+
+He held the telegram in front of her face. "Read," he said. "'_Reprieve
+signed last night. Will be communicated to Rowan this morning.
+Hardaway._'--That is the name of my solicitor, so there is no possible
+doubt about it. The matter is ended."
+
+He turned to the boy, who stood looking on with wooden face. Then he
+drew a coin from his pocket. "My young friend," he said, "you are in
+luck. Take that and go home to your breakfast."
+
+The boy looked at the sovereign and up at Deane. So far as his features
+were capable of expression at all, they spoke of stupefaction. Then, as
+though afraid that Deane might change his mind, he mounted his bicycle
+and rode rapidly away.
+
+"It is a relief to you, of course," Deane said, trying to speak in as
+matter-of-fact a tone as possible; "but this thing was a certainty all
+the time. I have always tried to make you believe that. Come in now, and
+let us have some breakfast. You ought to have an appetite."
+
+She followed him without a word. She seemed, indeed, like a person
+dreaming, not wholly able to realize the things happening around her,
+even the moments that passed. Deane waited upon her at breakfast, and
+talked in a matter-of-fact way, accepting her monosyllabic answers as
+natural things,--carrying on a conversation, too, with the man who
+waited at the sideboard. By degrees, a more natural expression came into
+her face. When at last the meal was over and the servant had left the
+room, she burst suddenly into tears. Deane took her outside and placed
+her in a chair, sitting by her side on the sands.
+
+"Now," he said, "that is all over."
+
+"When can I go back?" she asked suddenly. "They will let me see Basil. I
+must go and tell him."
+
+"He knows, of course," Deane replied, "but naturally he will want to see
+you. You can leave here in about an hour. I am not sure--perhaps I may
+come with you."
+
+She sat there quietly, absolutely content to lie still and gaze out at
+the sea. Presently Grant came out with a note, which Deane silently
+opened. It was dated from The Cottage, Rakney.
+
+     DEAR MR. DEANE,
+
+     My niece knows, and she insists upon going to London at once.
+     We are all very much disturbed. If it is not troubling you too
+     much when you are passing this way, we should be so grateful if
+     you would call in for a minute.
+
+Deane looked thoughtfully seaward, and his face hardened as he crumpled
+the note up in his hand. Then he rose to his feet. "I am going in to see
+about the trains for you," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He hired a cart from the village, and they stood together on the
+platform of the nearest railway station, an hour or so later. She laid
+her arm upon his sleeve.
+
+"Will you stop for a moment, please?" she said. "I am afraid I must have
+seemed ungracious. After all, I ought to be very grateful to you."
+
+He shook his head. "No!" he answered. "It is always I who must be your
+debtor. I ought to have been firmer with your brother when I sent him to
+this man Sinclair to make terms. It was a desperate enterprise, after
+all, and I ought to have realized the danger of your brother being
+tempted to use violence. To me he was nothing more than a unit of
+humanity, and I took him at his word. If he had brought me the paper I
+wanted, I was quite prepared to ask him no questions whatever, and he
+would have been a rich man. I can't help feeling that in a sense I am
+responsible for his present position and yours."
+
+She looked away from him. Her eyes were fixed upon the horizon. She
+appeared to be steadily thinking the matter out. The wind blew little
+wisps of fair hair over her face. Her eyes were steadfast, her forehead
+a little wrinkled. She seemed to be endeavoring to arrive at a
+conscientious decision.
+
+"No!" she said, after some time, "I cannot see that you are to blame. I
+am sure that it never entered into your head that my brother might be
+tempted to use violence."
+
+Deane looked away with a little frown. In his heart he knew very well
+that he was not so sure! "Well," he said, "we will let that go. At any
+rate, my responsibility to you remains. Tell me what I can do? How can I
+help you?"
+
+She shook her head. "I am going back to my work," she said. "I need no
+help."
+
+"Your work?" he repeated.
+
+She nodded, with a little sigh. "I am a typist," she said. "You know
+what that means,--genteel starvation, long hours, gray days. Never mind,
+I am almost used to it."
+
+"You need be a typist no longer unless you choose," he said. "Part of
+what I promised to your brother belongs to you."
+
+She shook her head. "Don't speak of it!" she exclaimed. "I should feel
+that it was blood money."
+
+"At least let me hear from you sometimes," he said. "Don't let me lose
+sight of you altogether while your brother is unable to help you."
+
+She hesitated. Then, lifting her eyes to his, "I don't believe," she
+said softly, "that you would tell me anything that was not true."
+
+"I don't believe that I should," he answered.
+
+"Then tell me this," she said, "honestly. When you made my brother that
+offer, when you sent him to deal with this man Sinclair, can you tell me
+that you had not an idea in your mind that he might be led on to do
+something rash?"
+
+Deane hesitated. He was not a man of over-strict scruples, but he hated
+lies. Somehow or other, it seemed to him impossible to look at this girl
+and tell her anything that was not the truth.
+
+"I am not altogether sure," he answered. "At the back of my head there
+was just the idea that your brother was desperate, that he would gain
+what he wanted, somehow or other."
+
+She turned away, and walked a little way down the platform. The train
+was already in the station. She entered a carriage and sat in the
+furthest corner. "Thank you," she said. "I am glad that you have told me
+the truth. Would you mind going away now, please?"
+
+"I am sorry," Deane said simply. "Remember that I only did what
+ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have done in my place. I wanted
+that paper, and your brother begged for just such an enterprise."
+
+She held out her hands. "If you please!" she said. "Good-bye!"
+
+Deane turned away. The girl was a little fool, of course. Yet as he
+turned and watched the smoke of the train disappear, and thought of her
+in her empty third-class carriage, alone, he was conscious of a sense of
+acute depression--none the less acute because it was vague. He turned
+back to the village, walking with heavy steps. It was as though a new
+trouble had come into his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A NEW DANGER
+
+
+Deane was shown into what was apparently the morning-room of the Sarsby
+domicile by an open-mouthed and very country-looking domestic, who
+regarded him all the time with unaffected curiosity. Mr. Sarsby was
+sitting in an easy-chair, reading the _Times_. Directly he recognized
+his visitor he showed signs of nervousness.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Deane!" he said, rising. "How do you do, Mr. Deane?"
+
+Deane shook hands. His host did not ask him to sit down, nor did he
+himself resume his seat.
+
+"I looked in," Deane explained, "to know what your niece had decided to
+do."
+
+"She has decided to go to London at once," Mr. Sarsby answered,--"at
+once. It is very inconvenient for all of us. I am almost sorry that you
+ever happened to point out the paragraph, especially as there seems to
+be no property of any sort to be found."
+
+The door was suddenly opened and Ruby Sinclair entered. There was a
+frown which was almost a scowl upon her dark, handsome face. Little Mr.
+Sarsby seemed suddenly to have become a person of no importance.
+
+"Mr. Deane will excuse me," he said hurriedly, yet with a marked attempt
+at stiffness. "I have to return the _Times_."
+
+He left the room. Deane looked after him with some surprise.
+
+"What is the matter with your uncle?" he asked the girl.
+
+"He has just heard," she answered, "that a young lady from somewhere or
+other spent the night out at the tower last night."
+
+Deane looked at her in amazement. "And what business is it of his?" he
+asked.
+
+"I don't know," brusquely. "As a rule, gentlemen when they're living
+alone don't have young lady visitors,--not to stay the night, at any
+rate."
+
+Deane laughed. "The young lady in question," he said, "came to see me on
+a very important matter. If you heard anything of the storm last night,
+you would understand that it was scarcely possible for any one to have
+found her way from the tower to the mainland after the flood-tide was
+in."
+
+The girl nodded shortly. "It's not my business," she said. "I am glad
+you came. I wanted to ask you something. Who is this man Rowan who
+killed my uncle?"
+
+Deane shook his head slowly. "No one knows very much about him," he
+said. "They were out in South Africa together. It was there, perhaps,
+that their quarrel, if they had one, started."
+
+"It says in the _Times_ this morning that he has been reprieved. Why?"
+she asked fiercely. "Why don't they hang him?"
+
+"Because they came to the conclusion," he answered, "that there had been
+a fight, and that it was not a deliberate murder."
+
+"They ought to have hanged him," she declared. "It was brutal--hideous!"
+
+"You are going to London, are you not?" he asked quietly.
+
+Her eyes flashed. "Yes!" she answered. "I am going. I am afraid it will
+be too late. All the papers declare that my uncle's possessions were of
+little value. He has been robbed. I am sure he has been robbed. His
+letter told me that he would have plenty of money. He would not write
+and tell me that if he had nothing."
+
+"You will be able to find out," Deane answered, a little coldly.
+
+"I shall find out," the girl declared. "I am going to a good lawyer. He
+wrote as though he had something in his possession which was worth
+money. It was for that, I am sure, that this man Rowan tried to kill
+him. I shall find out all about it when I get there."
+
+"The man Rowan was arrested on the premises," Deane reminded her. "There
+was no time for him to have taken anything away, and the room was locked
+up by the police."
+
+"I don't care," she answered. "Oh! Can't you understand what this means
+to me?" she cried, jumping up from the chair in which she had seated
+herself a moment or so before. "I am starved for life here, starved for
+the want of it," she cried. "I was never meant to live in a place like
+this--a life like this! It isn't fair. Other girls have clothes and
+jewels, and men to admire them, and go to theatres, and see the world.
+Why shouldn't I? I will! I am going to London to find out what that man
+killed my uncle for, and I mean never to come back here again."
+
+The girl was evidently in earnest. Her bosom was heaving, her dark eyes
+were full of fire. Deane noticed the firm lines of her mouth, the crisp
+determination of her speech, and he realized a new danger. This girl was
+not one to be bribed or put off. Every word she had said she had meant.
+There was a distinct change in her whole appearance since the last time
+he had seen her. She was at once handsomer and less attractive. The
+wistfulness of her few sad speeches to him had passed away. The vague
+discontent seemed suddenly to have become focussed in a passionate anger
+against this untoward stroke of fate.
+
+"Well," said Deane at length, rising as though about to leave, "I hope
+you may discover, after all, that your uncle was a man of property."
+
+"Why won't you help me?" she asked suddenly. "You could if you would."
+
+"Could I?" he answered. "I wonder."
+
+"Of course you could," she declared, coming a little nearer to him. "I
+suppose I seem a very ordinary discontented sort of creature to you, but
+you haven't lived as many years as I have pushing against the walls of a
+prison. I think I am one of those persons who would improve a good deal
+with a little prosperity," she added, with a sudden smile which
+transformed her face, a smile which was almost brilliant. "Why won't you
+help me?"
+
+"Do you mean that you would like me to go to London for you, and search
+through your uncle's effects?" Deane asked quietly. "If you gave me a
+letter, I suppose I could do that."
+
+"Come with me, then," she begged. "I mean to do everything for myself,
+but there are many little things I am ignorant about. If you would come
+with me, I promise you," she added, looking into his eyes, "that you
+would not find me ungrateful."
+
+"When are you going?" he asked.
+
+"Monday morning," she answered.
+
+Deane walked to the window, and looked out for a moment at the tangled
+wilderness of cottage flowers, which seemed to have been encouraged to
+grow there in wild profusion--a brilliant spot of color, as he
+remembered very well, from the sea line. In a day or so at most, this
+girl might, if she realized her position, or if she were properly
+advised, be in a position to bring ruin upon him. An alliance with her
+was obviously the very best thing that could happen for him. Yet he felt
+a certain distrust, a certain unexplained reluctance to accepting her
+overtures. If she discovered her power, she would drive a hard
+bargain--he knew that well enough. If she did not discover it--
+
+He turned away and faced her suddenly. "Yes!" he said, "I'll help you if
+I can. We'll go to London together on Monday morning."
+
+A curious look came into her face. She drew him out of the room. "Come,"
+she said, "I won't ask you to stay to tea, because my aunt thinks that
+you are a most improper person. I'll walk with you back across the
+marshes. I want you to tell me what you really think, and I want to show
+you the one letter I received from my uncle...."
+
+She read the letter to him as they walked side by side on the top of the
+dyke path, which was high enough now from the receding waste of waters.
+The air was unusually salt. Great masses of seaweed had been brought in
+and left by the ebbing tide. The wind had freshened since the morning.
+She walked on in supreme disregard of her disordered hair and skirts.
+
+"You see," she said, "he writes distinctly as one who has, or expects to
+have, money. Listen! 'I did no particular good out there,'" she read,
+"'but I have brought something home with me which will mean a fortune of
+some sort or another. I expect you have had quite enough of your country
+life, and you won't object to coming and sharing it with me. I am rather
+a rough sort, and I have a few vices that your respected uncle Sarsby
+knows all about, but I fancy you will get a better time with me than
+with that solemn old prig. I'd like to do what I can for you, though we
+haven't seen much of one another, but your mother was the best sister a
+man ever had, and for her sake I look upon you as the only relative I've
+got worth counting.'"
+
+She looked up at him eagerly. "Now tell me," she asked, "would he have
+written that if he hadn't something--jewels, or estate, or something of
+that sort, which he knew was going to bring him in money?"
+
+"It doesn't sound so," Deane admitted.
+
+She thrust the letter back into her pocket. "You will help me," she
+said, her face glowing, her eyes full of anticipation. "We will go
+through his papers carefully. We will find out, somehow or other, what
+he meant. Oh! It is good to think that I have only a few more days to
+eat and to sleep in this ghastly wilderness."
+
+"You may be disappointed," he reminded her.
+
+"Never!" she answered. "My uncle was no fool. What he had I shall
+discover."
+
+"You may be disappointed," he continued, "in the things which wealth
+itself brings you. You may find life not so very much more wonderful a
+thing in the city than here in the wilderness."
+
+"Don't you believe it!" she exclaimed, with a scornful laugh. "I am not
+that sort. I am not an artist who can sit about here for days and potter
+about with a paintbox, and look at a sunset or a streak of wild
+lavender, or the shimmering of the yellow sands, as though it were
+something so marvelous that life itself stood still while they realized
+it. I like beautiful places and beautiful things, but I hate the
+impersonality of it all. I want to feel the touch of lace and furs and
+fine linen, to eat soft food, to listen to music, to ride when I want
+to, to sleep when I want to, to have friends who admire me, men friends
+worth speaking to, different from these yokels round here. I suppose I
+have got it in my blood," she added, with a little laugh. "The
+milk-and-water ways of life don't attract me. I want the big things."
+
+"Do you know what the big things are?" he asked.
+
+"When I have found my way where I mean to find it, I shall know," she
+answered. "Here, one might live till one's hair was gray and one's looks
+had passed, live--if you call it living--and never once see over the
+wall. When I have come so that I can see over the wall, then I will tell
+you, if you are still curious, what the big things of life are for me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AN EXPENSIVE KEY
+
+
+It was three o'clock in the morning when Deane softly opened the door of
+his bedroom in the Hotel Universal, and looked up and down the side
+corridor. There was no one in sight, no sound of any one passing in the
+main corridor, a few yards away. For several moments he stood and
+listened intently. Then he moved a few yards to the left, and stopped
+opposite another door. He scrutinized the number,--27. It was the number
+he sought. He felt in his pocket for the keys which he had collected
+from various sources. One by one he tried them in the lock. In vain! Not
+one fitted. He tried the handle of the door softly. There was no doubt
+about it. The door was securely fastened. He recognized at once the
+failure of his first attempt, and returned to his room. His bed was as
+yet undisturbed. He had not even changed the tweed travelling suit in
+which he had journeyed up from Rakney. It was a fool's errand, after
+all, he thought, on which he had come. Yet somehow or other, after his
+conversation with Ruby Sinclair, after he had realized how thorough her
+search would indeed be, how convinced she was that somewhere amongst the
+effects of the dead man lay the secret of wealth, he had realized more
+completely than ever before the danger in which he stood. Granted, even,
+that no suspicion of complicity with Rowan attached to him, his
+financial ruin would be none the less complete if that paper should ever
+come into the hands of people who understood its worth. Never had the
+situation seemed so clear, so dangerous, as that night after he had
+walked home with the girl and turned his face again toward the sea.
+Something in the very desolation of the marshes seemed to help thought,
+perhaps by the absence of any distracting object. There was a sense of
+breadth about the place. As he walked, with only the murmur of the sea
+in his ears, he saw things clearly. He saw himself in the prime of life,
+suddenly flung from the place to which he had climbed, flung down to
+join all those poor millions of strugglers whose first foot has yet to
+be planted upon the first rung of the great ladder. He was too old to
+begin at the beginning. There was no place for him down amongst those on
+whom failure had already placed her mark. He could not have borne it. To
+be stripped of his riches, his name, the position of which he was
+without a doubt proud, to suffer the breaking of his engagement, the
+downfall of all his ambitions,--the very thought of it was intolerable.
+And in the deep silence of that night, as he listened to the gurgling of
+the sea below, and the faint movement of the wind across the level land,
+he realized, with a sudden pain at his heart, the danger in which he
+stood. In three days the girl would be there. Scotland Yard would send
+one of its myrmidons with her. She would have free access to all the
+dead man's belongings. She would take with her a lawyer. Every scrap of
+paper the man had possessed, every trifling object, would have its
+value. The Little Anna Gold-Mine was world famous. There would be no
+chance of their overlooking a single document bearing such a name.
+
+Before he had reached his strange dwelling-place he had come to a
+resolution. Early next morning, stopping only to leave a note telling
+the girl where to find him when she arrived in London, he was off by the
+early train. By means of a little diplomacy he had succeeded in gaining
+a room within a few doors of the one in which Sinclair had been killed.
+Only a few feet of wall separated him from the room in which, somewhere
+or other, was to be found the paper he coveted. Well, his first attempt
+had been a failure. He knew quite well that the place was paraded by
+night watchmen, and that any attempt to gain an entrance into the room
+by orthodox means would result in prompt discovery. There was nothing to
+be done until the morrow. He threw himself upon the bed and tried to
+sleep. Waking with the first gleam of daylight, he took off his clothes,
+bathed, and made a leisurely toilet. Then he rang for the _valet de
+chambre_. The man was a pleasant-faced, loquacious sort of fellow. Deane
+talked to him for a while, and then made his effort.
+
+"Wasn't it upon this floor," he asked, "that a murder took place
+lately?"
+
+The valet looked around him for a moment before answering. "Yes, sir!"
+he replied. "In the very next room. We are not allowed to talk about it
+more than we can help."
+
+Deane nodded. All the time he was watching the man, wondering how far he
+dared go. "Look here," he said "you seem an honest fellow. I suppose
+you'd have no objection to bettering yourself in life?"
+
+"No objection in the slightest, sir," the man answered.
+
+"I am on the staff of a newspaper," Deane said slowly, "and my people
+are particularly anxious that I should inspect the interior of the room
+in which that murder was committed. Your people downstairs have
+absolutely refused to allow me to do anything of the sort. I have taken
+this room in the hope of being able to get in there. Do you think there
+is any chance for me?"
+
+"I should say not, sir," the man answered. "The door is locked, and Mr.
+Hartshorn himself, the manager, has taken the key."
+
+"There isn't such a thing as a duplicate, I suppose?" Deane asked.
+
+"Not that I know of, sir," the man answered.
+
+"You couldn't suggest any means by which I could enter that room, even
+if it were an affair of say fifty pounds to you?" Deane asked calmly.
+
+The man started. Fifty pounds was a great deal of money. On the other
+hand, the fifty pounds would take some earning. "I am afraid I can't,
+sir," he said. "There is no duplicate key that I know of, and in any
+case I dare not run the risk."
+
+"Fifty pounds is not enough, perhaps," Deane said. "Money is no
+particular object to me. If you said that you thought you could provide
+me with the key for a hundred pounds, I would willingly pay it."
+
+"I am afraid not, sir," the man answered, turning as though to leave the
+room.
+
+"Two hundred pounds!" Deane said.
+
+"It isn't a matter of money, sir," the man declared. "I daren't do it. I
+should be certain to be found out, and I should be sent away without a
+character."
+
+"I will take you into my service," Deane said.
+
+The man shook his head. "Thank you, sir," he said. "My character is
+worth a good deal to me. I think I'll keep out of this, if you don't
+mind."
+
+Deane called him back imperatively. "Let us understand one another," he
+said, drawing something from his pocket. "Are you going down to the
+manager to tell him what I have told you?"
+
+The man hesitated. Deane held out a five-pound note. "There is no reason
+for you to do so, you know," Deane said, "just as there is no reason why
+you should not accept this tip."
+
+The valet hesitated, and finally accepted the five-pound note which
+Deane was holding out.
+
+"I am sure I don't know why I should take it, sir," he said, "but there
+is no reason, after all, why I should say anything of what you have been
+talking about, downstairs."
+
+Deane sat in his chair, waiting. There was a knock at the door and a
+chambermaid entered, to retire at once in confusion. Deane looked at her
+curiously. Something in her figure and her start had seemed familiar to
+him. He got up and rang the bell. In a moment or two a waiter appeared.
+He was obviously a German, dark and sallow. He spoke imperfect English,
+and there was a gleam of cupidity in his eyes which to Deane seemed
+hopeful.
+
+"Bring me some tea at once," he ordered,--"nothing to eat."
+
+The man departed, and reappeared in a few minutes.
+
+"Anything else, sir?" he asked, after he had set down the tray.
+
+Deane did not answer him directly. "By the way," he said finally,
+"wasn't there a murder committed in one of these rooms?"
+
+"It was next door, sir," the man answered.
+
+"The room is locked up?" Deane asked.
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+"That is a pity," Deane remarked. "Do you know who has the key? I should
+very much like just to have a look around."
+
+The waiter shook his head. "The key is downstairs in Mr. Hartshorn's
+office, sir, and we have no duplicate here. The police who came, they
+desired that no one should enter the room until they had removed the
+effects to Scotland Yard."
+
+"So I was told downstairs," Deane remarked. "Do you suppose," he
+continued, "that it would be possible to get hold of a duplicate key? I
+should like very much to see the interior of that room--if possible to
+take a photograph of it for my newspaper. I am willing to pay."
+
+The waiter shook his head reluctantly. "I do not think that there is a
+duplicate key," he said, with his eyes fixed upon Deane's right hand.
+
+"Perhaps you could make inquiries," Deane suggested smoothly. "I want to
+get a photograph of the inside of the room for my people, if possible.
+It would be worth quite a great deal of money."
+
+The man was impressed. "I will go away and see," he said slowly.
+
+"Keep this to yourself," Deane ordered. "I don't want it all over the
+hotel."
+
+The man made a sign of assent and withdrew. Deane rang for the
+chambermaid. Once, twice, three times he rang, without response. Then a
+middle-aged person came shuffling in, very much out of breath. Deane
+gave her some trivial order.
+
+"By the way," he asked, "are you the chambermaid who waits on this
+room?"
+
+"No!" she answered, with some hesitation. "The regular chambermaid is
+down at her breakfast."
+
+Deane nodded. "Will you tell her," he asked, "that I should like to see
+her as soon as she is up? I want to see about some laundry," he added.
+
+The woman disappeared. Deane was left alone once more. He unpacked some
+books, and made himself comfortable in an easy-chair. He was not able
+even to descend to the smoking-room. Mr. Stirling Deane, it was well
+known, had left town for Scotland. Mr. B. Stocks, who had arrived at the
+hotel the night before and taken this room, was a person who had
+particular reasons for not desiring to be seen even in the precincts of
+the hotel. Deane settled himself down to read--a somewhat difficult
+task. By the time he had smoked several cigarettes, there was a soft tap
+at the door and the waiter reappeared.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," he said.
+
+"Go ahead," Deane answered.
+
+"I have found a key in the service-room which I think would open Number
+27."
+
+Deane nodded. "Very well," he said, "let me have the use of it to-night,
+and I will give you twenty pounds."
+
+The man moistened his lips with his tongue. Twenty pounds was a
+wonderful sum! But--!
+
+"There is a good deal of risk about it, sir," the man said slowly, "and
+I have to divide with the night-porter, who told me where to find this
+key."
+
+"Very well," Deane answered, "I will give you twenty pounds each,--no
+more."
+
+The man placed the key silently in his hands, and Deane counted out
+eight five-pound notes.
+
+"If I were you, sir," he said, "if you want to be alone in the room and
+be sure of no one seeing you, I should use it between four and five
+to-morrow morning. Everyone is off duty then except the night-porter."
+
+Deane nodded. "By the way," he said, "do you know anything about the
+chambermaid on this floor--the young, slim one?"
+
+The waiter shook his head. "She has only just come."
+
+"Do you know her name?" asked Deane.
+
+The man smiled. "It is always the same," he answered,--"always Mary."
+
+"She would not be allowed in 27?" Deane asked. "She would not be likely
+to be there to clean it out, or anything of that sort?"'
+
+The man shook his head again. "No one is allowed to enter it," he said.
+"No one has been in but the detectives and lawyers."
+
+Deane dismissed the man and settled down once more to his reading. He
+found it difficult, however, to concentrate his thoughts. The key was on
+the chair by his side. It was all he could do to restrain himself from
+stealing down the corridor and commencing his search.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE SEARCH
+
+
+Deane remembered afterwards, with a painful exactness, every step which
+he took in his stockinged feet down the dimly-lit corridor. Only one of
+the electric lights had been left burning, and that one was encased in a
+shade of red glass, and was set in the wall facing him. A few seconds
+ago he had heard Big Ben strike four o'clock. For the last two hours he
+had sat in his room and waited. Time seemed to have stood still. In that
+two hours he had seen himself stripped of all his possessions,
+dishonored, friendless. He had seen himself married to Lady Olive,
+richer and more prosperous than ever, a successful politician, a man on
+whom the eyes of the world were turned always with respect and approval.
+Hope and fear had swung in his mind like the movement of a pendulum. All
+that he needed was that paper! If once he could see it burning into
+white ashes, or torn into a hundred pieces, he knew that there was
+nothing in the world strong enough to bar his progress.
+
+Four o'clock at last! At the sound of the hour he had sprung to his
+feet. Before the echoes of the last stroke had died away he was
+absolutely committed to his enterprise. For a moment he stood outside
+the door of his room, which he had left ajar. He looked toward the main
+corridor and listened intently; there was no sound to be heard. The
+night watchman--if, indeed, he were making his rounds--was nowhere in
+that vicinity. In all the great hotel, not a soul seemed to be stirring.
+
+Deane drew one long breath, and without a second's hesitation stole
+forward until he stood in front of Number 27. Once more he looked around
+him. The lights from all the transoms in sight had been extinguished.
+There was only that dimly burning electric light at the end of the
+corridor, to dissipate the gloom. He fitted the key into the lock and
+turned it. The door swung open. Deane closed it behind him, turned on
+the electric light, and gazed around him with fast beating heart. He was
+there at last! Within this room, if anywhere, was his salvation!
+
+It was, after all, a very ordinary hotel apartment. There was a small
+single bed, a wardrobe, a toilet table and chest of drawers, a hard,
+uninviting-looking sofa, and an easy-chair with a stiff back, and
+armless. Upon the bed were laid out a number of articles of wearing
+apparel, and upon the floor were two empty portmanteaus. Upon the
+dressing-table were a number of papers, arranged with some appearance of
+method. The toilet things were still in their places. Everything was
+arranged in a stiff and precise condition. It was evident that official
+hands had been at work.
+
+Deane's rapid glance around lasted barely a few seconds. Then he moved
+toward the dressing-table and commenced a careful search amongst the
+papers there. One by one he glanced them through,--a bill for clothes, a
+restaurant account, half-a-dozen counterfoils of theatre and music-hall
+tickets, an account for wines and cigars consumed on the steamer
+_Arizona_, homeward bound from Cape Town. There was the address of a
+manicurist, a programme of the _Empire_. Very soon Deane had come to the
+end of them. From the first to the last, there was not a single document
+there of any interest or importance.
+
+He turned away toward the clothes which were laid out upon the bed. One
+by one he lifted them up and laid them down again, until he came to the
+gray suit which the man Sinclair had been wearing on the day when he had
+made his eventful visit to the city. Deane held up the coat, and a
+little exclamation almost escaped from his lips as he saw where in a
+certain place the lining showed signs of stitching, as though something
+had been sewn inside the pocket. He thrust his hand there. There was an
+opening, but it was empty! He tried the other side, but in vain. Then he
+began slowly to realize that this search of his was doomed to end in
+failure. There was nowhere else to look. He glanced at his watch.
+Although it seemed to him that he had been in the little room for hours,
+he had indeed been there for barely five minutes.
+
+He moved toward the door, opened it softly, and listened outside in the
+corridor. There was no sound of anyone stirring, no sign of life or
+movement anywhere. He returned to the room and renewed his search. One
+by one he lifted up the different articles of clothing and felt in the
+pockets. His search was rewarded with the discovery of a single
+halfpenny in an odd waistcoat pocket. He left the clothes alone then and
+went through the papers once more, with a similar lack of success.
+Softly he opened all the drawers, ransacked the wardrobe, searched every
+inch of the room. When at last he desisted, it was because there was
+nowhere else to look, nothing else to attempt. He stood up in the middle
+of the room and drew a little breath. He had found nothing, nothing had
+transpired to compensate in any way for the risk which he had run. Yet
+there was one consolation. It was scarcely possible that Ruby Sinclair
+could be more successful than he. The paper which might make her fortune
+and ruin him was not here.
+
+Deane turned at last toward the door. There was no need for him to
+prolong the risk he ran. He would return to his room, and leave the
+hotel later in the morning.
+
+He took a few cautious steps toward the door. Suddenly he stopped short
+and held his breath. Very slowly he turned his head, and listened
+intently. Someone was stirring in the next room. There was a connecting
+door, hidden by a curtain, and even as he stood there he heard the
+handle shake as though it were being turned. He leaned forward and
+turned out the electric light. Standing there in the darkness he
+distinctly heard a key inserted in the lock of the hidden door. He heard
+it softly opened and the curtain pushed back. There was someone else in
+the room, someone else whom he could not see, someone else who also took
+an interest in the effects of the murdered man!
+
+There was an interval of several seconds--it seemed minutes--it might
+well have been hours. Then the stealthy footsteps came towards him. A
+little stiff rustle of draperies proclaimed the sex of the intruder.
+Without a second's warning, the electric light flashed out all over the
+room. The girl would have screamed, but Deane, who was prepared, leaned
+forward, and his hand suddenly closed over her mouth. She looked at him
+with dilated eyes.
+
+"You!" she exclaimed. "You!"
+
+"Good God!" he answered. "Winifred Rowan!"
+
+Their mutual surprise was something paralyzing. They drew apart and
+looked at one another as they might have done at ghosts.
+
+"What do you want here?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+Was it his fancy, he wondered, or did her lips curl for a moment in
+something like mockery?
+
+"I came to repay a debt," she whispered. "I came to find the paper which
+you are afraid may fall into someone else's hands. I came to search for
+it, but it is not here."
+
+"And I," Deane answered.
+
+"You have found it, perhaps?" she exclaimed.
+
+He shook his head. "It has gone!"
+
+"Perhaps he never had it," she whispered.
+
+Deane shook his head. He was being led away by the excitement, the
+tenseness of the moment,--the unexpectedness of the whole situation. "He
+showed it to me," he answered, "only just before that night."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The monosyllable seemed to leave her lips dry. She moistened them with
+her tongue, and moved a little towards him. There was something in her
+face which he could not recognize. And then, before further speech was
+possible, they heard something which, coming so unexpectedly against
+such a background of silence, terrified them both. An electric bell
+somewhere close at hand was ringing out its sharp summons into the
+night.
+
+"What is that?" Deane asked quickly.
+
+"Someone is ringing from one of the numbers opposite," she answered.
+"Get back to your room quickly. They have heard us talking. Someone will
+be in here to search."
+
+"But you?" he objected.
+
+"I am safe," she answered. "I am on duty on this floor. I have something
+to do in the next room. Quick!"
+
+He slipped from the door. The little side corridor was as yet empty. For
+a second or two he listened intently. There were no footsteps as yet
+audible in the main corridor. In half-a-dozen swift strides he reached
+the door of his own room, turned the handle, and passed inside. Almost
+immediately there were footsteps in the corridor outside. The bell of
+the room opposite was answered. Again silence! The seconds grew into
+minutes, and the minutes passed away. Then his door was suddenly opened
+from the outside, softly and silently. Winifred Rowan stood there on the
+threshold of his room, with the handle of the door still in her hand,
+and to his fancy there was something ominous in the way she looked at
+him.
+
+"You need search no more," she said. "I have found the paper."
+
+He held out his hand. "The reward is yours!" he declared.
+
+She drew away from him. "I shall claim it very soon," she said. "Ring
+your bell at seven o'clock, when I shall be on duty, and I will bring it
+to you. Hush!"
+
+She glided away and closed the door. Deane drew a long breath. So it was
+over, then,--over, and he had won!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+IN DOUBT
+
+
+Punctually at seven o'clock next morning Deane rang his bell. Once more
+the fat old lady entered, with her amiable smile and slow movements.
+
+"Some tea, sir?" she asked.
+
+Deane looked at her for a moment without speaking. "When does the other
+chambermaid come on duty?" he asked.
+
+"She ought to be on now," was the answer, "but she hasn't come. I've
+just sent the 'boots' up to her room."
+
+Deane ordered some hot water and lay still for half-an-hour. Then he
+rang the bell again. The same woman came.
+
+"Would you like your tea, sir?" she asked.
+
+"If you please," he answered.
+
+She was already half-way out of the door before he stopped her.
+
+"You are still on duty, then?" he said.
+
+"The other chambermaid can't be found, sir," she answered. "Her bed
+hasn't been slept in, and she doesn't seem to be anywhere about the
+place."
+
+Deane nodded. It was, after all, perhaps the most sensible thing she
+could do to get clear away! "Send me my tea at eight o'clock," he
+ordered, "and let me have a bath at once."
+
+"The valet shall come and tell you when it is ready, sir," she answered.
+
+He passed a tip across to the woman, who accepted it. "Tell the waiter
+when he brings the tea to give me my bill," he said.
+
+In an hour's time Deane had left the hotel. He had seen nothing more of
+Winifred Rowan, and on the whole he was disposed to applaud her
+precaution. He drove at once to his rooms, where Grant, his man, was
+already installed.
+
+"I shall catch the mid-day train to Scotland, Grant," he announced.
+"Telephone up for seats and sleeping-berths. Also telephone to the
+office, and tell them to ring up here at once if a young lady should
+make any inquiries for me. Perhaps they had better send her on here."
+
+He went out and did some shopping. The sun was shining, and a soft west
+wind blowing. London, which seems to hold its populace longer than any
+other great city, was gay, almost joyous. He had to elbow his way
+through crowds as he passed along Piccadilly. The streets and shops were
+thronged. The sky above was blue. The rare sunshine seemed to make
+cheerful even this most sombre of cities.
+
+Deane had the feeling of a man who has escaped from a great danger,--who
+has been able to throw off a heavy weight. This miserable document of
+Sinclair's was as good as in his possession! After all, Basil Rowan was
+not suffering in vain. The girl should have every penny that he had
+promised her brother! Her way in life should be made easy! It was a
+very small price, indeed, to be free from such torture as he had
+suffered during the last few weeks. He bought presents a little
+recklessly--presents for Olive--something, too, for Winifred Rowan, a
+gold cigarette-case for himself. He ordered a great basket of flowers to
+take with him to Scotland, and paid a visit to his gunmaker's. Then he
+returned to his chambers, fully expecting to have some news of Winifred
+Rowan.
+
+"Any one rung up?" he asked his man.
+
+"No one, sir, of any importance," was the answer.
+
+"Did you ask the office about Miss Rowan?"
+
+"No young lady at all has inquired for you there, sir," Grant answered.
+
+Deane was a little surprised, but after all what did it matter? He
+travelled up to Scotland with a lighter heart than he had carried for
+months. Lady Olive, who met him early in the morning at the small
+wayside station which was nearest to her father's seat, was amazed at
+his vivacity.
+
+"I expected to find you a pale, worn-out thing," she remarked, as their
+motor-car climbed the white, stone-bordered road which crossed the
+heather-covered mountain. "You don't look as though you needed a change
+at all."
+
+"I've found so swift a tonic, you see," he answered, pressing her hand.
+
+She laughed gayly. This was more the man as he had been before the days
+of their engagement! "I think it is the smell of the powder," she said.
+"You men are all like schoolboys for your holidays. Father says that the
+birds are much too wild, and that it will be all even you can do to hit
+them."
+
+Deane smiled. "There is nothing in the world," he answered, "which I
+want to do so much as to lie up there in the heather and close my eyes,
+and feel the sun and the wind."
+
+"In other words," she said, "you are lazy!"
+
+"Is that laziness?" he asked. "I don't think so."
+
+"Rest, then," she said.
+
+"Ah! That is a very different thing!" he replied. "We all need rest."
+
+"Especially you," she said, "who carry about with you always the memory
+of some things from which you can never escape."
+
+He looked at her quickly, but it was obvious that her speech was wholly
+unpremeditated.
+
+"I often wonder," she said calmly, "when I see you in the evenings, how
+you manage to shake off all your anxieties so easily, for I suppose,"
+she continued, "that success, like everything else, carries always its
+anxieties."
+
+"Sometimes more than failure," he answered.
+
+"Well," she continued, "it doesn't seem possible to associate the word
+'failure' with you. Some day you must tell me the whole story of your
+life. I can scarcely believe that there has ever been a time when you
+haven't succeeded in anything you undertook."
+
+He laughed grimly. "You should have been with me in Africa," he said,
+"after the fighting was over. We expected to go about picking up gold
+almost on the streets."
+
+"You were too sanguine," she laughed.
+
+"It was hard enough work to live," he answered. "I tried many
+things,--failures, all of them!"
+
+"Until the Little Anna Gold-Mine," she remarked.
+
+"Until the Little Anna Gold-Mine," he assented, "and that, at first,
+seemed hopeless enough. The mine had been deserted twice. The natives
+there had a name for it which means the Grave of Dead Hopes!"
+
+They turned into the avenue, and the house was at once visible, standing
+on the edge of a lake, large and a little bare. The lawns and gardens
+were brilliant with color, and the hills on the other side of the water
+were purple with heather.
+
+"Well, here is all the rest you want," she said. "We haven't a neighbor
+within six miles, and a most harmless lot of guests."
+
+He drew a long sigh of content. The tragedy, indeed, of the last few
+weeks seemed to lie far behind in some other world!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+RUBY IS DISAPPOINTED
+
+
+The solicitor hung up his silk hat, motioned his two visitors to seats,
+and took his accustomed place in front of his writing-table. "I am
+afraid," he said, turning toward Mr. Sarsby, but in reality addressing
+his niece, "that your visit to town has been, in some respects, a
+disappointment to you, especially," he continued, "bearing in mind the
+letter which you, my dear young lady, have just shown me. Still, there
+is no getting away from facts. We have carefully examined every paper
+and every portion of the personal belongings of the deceased, and I am
+afraid we must come to the decision that there is nothing in those
+effects worth taking away."
+
+"It certainly seems not," Mr. Sarsby assented. "I must say that from the
+first I have discouraged my niece in her expectations. I never knew
+Sinclair, but everyone spoke of him as being a shiftless and impossible
+sort of person."
+
+The lawyer nodded. "From the state of his effects," he remarked, "that
+seems very possible, and yet one cannot help wondering what it was that
+he had in his mind when he wrote to your niece,--what it was, too, that
+induced him to take rooms in a hotel like the Universal."
+
+Ruby Sinclair rose slowly to her feet. She came to the table before
+which the solicitor was seated, and she looked down at him with blazing
+eyes. "Can't you see, you two," she exclaimed,--"can't you understand
+that the man has been robbed of something? He would never have written
+me in that strain if he had not believed that he possessed something
+which was at any rate worth money, and a great deal of money. He would
+never, with only twenty pounds in his pocket, have gone to a hotel like
+the Universal, drunk champagne there, and lived as though his means were
+unlimited. These things are ridiculous!"
+
+"But, my dear young lady," the lawyer commenced,--
+
+"Can't you see the truth?" she exclaimed. "My uncle was murdered. Why?
+What was the motive? Robbery! Do you think that it was for the sake of
+the twenty pounds or so that he had on him, and which were found
+untouched? The man Rowan was in South Africa with my uncle,--he knew his
+business. It was no ordinary quarrel, this. I tell you that Rowan robbed
+my uncle of something--I don't know what--but something which was the
+backbone of this letter!" she exclaimed, dashing it upon the
+table,--"something which justified him in staying at the Universal,
+something which must be found!"
+
+The lawyer nodded. "That point of view," he admitted, "has occurred to
+me, I must confess. And yet, you must remember that the man Rowan was
+arrested upon the premises. He had nothing with him which could by any
+chance have belonged to the dead man."
+
+The girl stamped her foot impatiently. "Have you read the evidence at
+the trial?" she asked. "It is very clear that this man Rowan was no
+fool. Whatever he wanted from my uncle, he secured and disposed of
+before he was arrested. The last thing he would do would be to carry
+about with him on his person anything which he had taken from my uncle."
+
+"What you suggest may be possible, of course," the lawyer remarked,
+"but, unfortunately, we have not the slightest indication of it. The man
+Rowan was not seen to speak to anyone in the hotel, and it is known that
+he did not leave it after the quarrel until his arrest."
+
+"And you are content to leave it like that?" the girl asked.
+
+The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "It is not that we are content," he
+said, a little stiffly, "but there certainly seems to be no cause for
+any further action."
+
+The girl turned to Mr. Sarsby. "We had better go," she said abruptly.
+"There is nothing to be gained by staying here."
+
+The solicitor accompanied them to the door. "Miss Sinclair," he said, "I
+can sympathize with your disappointment, but I do beg of you not to go
+looking for a mare's nest. It is disappointing, of course, to find that
+your uncle was practically a pauper, especially after that letter of
+his, but, on the other hand, men in his position, I am afraid, are
+proverbially given to exaggeration."
+
+"Thank you," the girl said sharply, "I think that we will not talk about
+this any more."
+
+Mr. Sarsby and his niece walked slowly up a little side street which led
+into the Strand. The former, who was sharing to some extent his niece's
+disappointment, found compensation in the thought of a speedy return to
+Rakney.
+
+"I am afraid, Ruby," he said, "that you are very much disappointed, and
+it seems to me that we have wasted our railway fares to London. It can't
+be helped. We may as well make the best of it and get back at once. I
+can see no reason why we should not catch the three o'clock train. I
+shall be able to play my match, then, with Colonel Forsitt to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"You can go and play your match if you want to," the girl answered. "I
+am going to stay in London."
+
+"To stay in London?" Mr. Sarsby repeated.
+
+"I mean it," the girl answered. "I don't mean to be robbed. I mean to
+stay here and find out why this man Rowan quarrelled with my uncle, and
+what my uncle meant when he wrote to me about a fortune. You go back, if
+you like," she continued. "Give me five pounds to stay here with, and
+I'll come back when I've found out the truth."
+
+Mr. Sarsby was aghast. He looked at his niece with wide-open eyes. What
+had come to her that she should speak of such a sum as five pounds
+almost carelessly!
+
+"I shall do nothing of the sort," he answered decidedly, "nor shall I
+allow you to stay up here alone--a most improper proceeding, I should
+call it,--quite unheard of. We will go back to the hotel, pay our bill,
+have a little lunch at an A B C shop, and catch the three o'clock train
+home."
+
+"If you won't let me have the five pounds," she answered, "all right.
+Good-bye!"
+
+She turned abruptly away, and before his astonished eyes plunged into
+the stream of traffic, making for the other side of the street. He
+followed her as soon as he saw a safe opening, and found her on the
+point of entering a small restaurant.
+
+"My dear Ruby," he exclaimed sharply, "you are mad! How dared you leave
+me like that?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. "I have been mad," she answered, "to live
+that awful life down at Rakney for these last few years. I've had enough
+of it, uncle. I am here, and I am going to stay here. If I can't succeed
+in what I am going to undertake, I shall try and find some work."
+
+Mr. Sarsby gasped. It was a wholly unexpected revolt. "You mean to say
+that you don't want to come back to Rakney?"
+
+"Never, if I can help it!" the girl answered. "I hate the place. I hate
+the life. I am tired, sick to death of it all!" she cried passionately,
+"and I would as soon come up here and live for a week or two, and then
+throw myself into the Thames, as go on with it any longer. If you won't
+let me have the five pounds," she continued, "I have enough jewelry with
+me to fetch about that. The money would only mean a week or two longer."
+
+"But where would you live?" he exclaimed. "What would you do?"
+
+"That is my affair," she answered simply. "First of all, though, I
+should go to Mr. Deane, and I should ask him to help me. Any man of
+common sense would agree with me at once in believing that my uncle was
+robbed."
+
+"But your aunt?" Mr. Sarsby exclaimed weakly.
+
+"My aunt can get on very well without me," the girl declared.
+
+Mr. Sarsby felt that a situation had arisen with which he was unable to
+cope. The only thing that occurred to him to do was to temporize. "You
+will have to come back to the hotel," he said, "to get your luggage. We
+will talk it over on the way there."
+
+"Just as you please," the girl answered carelessly, "only so far as I am
+concerned, there is nothing to talk over."
+
+Mr. Sarsby hailed a 'bus which deposited them presently within a few
+yards of the semi-private hotel in Montague Street at which they were
+staying. It was one of those establishments which, from being a small
+boarding-house, had blossomed out into a hotel, with all the outward
+signs of its more prosperous rivals. There was an entrance hall, a
+reception office, and two long-limbed giants in light blue livery, who
+spoke every language except their own. The people who frequented it were
+either Americans, or people from the isolated country places, such as
+Mr. Sarsby and his niece.
+
+"I am not going to talk anything over until I have had some lunch," the
+girl declared. "We need not go out. It is only eighteenpence each here.
+You can afford that, especially as you are probably going to be rid of
+me forever."
+
+Mr. Sarsby frowned. "We will lunch here if you prefer it," he said. "I
+am not aware that I have hesitated at anything on the score of expense."
+
+The girl laughed. There was a note in her mirth which was strange to Mr.
+Sarsby. He relinquished his well-worn silk hat to a boy in buttons,
+straightened his old-fashioned tie before a passing mirror, and led the
+girl into the dining-room. The size of the apartment, the number of the
+waiters, the indefinable sense of being in a great city, which had
+oppressed him since the train had rolled into the terminus on his
+arrival, once more had its effect upon him. He felt sure that his niece
+understood nothing of what she was talking about. He drank bottled beer
+with his lunch, and soon summoned up courage to reopen the matter.
+
+"It was a very good idea of yours, my dear Ruby," he said, "to lunch
+here. I am sure that for the money it is a most excellent meal."
+
+She gave vent to a little interjection which might have meant anything.
+If he had not been so sure that she was unused to such magnificence, he
+would have believed that it was intended to indicate a certain amount of
+contempt at her entertainment.
+
+"And now," Mr. Sarsby continued, "let me speak to you seriously."
+
+The suggestion that there had been anything of mirth from which Mr.
+Sarsby desired to lead the way appealed to the girl's sense of humor.
+Her lips parted, and the sullen discontent of her face was for a moment
+lightened.
+
+"Very well," she said, "let us be serious. Go on. Tell me what you have
+to say."
+
+"What I want to put before you is briefly this," he declared. "You do
+not understand the impossibility of a young girl barely twenty years
+old, with your"--he coughed a little--"personal attractions, being left
+alone in London. Of course, it is difficult for me to explain to you
+exactly what I mean."
+
+"You needn't," the girl interrupted contemptuously. "Do you think that I
+am a fool? I know all about those risks which people speak about with
+bated breath, and I should like you to know that I am quite able to take
+care of myself. I am not afraid, so I do not know why anyone need be
+afraid for me."
+
+Mr. Sarsby looked at her and wondered where amongst the wastes and
+wind-swept places of his lonely home had the girl acquired the knowledge
+which she alluded to so scornfully,--had she learned, too, he reflected,
+to carry herself, as she had done since their arrival, with an ease and
+assurance which he had tried in vain to emulate. He realized at that
+moment that all further argument would be wasted. Nevertheless, he
+continued to ease his conscience.
+
+"You may know a good deal," he said, "or think you do,--girls nowadays
+read and talk of most surprising things,--but London is not a safe place
+for a young girl, whatever you may say, especially a young girl without
+enough money to live on."
+
+"I suppose," she said, laughing at him openly, "that Rakney is a safe
+place. Well, I have tried it for a good many years, and I have had
+enough. You needn't be afraid," she continued, "that I shall return to
+Rakney in the guise of a prodigal daughter. If I don't succeed in
+tracing Richard Sinclair's fortune, I shall find something else to do.
+If you will give me the five pounds I ask for, it will make things
+easier. If not, I shall get on without it."
+
+He felt that he was being weak. Even his conscience told him that
+greater firmness was necessary. And yet he recognized something in the
+girl's demeanor which assured him absolutely that any protests were
+hopeless. There was a hidden strength there, shared by neither her aunt
+nor himself,--something which kept her apart from them,--which made him
+half believe, in spite of himself, that what she set herself to do she
+would accomplish.
+
+"At least," he said, "we must know where you are going to live."
+
+"There is no need for you to stay in London," she answered, "while I
+look about for a room. I know exactly the sort of place I am going to
+take. I am going out in the Tube to one of the suburbs, where a bedroom
+is not very expensive, and I shall take my meals out. It will cost me
+very little to live, and five pounds will go quite a long way. By the
+time it is spent, I think that I shall have discovered something. I will
+not write you for any more money, I promise."
+
+Mr. Sarsby sighed. "I suppose you must have your own way," he said. "I
+don't know what your aunt will say."
+
+She laughed. They had finished their luncheon and had risen from the
+table. "Enough about my aunt," she said. "She will have all the anxiety
+of her preserves upon her mind directly, and I think she will be glad
+not to be bothered with me. You catch your three o'clock train, and play
+your golf match to-morrow."
+
+"I suppose I may as well," he said weakly, "although I never can putt
+after a railway journey."
+
+"Go and try, anyhow," she answered. "We will say good-bye to one another
+here, if you don't mind. The porter will take care of my luggage until I
+have taken my room."
+
+"I suppose if I were to stay up with you for a few days," he began,--
+
+"Please, uncle, don't!" she began firmly. "It isn't any use. You have
+been kind to me in your way, but the life at Rakney is horrible to me. I
+have made up my mind to have no more of it. You've done your best for
+me, you can't do more. Good-bye! There is your bag, and you haven't too
+much time to catch the three o'clock train. Take the first turn to the
+left from here, and book to King's Cross by the Tube. Good-bye!"
+
+Mr. Sarsby picked up his bag and departed without any further protest.
+The girl stood upon the steps and watched him, and as she watched, some
+of the darkness seemed to pass away from her face. He disappeared around
+the corner. She was alone--free, at any rate! She drew a long breath,
+and the dull streets and gray sky seemed suddenly to have become like
+the walls and canopy of a new paradise.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK TWO
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FREE TO DIE
+
+
+At about quarter past ten in the morning, a man, still young, but
+deathly pale, with hollow cheeks and receding eyes, stood on the edge of
+the pavement outside a great and gloomy-looking building. A nail-studded
+door had just been opened and closed to let him pass. The attendant, who
+wore prison livery, leaned forward curiously to look at him as he walked
+out with uncertain footsteps. The prison doctor stood by his side and
+called a four-wheel cab.
+
+"You are sure," he said, "that you have somewhere to go to, Rowan?"
+
+"Quite sure, sir," the man answered.
+
+"Keep your courage up, my man," added the doctor. "If your friends can
+afford it, go down to the South at once. You will find it easier there.
+There's your cab. You have some money, have you not?"
+
+"Plenty, thank you, doctor," Rowan answered. "You've been kind to me,
+sir," he added. "Thank you!"
+
+"There wasn't much I could do," the doctor answered, helping him into
+the cab, "except to get you out of this hole. Make the most of your time
+now. Good luck to you!"
+
+The cab rolled off. Rowan, after the first few minutes' exhaustion, due
+to his unaccustomed preparations, leaned forward on the seat, looking
+out with hungry, wistful eyes upon the world which he had scarcely hoped
+to see again. Very soon the full flood of London traffic was flowing
+past him, the streams of men and women jostling one another upon the
+pavements, the long, tangled thread of moving vehicles, taximeter cabs,
+hansoms, and wagons. The sun was shining, the faces of the people seemed
+to him, accustomed to the white, hopeless countenances of the men he had
+passed in his daily exercises and in the prison infirmary, unusually
+buoyant and cheerful. It was a glad world, this, into which he had come,
+a world which he was so soon to leave. It was hard to think he was free
+only that he might crawl away into some corner where he could die.
+
+The cab stopped at last before a block of offices in a by-street of the
+city. Rowan reluctantly alighted, and crossing the pavement entered the
+building. He passed through a swing door to a desk. A small boy poked
+his head out of an inquiry office.
+
+"Can you tell me if Miss Rowan is employed here?" Rowan asked.
+
+"Yes, but you can't see her," the small boy answered. "She's in with the
+guv'nor now."
+
+Rowan hesitated. "Perhaps you will kindly tell her, when she is
+disengaged," he said, "that her brother is here, and would like to speak
+to her for a moment."
+
+The office-boy withdrew his head, but he seemed uncertain. Rowan seated
+himself upon a hard bench set against the wall. On a small round table
+in front of him were pens and paper and a copy of the trade journal.
+Rowan turned over its pages listlessly for a moment or two, and then set
+himself down to wait. It was quite half-an-hour before a door in front
+of him opened, and Winifred Rowan appeared. She looked at her brother in
+blank astonishment. She was paler than ever, there were dark rings under
+her dilated eyes. She looked at him as one looks upon some strange
+monstrosity.
+
+"Basil!" she murmured. "It can't be you! And yet--Basil!"
+
+"It is I," he answered.
+
+"Free?" she cried.
+
+He laughed, a little bitterly. "They have let me out to die," he
+answered. "The doctor to-day signed a certificate that I have no
+reasonable chance of living longer than another month, so here I am,
+free, Winifred, if you like to call it freedom."
+
+She came and sat on the bench by his side. At that moment it was hard to
+say, from their appearance, which of the two seemed the nearer death.
+
+"When were you released?" she asked.
+
+"Half-an-hour ago," he answered. "I came straight here. I wondered
+whether you could get a month's vacation, and come with me somewhere
+south. We have enough money for a little time."
+
+"If they will not let me go," she answered, "I will leave. That is
+simple enough. We have enough money, Basil. We will go this afternoon."
+
+He shook his head. "First," he said, "I must see--I must see--"
+
+"Whom?" she asked.
+
+"A friend," he answered, "someone who may be inclined to do something
+for me,--not for myself," he added hastily,--"that, of course, is
+ridiculous--but it is of you I am thinking, of you after I am gone."
+
+"I shall be all right, Basil," she said. "We have several hundred pounds
+left, you know."
+
+"It is not enough," he answered firmly. "Winifred, will you go on an
+errand for me?"
+
+"Where to?" she asked, with a sudden sinking of her heart.
+
+"To a man whose address I will give you,--a rich man, a great man. I
+think that he will be willing to do something for us. His name is
+Stirling Deane. I will write his address down for you."
+
+"Mr. Deane!" she repeated. "I have been before to see him, Basil. I went
+before your reprieve came."
+
+"Of course," he said. "I had forgotten. Well, I want you to go up to him
+now. I want to see him, but I do not want to go to his offices. Where do
+you live, Winifred?"
+
+"It is an apartment house for women only," she answered. "I cannot take
+you there."
+
+"Then we must go to a hotel," he said. "It seems a mockery to buy
+clothes, but there are one or two things I must have. To-morrow we will
+go somewhere south."
+
+She glanced at the clock. "I will see whether I can get away now," she
+said.
+
+She disappeared, and came out again in a few minutes with her hat on.
+"Come," she said.
+
+He led her to the cab outside. "We will drive to a hotel," he said.
+"When we have taken some rooms, you shall go and see Mr. Deane. I think
+that he will come to me if you will tell him that I am free, that I have
+only three weeks to live, and that I should like to see him."
+
+"Very well," she answered.
+
+They stepped into the cab. "Tell him to drive to one of the large
+hotels," Rowan said,--"any except the Universal."
+
+She shuddered as she gave the order. She, too, had her memories of the
+Universal, of which he knew nothing. Slowly they made their way
+westwards. The girl held his hand in hers.
+
+"It is good to see you again, Basil," she said.
+
+"It is good to be here again," he answered, "to be out in the world,
+even though it be to die. I suppose the authorities have really been
+kind to me. It is as much as anyone could expect. And yet, Winifred, I
+should like you to remember this always. The quarrel between Sinclair
+and myself was of his seeking--not mine. The blow of which he died was
+struck purely in self-defence. I could box and he couldn't, or he would
+have half killed me that night."
+
+"I know," she answered breathlessly. "Don't talk of it."
+
+He went on, as though not hearing her. "He came at me with both hands
+clenched, and I hit him under the chin. I had to, or he would have
+killed me if he could. He was a strong man, and he had been drinking
+until he was half mad. It was not my fault, Winifred."
+
+"Oh, I know that!" she said. "Try and forget it now. It was a wicked,
+wicked accident."
+
+"Life has been wicked enough for you and me lately," he answered,
+sighing. "You are worn to a shadow, Winifred. I suppose it is this
+wretched typing, day by day. We must put an end to it."
+
+She shook her head. "I must earn a living, dear," she said. "But don't
+bother about me. I shall be all right. See, he has stopped. This must
+be--yes, it is the Grand Hotel. Will that do?"
+
+He nodded. "Quite well," he answered.
+
+He paid the cabman, and making some excuse at the office about luggage
+to come, took rooms. Then he put Winifred into a hansom, and wrote down
+for her Deane's address, which she already knew.
+
+"Bring him back with you if you can," he begged. "Bring him back here. I
+shall be waiting in the reading-room, just round the corner there to the
+right."
+
+She hesitated. "You look so faint, Basil," she said. "I am not sure
+whether I ought to leave you."
+
+"I am going to have some brandy and milk," he answered. "I am going to
+sit down and have it there in that corner. I shall wait till you come.
+You will know where to look for me. Hurry, dear, please. I shall know no
+peace until I have seen Deane."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A LAPSE OF MEMORY
+
+
+Deane sat at his desk, immersed once more in the affairs of his great
+business. His cheeks were bronzed with the sun and heather-scented wind.
+His eyes were clear and bright. All traces of the unsettlement of those
+few nervous weeks seemed to have passed away. One thing only
+occasionally disturbed him--the non-appearance of Winifred Rowan. Since
+those few seconds of tremulous excitement when they had stood face to
+face in the darkened room of the hotel, he had neither seen nor heard
+from her. He could understand her having left the hotel hurriedly. He
+could have understood her keeping away for a day or two. But a whole
+month had passed, and she had taken no steps whatever to communicate
+with him. He had left exact instructions as to what was to be done
+should she come to the office while he was in Scotland. He had had the
+whole of his private letters forwarded, lest by chance a word from her
+should fail to reach him. There was something a little ominous in this
+absolute silence, something which troubled him occasionally, which set
+him thinking, wondering, whether under that still, quiet demeanor there
+might be qualities of which he had taken no account,--whether indeed
+she, too, were not a schemer who meant to make the most of this
+opportunity which chance had thrown in her way.
+
+A clerk entered and stood at his side. "A young lady is here to see you,
+sir," he announced,--"Miss Rowan."
+
+"Miss Rowan," Deane repeated mechanically.
+
+"Yes, sir!" the clerk answered. "We have instructions outside to let you
+know if she called at any time."
+
+Deane leaned back in his chair. With a few quick words he dismissed his
+secretary from the immediate business in hand. "You may show Miss Rowan
+in," he said.
+
+A moment or two later she entered. Deane watched her with a new
+curiosity as he rose to his feet. She was as quietly dressed as usual,
+as pale, and her eyes, except for one upward glance, seemed always to be
+seeking the carpet. There was something curiously negative about her
+appearance,--something, it seemed to him, almost wilfully so. The rich
+brown hair, which had flashed almost to golden in the morning sunlight
+at Rakney, was drawn up and concealed, as though the owner's sole object
+was that it might escape attention. Her clothes were not unbecoming, but
+they were the quietest of their sort. Her eyes, which should have been
+beautiful, were so perpetually veiled and hidden that their quality was
+lost. Both physically and in her reticent speech she appealed to him
+more than ever that morning as a woman whose desire seemed to be to
+creep through life unnoticed.
+
+"At last!" he remarked, holding out his hand pleasantly. "I have been
+expecting to see you for some time, Miss Rowan."
+
+"You have been expecting to see me?" she repeated, raising her eyes to
+his. "How strange!"
+
+"Why strange?" he answered, glancing around the room, and lowering his
+voice a little. "Don't you remember at our last meeting you promised to
+bring my tea a few hours later? Since then, I have not even seen you,
+nor have you sent me a line."
+
+She raised her eyes again and looked at him. They were very beautiful
+eyes, but he did not understand the somewhat blank expression which
+shone out of them. "I do not understand you," she said quietly.
+
+Deane would have been irritated, but something in her manner struck him
+as so strange that his feeling turned to one of bewilderment. "Come," he
+said, "you are not going to suggest that I have been dreaming, or that
+you have had one of these fashionable lapses of memory? You remember
+meeting me in that room in the Universal Hotel?"
+
+Without change of countenance or expression she answered, "I have never
+been in the Universal Hotel in my life!"
+
+Deane looked at her, his lips a little parted, and as he looked his
+feeling of bewilderment grew. "My dear young lady," he protested, "do
+you mean to tell me--"
+
+"You have been mistaking me for someone else, I think," she said calmly.
+"There are so many people about who are like me. We will not talk of
+this just now, if you do not mind. I have come to you from my brother."
+
+"Well?" said Deane.
+
+"My brother is free," she went on. "He was released at nine o'clock this
+morning. The doctor at the prison signed a certificate that he has only
+a month or so to live. He is free on the understanding that he goes away
+to some quiet place. He came to me an hour ago. It is at his wish that I
+am here."
+
+"Go on," Deane rapped out.
+
+"He wishes to see you," she said. "That is all. He does not think that
+there is any risk about it, under the circumstances. We are staying for
+the night at the Grand Hotel. To-morrow we shall go down to Devonshire
+or Cornwall. He will be glad if you will come and see him as soon as
+possible."
+
+"I will come," Deane said, "but first, Miss Rowan, I must have an
+understanding with you."
+
+"An understanding with me?" she repeated slowly.
+
+"Naturally," he answered. "I want to know, first of all, whether you are
+my friend or my enemy,--whether, in short, you mean to play the
+blackmailer, or whether you mean to return to me that document which you
+abstracted from amongst Sinclair's effects."
+
+She drew a little sigh. "I am quite sure now, Mr. Deane," she said,
+"that you are mistaking me for someone else. I do not know what you are
+talking about."
+
+Deane was silent for several moments. He was feeling nervous and
+disturbed. There was something uncanny about this quiet, persistent
+denial,--the still face, the steadfast, beautiful eyes, which seemed yet
+like unlit fires devoid of sympathy or apprehension.
+
+"I scarcely know," Deane said, "how we are to continue this discussion.
+For some reason or other, you are sitting there within a few feet of me
+and denying something which we both know to be the truth. You have a
+motive, I suppose, but whatever that motive may be, you cannot imperil
+it by speaking openly here. We are absolutely alone. There is not a soul
+within hearing. You and I both know, Miss Rowan, that you hold that
+paper to obtain which your brother risked his life and met with such
+misfortune. It would be his wish, I know, that you should give it to me.
+The terms I offered him for its recovery were surely liberal. If you
+think otherwise, tell me your price. We are alone. You are not giving
+yourself away. Tell me your price!"
+
+"I have no price, Mr. Deane," she said, "because I have no paper. I am
+not a thief, nor have I stolen anything from anybody. All that you say
+is strange to me. My brother is waiting, and he is very ill. Will you
+come with me now, or will you follow as soon as you can?"
+
+Deane leaned back in his chair and laughed. It was not altogether a
+natural laugh, but it was the only relief he could find from his
+overwrought feelings. "What sort of a game you and I are going to play,
+Miss Rowan, I cannot imagine," he said. "I have made the first and the
+obvious move, and you have declared your opening. We must let it go at
+that, I suppose. When you are disposed to talk common sense, I and my
+cheque-book will be glad to listen to you. In the meantime, let me beg
+of you one thing, and that is, keep that paper in some safe place!"
+
+She rose to her feet with a little sigh. "You are mistaking me for
+someone else, Mr. Deane," she said.
+
+He crossed the room and fetched his hat and gloves from a cupboard. He
+glanced into a looking-glass for a moment to straighten his tie, and met
+the girl's eyes fixed upon him. He stood quite still, watching. She was
+looking at him, at his back, as he stood there. There was expression in
+her face at last, an expression which puzzled him, which he failed
+altogether to understand. He stood quite still, with his fingers still
+upon the sailor knot of his tie. As though she realized the
+possibilities of the mirror, she suddenly turned around. When he came
+towards her, the mask, if it was a mask, was there once more.
+
+"If you will come with me," said he, "I should be glad to go and see
+your brother."
+
+They passed through the offices side by side. Many curious eyes followed
+them. Deane paused at one or two of the desks to leave a few parting
+instructions. Then he handed the girl into the electric brougham which
+was waiting at the door.
+
+"The Grand Hotel," he told the man.
+
+He got in and seated himself by her side. "Miss Rowan," he said, "you
+are beginning to interest me exceedingly."
+
+"I am sure that you cannot be in earnest," she answered, without turning
+her head. "I am a most uninteresting person, living a most uninteresting
+life."
+
+"I think you said that you were a typist," he remarked.
+
+"I am," she answered. "I am employed by Messrs. Rubicon & Moore in St.
+Mary's Passage. I have been there for three years."
+
+"With occasional holidays," he remarked, with a smile.
+
+She shook her head. "The only holiday I have taken," she answered, "was
+when I came to see you."
+
+He deliberately leaned forward to look into her face. The memory of that
+moment when he had held her in his arms, the breaking of the storm, the
+thrill, the wonderful, unanalyzed excitement which seemed to play about
+them like the lightning which was soon to flash across the sea and land,
+came back to him. He looked deliberately into her face,--still as the
+grave,--at the large eyes, which were listlessly fixed upon the
+streaming people.
+
+"You are the most amazing person!" he said softly. "Perhaps, as you were
+never at the Hotel Universal, you were never in Rakney? Perhaps it was
+not you who came to me with the storm, who tapped at my window, who
+stood there like the daughter of the storm itself, who--"
+
+"It was I who came to Rakney," she said. "You know that very well, Mr.
+Deane. Neither have I forgotten it. But I think that you should not
+remind me just now of that."
+
+Of course she was right, but Deane felt a little unhinged. Her
+invulnerability was maddening. "Perhaps not," he answered. "Perhaps I
+have no right to remind you of that night, of the time when you crept in
+from the storm, crept into my arms."
+
+She turned her head slightly away, as though interested in the passing
+throng. No flush of color tinged her cheeks. Her straight, firm lips
+never trembled. He tried to take her hand,--small it was, and encased in
+old, neatly-mended gloves. She drew it quietly but firmly away. She
+remained silent.
+
+"Perhaps I have no right," he continued, "to remind you of these things,
+but neither have you the right to deny our later meeting. You are
+playing some sort of a game with me," he continued, a little roughly,
+"and your methods, whatever they may be, include a lie. Therefore, I
+myself take license."
+
+"If you have quite finished, Mr. Deane," she said, "I should be glad. My
+visit to you, and all the circumstances connected with it, is one of the
+things which I wish to forget."
+
+"To relegate to the same place in your memory," he remarked, "as your
+brief essay in the role of a chambermaid."
+
+She leaned out of the window. "Here we are," she remarked. "I am anxious
+about my brother. Please hurry."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A PAINFUL INTERVIEW
+
+
+Rowan sat still in his corner, and although the hotel could not be
+called fashionable--perhaps, in these later days, scarcely
+luxurious--the little ebb and flow of life upon which he looked seemed
+tinged with a peculiar bitterness. His hollow eyes followed each group
+of these men and women, so full of vivacity, of happiness, of affairs.
+The envy in his heart was like a real and passionate thing. It was an
+envy scarcely founded upon comparisons. For them was life,--for him was
+none! In front of him always was that ghastly, unchanging verdict: a
+month--two at the most--thirty days of ill-health, of suffering, of
+weakness, and after that--what? He caught his breath with a little
+shudder, and calling a passing waiter, ordered some brandy. He looked
+around and longed to find someone to speak to, someone to occupy his
+attention for a single moment, to stop the flow of gruesome fancies
+which seemed always biting their way into his brain. He had faced death
+readily enough in those old days, when Deane and he had ridden side by
+side, and the bullets had whizzed around them like rain, and the dead
+men lay in heaps. But this was different! The blood ran warm in their
+veins then, their hearts were strong. He had no strength now to battle
+with these fancies, no strength to do anything but cower before the
+slowly coming, grisly shadow of his fate. He looked continually at the
+door, longing always for the return of his sister and the coming of
+Deane. Even the prison hospital was better than this.
+
+A girl passed by, young and beautiful, carrying in her arms a little
+dog. She threw a compassionate glance at Rowan, and he felt the sweat
+break out upon his forehead. It was too awful, this! He was rising to
+his feet even as Deane and his sister entered the lounge. He moved
+toward them with uncertain footsteps.
+
+"We must have a sitting-room," he said. "I cannot face these people. I
+am beginning to feel a coward."
+
+Deane went to the office, and very soon they found themselves upon the
+third floor, in an apartment overlooking Northumberland Avenue, gorgeous
+with plush and gilt mirrors, stiffly arranged chairs, an ornate
+chiffonnier. Rowan, who had come up in the lift muttering to himself,
+but obviously anxious for silence from his two companions, threw
+himself, almost as the door closed, upon the hard couch.
+
+"I am broken!" he cried out. "I am broken!"
+
+Winifred sank on her knees by his side, her arms went round his neck.
+Deane turned away and walked to the window a little awkwardly. Somehow
+he felt that it would be taking a mean advantage if he should look into
+her face, though all the time he was longing to see if her eyes had
+really softened, if those lips were really trembling a little, lips that
+were pressed to her brother's forehead.
+
+"Basil," she whispered, "you mustn't! Bear up, please. Mr. Deane is
+here. He has come with me. Sit up and talk to him."
+
+Rowan pulled himself together. He sat up, and Deane, obeying a gesture
+from her, crossed the room once more.
+
+"Rowan," he said, "I am very sorry to see you like this."
+
+"It's my first day out," Rowan answered. "It's a little trying, you
+know, especially when the end is so near. I wanted just a few words with
+you, Deane. It is good of you to come."
+
+Deane nodded. "I only wish there was something I could do," he said.
+
+"There is nothing," answered Rowan.
+
+The girl turned away. "When you want me, Basil," she said softly, "I
+shall be in the next room."
+
+"You might have some brandy brought up," he said. "I must talk for a few
+minutes, and I am not feeling very strong."
+
+"I will ring the bell in the other room," she said, "and order it."
+
+She disappeared through the connecting door. Deane, who had found
+himself watching her slow, even progress, turned once more to the man
+who sat by his side.
+
+"I never thought I'd see you again," Rowan commenced. "I did my best,
+Deane. I made friends with Sinclair all right--he was glad enough to
+have anyone to drink with--and before long he began to tell me about his
+claim to the Little Anna Mine."
+
+"Did he believe in it?" asked Deane.
+
+"Absolutely," Rowan answered. "I am quite sure of that. He absolutely
+believed that directly he put it into the hands of any solicitor, you
+would have to come to him and buy, even though it cost you half your
+fortune. He was waiting those few days to see if you came."
+
+Deane nodded. "Tell me how it happened," he said.
+
+"It was like this," Rowan continued, speaking hoarsely, and with
+difficulty, "that night he wasn't quite so drunk. I pressed him a little
+too closely about his claim, and where he kept the paper. He was
+suddenly suspicious and quarrelsome. He tried to turn me out, and when I
+wanted to soothe him down, he struck me. He was a strong man and I was
+weak. I think that he meant to murder me. I remember I was half on the
+floor. My forehead was bleeding already, and he was coming towards me,
+shrieking with rage. 'I am going to finish you!' he called out. Then I
+struck, hoping only to stun him, and, as you know, the blow killed him.
+I forgot for a moment about the paper. I thought only about making my
+escape. I had bad luck, and I did not succeed. I am afraid it was a
+bungling sort of job, Deane."
+
+"I am very sorry indeed," Deane said, "that I ever suggested it to you."
+
+"It wasn't your fault," Rowan answered. "Nothing of this sort would have
+happened if he hadn't come for me. I meant to rob him if I could--I'll
+admit that--but no more. You see it was useless for me to try and open
+negotiations. He was too confident altogether. He spoke of a million
+pounds as his price. Tell me," he went on, "how do things stand now? Who
+has possession of the paper?"
+
+Deane hesitated for a moment. "I do not know."
+
+Rowan's face fell. He seemed disappointed. "I had an idea," he said
+slowly, "that you might have made some attempt to recover it. Everything
+was left in the room at the hotel for some time. It was easily done."
+
+"I did make an attempt," Deane said slowly. "I have searched the room
+for that paper, but failed to find it."
+
+"You yourself?" Rowan asked eagerly.
+
+"Yes! I heard that there was a claimant coming for Sinclair's effects,
+and that they were going to be removed to Scotland Yard. I took a room
+at the hotel, and I got hold of a key. I went through everything the man
+had."
+
+"It was in the breast pocket of his gray coat, underneath the lining,"
+Rowan gasped.
+
+"I found the place," Deane answered, "but it was empty."
+
+Rowan wiped the sweat from his forehead. His breathing was becoming
+difficult. Already the excitement was affecting him. "But it was there
+on that night!" he exclaimed. "He took off his coat a few minutes
+before, and I saw him feel it in the lining."
+
+"All I can tell you," Deane answered, "is that the lining of the gray
+coat was torn, as though something had been abstracted. The paper was
+not there. It was not anywhere in the room. I ran a risk," he continued,
+after a moment's pause, "which I dare not think of, even now, but it was
+in vain. Someone had been before me."
+
+"Was there anyone else upon the scent, then?" Rowan asked.
+
+"Can you think of anyone?" Deane asked.
+
+Rowan looked at him with distended eyes. "You don't mean to insinuate,"
+he began, "that I--that I had given it away?"
+
+"Not wilfully," answered Deane. "Is there anyone at all to whom you
+spoke of this?"
+
+Rowan shook his head. "Only to my sister," he said, "and she is as
+silent as the grave."
+
+"Nevertheless," Deane said, "the paper has gone. Someone has it--is
+holding it now--for a purpose, I suppose. There can but be one purpose.
+Perhaps," he added, "you had better ask your sister, to be quite sure
+whether she ever mentioned its existence to anyone."
+
+"We will ask her at once!" Rowan exclaimed. "I will ask her before you.
+Let me get up. Help me. I will fetch her."
+
+Deane stretched out his hand. "No!" he said. "You must not excite
+yourself Rowan. I will knock at the door and call your sister."
+
+Rowan lay back, gasping. Deane crossed the room and knocked at the door
+which led to the inner apartment.
+
+"Miss Rowan," he said.
+
+She opened the door almost immediately. "Yes?"
+
+Deane stood aside. "Your brother," he said, "has a question to ask you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A QUESTION
+
+
+Winifred came slowly into the room. It seemed to Deane, watching her
+curiously, that she had been steeling herself to defiance. There was no
+change in her expression, and her lips seemed tighter drawn than ever.
+She went at once to her brother's side.
+
+"You have been talking too much, Basil," she said. "You know that it is
+not good for you."
+
+He leaned across to the little table which stood by his side and helped
+himself to brandy. He was indeed looking terribly ill. The lines under
+his eyes seemed traced with a coal-black pencil, and his hand shook so
+that half the brandy was spilled.
+
+"Winifred," he said, "I must ask you a question. You remember that I
+spoke to you of a document--Sinclair had it. I was trying to deal with
+him, trying to get it back for Mr. Deane here."
+
+"Yes," she answered calmly, "I remember your speaking of it."
+
+"We have reason to believe," he continued, gasping a little,--"reason to
+believe that it has been stolen. Mr. Deane wants to know whether at any
+time you have mentioned its existence to anyone."
+
+She looked at Deane and back at her brother. Her face was unchanged.
+"No!" she said. "I have mentioned it to no one."
+
+"You see," her brother continued, "it's like this. No one but I knew of
+that paper. Deane here told me, and I told no one except you. And yet we
+have evidence, we know that it has been stolen from Sinclair's room
+since his death. That is why we want you to be quite sure that you did
+not mention its existence to anyone."
+
+"No mention of it has crossed my lips," she answered. "I have no
+friends, no confidants. I have spoken to no one about it. Nothing in the
+world," she continued, "would be more improbable than that I should have
+done so."
+
+He turned to Deane, who stood by with impassive face. "You hear?" he
+exclaimed. "You hear? I was quite sure about Winifred. She doesn't go
+talking about. She's no gossip, are you, Winifred?"
+
+"I hope not," she answered.
+
+"I have no reason, I am sure," Deane said slowly, "to doubt Miss Rowan's
+discretion."
+
+She raised her eyes for a moment, and met his. The faint satire in his
+tone was intentionally provocative, but it failed to move her. Her
+regard of him was entirely impersonal. He looked away with a light shrug
+of the shoulders.
+
+"Well, Rowan," he said, "it seems there is nothing further to be done.
+If the paper does turn up," he added, "I shall know how to deal with its
+holder. In the meantime, about yourself."
+
+Rowan laughed a little hysterically. "About myself," he repeated.
+"That's a fruitful subject, isn't it?"
+
+"Doctors make mistakes sometimes," Deane said. "Let us hope that they
+may have made one in your case. Anyhow, there is no reason why you
+should not be comfortable, and have the best medical advice. Go wherever
+you think best, and send me your address. I shall not forget that your
+accident took place when you were engaged upon my affairs."
+
+"You are very good, Deane," Rowan said.
+
+The girl looked up. "Mr. Deane's kindness is quite unnecessary," she
+said. "We are in no want of money."
+
+"Your sister does not quite understand," Deane said, turning to him. "We
+have been through too many rough times in Africa together to stand upon
+ceremony now. You will perhaps be able to explain to her later on."
+
+He took up his hat and turned toward the door. "I shall expect to hear
+from you," he said, "as soon as you have decided where to go,--either
+from you, Rowan," he added, shaking hands with him, "or from your
+sister."
+
+"You are very kind, Deane," Rowan said. "I am sorry I have made such a
+mess of things."
+
+"It was not your fault," Deane answered. "Good-day, Miss Rowan!"
+
+She looked at him for a moment, but she did not offer to take his
+outstretched hand. He smiled, and withdrew it at once.
+
+"Good-day, Mr. Deane!" she said.
+
+The door closed behind him. Rowan was watching his sister anxiously.
+"Winifred," he said, "what is the matter with you? You were scarcely
+civil to Mr. Deane."
+
+"Oh! I think I was," she answered. "In any case, we don't want to take
+alms from him, do we?"
+
+"It isn't exactly that," Rowan objected.
+
+"It is."
+
+"He can afford it," Rowan declared. "He is very rich. A thousand pounds
+to him is like sixpence to us."
+
+"It doesn't alter facts," she rejoined. "I do not like Mr. Deane, Basil.
+It is through him that this trouble has come upon us. You have taken
+enough of his money."
+
+"And when I am gone?" he asked. "What about you then?"
+
+"Have I ever failed to make my own way?" she asked quietly. "I shall be
+safe enough, Basil."
+
+He commenced to cough, and very soon further speech was impossible. He
+was painfully exhausted. She sat by his side until he went off to sleep.
+Of his hopeless state there could no longer be any doubt. He was wasted
+almost to a shadow. Even in sleep his breath came heavily, and a fever
+seemed upon him. She stole softly from his side, and stood for a few
+minutes at the window, looking out. Below, the pulse of the great world
+was beating with the same maddening regularity. The stream of wayfarers
+swept on, the roar of traffic was as inevitable as the waves of the sea.
+She stood by the window with small, clenched hands. Behind her, his loud
+breathing seemed to beat out the time toward Death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deane himself was one of those wayfarers, but at least his thoughts, as
+he was being whirled eastward in his brougham, were fixed upon the
+tragedy which he had left behind him. He knew very well that it was not
+a question of months but of days with Basil Rowan. Was it only for that
+that the girl was waiting? Her whole attitude towards him had about it a
+certain flavor of mystery which oppressed him. It was like trying to
+face an enemy hidden in a darkened room, listening for his footstep, not
+knowing whence the blow might fall. Notwithstanding the warm sunshine,
+he shivered a little as he descended from the carriage and entered his
+offices.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MUTUAL INFORMATION
+
+
+The girl was sitting in the middle of a hard horsehair sofa, her elbows
+upon her knees, her head resting in her hands. She looked across the
+dreary apartment and out of the ill-cleaned windows, with dull,
+despairing eyes. This, then, was to be the end of her dreams. She must
+go back to the life which she felt to be intolerable, or she must throw
+herself headlong into the maelstrom.
+
+There was one other occupant of the room, and, curiously enough, his
+attitude appeared to be a somewhat similar one. He was a short,
+thick-set young man, with brown moustache, flashily dressed, with a red
+tie, an imitation diamond, and soiled linen to further disfigure an
+appearance at no time particularly prepossessing. He was standing with
+his legs a little apart, looking out into the uninspiring street. His
+hands were thrust deep down into the pockets of his trousers. He had all
+the appearance of a man who finds the burden of life an unwelcome thing.
+Presently he began to whistle, not cheerfully, but some doleful air of
+sentimental import. The girl upon the couch seemed irritated. She
+herself was in the last stage of dejection, and the sound grew
+maddening.
+
+"Oh, don't do that, please!" she exclaimed at last.
+
+He turned around in amazement, for the first time realizing that he was
+not alone. "I beg your pardon," he said.
+
+The girl remembered that he was a stranger to her, but after all, what
+did it matter? "I asked you to stop whistling," she said.
+
+He answered "Certainly!" and continued to look at her. She returned his
+gaze with a disapprobation which she scarcely attempted to conceal.
+
+"Sort of habit I get into," he explained, "when I'm in the dumps."
+
+"Does it do you any good?" she asked. "If so, I'll learn how to whistle
+myself."
+
+"Meaning," he remarked, "that we are companions in--dumpiness?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders, but did not trouble to reply.
+
+"I wish to God," he exclaimed, "I'd never left Cape Town!"
+
+Then for the first time she looked at him with a gleam of interest, and
+asked, "Do you come from South Africa?"
+
+He nodded. "I did, and I only wish I were back there. I could always
+keep my head above water there, but London is a rotten hole. I suppose
+it's because I don't know the runs," he added meditatively. "Anyhow,
+it's broke me."
+
+She continued the conversation without feeling the slightest interest in
+it, but simply because it was an escape--a temporary escape--from her
+thoughts. "What did you come over for?" she asked.
+
+"A fool's errand!" he answered. "I lent a man some money--a sort of
+speculation it was--and I came over to see how he was getting on."
+
+"And I suppose he'd lost it," she remarked.
+
+"He's lost himself," answered the man, "which is about as bad. I wish I
+could lay my hands upon him. I'd get a bit of my own back, one way or
+another."
+
+"London is a big place," she returned. "People are not easy to find
+unless you know all about them."
+
+"This man left South Africa only a month or so ago. He gave me an
+address here where he said I should always hear of him. I've been there
+nearly every day. He turned up there all right regularly after he first
+landed. He hasn't been there at all for two months, and they haven't the
+least idea where he is."
+
+"You don't even know," she asked, "whether the speculation is successful
+or not?"
+
+He shook his head gloomily. "It don't make much odds, so far as I can
+see," he said. "If it came off, he's bolted with the profits. If it
+didn't, he's hiding for fear I shall want my money back again. It's a
+rotten sort of show, anyway."
+
+"What was his name?" she asked idly.
+
+"His real name," the man answered, "was the same as your own,--that is,"
+he added, "I think I heard old Mrs. Towsley call you Miss Sinclair,
+didn't I?"
+
+She looked at him steadily for several moments without speaking. He was
+not a person of quick apprehensions, but even he could not fail to see
+the change in her face. Her lips were parted, her eyes were suddenly lit
+with an almost passionate fire. The change in her features was
+illuminating. She was no longer a tired, depressed-looking young woman
+of ill-tempered appearance. Her good looks had reasserted themselves.
+Life seemed to have been breathed into her pulses.
+
+"His real name was Sinclair," she repeated softly. "He came from South
+Africa. Tell me some more about him?"
+
+"Why?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"Because," she told him, "my name is Ruby Sinclair, and I am here on
+very much the same errand as you, only with this difference," she
+added,--"I know where my uncle is. I know what has become of him. There
+are other things for which I seek."
+
+He came over from the window, and stood on the hearthrug by her side.
+Some part of her excitement had become communicated to him. "I say," he
+exclaimed, "this is a rum go, and no mistake! If it's the same man, we
+may be able to help one another. It's Richard Sinclair I am looking for,
+called over there Bully Sinclair. He was a man about fifty years old,
+been in South Africa for the last twenty years, a mine prospector and
+general adventurer. He'd had his fingers in a good many pies, had
+Richard."
+
+"What was he over in England for?" she asked.
+
+The young man hesitated. "I don't know that there's any harm in telling
+you," he said, "only remember its information for information. I'm
+giving you the whole show away."
+
+"I'll tell you all you want to know," she interrupted. "Go on."
+
+"Well," the young man said, "he came over to lay claim to a gold-mine
+that he considered he'd been done out of."
+
+"A gold-mine!" the girl repeated breathlessly. "Was it a rich one--very
+rich, I mean?"
+
+"I should say so," the young man answered. "It was a complicated bit of
+business--the mine's in other hands, you see--but Sinclair reckoned that
+he'd got a claim to it, anyway, and he expected either to be squared for
+a big amount, or to get a syndicate to take the thing up. He came to me
+dead on his uppers. My name's Hefferom. He and I had been pretty thick
+at odd times, and though we'd been in a good many deals together, we'd
+kept friends in a way. He came to me, as I say, in Cape Town, and he
+told me what the game was. He wanted a matter of two or three hundred
+pounds to get over to this side, and to start things properly. Well, I
+thought it out, and though it was about all I was worth in the world, I
+let him have it. Over he comes. I got a letter from him to say he'd
+landed, and never another line. I cabled--no answer. Over I came myself,
+for he'd scarcely left Cape Town before a little affair that I was mixed
+up in went plumb wrong, and I lost every penny I'd got left. So over
+here I come, and I've been here a fortnight, and I tell you Sinclair
+seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. The worst of it is,"
+he continued, "I'm stoney-broke. I've got to leave this place to-day
+because I can't pay my bill, and I've no idea where to raise a
+sovereign."
+
+The girl's sense of humor triumphed for a second over her excitement.
+"There are your diamonds," she reminded him. "I heard you talking about
+them at dinner the other night. One of them you said was worth a hundred
+pounds."
+
+"A bluff," he answered readily. "They are false, every one of them. I
+talked like that to get old mother Towsley to let my account go on a
+bit, but she wasn't having any. Now, I say, I've told you my story. Tell
+me why you are so keen on knowing about it."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I will tell you. My name is Ruby Sinclair, and I am
+the niece of the man whom you have come to England to find."
+
+He made use of an oath for which he forgot even to apologize. "You know
+where he is!" he exclaimed. "Come, remember it was a fair bargain.
+Information for information!"
+
+"He is dead!"
+
+The young man staggered back. His first emotion of shocked surprise
+lasted only a few seconds. Anger and disappointment took its place.
+"Dead?" he exclaimed. "And my money--what about that? What he left
+belongs to me, anyway. It's got to be made up. I can show you his note
+for it."
+
+"You had better wait," she answered coldly, "Until I have told you
+everything. I suppose you don't read the papers?"
+
+"Never," he answered. "What good are they to me?"
+
+"They might have been of some use on the present occasion," she
+answered. "They might at any rate have saved you from wasting a good
+deal of time. My uncle was murdered in the Hotel Universal by a man
+named Rowan."
+
+The young man swore again,--fluently, volubly,--swore until he had come
+to the end of a varied and extensive vocabulary. When he had finished,
+there was an excited flush in his cheeks and a bright light in his eyes.
+"By Rowan--Basil Rowan?" he exclaimed. "He was one of us out there when
+we were prospecting up the Newey Valley. Look here," he continued, "you
+and I have got to have this out. Murdered, was he? Well, I'm the man
+that may be able to throw some light upon that. What's happened to
+Rowan? Had he anything to say?"
+
+"I will tell you all that I know," the girl answered. "My uncle wrote me
+directly he arrived in England. He told me that he had been fortunate in
+Africa, that he had come to take possession of a large fortune, and that
+he would be sending for me in a very short time to live with him, and
+that, as he had no other relative, I should be rich all my days. I
+replied, of course, asking whether I could not come at once. He wrote me
+again to tell me to wait for a day or two, until his affairs were
+settled. Then I heard no more. I waited. I wrote again. I waited, and
+wrote again. There was no reply. I found afterwards that my letters had
+never even been called for at the address where he told me to write.
+Then one day a stranger who was staying at Rakney told my uncle there to
+look at the papers. We found the story of his murder. He had been dead
+some time."
+
+"Rowan was tried, I suppose?" the man asked. "Did he say what his motive
+was? Has he been hanged?"
+
+"He insisted upon it that it was a quarrel," the girl said. "I do not
+believe him. He was found guilty and reprieved. I saw in the papers last
+night that he had been released. I believe that he has only a few days
+to live."
+
+"And you?" the young man asked.
+
+"I came up," the girl said slowly, "to take possession of my uncle's
+effects."
+
+"Have you got them?" he asked breathlessly.
+
+"Yes!" the girl answered.
+
+"There were papers?" he demanded.
+
+"Some," she answered, "but none of any importance."
+
+He looked at her suspiciously. She shrugged her shoulders. "Look here,"
+she said, "I am telling you the truth. Look at me, look at my
+gloves--mended half-a-dozen times. Look at my clothes, just hanging on
+my back and no more. If there had been a single thing amongst my uncle's
+papers on which I could have raised even a five-pound note, do you think
+that I should be sitting here like this, wondering which might be the
+quickest way out of the world?"
+
+The young man moistened his lips. He was obviously in a state of
+excitement. "Listen," he said, "among these papers was there a sort of
+deed on yellow parchment paper, roughly written, with a government stamp
+in the left-hand corner, a paper which spoke of a gold-mine called the
+Little Anna Gold-Mine?"
+
+She shook her head decidedly. "There was nothing of the sort."
+
+Then the young man swore again, and this time he seemed to surpass
+himself. "Your uncle was robbed!" he exclaimed,--"robbed of that paper!
+I tell you," he added, "he was murdered for it, and for no other
+reason!"
+
+"How do you know?" the girl cried.
+
+"Why, it's as simple as A B C," he explained. "He had the paper in his
+possession when he came to England. The mine has been claimed by a great
+syndicate who are working it now. He came to see them, to make terms.
+The next thing we hear is that he is murdered and the paper is gone.
+They thought that no one else knew of it. Young lady," he exclaimed,
+"you may thank your stars, as I do, that you and me have come together.
+We'll have justice, and we'll have that fortune yet!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+AN OPPORTUNE ARRIVAL
+
+
+With his feet to the sea, and his head pillowed by many cushions, Rowan
+lay in a long invalid chair at the edge of the little strip of shingle
+which separated the tower of Rakney from the sea. Every limb was at
+rest, every nerve seemed lulled into quiescence. The sun and wind had
+left their traces upon his hollow cheeks. It seemed, indeed, as though
+Death had lifted her hand from his forehead. It was only when one looked
+closer that one realized his terrible weakness, realized how slender,
+indeed, the thread was by which he held on to life. There was scarcely a
+breath of wind stirring. The sun was high in the heavens, and the whole
+country seemed lulled into a state of almost unnatural repose. The
+distant trees were motionless, as though, indeed, they were simply
+painted things against that background of deep blue sky. The smoke from
+the little cluster of cottages crept upwards, straight as a ruled line.
+The cattle in the fields seemed all asleep, exhausted by the unexpected
+heat. The sea was like a lake, unruffled, almost unrippled.
+
+The man dozed, and Winifred sat by his side, with her eyes fixed
+steadily and yet absently upon the distant horizon. A week, at most, the
+doctor had given him, and after that--what? She looked backwards to the
+window,--the window through which she had entered on that wild night
+earlier in the year. She looked away again uneasily. She was afraid of
+such moments as these. It was to escape from them that she had protested
+so vehemently against their accepting Deane's offer of his cottage.
+
+At low tide, a rough, pebbly road led from the village to the cottage,
+as well as the dyke footpath higher up. Along this came two people, a
+man and a woman, mere specks at first in the distance, but rapidly
+becoming more and more evident. They walked fast, and they looked always
+anxiously toward the tower, which stood out at the end of the road
+against the background of the sky,--a curious, almost uncanny, sort of
+building.
+
+"If they see us coming," said Ruby Sinclair, "they will certainly try to
+prevent our seeing him. Our only chance is to come upon them
+unexpectedly. They can watch the dyke path from the front, but few
+people ever come by this road. It winds about so, and it is generally
+thick with sea mud."
+
+The man nodded. He too was keeping his gaze fixed in a strained manner
+upon their goal. "Now that we are so near," he said, "so near to him, we
+will make him speak. We will not be driven away. He cannot escape from
+us there."
+
+There was a curious air of determination about these two, a certain
+grimness which seemed common to both of them, as they hurried along the
+rough, stone-strewn road. They had reached the last hundred yards now,
+and their course was perfectly straight. They walked single file along
+the little stretch of marshland which served as a footpath.
+
+"He is in front, lying on a chair," she whispered. "They won't be able
+to get him in now before we are there."
+
+The road terminated suddenly upon the beach. The man and the girl
+scrambled up a little shingly mound. When at last Winifred heard the
+sounds of their approach, they were already between her and the house.
+Any attempt at escape was useless. She came a few steps toward them.
+
+"Who are you, please, and what do you want?" she asked quickly.
+
+Hefferom stretched out a hand toward the prone figure of Rowan, who was
+lying there still with closed eyes. "We want a few words with your
+brother," he said. "We shall not keep him long, but it is very
+important. We have come a long way to see him."
+
+"It is impossible," she said firmly. "He is very ill indeed. The doctor
+allows him to see no one. I don't know how you found your way here, but
+you must please return at once."
+
+"I have come a long way," Hefferom said slowly.
+
+"I am sorry," she answered, "but can't you see that it makes no
+difference? If you were to ask him questions, he is not well enough to
+answer you--scarcely to understand. Any sudden shock at all--even a
+recognition--might kill him."
+
+Hefferom hesitated no longer. He pushed Winifred away, and motioned to
+Ruby to follow him. At that moment Rowan opened his eyes and turned his
+head. Hefferom walked towards him and leaned over his chair.
+
+"You remember me, Rowan?" he said. "My name is Hefferom, Steve Hefferom.
+We were up the Newey Valley together, camped out, you know, at Prince's
+Gorge, for more than a month,--you and I and Deane, and a lot of us."
+
+"I remember," Rowan faltered, trying to raise himself. "Yes, I
+remember!"
+
+He had a fit of coughing. Winifred passed her arms around him and held
+him up. "If you stay," she whispered to Hefferom, "you will kill him. He
+ought not to speak ever a sentence."
+
+"It isn't much we want him to say, miss," Hefferom answered doggedly,
+"but there's a question he's got to answer. If he is as near death as
+you say, it can't make much difference what happens, and it means more
+than death to me and to this young lady."
+
+Rowan had recovered sufficiently to drink from a glass which Winifred
+had handed to him. He turned once more toward Hefferom. "That is all
+finished," he said painfully,--"those days. I am ill,--too ill to talk,
+too ill to think, too ill to live! Please go."
+
+Hefferom bent over him. "Rowan," he said, "you and I were never enemies,
+even if we didn't exactly hit it off together. Listen to me for a
+moment. Sinclair borrowed my last three hundred pounds in Cape Town to
+come over here and lay claim to the Little Anna Gold-Mine. He had the
+government deed with him. I have seen it. I followed him over to claim
+my share, and I found him dead, killed, and the paper gone. I am not
+asking you to give away your game, whatever it was, but we want the
+paper. This is Sinclair's niece with me, and I am his partner. We
+inherit his claim to the Little Anna Gold-Mine, and we want that
+document."
+
+"The document was not amongst Sinclair's effects when they were examined
+after his death," Rowan said. "I did not take it. I do not know what has
+become of it. That is the truth. Leave me alone now. I cannot talk any
+more."
+
+His head dropped back upon his pillow. He was white to the lips.
+Winifred hurried to his side. Once more she turned upon the two.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" she cried. "You have nearly killed him--for
+nothing. I know very well that no document of any sort such as you
+describe has been found. If Mr. Sinclair ever had it, it was probably
+stolen from him."
+
+"Stolen, yes!" Hefferom said,--"stolen right enough! That is what we are
+here about. This young lady is his niece, and I'm his partner. What was
+left behind belongs to us, and, so far as I know, the only thing worth
+having was that document. We want it, and, by God," he wound up, "we've
+got to have it!"
+
+"Do you imagine," the girl asked, without change of countenance, "that
+you will find it here?"
+
+"I will tell you what I do imagine," Hefferom answered. "Men don't
+commit murder for nothing. Your brother tried to steal that paper, or
+rather he did steal it. The game's up now. He's no opportunity to make
+use of it, and it belongs to us. It belongs to us and we've come for it.
+There, now you know the truth. We've come for it, and we've come to stop
+until we get it."
+
+Rowan raised himself a little in his seat. "Hefferom," he said, "it's no
+use talking like that. I haven't got it. I'll be frank, frank as you
+have been. I know no more than you do who has got it. I quarrelled with
+Sinclair, and he got suspicious. We fought in his room, and the result
+you know, but I was arrested before I left the hotel. Everyone knows
+that. The paper--I never had it--I never even saw it. Where it is now
+God only knows. I don't."
+
+Rowan fell back in his chair, coughing violently. For several moments he
+was incapable of speech. Winifred knelt by his side. When he had
+finished coughing, she held a wineglass to his lips and made him sip its
+contents. He lay back now as though completely exhausted. She turned to
+face these unwelcome visitors.
+
+"You see," she cried, pointing to him, "a little more of this and you
+will kill him. Go away, both of you. He has nothing to tell you."
+
+Hefferom laughed a little brutally. "Come," he said, "this game won't
+do. We are here for the truth, not to be put off with these fairy-tales.
+It is the truth we want, and the truth we'll have, or I'll wring it out
+of him even if it kills him."
+
+Rowan's eyes were closed, and he showed no sign of having heard.
+Winifred stood up boldly before him. "You are fools!" she said. "He has
+told you all he knows. If Sinclair ever had the deed you speak of, he
+parted with it to someone else, not to my brother."
+
+"Someone else!" Hefferom repeated. "Do you take us for fools? If he
+parted with that deed, he parted with it for a fortune. Where's the
+money? Show us the deed or the money, and we are satisfied. Show us
+neither, and we'll not leave this place until he has spoken."
+
+A step upon the shingle behind suddenly diverted their attention. The
+eyes of every one of them were fixed upon the tall figure who was
+walking swiftly up the slope. They had been so engrossed that they had
+not even heard the sound of the motor-car which was standing there,
+splashed with mud, and with its engine still panting. With his glasses
+in his hand, and his long gray coat thrown open, Stirling Deane strode
+up to them.
+
+"Come," he said, "it seems to me that I have arrived opportunely. What
+does this mean? Who are these people? Miss Sinclair, is this man your
+companion? What does he mean by speaking in such a tone to a dying man?"
+
+No one answered him. Hefferom stood as though turned to stone, but his
+eyes never left Deane's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HEFFEROM IS OPTIMISTIC
+
+
+Ruby Sinclair leaned forward and touched her companion's back as they
+flew through the village of Rakney. "Look," said she. "You see that
+cottage we are just passing? That is where I have lived for the last
+four years."
+
+Hefferom followed her outstretched finger. He saw the little grove of
+bare trees, and the marshland stretching out beyond to the bare sea.
+"Winter and summer?" he asked.
+
+"Winter and summer."
+
+He nodded. "About time you went fortune-hunting!" he said.
+
+No other word passed between them until they reached the railway
+station. They descended from the car, and watched it almost immediately
+swing round and disappear.
+
+"So this is the end of our little excursion to Rakney," Ruby remarked.
+
+"Yes!" Hefferom answered. "Aren't you satisfied?"
+
+"Why should I be?" she asked. "What have we gained?"
+
+Hefferom drew a long breath. "Ah, I forgot!" he said. "You don't
+understand."
+
+He drew her into the refreshment room. She declined to drink, but she
+sat in a corner while he disposed of several whiskies and sodas. At
+first he would say nothing, and she waited. Presently he began.
+
+"You think," he said, "that I was a coward, because when Deane bundled
+us off in his car and told the man to drive us to the nearest railway
+station, I did not protest. You think that I should have made a scene
+there? It wasn't worth while. Deane's coming gave the whole game away.
+Don't you really understand?"
+
+"Not a word," she answered.
+
+"Listen, then. Stirling Deane is the man who is supposed to be the owner
+of the Little Anna Gold-Mine, which was really your Uncle Sinclair's."
+
+She looked at him with gleaming eyes. "Say that again," she said. "I
+don't quite understand."
+
+"The deed which is missing from your Uncle Sinclair's effects," Hefferom
+said slowly, "is the title-deed to the Little Anna Gold-Mine. That mine
+was illegally taken possession of by Stirling Deane. He sold it to the
+company, of which he is now president, at an enormous price. He is the
+man with whom your Uncle Sinclair came to England to treat. Sinclair was
+murdered. By whom? By Rowan. Who was at the back of Rowan? Whose tool
+was he? We know! Chance this afternoon made everything clear to us.
+Can't you see that Rowan killed your uncle and stole that deed to save
+Stirling Deane from ruin,--at his bidding, as his accomplice?"
+
+"It takes my breath away," the girl murmured. "Now I think of it, of
+course, it is Deane's cottage they are in. He was there himself only a
+few weeks ago. It was through him that we heard of my uncle's murder."
+
+"The whole thing's as simple as A B C," Hefferom declared. "Can't you
+see that Deane has given himself into our hands? Of course Rowan stole
+the deed! Of course Deane has it! He will have to pay for our silence!
+By God, he will have to pay!"
+
+The girl looked up from her seat on the leathern couch, looked at her
+companion long and critically. "Do you think we can hold our own against
+a man like Stirling Deane?"
+
+"It depends upon the cards, and they are in our hands. We must go back
+to London. We must wait till he is at his office. Then I will see him.
+You can leave the thing in my hands now. I shall know how to approach
+him. He cannot deny his friendship with the Rowans. They are occupying,
+even at this moment, his own cottage. Very likely I shall be able to
+discover other things connecting him with them. The newspapers you
+showed me spoke of great influence which was brought to bear on the
+granting of the reprieve. We may find that Stirling Deane was at the
+back of that. Anyhow, he is connected closely enough with them. I am
+here, ready to swear that when Sinclair left Africa he left with the
+original title-deed of the Little Anna Gold-Mine in his pocket. I think
+that the friendship between his murderer and Stirling Deane, who sold
+that mine for close upon a million pounds, is a thing that will need a
+little explanation."
+
+"And in the meantime," said the girl bitterly, "we are starving."
+
+"Not quite," he answered. "We have thirty-eight shillings. That will
+take us back to London, and find us rooms somewhere for the night. We
+must scrape along somehow until I can get to Deane's offices."
+
+"You are not forgetting," the girl remarked, "that the thirty-eight
+shillings you are speaking of is my property?"
+
+"We are partners," Hefferom declared. "You shall carry the purse if you
+will, but there is no object in it."
+
+"You seem to do most of the spending," she reminded him. "If you think
+that we can afford it," she added, glancing at his empty glasses, "I
+should like a cup of tea."
+
+He ordered it at once, and sat down by her side. "Look here," he said,
+"I don't see what you want to be so blooming stand-off for. Times are a
+bit rough with us just now, but, you mark my word, we shall pull through
+all right. This man Deane is in the hollow of our hands. He has been
+Rowan's accomplice. No one who knows the facts could possibly doubt it.
+A word from us would ruin him."
+
+The girl sighed. She had drawn a little away from the man. "Do you
+believe, then," she asked, "that Mr. Deane has the deed?"
+
+"Either that, or it is destroyed," answered Hefferom. "But don't bother
+about that. Whether the deed is still existing or not, we know enough to
+make it worth his while to buy us, even though it costs him half his
+fortune."
+
+"In the meantime," the girl said, "please get the tickets. The train
+will be in, in a few minutes."
+
+"Come with me," he said suspiciously. "Remember, we're partners."
+
+"Oh! we are partners right enough," she answered, rising and following
+him out of the place. "You needn't be afraid that I am going to let you
+go. Just now you are all that stands between me and a return to Rakney."
+
+On the way up to town he began to build castles. He was optimistic,
+sanguine in the extreme. The girl listened almost stolidly. Her
+companion had begun to depress her. He was badly dressed, his linen was
+soiled, his imitation jewelry was hideous. He sat opposite her in the
+train, and there were things in his face from which she shrank. She was
+more than thankful that they were not alone.
+
+"Are you tired, or what?" he asked at last, a little sullenly. "Surely I
+made it all plain enough? You don't doubt that there's money in this for
+us?"
+
+"There should be," she admitted slowly. "And yet--"
+
+"And yet what?"
+
+"I have seen Mr. Deane before," she said hesitatingly. "I have talked
+with him once or twice. Somehow or other, when I think that it may come
+to be a struggle between you and him--"
+
+He interrupted her with a brazen laugh. "You think I won't be able to
+stand up against him! Well, you shall see. There's a good deal in
+holding the cards, you know."
+
+"You haven't the deed," she reminded him.
+
+"I don't want it," he answered. "I am not afraid of Stirling Deane. I
+have known him a good many years, and he knows me. We are up against one
+another now, and you may fancy his chances; but I tell you my back's
+against the wall, and his isn't. He's there fighting in the open. I've
+got him, I tell you,--got him!"
+
+She half closed her eyes. This was not the way in which she had hoped to
+come into her fortune. In her heart, she could not believe a word he
+said. Deane was a strong man; Hefferom, she was already beginning to
+discover, was nothing but a bully and a craven. If it came to a duel
+between the two, she found it easier to believe that Hefferom would be
+worsted.
+
+At King's Cross Station they separated. Hefferom, a little sulkily,
+accepted his dismissal, and parted with half of the money which he had.
+
+"You can go where you choose," she said. "You can come back to Mrs.
+Towsley's, if you like, but I tell you frankly that except while we are
+on business I think it better that we should stay apart."
+
+"I can't see why," he muttered.
+
+"For one thing," she said, "we might be taken for adventurers. I do not
+know much about the law, but it seems to me you won't be very far out of
+its clutches when your negotiations with Mr. Deane begin."
+
+"I can take care of myself," he answered gruffly. "Can I see you back to
+the old lady's, anyhow?"
+
+"No!" she answered. "I would rather go alone."
+
+"Come and have one drink in the refreshment room, just to wish ourselves
+luck," he begged.
+
+She went in with him and drank a cup of coffee. He had two liqueurs, and
+would have had more, but she dragged him sharply away.
+
+"Remember," she said, "that I have nothing more I can raise money on.
+These few shillings are all we have. If Mr. Deane does not return for
+several days, we must leave."
+
+"Deane will come back," he said, with a defiant laugh. "I let him have
+things his own way to-day, but he knows just where he is. Mark my words,
+he will be at the office to-morrow morning, and he will be there
+expecting to see me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A BOLD MOVE
+
+
+Hefferom was over sanguine. It was three days before he was able to see
+Stirling Deane. During that three days he had lived on a few shillings,
+spent mostly in drinks. He swaggered into Deane's office, an untidy,
+dissolute-looking creature. His efforts to seem at his ease were almost
+ludicrous.
+
+"A bit different, this, to the Newey Valley," he remarked, as he sat
+down without waiting for an invitation. "Things have gone pretty well
+with you, eh, Deane? Slap-up offices you've got, and the chink of money
+everywhere. It reminds me of what I've come about."
+
+"You have come for money, have you?" Deane asked.
+
+"Well, I don't know about that. I don't know how you look at it, but it
+seems to me that there's a bit owing, a bit which might come my way. I
+should tell you, perhaps, that I am representing Miss Sinclair as well
+as myself."
+
+"Richard Sinclair's niece?" Deane asked.
+
+"Exactly. She is heiress to anything the old man had, and I was partner
+with him in the Little Anna Gold-Mine."
+
+"In what?" asked Deane.
+
+"In the Little Anna Gold-Mine," Hefferom repeated distinctly.
+
+Deane leaned back in his chair. "I must ask you to explain yourself," he
+said. "The Little Anna Gold-Mine belongs to the syndicate of which I am
+a director."
+
+"That's all very well for a bluff," answered Hefferom, "but you got rid
+of Sinclair a little too easily."
+
+"Got rid of him?"
+
+"Oh! I'm not thinking of this last time," Hefferom interrupted, with a
+hard laugh. "I am thinking of the time he put you on to the mine, and
+you took possession of it."
+
+"It was perfectly legal," Deane remarked.
+
+"Perhaps so,--perhaps it wasn't," Hefferom answered. "Anyway, I know
+very well, and so, probably, do you, that Sinclair left South Africa six
+months ago, with the government title-deed of the Little Anna Gold-Mine
+in his pocket. I advanced him the money to come, and he made me his
+partner."
+
+"These are amazing statements of yours," Deane said. "May I ask where is
+this wonderful deed?"
+
+"You may ask," Hefferom answered, "but not me. Better go to Rowan. He
+knows, though he keeps his lips tight shut. He knows, and so do you!
+Never mind about that. You don't want a lawsuit,--no more do we."
+
+"Who are 'we'?" Deane asked.
+
+"Miss Sinclair and myself," Hefferom answered. "We are partners in this.
+I have come to you as a reasonable man. Sinclair landed in this country
+with the title-deeds of the mine which you have always considered yours,
+in his pocket. To-day he is murdered, and his papers have disappeared.
+He was murdered by Rowan, whom you are now befriending. There's a story
+there for the newspapers,--there's something more than a story, Deane."
+
+"Do I understand," Deane asked calmly,--
+
+"You can understand what you please," Hefferom said. "I want my money
+back, and I want big interest. And then there's the girl. She should be
+standing at this moment in your shoes. Half of the Little Anna Gold-Mine
+is hers by right. It is for you to say what it would be worth your while
+to put down to close this business."
+
+"Now," Deane remarked suavely, "you are talking common sense. But what I
+should like to know is, where is this wonderful title-deed?"
+
+"Oh, d--n you, it's in the fire, I suppose!" Hefferom cried. "You and he
+know. Rowan's your man, and he's the sort to die game. But he didn't
+kill Sinclair for nothing. I wouldn't mind betting that that deed has
+been burnt to ashes, but even then, I know a little too much, eh?"
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "You know a great deal too much," he said.
+"I am to understand, then, finally, that you want me to buy your
+silence?"
+
+"Put it that way if you choose," Hefferom answered, "only I warn you
+that I haven't come here on a child's game. This is a big business,--a
+big business for me and for the girl. She must have her share, and I
+mine."
+
+"And the amount?"
+
+"One hundred thousand pounds. Remember that it has to be divided."
+
+"In other words," remarked Deane, "I am to buy your silence as to these
+matters upon which you have spoken, for the sum of one hundred thousand
+pounds?"
+
+"It is too little," Hefferom declared. "The mine is worth ten times as
+much--the mine and your position."
+
+"If I give you this sum," Deane asked, "do I understand that it closes
+the whole affair? You must remember that I do not admit having even seen
+this deed you spoke of. Supposing it turns up in somebody else's hands?"
+
+Hefferom laughed ironically. "We'll guarantee you against that," he
+declared.
+
+"That's easy to say," Deane objected, "but I don't see how. Come, I will
+be perfectly truthful. I haven't got that deed. If it should be still in
+existence, and be used against me after I have paid you this sum of
+money, I should be in somewhat an unfortunate position."
+
+"There isn't the slightest fear of it," Hefferom said. "Besides--"
+
+"Besides what?" Deane asked, looking up from his desk.
+
+"It isn't as though the deed were a certainty," he said slowly. "Of
+course, the law is a little complicated. There would be witnesses on
+both sides, and the case might go anyhow."
+
+"It would depend a little, I think," Deane said quietly, "on which side
+you gave evidence for. I think you could upset that deed if you chose."
+
+"Perhaps I could," Hefferom said gruffly.
+
+"Will you do it," Deane asked, "if it should ever be set into action
+against me? Remember that even though I know you will not believe me,
+the fact remains that although I have defended Rowan, I am not in
+possession of that deed."
+
+Hefferom leaned across from his chair. "Listen, Deane," he said. "I am
+not here to bluff about that wonderful document. Perhaps it isn't worth
+the paper it's written on. Anyhow, here's my word for it. I'll see if
+ever an action is brought against you on the strength of that deed, that
+you blow it all sky high in five minutes."
+
+"Is the deed a forgery?" Deane asked.
+
+Hefferom did not answer.
+
+"Or is it only the date?" Deane continued.
+
+Still Hefferom was silent. Then, "There is no necessity," he said, after
+a pause, "of putting these things into plain words. You have only to
+find the money, and your anxieties are over."
+
+Deane touched a bell by his side. "Yours, I am afraid," he answered,
+"are only just beginning!"
+
+The curtains behind were suddenly thrown aside. A tall, spare-looking
+man stepped out. Deane turned towards him.
+
+"Inspector," he said, "I give this man in charge for a barefaced attempt
+at blackmailing me. You have heard all that has been said. I don't think
+that there is anything for me to add."
+
+He rang the bell by his side a second time. A moment later a policeman
+entered from the outer office. Hefferom, who had sprung to his feet, was
+glaring at them both, white with passion.
+
+"So this is your game, Deane!" he exclaimed. "By the Lord, you shall pay
+for it! You to dare to use the law against me,--you, who sent Rowan like
+a paid assassin to murder Sinclair!"
+
+"A gross calumny," Deane answered calmly. "I had no interest in
+Sinclair's life or death."
+
+"It's a d--d lie!" cried Hefferom. "If you are going to do any
+arresting, inspector, arrest that man!" he cried, pointing with his fat
+white forefinger to where Deane stood, debonair and well-dressed as
+usual, and with a little bunch of violets in his buttonhole. "I tell you
+that he paid the man Rowan to kill Bully Sinclair in the Universal
+Hotel. I tell you I can prove it. I can prove this--that Sinclair left
+South Africa six months ago, with the deeds of the Little Anna
+Gold-Mine, which this man dared to sell as being his own at close upon a
+million pounds less than six months ago. I can tell you more!--"
+
+They led him from the room, still shouting. At the door he turned back.
+"It's a bold game this, Deane," he cried, "but by heavens I'll cry quits
+with you before long! You think you have a case against me. I am only
+certain of one thing, and that is that you have driven a nail into your
+own coffin. If I could only get at you, you--you blackguard!"
+
+His eyes were bloodshot. He strained and struggled to free himself from
+the grasp of the two men.
+
+"I'd kill you where you stand!" he cried. "Do you think that I can be
+muzzled? Do you think that the truth won't come to light? People shall
+know it even if I never leave off telling it till my last breath comes."
+
+Deane listened to him with immovable face. They got him outside at last.
+He heard him being dragged down the corridor, protesting all the time.
+Then he resumed his seat. "It's a bold game to play," he said to himself
+thoughtfully, "and yet, if they really haven't the deed, there was
+nothing else to be done!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LORD NUNNELEY IS FRANK
+
+
+"I asked you to lunch at the club, Deane," said Lord Nunneley, "because
+I thought that we could talk here without being interrupted. If you came
+to Cavendish Square, Olive would walk you right away from the table, and
+if I asked to have a chat with you alone, there would be a perfect
+avalanche of questions to face."
+
+Deane looked up a little curiously. For the first time he realized that
+this was not simply a casual invitation. His prospective father-in-law
+had really something to say to him.
+
+"There was some matter which you wished to discuss, then?" Deane asked.
+"I need scarcely say that I am quite at your service."
+
+[Illustration: "There was some matter which you wished to discuss,
+then?" Deane asked.]
+
+Lord Nunneley passed his cigarette-case across the table. They were
+nearing the end of a very excellent luncheon. "Well," he said, "there
+were a few things I wanted to say to you. You see, Deane, the city is no
+longer a mythical place to us idlers. We meet people whose life is
+centred in money-making, every day. I have friends, friends beside
+yourself, who come from Lombard Street, and one hears things, gossip, I
+mean, and stray talk."
+
+Deane seemed suddenly to recede into himself. His host noticed the
+change, and blamed himself for his want of tact. Nevertheless, as he had
+begun, so he went on.
+
+"You see, Deane," he continued, "Olive is my only daughter, and it makes
+one more than ordinarily cautious. This blackmailing case of yours has
+set people talking a bit. Of course, I think you were right. It was a
+brave and sportsmanlike thing to do. The man is committed for trial, and
+I only hope he'll get penal servitude. All the same, there are a lot of
+people, you know, Deane, who don't take quite the same view of it."
+
+"Naturally," Deane assented. "One can scarcely occupy such a position as
+mine without having enemies. There are wheels within wheels in the
+financial world, you know, Lord Nunneley, just as there are in the
+social world. There are a dozen men who covet my post, and as many
+hundreds of hangers-on and parasites who would be glad to see me out of
+it."
+
+"Quite so," returned Lord Nunneley. "Of course, this man Hefferom's
+attitude was distinctly belligerent, and his solicitors evidently knew
+what they were talking about when they reserved his defence. Tell me,
+when Sinclair came to you first had he really any papers at all which
+were likely to cause you embarrassment?"
+
+"He had an original claim to the Little Anna Gold-Mine," Deane admitted,
+"but it had lapsed before I took possession. It was not worth the paper
+it was written on."
+
+"Still, he had got that document?" Lord Nunneley asked.
+
+"Without a doubt," Deane answered.
+
+"You have no idea, I suppose, what became of it?" Lord Nunneley asked.
+
+"Not the slightest," replied Deane. "I only know that it was not found
+among his effects."
+
+"Would it have been of any interest to you to secure it?" Lord Nunneley
+continued.
+
+"I would have given a few hundred--perhaps a few thousand--pounds for
+it," Deane answered, "partly as a curiosity, partly in order to save any
+possible trouble."
+
+"Of course," Lord Nunneley said, leaning back in his chair and sipping
+his coffee, "the world is full of people who love to gossip, and you
+cannot gossip unless you invent ill about someone. Somehow or other, it
+never amuses people to talk good of their friends; conversation only
+becomes interesting when one can associate evil with them. There are
+things being said in connection with this Hefferom affair, Deane, which
+are not altogether pleasant."
+
+"Go on," said Deane.
+
+"For instance," his host continued, "I was told last night that
+Hefferom's tale was in substance true,--he did advance this man Sinclair
+money to come to England and assert his right to the Little Anna
+Gold-Mine. Sinclair was murdered with this deed in his possession, and
+it is freely whispered that you have befriended Rowan--his murderer. The
+paper has disappeared. We know that. Still, there is a further rumor
+that it may turn up at his trial. In that case, wouldn't you be rather
+badly hit?"
+
+Deane shrugged his shoulders. "The exact facts are these," he said.
+"Sinclair's claim to the Little Anna Gold-Mine is worth very little.
+Nevertheless, he knew that any action he might take against me in the
+present state of our money market here would be somewhat disastrous. It
+would upset our credit and bring down our prices. Therefore, his idea,
+without a doubt, was to come to England and make a bargain with me. He
+didn't expect the mine. What he wanted was blood money. He came, and,
+perhaps unwisely, I would have nothing to do with him. Rowan was known
+to both of us out there. He came to see me a few days afterwards, and I
+commissioned him to buy this deed, if he could. He went to look for
+Sinclair, they drank together, an old quarrel was revived, and they
+fought. The end of that you know. Where the document has gone to, I
+can't imagine, but I can assure you that it was never meant to be the
+basis of a serious claim, merely the foundation stone of a perfect
+system of blackmailing. If I had listened for five minutes to Hefferom I
+should have been in his power all my life. I should have lost my
+self-respect. Very soon I should have lost my nerve. I couldn't do it. I
+preferred to face him in a court of justice. He came to blackmail me,
+and he deserved to be punished. If he can prove that it is I who am the
+ill-doer, I will take my punishment. I can say no more."
+
+"You talk," Lord Nunneley said, looking at him kindly, "as I would have
+my own son talk. And yet, Deane, this whole affair is distressing to me.
+I tell you frankly that it has upset all the pleasure with which I
+consented to your engagement. I cannot bear that anyone associated with
+Olive should ever find himself in such a position. This case, of course,
+may go all in your favor, or it may not. If it does not, well, you know
+very well that it would be the beginning of very unpleasant things."
+
+"Does Olive know of this little luncheon party of ours, Lord Nunneley?"
+Deane asked.
+
+"She does not," Lord Nunneley asserted. "Olive is, above all things,
+staunch. She is, I believe, too, sincerely attached to you. I am
+speaking entirely for myself. I am speaking, too, as the father of an
+only daughter, whose engagement to you was, after all, a little
+experimental. I should like to see my daughter released from that
+engagement, Deane."
+
+Deane smoked steadily for several minutes. Finally, "This is a little
+hard on me, isn't it, sir? I have only done what you yourself would have
+done--refused to have underhand dealings with men who made dishonorable
+propositions to me."
+
+"It is hard on you, Deane," Lord Nunneley declared. "It is very hard
+indeed. But remember, I never wanted Olive to marry anyone in the city.
+I know you, and I like you. If you came to me with your hands clean and
+plenty of money, I should not hesitate for a second, for I believe that
+Olive likes you. But I hate scandal, I hate gossip, I hate notoriety!
+This blackmailing case of yours is going to result in all three. I'd
+like to go home and lay the case before Olive, and have your permission
+to say that if it seems good to her mother and myself, the engagement
+between you two is broken."
+
+Deane leaned back in his chair. It seemed to him that he had so little
+time to give to thoughts outside the immediate trend of the day's work.
+It was proposed that his engagement with Olive should be broken. What
+did it mean to him, this engagement? How far into his life had she come?
+What place did she hold in his heart? His thoughts travelled backwards.
+He remembered his almost meteor-like accession to wealth and influence.
+He remembered how all doors had flown open to him. He remembered and
+realized exactly where he stood. He thought of Lady Olive. He remembered
+the first day when he had decided that she was the woman who would look
+well at the head of his table, who would be a pleasant companion for
+him, and would insure his having friends, when he gave up his
+struggling, amongst, the class of people with whom he desired to
+associate. It was in that way that he had looked at it from the first.
+Was it the same now? He had touched her hands. He had even kissed her
+lips. She had come into his arms and allowed him to embrace her, without
+any obvious reluctance. Only a few weeks ago she had kissed him
+voluntarily, absolutely of her own will. During their fortnight in
+Scotland she had shown herself more feminine than he had ever believed
+her. She had insisted upon taking him for walks by herself. She had
+taken his arm, encouraged him to make love to her, had deserted the
+bridge table in the evenings to sit in dark corners with him, had
+allowed him to hold her hand, even to snatch a few kisses. If she did
+not care for him, at least she was very near it. And as for him,--he was
+fond of her, without a doubt. Somewhere in the background of his
+apprehension there was some shadowy idea of a greater thing than this, a
+love more thrilling, more passionate, more mysterious,--music in the
+veins, which no Lady Olive in the world had ever created. But there was
+about these thoughts something absolutely unreal, fantastic. They had
+never taken to themselves shape, never become associated with any human
+being. They were nothing to trust to, he told himself,--nothing. He
+looked out of the rain-swept window of the club. Curiously enough, he
+had a sudden vision of Winifred Rowan's quiet, set face. The memory of
+one passionate moment seemed suddenly to creep along his heartstrings
+like the wind over the strings of a harp. Such folly, he thought,
+frowning! Such absolute folly!
+
+"Lord Nunneley," he said at last, "I am only anxious to do what Lady
+Olive wishes. If you will go home and tell her exactly what you have
+told me, I should like you to add that it is only her happiness that I
+wish, and that if she desires to release me, I shall accept her decision
+without a murmur."
+
+Lord Nunneley played with his coffee-spoon nervously. "I knew you'd say
+something like that, Deane," he said. "Of course, it will not be easy. I
+believe that my daughter is really fond of you, and our influence over
+her, both her mother's and mine, is somewhat limited. You wouldn't feel
+inclined, I suppose, to come over to our side, to realize that under the
+circumstances an alliance between you and her could scarcely be a
+satisfactory thing,--in short, to encourage her to bring it to an end?"
+
+"In other words," Deane said, "you propose that instead of suffering
+myself to be jilted by Lady Olive, I should offer myself as a victim?"
+
+"It's asking a good deal, I know," Lord Nunneley said, "and, of course,
+it all depends upon how you feel about it. But I tell you frankly, I
+can't help thinking--you must realize a little that this blackmailing
+case, even if it turns out well, is bound to put a different complexion
+upon things."
+
+"You must convince Lady Olive of that," Deane said. "I am ready to
+accept my dismissal, but you must forgive me if I decline to do anything
+to facilitate it. On the contrary, I shall insist upon seeing Lady Olive
+before she absolutely decides. I shall not plead with her--you need not
+be afraid of that--but I shall want to be quite sure that there has been
+no misunderstanding of any sort."
+
+"There is no time like the present," Lord Nunneley said. "Drive home
+with me, and we will interview my daughter at once."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She heard all that her father had to say, listened to him gravely and
+attentively. Then she turned to Deane. "And you?" she asked. "What do
+you say to it all?"
+
+"My dear Olive," said Deane, "it amounts to this. I am to be the hero or
+victim, as the case may be, of a _cause celebre_. I cannot come out of
+it with any considerable credit; I may come out to find myself under
+very grave suspicion. I admit that appearances are against me. There
+will even be people who will whisper that I sent Rowan from my office as
+an assassin to Sinclair, and that the deed he brought with him from
+South Africa is in my safe, or at the back of my fire. No one has ever
+been free from calumny. I certainly am going to have my share of it. It
+may--it very likely will--lessen my prestige. You will find some of your
+friends who will talk of the 'Deane Blackmailing Affair,' and who will
+never be quite sure whether I was prosecutor or defendant. You will find
+all your life my name looked upon with a certain amount of suspicion,
+because, in a case of this sort, prosecutor and defendant, and even the
+witnesses, are all classed together by that somewhat vague portion of
+the public which your friends represent. I admit all this. I also admit
+that it would be an act of perfect justice if you should tell me to kiss
+your hands and go."
+
+She pointed to the door. "Father," she said, "will you leave us for a
+moment? There is something which I have to say to Stirling."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT
+
+
+Even after the door had closed upon Lord Nunneley, and Deane was alone
+with his fiancee, words did not seem to come easily to either of them.
+Lady Olive was sitting back in the corner of a low couch. Deane was
+standing upon the hearthrug, his hands behind him, his face a little
+wrinkled with perplexity.
+
+"I suppose," he said thoughtfully, "you would like me, Olive, to explain
+exactly how this claim came about?"
+
+"On the contrary," she answered, "I do not wish you to do anything of
+the sort."
+
+He looked at her in some surprise. Her voice had prepared him for a
+change of some sort, but he was nevertheless puzzled. There was a slight
+flush of color in her cheeks, and her eyes were softer than usual.
+
+"Stirling," she said, "come and sit down here by my side."
+
+He obeyed at once. She turned and faced him.
+
+"I am puzzled, Stirling," she said. "I want to ask you a question. You
+have been lunching with my father?"
+
+"Yes!" Deane answered. "At his club."
+
+"I know that he feels very strongly about this matter," she said. "Tell
+me, did the suggestion that our engagement should be broken off come
+from him?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And you?" she said. "Tell me exactly what you felt, what it meant to
+you? I don't want you to fence with words, please," she went on. "Tell
+me this honestly. Was it anything of a relief to you?"
+
+"Assuredly not," he answered wonderingly.
+
+"Think again," she begged. "You answer quickly, but is that because you
+are very, very sure, or because you are taking it for granted? You see
+you are one of those men, Stirling," she went on earnestly, "whose
+disposition does not allow them to look back. We are engaged, I was your
+deliberate choice, and after that, so far as you are concerned, the
+matter was ended. The possibility that you had made a mistake would
+never occur to you, simply because you would regard the matter as
+inevitable. Tell me, if it were not inevitable, if you were not engaged
+to me at this moment, Stirling, would you ask me again?"
+
+Her words amazed him. He had never given her credit for such insight,
+such perceptions. It seemed, indeed, as though she had realized
+something of which he himself was not yet conscious, and yet something
+which might very well exist.
+
+"How long have you had this idea, Olive?" he asked gravely.
+
+"All the time," she answered. "At first, of course, it seemed all right,
+but up in Scotland, and since then, I have wondered whether you have not
+looked upon me as something quite outside your life,--a necessary and
+desirable adjunct, perhaps, to your household and growing prosperity.
+Don't think that I am complaining," she continued, "but in all our
+recent communications the personal note has not been very strongly
+marked, has it? I can see exactly, too, how my father's suggestion has
+moved you. You don't feel, do you, as though the sun had ceased to
+shine, or the world to move, because there is a chance that you may lose
+me?"
+
+Deane was not often so doubtful of himself. In a sense he knew that she
+was right. And yet, her very apprehension of these things, the new
+earnestness with which she was looking at him, the thought that he was
+very near indeed to losing her, seemed to stimulate his interest,--made
+him feel, indeed, that it would not be a light thing to give her up.
+
+"Olive," he said, "I wish I could make you know exactly how I feel. If I
+have been a little slow and reticent of speech, believe me, it is not
+that I have not cared. On the other hand, there is some truth in what
+you have said--I mean that I do honestly believe that I have taken
+things a little too much for granted, that knowing there was no other
+woman in my life, knowing how desirable you were, and how really fond of
+you I was, I think I was content to let the rest come, as I certainly
+did feel that it would come."
+
+"I think I understand," she said slowly. "Now tell me exactly what you
+think of my father's request?"
+
+"I think that it is reasonable," Deane answered. "It is more reasonable,
+even, than your father knows of. I think that I have been a little too
+successful, perhaps, during these later years of my life. I have grown
+to underestimate the possibilities of trouble."
+
+"This is really serious, then?"
+
+He nodded. "I am afraid," he said, "that I have been a little over-bold.
+I ought to have kicked that man Hefferom out of my office half-a-dozen
+times, until he came to reason, and then bought him off for good for a
+thousand pounds. But you see I didn't. All my life I have hated
+compromises. I knew that he was a blackguard, and I dealt with him as a
+blackguard, and I have left him with the cards in his hands."
+
+"Then I suppose my father was right," she said, sighing.
+
+"I suppose he was," Deane answered.
+
+She held out her hand. "Very well, Stirling," she said, "let it be so.
+Our engagement is broken, and I will see that the proper steps are taken
+to announce it. But I want you to understand this from me, that if you
+had cared, if I could have seen any signs whatever of your caring, no
+word of my father's, nor anything that could have happened to you in the
+city or elsewhere, any disgrace or any loss of money, could have
+separated us."
+
+He took a step towards her. "Olive!" he exclaimed.
+
+"No!" she said, a little sharply, and rang the bell.
+
+He turned and walked out. In the hall he passed Lord Nunneley. "We have
+arranged it according to your wish, sir," he said, "your daughter and
+I."
+
+Lord Nunneley looked at him curiously. Deane had the look of a man who
+has been hard hit.
+
+"I am sorry, Deane. I hope you understand there's nothing personal in
+it."
+
+"I understand!" said Deane, briefly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+BITTER WORDS
+
+
+From the pit of the world--from the Law Courts, hot and crowded, where
+the atmosphere was heavy with strife,--the modern battleground, where
+the fighting was at least as dramatic over the souls of men as on those
+other fields, reddened with their blood, Deane escaped to find himself,
+after a few hours' journey, in this strangest of churchyards upon the
+bare hillside. The church itself, squat, square-towered, and tumbling
+into decay, stood out like a watch-tower upon the cliff. The churchyard,
+bordered by low gray stone walls, seemed to contain little more than a
+dozen or so of graves, and from one of these Deane turned away, and with
+Winifred by his side commenced the long descent to the level of the sea.
+The half-a-dozen who had attended the ceremony out of curiosity had
+already melted away. The parson, with his book under his arm, had gone
+into the vestry, but neither custom nor age had failed to rob those few
+sentences of their wonderful, threatening pathos. Even Deane was a
+little moved. The girl who walked by his side carried still with her
+that impenetrable mask, but there was something more like real sadness
+in the steady gaze of her unseeing eyes.
+
+The air was filled with sunshine, the singing of larks, and the calling
+of the white-winged seagulls wheeling about their heads. Below, the sea
+had receded to its furthest limits. The creeks were dry. The shore was
+piled with masses of fragrant seaweed. The grass-grown dykes which led
+down to the tower stood high and dry, like ribbons across the land.
+Little sandy spits were visible, far out from the shore, and only the
+white-topped posts marked the way of the tidal river out beyond the
+island of seagulls and sand.
+
+Deane, after his anxious days and his tearing ride from town in the
+great motor, felt the peace of all these things, showed it in his face,
+felt it in his heart. The last few days had taught him a good deal.
+Never had he been so weary of his place in the great world as he was
+that afternoon. Even that little ceremony in the wind-swept churchyard,
+the coffin lowered into the grave, the heaping of earth, the simple
+words spoken by the bareheaded vicar,--even that little ceremony had
+left its impression. After all, how small the difference between Death
+and Life,--ignominy and greatness! His own reputation had many times
+during the last few days trembled in the balance. What was the value of
+that, even,--of all his wealth,--compared to the great primeval facts of
+life?
+
+His thoughts suddenly turned to the girl by his side. He looked at her
+pityingly,--looked at her, too, with curiosity. She had accepted his
+coming almost as a matter of course. All the time, though he had known
+well that she was suffering, she had been wordless, as though her grief
+were something so great that no outward sign of it could be anything
+else but pitifully inadequate. In her quiet, graceful walk, the very
+reserve, the negativeness, so to speak, of her coloring, her speech, her
+looks, she still represented to him an insoluble enigma. Was it
+possible, now that her brother had gone, that she would speak? In any
+case, the silence between them could not continue much longer, for
+already they were down on the marshes, and, as though by common consent,
+had turned seaward, towards where the lonely gray tower stood out on its
+little sandy eminence.
+
+"Tell me, Miss Rowan," he said, "what are your plans now?"
+
+"My plans?" she repeated, without turning her head.
+
+"Yes!" he went on. "I know that your brother's death is a blow to you,
+but remember that it was inevitable. It was a thing which was bound to
+come, and in many ways it was kinder and better that it should happen
+like this. You could not have chosen for him a more peaceful ending, a
+more peaceful resting-place. For anyone with even the faintest beliefs
+in the future life could anything be more beautiful than to rest there,
+with the eternal lullaby of the sea in his ears, free from encroachment,
+save the encroachment of nature herself?"
+
+She turned to look at him, and the calm scrutiny of her level gray eyes
+somehow disturbed him. "It is easy for you to talk like that," she said.
+"You are still young and strong, and if the pendulum of fate swings
+against you one day, it pays you back the next. You are selfish because
+you cannot help it. You cannot even realize the hideousness of death!
+You cannot realize it because it comes to other people, and not to you!"
+
+"You are a little unfair, Miss Rowan," Deane answered. "You must
+remember that your brother was a doomed man."
+
+"Yes, but why?" she cried. "He was younger than you. There were no worse
+things in his life. Always he was battling with failure and
+disappointment. And this is the end,--to sit opposite a doctor, and be
+told you may live a month, three months, a measure of time. Oh! it's
+easy to think about it for other people! Think of yourself going about
+with the knowledge in your heart that as the days passed one by one they
+brought you nearer to the end, that every morning when your eyes opened,
+instead of the joy of life would come once more that terrible fear."
+
+"Your brother was not a coward, Miss Rowan," Deane said.
+
+"A coward! You mean that he did not show his sufferings!" she exclaimed.
+"That does not mean that he did not suffer. Oh! I have heard him in the
+night when he thought that he was alone, I have heard his agony. And
+that is the end!"
+
+She turned and faced the little stone church on the hill, the rudely
+enclosed churchyard, in the far corner of which was still visible the
+bare heap of mould.
+
+"He felt it coming, he felt the strength pass from him day by day,--he,
+who had never known what it was to live, who had never known the days of
+riches or success or power. There he lies,--God knows for what purpose,
+to what end!"
+
+Deane walked for a little way in silence. It seemed to him that the
+girl's bitterness was scarcely reasonable. Yet he realized that at such
+a time reason loses its power.
+
+"His last days, at least, were as comfortable as possible."
+
+"Comfortable!" she exclaimed scornfully. "He lived in hell!"
+
+"You are not blaming me, by any chance?" Deane asked quietly.
+
+She turned upon him, and the mask seemed suddenly raised. There blazed
+into her eyes a great fire. There trembled in the notes of her voice a
+wonderful passion. Her form seemed to dilate. They were walking now upon
+the top of the dyke, and she seemed to have been suddenly transformed
+into something vengeful, some grim representation of Fate.
+
+"Blame you!" she cried. "I tell you that I hate all you smug,
+successful, phrase-making men, who succeeded where he failed. What are
+you that he was not? He was brave, he worked hard, he was honest,
+courageous, he was all that a man should be. If you were ever these
+things you at least were not more, and to you comes wealth and easy
+days, honor, a long, peaceful future. London--the world--is full of you,
+grubbing your way through life, thinking what magnificent creatures you
+are, opening your pockets to help with your alms those who have fallen,
+those who, if there was justice upon the earth, should be in your
+places!"
+
+"This is unreasonable," Deane declared coldly.
+
+"Unreasonable! Who said it was anything else?" she cried. "What reason
+is there in life, in death, in success or failure? Can you tell me the
+laws by which life is ruled, can you find them anywhere, at the base of
+any man's success or another's failure? Reasonable, indeed! One man
+swims and another drowns. Who can tell why? One man grows rich, another
+starves, and as often as not it is the clever man who starves and the
+fool who grows rich. There is no reason in those things. There is no
+reason in my hate for you and all those who have lived easy lives, and
+who go on living them while he--lies there!"
+
+She turned back once more and pointed with outstretched hand towards the
+little church. The wind blew her skirts about her,--disturbed for once
+the trim, uncompromising arrangement of her hair. The color had come
+into her cheeks at last. Deane wondered why he had never before thought
+her beautiful!
+
+"I am sorry you are feeling like this," he said. "I did what I could for
+your brother."
+
+"Be silent!" she interrupted fiercely. "You did what you could! To
+insure your own safety you sent him on a desperate, unworthy mission--to
+worm his way into the confidence of a drunkard, to steal for you, to be
+your jackal. What did you care what the consequences might be! What did
+you care, so long as your own reputation and wealth were saved! He was
+to be one other--my poor Basil--one other of those to be crushed beneath
+the great wheels!"
+
+"It is not fair," replied Deane, "to make such statements. Your brother
+knew his risks, and he took them."
+
+"Knew his risks!" she repeated. "You mean that because you were on your
+feet when he was on the ground, you would make use of him like any other
+lump of mud you would spurn with your foot if you had not found a use
+for it. He did your bidding, poor fool, but where he failed, I
+succeeded. You have to deal with me now, and I think that it is my turn
+to make terms!"
+
+Deane looked at her curiously. "At last," he said, "you are going to
+admit your possession of that little document?"
+
+"At last," she admitted, "I am going to tell you that I have it!"
+
+"And to name your price?" he asked.
+
+There was a queer little sound in her throat, like an unnatural laugh.
+"My price! Yes, that is another matter!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A STRANGE BETROTHAL
+
+
+Southward, through the country lanes whose hedges were still wreathed
+with late honeysuckle, on to the great mainroad, Deane's car was driven
+through the night,--always southward, till the lights of the great city
+flared before them up into the sky. Deane himself, for hour after hour,
+had sat back in his corner, buried in thought. His companion was even
+more invisible, but as the end of the journey drew near he roused
+himself with an effort, turned on the electric light which hung down
+from the roof of the car, lit a cigarette, and, bending forward, looked
+into the half-hidden face of the girl who was reclining by his side.
+
+"My dear fiancee," he said, "we are nearing London. Won't you rouse
+yourself and give me your further orders?"
+
+She sat up, with a little yawn. "Let down the windows, please," she
+said. "We will have some fresh air in for a few minutes."
+
+He obeyed her at once. The sweet midnight air through which they were
+rushing was like a douche of cold water upon her face.
+
+"How far are we from London?" she asked.
+
+"Less than twenty miles. Unless we are stopped, we shall certainly be
+there in half-an-hour."
+
+"Why did you disturb me?" she asked.
+
+"To know your wishes."
+
+"You had better leave me at one of the small hotels in the west end,"
+she said. "I daresay you can think of one at which you are known. In the
+morning, please come and see me and bring some money. I shall want to
+engage a companion and a maid, and to buy some clothes."
+
+Deane looked at her curiously. Her manner was perfectly natural.
+"Anything else?" he asked calmly.
+
+"I don't think so," she answered.
+
+"You mentioned the fact, I believe," he continued, "that you were--that
+you had done me the honor--that you were, in fact, my fiancee."
+
+"Well?" she murmured.
+
+"Under those circumstances," he continued, "don't you think--"
+
+His hand rested for a moment upon hers. She drew it at once away. "No, I
+think not!" she answered.
+
+"I have not had much experience," he went on, "in being engaged, but it
+seemed to me that there were certain privileges which belonged to that
+state."
+
+"You are perfectly well aware," she answered, "that ours is not an
+engagement of that sort. You know something about the world in which the
+men marry for position and the women for money, don't you? You can look
+upon our engagement as being of that order. I marry you because it is
+the only way I can make you pay your debt. I have given you notice from
+the first. I mean to gain everything I can, and to give nothing."
+
+"Nothing?" he repeated.
+
+"As little as possible," she answered. "As a matter of fact, you are
+singularly indifferent to me. You simply represent the things I desire,
+the things which are owing to me, the things which were owing to--to
+him. I marry you to acquire them. You marry me because you must."
+
+"Well," he said, "ours promises to be a novel matrimonial experience."
+
+"Not at all," she answered.
+
+"You have been reading too many novels," he declared. "People really
+don't marry in this sort of way at all. There is always a pretence of
+sentiment about it. If not, for very shame's sake, they try to cultivate
+it."
+
+"Then we," she answered, "will remain exceptions."
+
+"Do you dislike me?" he asked.
+
+"Personally I have not thought about you," she answered. "Apart from
+that, I hate you. You represent the victor, and all that I have loved
+upon this earth have been the vanquished. Willingly I would not give you
+so much as the touch of my fingers. If I thought that my presence was a
+pleasure to you, I would shrink back into myself. If I thought that any
+happiness could come to you from our association, even now I would throw
+myself from the car and end it."
+
+"Our prospects of matrimonial bliss," he remarked, "appear to me to be
+distinctly above the average."
+
+"I do not expect," she answered, "to find any pleasure that may come to
+me in later life, at your hands."
+
+"I shall certainly not allow you to flirt."
+
+"I know the law," she answered. "I know what I may do and what I may not
+do. I shall not transgress it. I want your money, I want your position,
+I want your power. These things I will share with you. For the rest, you
+cannot keep too far away to please me."
+
+He leaned towards her, heedless of the fact that she was shrinking away.
+There was something a little pitiful in the blue-gray eyes which tried
+so hard to hold him at a distance. "Well," said he, "it will be an
+interesting experiment, at any rate. Personally, I think that you are a
+brave woman. I wonder that you did not take the money without me."
+
+"What good would that have been to me?" she answered. "I have no name,
+no friends. Can't you imagine the sort of people who would have come
+hanging on to my skirts, if I had made my debut on the scene as a widow
+or a spinster with a large fortune, unattached, looking for companions?
+No! I need your name, Mr. Stirling Deane."
+
+"I am not at all sure," he answered grimly, "that you will find that
+much of an asset."
+
+"You must see to it that I do find it an asset, and a valuable one," she
+answered. "You are relieved now from any fear of that deed being
+produced. There is no shadow of evidence to connect you with the man
+Sinclair, or with my brother's transaction with him. If your lawyers are
+clever and you are brave, you must win your case with honor, and
+Hefferom will be sent to prison. He deserves it, in any case."
+
+Deane nodded. "I shall win my case all right," he said. "For me there
+never was any danger except in the production of that document,
+concerning which you have been so mysterious."
+
+"It was mine," she answered. "I ran all the risk to get it. I ran risks
+the memory of which will haunt me all my days. I have lost Basil. All
+that I can do is to exact the utmost price that you can pay for that
+little paper."
+
+"It isn't worth it, you know," said Deane. "I believe, even now, that I
+should win my case, anyhow."
+
+She smiled--a curious little contraction of the corners of her lips. Her
+eyes mocked him. "Perhaps," she said, "but it is a different thing since
+Sinclair's murder. Its production to-day would ruin you inevitably,
+whether it were held a legal document or not."
+
+"We all make mistakes," he said, looking out of the window.
+
+"But too often others pay for them!" she murmured, turning away.
+
+Presently he gave some instructions to the chauffeur. The pace of the
+car slackened as they reached the outskirts of London and turned
+westward.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "the world is full of surprises for us. I little
+thought, when I came down to Rakney, that it was to find a bride!"
+
+She shivered a little at his words, but made no reply.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, "if I do not seem very coherent about it all. As
+a matter of fact, you see, I was not expecting to take up obligations of
+this sort again so quickly."
+
+"If you do not mind," she said coldly, "we will not discuss it."
+
+"I may at least be permitted to ask," he continued, "when it is your
+intention to--marry me?"
+
+"In about two months' time," she answered.
+
+"You would like our engagement announced?" he asked.
+
+She hesitated for a few seconds. "In a fortnight's time," she declared.
+
+"In the meantime," he inquired, "I shall have the pleasure of being
+received by you?"
+
+"Certainly," she answered. "I shall expect to lunch and dine with you
+occasionally, to be taken to the theatres, and for short expeditions
+into the country--Ranelagh and Hurlingham, for instance."
+
+"Delightful!"
+
+The car stopped at one of the smallest and most famous of semi-private
+hotels, in the neighborhood of Bond Street. Deane assisted his companion
+to alight.
+
+"If you will come in for a moment," he said, "I will arrange things for
+you here. They know me very well."
+
+She followed him into the hotel and waited while he interviewed the
+manager. Then he took his leave of her, bowing over her reluctantly
+offered hand, and smiling into her face as though honestly anxious to
+penetrate behind its absolute imperturbability.
+
+"I hope you will find the little suite comfortable," he said. "You must
+go to bed soon, and try and rest. They will do everything that is
+possible for you, I am sure, until you have your own maid and things.
+Good-night!"
+
+She raised her eyes for a moment to his, but there was more indignation
+than gratitude in the glance she threw upon him. "I am very much obliged
+to you. Good-night!"
+
+Deane drove back to his rooms. As yet he could scarcely realize the
+situation. Had anyone ever been confronted with a position so unique?
+The mystery of the girl's impenetrability was solved at last!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+DESPERATION
+
+
+The curtain had fallen upon the first act of this little drama in
+Deane's life. Hefferom was committed for trial. Deane had walked into
+the court a few minutes late, as though the whole affair was one which
+interested him only indirectly. He had gone into the witness box without
+hesitation, and his story had been so perfectly rational and
+straightforward that people began to wonder whether, indeed, any defence
+was possible. Cross-examination only amused him. Hefferom, who went into
+court expecting to be released, was committed at once to the Old Bailey,
+and to everyone's surprise, his own included, was refused bail.
+
+Deane left the court a few minutes after the case was closed, and paused
+for a moment to light a cigarette on the steps. On the edge of the
+pavement there was a woman who watched with steady and scrutinizing
+interest every person who left the entrance of the Law Courts. When
+Deane came out she advanced towards him. "Is Hefferom free?" she asked.
+
+Deane looked at her, and recognized at once Ruby Sinclair.
+
+"No!" he answered. "He is committed for trial."
+
+"You--"
+
+She leaned forward as though about to strike him. Deane neither shrank
+back nor showed any sign of interest in her words.
+
+"What is Hefferom to you?" he asked quickly.
+
+"He is no blackmailer, at any rate!" she answered fiercely.
+
+"The Court has ventured to think otherwise," Deane declared.
+
+She was almost at his side now. Suddenly his eyes caught the sight of
+something glittering, something half drawn from the pocket of her dress.
+Her wrist was caught in a clasp of iron.
+
+"Young lady," he said sternly, "are you mad?"
+
+"If I am, it is your fault," she answered.
+
+"Nonsense!" he declared. "You see that policeman there? He is watching
+us now. Let go the revolver and be off. I don't want to give you into
+custody--my life is worth something for others as well as myself--and I
+shall certainly do it unless you obey me."
+
+She gave a little sob, and her fingers relaxed their hold upon the
+revolver, which Deane transferred into his own pocket. She glided away
+into the crowd. Deane stepped into his brougham, giving the man the
+address of the hotel where Winifred Rowan was staying. He leaned back in
+the seat, looking at the little weapon in his hands. Somehow, the fact
+of his escape, instead of bringing any exultation with it, seemed to
+depress him strangely. Deane had never called himself or believed
+himself to be a religious man, yet there was certainly one principle
+which had always been part of his creed,--to live and let live. He was
+not a greedy capitalist. He could look upon money without any desire to
+absorb it. Yet lately he seemed to have been forced into tortuous paths.
+From the moment when he had attempted to make use of Rowan as a tool,
+everything had gone against him. Rowan himself lay dead in that windy
+churchyard, and the words which had been spoken over Rowan's grave were
+still fresh in his memory. He had lost Lady Olive, of whom, in a way, he
+had been fond. And at her own bidding he was engaged to this strange,
+impenetrable girl, a situation which he could not wholly realize, and
+yet which he felt to be surrounded with danger and humiliation. Then
+there was this other,--Ruby Sinclair,--who had come to London expecting
+to find a fortune, and had found nothing but her uncle's dead body. She,
+too, looked upon him as a hungry schemer, the indirect cause of her
+uncle's death, a robber, if not a murderer! He looked at the little
+revolver, opened it carelessly, and laughed as he stared into the empty
+breech. It was unloaded, a brand-new toy which had never been
+discharged. He threw it into the opposite seat with a little gesture of
+contempt. All its tragedy seemed to have passed away. She had bought it
+to frighten him with. There had, after all, been no serious purpose in
+her mind. She too, perhaps, had hoped to play the part of extortioner.
+
+What was his offence, he asked himself, as his brougham glided along the
+Embankment. Simply this: there had been a claim presented for his mine,
+which was, without doubt, a fraud, which few people would ever have
+believed in, and which, in a court of law, would have stood but little
+chance of success. What a fool he had been not to defy Sinclair, to go
+to his directors and tell them the truth, to resist stoutly any claim
+the man might bring! Since his first compromise with Rowan, everything
+had gone wrong. It was unworthy for a man in his position to have
+allowed Rowan even to play the ambassador, apart from anything else. He
+saw very clearly in those few minutes where the mistake of his life had
+been. What he could not see was whither he was tending.
+
+Winifred was waiting for him in the hall of the small hotel in Dover
+Street. For three days, at her own request, he had not seen her.
+Nothing, however, had prepared him for the transformation which he now
+saw. She was faultlessly dressed in a gown of the latest design, and a
+picture hat which even he recognized as being something quite apart from
+the usual efforts of even the Bond Street shopkeepers. In every detail
+she seemed to express the wholly self-satisfied, half-insolent
+perfection of the woman who knows that she may and does command the best
+of everything. And with this change in her dress seemed to have come a
+similar change in her deportment. Her aloofness was still evident
+enough, but she carried herself with confidence, and with a sort of
+languid, graceful ease.
+
+"You are nearly ten minutes late," she said quietly. "Where are you
+taking me to lunch?"
+
+"Wherever you like," he answered. "What about Prince's?"
+
+She took a gold purse and a tiny black spaniel from the neatly dressed
+maid who stood by her side, and lifting her skirts in her other hand,
+passed through the door which he was holding open. The lace of her
+petticoat, the slenderness of her arched instep, the delicate narrowness
+of her patent shoes, were revelations to him. He gave an order to his
+chauffeur, and sat down by her side.
+
+"You appear," he said, "to possess a gift for assimilation!"
+
+"My sex is like that," she said. "I have had a good many years to wait,
+to store up knowledge in. Besides," she continued, a little mockingly,
+"you yourself are supposed to be something exceptional in the way of
+grooming, aren't you? There is no need for other people to find our
+engagement surprising."
+
+Looking at her critically, "I think," he said, "that there is no fear of
+that."
+
+"You flatter me," she murmured.
+
+"Not at all," he answered. "People might wonder, perhaps, how it is
+possible to fall in love with anyone whose expression so much resembles
+that of those statues in there," pointing to a gallery which they were
+passing. "You have no other fault. There is none, at least, to be found
+in your appearance. You certainly do look, however, a little inclined to
+be faultily faultless."
+
+She laughed,--a laugh, however, which brought no color into her cheeks
+or light into her eyes. "I am a statue," she said, "into which life has
+not yet been breathed. You see you have been a little remiss up till
+now. You have never attempted to make love to me!"
+
+"Do you mean to say--" he asked, leaning towards her,--
+
+She gently pushed back his hand, saying: "Please don't be ridiculous. Of
+course, you must know that overtures of that sort, under the
+circumstances, are impossible."
+
+"For always?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"Perhaps you will draw up a little code of conditions," he remarked. "I
+feel a little in the dark sometimes as to what is expected of me."
+
+"You will easily pick it up as we go along," she replied. "Is this
+Prince's? I wonder if I shall succeed in behaving as though I had
+lunched here every day of my life!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+AN AFTERNOON'S SHOPPING
+
+
+Deane found a singular interest, an interest which amounted almost to
+fascination, in watching the demeanor and general deportment of his
+companion. Her adaptability was little short of marvellous. She smiled
+at the right moment at the obsequious _maitre d'hotel_, and exhibited
+just the proper amount of interest in the luncheon which Deane ordered.
+The restaurant was somewhat crowded, but there was no one who attracted
+more notice than Deane and the girl who sat opposite him,--slim, and
+elegantly dressed,--looking around her with a certain partly veiled
+interest, which was all the time in piquant contrast to the languor of
+her eyes and manner. She was by no means a silent companion, although
+her conversation consisted for the most part of questions. She had an
+unerring gift for discovering the most noteworthy of the little crowd by
+whom they were surrounded, and she was continually asking questions
+about them, with a persistence which clearly indicated an interest
+scarcely suggested by her general deportment.
+
+"I wonder," Deane said, toward the end of their meal, "whether social
+preeminence is amongst your carefully veiled ambitions."
+
+"I am not at all sure," she answered. "Of course, one develops according
+to circumstances. In the office of Messrs. Rubicon & Moore I naturally
+cared nothing for the world which I could only read about in the columns
+of _Modern Society_. As one comes into touch with things, one
+appreciates. It is always interesting to know people."
+
+"I am afraid," Deane said, with covert satire, "that my friends are
+scarcely what you would call fashionable."
+
+"Your friends?" she remarked, looking up at him. "But that doesn't
+matter, does it? I shall make my own friends later on."
+
+Deane looked across the table. She was patting the head of her little
+spaniel, and watching, with a self-possession which amounted almost to
+insolence, the exodus of a party from the neighboring table.
+
+"Young lady," he said, "what sort of a life did you lead before you went
+to Messrs. Rubicon & Moore's? I always understood that your people were
+very poor, and only respectably connected."
+
+"You understood the truth," she answered, with composure.
+
+"Will you tell me, then," he asked, "how you learned to wear your
+clothes?--how you picked up all the little tricks of social life?"
+
+The very faintest of smiles parted her lips, a smile that wrinkled at
+the corners of her eyes, and suddenly altered her appearance so that
+Deane was forced to recognize the charm which even to himself he had
+denied.
+
+"My dear Mr. Deane," she said, "it is the natural heritage of a woman to
+assimilate quickly, especially," she added, after a moment's pause,
+"amongst surroundings for which she has had a great desire. Many a time
+when I was typing price-lists in that wretched little office, in a black
+alpaca gown, with my hat hanging up opposite me,--a black straw with
+faded flowers, which had cost me three or four shillings, with darned
+stockings and patched boots,--many a time I have left off typing for a
+few minutes, and thought and wondered what this must be like. I suppose
+I have what you would call a natural aptitude for it. It is because I
+have thought of it, pondered over it, desired it."
+
+Deane looked at her wonderingly. "Well," he said, "let me congratulate
+you. You play the game to perfection. If I were in a position to make
+terms--"
+
+"You are not," she interrupted shortly. "Please to pay the bill. I am
+going to take you shopping."
+
+They left the brougham at the corner of Bond Street. Winifred had
+signified her desire to walk for a little time. Deane found himself
+becoming thoroughly interested--not, as he told himself, in his
+companion herself, but in his study of her. The women they passed she
+subjected, nearly every one of them, to a close and comprehensive
+scrutiny. At the men she scarcely glanced. She found, perhaps, her
+greatest interest in the shop windows. She led him across the road to
+the establishment of a great jeweller.
+
+"You have not given me an engagement ring," she said, a little abruptly.
+"We will go in and choose one."
+
+He followed her obediently into the shop, and stood by her side while
+she described minutely the sort of ring she required. Her manner
+inspired instant respect. She knew exactly what she wanted, and what she
+wanted was the rarest and most beautiful stones, set in the newest
+fashion. She showed very little enthusiasm--hesitated, even--over the
+ring which was produced at last, after a little hesitation, and shown
+almost with reverence. It had been made for a queen, but something had
+gone wrong--a matter of politics--and they had not dared to part with
+it. Even Deane stared when the man at his elbow whispered the price, but
+Winifred never moved a muscle.
+
+"I think it will do," she said, turning to him. "It is very nearly what
+I wanted. And I want a few pins--emeralds and diamonds I prefer."
+
+The shopman was already producing a tray from the window. She spoke of
+pearls, and examined those that were shown her with the air of a
+connoisseur.
+
+"I shall want a rope of pearls very soon," she told the man, "but not
+just yet. Perhaps you will let Mr. Deane know when you have enough of
+the ones the color and size I like."
+
+"It will give us very great pleasure, madam, to collect them," the man
+said, bowing.
+
+Deane produced his cheque-book--fortunately, he was well known--and
+wrote a cheque for over two thousand pounds in exchange for the receipt
+which the man handed to him. Winifred calmly withdrew her glove and
+slipped on the ring. The other things she asked them to send. When she
+left the shop, it seemed to Deane that there was a little more color in
+her cheeks and a deeper light in her eyes.
+
+"Jewelry interests you?" he remarked, as they stood for a moment on the
+pavement.
+
+"Yes!" she answered. "Of course it does. Everything of this sort
+interests me. Haven't I longed all my days to feel the touch of pearls
+upon my bare neck, to have something like this upon my finger that I
+could look at and worship, not only for itself but for the things it
+represents? Come and buy me some flowers. My sitting-room is a
+wilderness. Afterwards, I am going into the milliner's beyond."
+
+Deane followed her obediently into the florist's opposite. She chose a
+great bowl of pink roses and some white lilac.
+
+"How many of the roses, madam?" the shopman asked her.
+
+She looked at him with faintly upraised eyebrows. "Oh! send them as they
+are," she answered carelessly.
+
+"There are four dozen, madam," the man remarked, bowing.
+
+She nodded indifferently. The fact that they were a shilling each did
+not appear to interest her.
+
+"Is that all the lilacs you have?" she asked, as they were leaving the
+shop.
+
+"All we have at present, madam," the man answered.
+
+"Please get some more," she said, "if you can. These hotel
+sitting-rooms," she added, turning to Deane, "seem to have a sort of
+odor of their own. One can only get rid of it by having flowers
+everywhere. Now I am going in here," she said, stopping at a tiny
+milliner's. "You must wait for me--I know you are dying to smoke a
+cigarette--but you had better give me your pocket-book."
+
+"I am afraid," Deane answered imperturbably, "that its contents will be
+of little use to you, for I have only twenty pounds with me. If you will
+take these"--he handed her the notes--"I will take a taximeter and cash
+a cheque. I shall only be a few minutes."
+
+She nodded, and disappeared into the shop. When she came out again Deane
+had returned from his little expedition, and was talking to some men
+whom he knew. They glanced at Winifred a little curiously as they raised
+their hats and passed on.
+
+"We can perhaps continue our shopping," Deane said, "more comfortably
+now."
+
+She ignored the faint note of satire in his tone. "One needs so many
+things," she murmured. "The woman inside is just making out my bill. I
+think I shall want another thirty pounds."
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that you have not been able to find what you
+wanted. The amount seems trivial."
+
+"Well," she said, "there was a lace dressing-gown about which I could
+not quite make up my mind. Perhaps, after all, I had better have it."
+
+She turned back into the shop, and he followed her. The lace
+dressing-gown was still lying upon a chair, and in a few moments Deane
+found it being held up before him by a vivacious little Frenchwoman, who
+was endeavoring to convince him that in it Madame would look a dream. It
+was very filmy, very dainty, wonderfully expensive. Deane heard the
+price without moving a muscle.
+
+"I think you had better have it," he said. "I am sure," he went on,
+looking into her eyes, "that you will look charming in it."
+
+For the first time he seemed to score. She bent over some lace
+handkerchiefs, as though anxious to avoid his gaze. "Very well," she
+said, "I think that will be all now. Please pay, and let us go."
+
+Once more they were in the streets.
+
+"I want a dressing-bag," she said, a little abruptly.
+
+"By all means," he answered. "We had better go back to the jeweller's.
+Do you prefer mother-of-pearl fittings, or gold?"
+
+"I am not sure," she answered. "I should like to look at some."
+
+They were twenty minutes or so making a selection. Deane wrote another
+cheque, and stuffed another receipt into his pocket. He had made a few
+suggestions himself, which had increased the cost considerably.
+
+"Where to now?" he asked.
+
+"I want some gloves," she said. "Perhaps you would rather go back to
+your office now. I must not take up your whole afternoon."
+
+"I am entirely at your service," he assured her. "Believe me, I find
+shopping quite an interesting novelty."
+
+"You mean," she said, "that you like to watch the effect upon me. You
+think I don't understand. It is quite easy. Tell me how I seem to you?"
+
+"You seem very much to the manner born," he answered, "but you seem
+also, if I may say so, as though you were getting rid of the pent-up
+desires of years. For instance," he added, as they strolled along the
+south side of the street, "there is a certain almost fierceness--I won't
+say barbarism--in the way you absorb the things you desire. I am not
+complaining," he added quickly. "As a matter of fact, I am rather
+inclined to welcome any note of humanity. So long as we are engaged," he
+added, looking at her sideways, "one would just as soon feel that one
+were engaged to a living person as an automaton."
+
+She kept her eyes averted, but he saw the faint spot of color burning in
+her cheeks.
+
+"This is where I think I shall get the gloves I want," she said.
+
+"I will come in with you, if I may," he answered.
+
+Her purchases here showed a little more restraint. Nevertheless,
+everything she chose was the best of its sort. When she came out, her
+appetite seemed somehow whetted. She walked along the street almost
+listlessly.
+
+"Do you know that it is nearly half-past four?" he said. "You had better
+let me give you some tea."
+
+She nodded indifferently. "Thank you. That would be very nice."
+
+"Will you come to my rooms," he asked, "or shall we go into the Carlton
+and hear the music?"
+
+She looked at him quickly, and then back into a shop window. "To the
+Carlton, if you please," she said coldly.
+
+They walked to the corner of the street and stood waiting while the
+brougham came round to them. She turned toward a florist's and looked
+into the window.
+
+"You would like some more flowers?" he asked.
+
+She led him into the shop without a word. There was a cluster of red
+roses over which she bent and selected one. "I should like this,
+please," she said.
+
+"One only, madam?" the shopman asked.
+
+"One only," she answered composedly. "I will pin it in here if you will
+cut the stalk a little," she added, removing a brooch from the bosom of
+her gown. "Will you pay for this, please?" she added, turning to Deane.
+
+He was taken aback for a moment. "You are sure that there is nothing
+else?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing," she answered.
+
+They left the shop and he handed her into the brougham. Deane was
+suddenly conscious that his pulse was beating a little faster, even
+though her fingers had lain in his absolutely unresponsive. He was
+wondering what sort of a whim it was which had led her to desire that
+one flower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A FRIEND
+
+
+A man in the city, who was an old friend of Lord Nunneley, stopped the
+latter as he was on the point of entering his club.
+
+"By the bye, Nunneley," he said, "did I understand--I think I saw it in
+the papers--that the marriage between your daughter and Stirling Deane
+was off?"
+
+"The engagement has been broken off," answered Lord Nunneley, a little
+stiffly. "Why?"
+
+"That's all right," said the man. "The only thing was that as I was one
+of the people you came to, to ask about Deane, I felt that if it was
+still on I ought to tell you that things aren't supposed to be just the
+same as they were."
+
+"Do you mean about Deane?" asked Lord Nunneley.
+
+His friend nodded. "There are some very curious rumors going about," he
+said. "You remember, of course, his charging a man named Hefferom--a
+South African--with an attempt at blackmail the other day? The man was
+committed for trial, and there was not much came out in the evidence
+before the magistrates. Since then, however, people have been talking.
+They say that Hefferom had actual knowledge of documents proving that
+Deane's title to the Little Anna Gold-Mine was a false one, and that the
+mine in reality belonged to Hefferom himself and a partner."
+
+"That sounds like a very curious story," Lord Nunneley remarked. "If it
+is true, why doesn't Hefferom produce his document and have done with
+it?"
+
+"Because it has been stolen," the other answered. "There are all sorts
+of stories going about, too, concerning the theft. The point remains,
+however, that there is a strong feeling that the document in question
+does exist, and that it may turn up. If so, of course, it would ruin
+Deane. I see that the shares of his corporation have had a most
+tremendous drop, so it seems as though there might be something in it.
+Buy a special edition this afternoon, and you'll know more about it."
+
+Lord Nunneley nodded. "Thank you," he said, "I will do so."
+
+Lord Nunneley walked slowly along Pall Mall. After all, there was no
+need to buy a paper. On the placards which the boys were displaying as
+he neared Trafalgar Square were great headlines,--
+
+     EXTRAORDINARY DROP OF SHARES IN THE GOLD-MINES ASSOCIATION.
+     PANIC IN THE CITY.
+
+Lord Nunneley bought a paper, and stood for a few minutes reading it.
+Then he called a taxicab, and gave the man the address of Deane's
+offices. He was well known there, and Deane's confidential man at once
+came forward.
+
+"Mr. Deane will see you, of course, my lord," he said. "He is really
+disengaged now, but we are obliged to deny him to everybody because of
+these interviewers. Will you come with me, my lord?"
+
+Lord Nunneley found himself ushered into Deane's private room. Deane was
+dictating rapidly to his secretary. As usual he was calm,
+self-possessed, carefully groomed and dressed. There was nothing about
+his appearance in any way to suggest a panic. He heard his visitor's
+name, however, with surprise.
+
+"Nunneley!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet.
+
+Lord Nunneley nodded, and held out his hand. "I was in the city and
+thought I'd look you up, Deane," he said. "Can I have a word or two with
+you?"
+
+"Certainly," Deane answered. "Give us five minutes, Ellison,--or stay
+away until I ring," he added to his secretary.
+
+Lord Nunneley accepted an easy-chair and also a cigarette, but he seemed
+in no great hurry to explain his business. "I was very sorry, Deane," he
+said at last, "to see the papers this evening. I hope the trouble isn't
+very serious."
+
+"Do you hold any of our shares?" Deane asked.
+
+"If I did," said the other, coloring a little, "I should not have come
+here."
+
+Deane accepted the reproof. "I beg your pardon."
+
+"I daresay," continued Lord Nunneley, "my coming seems to you, under the
+circumstances, a little superfluous. However, what I wanted to say is
+this. You see Olive is our only child, and that made us very anxious
+about anything to do with her. I am sure that you yourself must feel
+now, when you are under so much anxiety, that it is better not to have
+the added responsibility of your engagement upon your shoulders."
+
+"I have never questioned your wisdom in breaking it off," Deane said
+quietly. "Under the circumstances, I agree with you that it is a very
+good thing."
+
+"That's all right," Lord Nunneley continued, a little hastily. "Of
+course, neither you nor Olive are children, and you are not the sort to
+wear your hearts upon your sleeve. In short," he added, somewhat
+abruptly, "you'll both get over it. There's no doubt about that. I
+didn't come to revert to this matter at all. I simply wanted to say that
+though our relations are changed, I still do feel a considerable amount
+of friendship for you, Deane, and I wanted to come and just tell you I
+was sorry. And look here," he went on, a little awkwardly, "I've between
+seven and eight thousand pounds for which I am looking for an
+investment, and if the money's any use to you, Deane, why say the word,
+and I'll write you a cheque on the spot."
+
+Deane looked at his visitor for a moment in an astonishment which
+triumphed over the natural impassivity of his expression. Then a little
+flush rose in his cheeks. He got to his feet and held out his hand.
+
+"Nunneley," he said, "this is awfully good of you. I shall not forget
+it. Believe that. If we wanted money, or if I did personally, I'd accept
+your offer like a shot."
+
+"Too much of a drop in the bucket, I suppose," Lord Nunneley remarked.
+"It isn't much, I know."
+
+"It isn't that," Deane interrupted. "The situation is simply that our
+shares have had a big drop because of certain rumors about our title to
+the Little Anna Gold-Mine. If those rumors were confirmed, five or six
+hundred thousand pounds wouldn't help us. If they are not confirmed, and
+if they die a natural death, as I imagine they must, our shares will
+recover themselves and we shall not need money."
+
+"You don't believe in the existence of any such document, then?" Lord
+Nunneley asked.
+
+"I do not believe that it will be produced," Deane answered, "and if it
+were produced," he went on, "I do not believe in its validity. I would
+not say as much, even, as this to the reporters, but the document about
+which people have been talking is simply an original claim to the Little
+Anna Gold-Mine, which was deserted by the very man who put me on to it,
+and in whose name the claim stands. You see, therefore, that any attempt
+to establish a legal claim is more or less a swindle."
+
+Lord Nunneley rose to his feet. "You are really not so very much
+alarmed, then?"
+
+Deane shook his head. "This drop in shares, after all," he said, "does
+not affect us particularly, except for the time. It simply means that
+the market declares that we are a few hundred thousand pounds poorer
+to-day than we were yesterday. Whether the market is right or not
+remains to be proved."
+
+"Well, I am glad to have seen you, at any rate, Deane, and remember, if
+there is anything I can do--"
+
+"You have already," Deane said, "done a great deal, Lord Nunneley. I
+shall not forget your visit or your offer."
+
+"That's all right," Lord Nunneley declared. "Olive did not know I was
+coming, but I'm sure if she had known she would have sent her love.
+Don't bother to ring. I can find my way out."
+
+The visit of his projected father-in-law seemed to Deane like a pleasant
+little oasis in the middle of a long, dreary day. These rumors of which
+Lord Nunneley had heard seemed to have come into existence during the
+last few hours. There had been some large failures lately, and investors
+were all nervous. The country was short of money. In ordinary times, an
+attack upon the stability of such a corporation as his would have been
+impossible. To-day, nothing seemed impossible. In his heart, Deane knew
+or felt that the situation was safe. Yet the very fact that these rumors
+had sprung into being seemed to denote the line of defence which
+Hefferom's lawyers were prepared to offer in the coming trial. He would
+be accused everywhere--if not in words, in suggestion--of complicity in
+the murder of Sinclair. The existence of that document would be believed
+in. It would be said openly, perhaps, that he was responsible himself
+for its suppression. It was not the fact that on paper he was nearly a
+quarter of a million poorer than he had been a week ago that troubled
+him. It was the reflection that bold though his words had been, it was
+within the power of the man who lay awaiting his trial practically to
+ruin him. The question of the whereabouts of the document might be, in a
+few weeks, the most discussed matter in London.
+
+Deane, acting upon a sudden impulse, left his office by the back
+entrance and drove to the small hotel where Winifred was staying. Miss
+Rowan was at home, he was told, and after a few minutes' delay he was
+shown into her sitting-room.
+
+"Miss Rowan will be with you in a moment," her maid announced, coming
+through from the bedroom. "She is with her dressmaker at present."
+
+Deane nodded, and took up the newspaper mechanically from the table. The
+room seemed to him almost faint with the perfume of flowers. He glanced
+around carelessly, and suddenly found his attention riveted upon her
+writing-table. In a little silver vase, standing by itself, was the red
+rose which he had bought for her two days since!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+PASSION
+
+
+She came to him in a few moments, dressed in a fascinating negligee
+gown,--came to him with a rustle of silk and a faint expression of
+surprise upon her upraised eyebrows.
+
+"I did not expect you until this evening," she remarked.
+
+He nodded. "I took the liberty of coming here to ask you a question."
+
+She smiled as she sat down upon the sofa. "Oh, the paper is quite safe."
+
+"How did you know what I came for?" he asked, a little startled.
+
+"My dear friend," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "as I have
+decided that it is to my interests to link my future with yours,
+you cannot wonder that I have found such details as those"--she
+pointed to an evening paper which he noticed now lying upon her
+writing-table--"interesting. I have been trying to understand how
+matters stand. Tell me if I am right! It seems to me that so long as
+that document remains an imagined thing, so long as it is not produced
+or sworn to definitely, you are safe."
+
+"The corporation is safe," answered Deane, "and in a measure, I suppose,
+I am. On the other hand, I shall be accused, naturally, of suppressing
+it, and probably of complicity in Sinclair's murder. There is Hefferom,
+you see, prepared to swear that Sinclair came to London with that paper
+in his possession. Sinclair is known to have come to my office. He has
+certainly been murdered. The paper cannot be found, and the corporation
+remains in possession of the mine. People will certainly put these
+things together."
+
+She nodded. "It will be very bad indeed," she said slowly, "for your
+reputation."
+
+"It will, I am afraid," said Deane, "considerably lessen my social value
+as your husband."
+
+"It seems to me," she replied, "that money is so powerful. I daresay you
+will be able to live it down."
+
+"With your help," Deane remarked sarcastically, "it seems to me very
+possible. By the bye," he continued, "with reference to that document,
+you must forgive me if I feel some slight uneasiness at times as to its
+safety."
+
+"You need have none," she answered. "It is in safe keeping."
+
+"It is your own interests as well as mine you are guarding," he reminded
+her.
+
+"I am perfectly aware of it," she answered. "Since you are here, may I
+offer you some tea?"
+
+"Thanks," he said, "I think not. By the bye, do you care to go to the
+Opera to-night? I have two stalls, and Melba is singing."
+
+A sudden light flashed over her face. It was as though the mask had been
+raised for a moment. Perhaps by contrast her tone seemed colder than
+ever as she answered him. "I should like to very much. Will you call for
+me?"
+
+"At half-past seven," he answered. "We will have a little dinner
+somewhere first."
+
+"You are sure," she asked, "that you do not mind being seen out?"
+
+"It is all to my advantage," he answered. "The men who are most talked
+about should never shrink from publicity. The people who have been told
+to-day that I am a bankrupt, a swindler, and a murderer, and that my
+ruin is only a matter of minutes, will hesitate if they see me with you
+in the stalls of the Opera to-night."
+
+"Nero fiddled," she reminded him.
+
+"Nero was a hysterical person," he answered. "My tendencies are towards
+the other extreme. Until half-past seven, then."
+
+"Until half-past seven," she repeated.
+
+He bowed and left her without even shaking hands. She stood quite still
+for a moment, looking at the door which he had closed behind him. Then
+she crossed the room slowly, and lifted the vase with its solitary rose
+to her lips. A second later it lay dashed to pieces upon the floor, the
+flaming color was in her cheeks, her fists were clenched.
+
+"I hate him!" she declared to herself. "I hate him now more than ever!"
+
+[Illustration: "I hate him!" she declared to herself. "I hate him now
+more than ever!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Winifred talked more than usual at the short dinner which they had at a
+famous cafe close to the Opera House. Deane, a little weary with the
+strain of the day, was at first irresponsive, but gradually he forgot
+himself in the interest of playing his new part. She was wearing a dress
+of black velvet, a rope of pearls which had been sent for her inspection
+only that afternoon, and pearl earrings, concerning which she gravely
+asked his opinion. There was something a little un-English-looking about
+her to-night,--about the small, delicate head with the masses of brown
+hair, the pale complexion, the deep eyes with their hidden depths, the
+pearls which fell so gracefully over her black gown. Many people knew
+him by sight, and pointed him out to others,--the man whom everyone was
+talking about, the man who was supposed to be shivering on the brink of
+social and financial ruin, whose very freedom from justice might be a
+matter of hours,--sitting there with a girl who was unknown to all of
+them, yet without a doubt one of his own world! Some of them wondered
+that she should care to be seen about with him at such a time. These,
+however, were mostly the men. The women, who saw him as usual,
+well-groomed, good-looking, debonair, only admired him the more for his
+courage.
+
+They had driven the few yards together to the Opera House in silence.
+Nevertheless, Deane fancied that his companion seemed to-night a little
+more accessible. He was amazed to find how great an interest he was
+beginning to take in her moods, amazed to find himself taking every
+opportunity to touch her fingers, to speak covertly of the destined
+ending of their engagement. He fancied sometimes that her fingers rested
+more softly in his, that the chill aloofness of her demeanor had been
+more than once on the point of being raised. And yet, after all, it
+might only be fancy, he thought, as he followed her and the attendant
+along the corridor into their places. He was a fool to trouble himself
+about it. She was very likely what she had always seemed,--a bloodless,
+indifferent creature, with a greed for jewels and fine clothes sprung up
+in her,--a fungus growth, the evil result of her long years of
+servitude. Yet that night his convictions as to her coldness received
+something of a shock. It was the first night they had been to the Opera
+together, and he had imagined that she would sit as she had sat through
+so many theatres,--slightly bored, slightly nonchalant, interested only
+to know who the people might be by whom they were surrounded, and in the
+play itself if by chance it was well acted and satisfactory. To-night,
+he realized that there were things which could move her, even if he
+himself had not the power. He saw her eyes flash with the glory of the
+music, and he saw them turn marvellously soft and tender as the
+white-robed Iseult sang to them with sobs in her throat, sobs which
+seemed to make that melody only more intense and sweeter. She seemed to
+respond to every note of the music. More than once he saw her quiver
+with excitement. By accident her fingers touched his and rested there.
+He felt a thrill which amazed him. For the moment he, too, forgot that
+wretched maze of affairs in which he was plunged. The great passionate
+love-story throbbed, too, in his heart and veins. The figures on the
+stage were for a moment dim. They existed only as types. In those few
+seconds he realized, for the first time in his life, the real meaning of
+this wonderful emotion with which the very air around them seemed
+charged, and almost at the moment of realization there came to him
+fiercely, insistently, the great question,--did she share it, did she
+understand, was it possible that such a passion could be born of itself,
+without response or encouragement? He leaned forward, and tried to see
+into her face. A great stillness reigned in the half-darkened Opera
+House, a stillness except for the wonderful music which still flowed
+from those divine lips. He leaned forward until he could see her face,
+and his heart throbbed with the wonder of it! All the passion, all the
+intense mystery of a strenuous love were there in her glowing eyes, her
+half-parted lips! It was only a momentary glimpse he had. Then, as
+though conscious of his observation, she raised her fan. Their eyes had
+never met. He was left, after all, with the problem unsolved!
+
+Deane came down to earth again as the curtain fell. His companion drew a
+long, soft breath, and leaned back in her seat.
+
+"Don't you want to go out and smoke or something?" she asked calmly. "I
+do not feel like talking at all. The music is wonderful!"
+
+He left her without a word. Only as he reached the end of his row and
+turned to walk up the sloping aisle, he glanced back once more. She had
+not moved. Her eyes were closed. She seemed, indeed, like a person
+exhausted with the strain of listening. He made his way out to the
+refreshment room, humming softly to himself. It was a mask, after all,
+which she wore! He understood suddenly the relief which had come to him.
+He understood that this engagement, which had seemed to him like a piece
+of half-contemptible bathos, had suddenly become the first and most
+desirable thing in his life!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A DESPAIRING CALL
+
+
+The great lawyer whom the telephone message from Deane had summoned sat
+in a comfortable easy-chair adjoining Deane's writing-table. His manner
+was serious, but not discouraging.
+
+"You see, Deane," he said, "after all, it depends very much upon this
+alleged document. The whole case practically hinges upon it. If the
+defendants are unable to procure it, or a copy of it, or witnesses who
+can swear to it, I do not think that they can do us much harm,
+especially if we take the course which I have already suggested to our
+counsel. As yet we have received no intimation that the other side have
+the slightest trace of the document in question. If, on the other hand,
+it should come into their possession, they are bound to notify us. May I
+ask, Mr. Deane, what you believe the probabilities are as regards this
+matter?"
+
+"It isn't a matter of probability," Deane answered. "To the best of my
+belief, there is no such document in existence."
+
+"In that case," the lawyer continued, "I think that you need have no
+further anxiety about the case. Of course, there is no chance of a long
+sentence for the defendant. You understand that?"
+
+"Perfectly," Deane answered. "I don't wish it. I should not have
+prosecuted him at all, but it seemed the only way to stop what might
+have grown into a serious annoyance."
+
+"I am sorry," the lawyer said, "that the whole thing seems to have been
+taken so seriously by the Press and the public. I see your shares have
+dropped to a ridiculous amount."
+
+"A chance for someone to make money," Deane remarked. "I am much obliged
+to you for coming up, Hardaway."
+
+The lawyer nodded and took his departure. Deane sat for some time in a
+brown study. Fundamentally he had all the direct impulses and
+propensities of a truthful man. The course of action into which he was
+at present driven was distasteful--almost repugnant to him. Yet, after
+all, he was only fighting Hefferom with his own weapons. The man was a
+blackmailer,--nothing more or less. Yet the fact did not seem to Deane
+to make his hands the cleaner. And there was the girl! The memory of her
+face haunted him, her desperate plight had been only too apparent. If
+that document of Sinclair's was worth the paper it was written on, it
+was he who was the supplanter, the thief, morally responsible for her
+grievous plight! He moved in his chair uneasily. It was almost a relief
+when the telephone bell at his elbow rang.
+
+"Is that Mr. Deane?" a woman's voice asked.
+
+"Yes!" he answered.
+
+"Mr. Stirling Deane?"
+
+"Yes,--what is it?" he asked quickly.
+
+There was a moment's silence. The terrified voice, which had still
+seemed somehow familiar to him, was silent. He could hear from the room
+to which the instrument was connected, the musical chiming of a Swiss
+clock--the call of a bird--and then silence. His hand was upon the
+receiver to ring up the Exchange when suddenly a cry of terror, a cry of
+shrill, agonized terror, rang in his ear.
+
+"Stirling! Mr. Deane! Stirling! Come--"
+
+There was an abrupt cessation of that frantic cry. The last word was
+muffled, as though something had been dashed against the speaker's
+mouth. There was the sound of the falling of a chair or heavy piece of
+furniture. Then silence!--silence ominous, heavy, maddening!...
+
+Deane rang up the Exchange. The young lady who answered him was a little
+annoyed at his vehemence.
+
+"I want you to tell me to whom I have been speaking!" he exclaimed.
+"Where was I rung up from a few moments ago?"
+
+"No idea," the young lady answered tartly. "Didn't they give their
+name?"
+
+"I want to know where the call was from," Deane said. "Please tell me
+quickly."
+
+"We don't take any note of local calls," the young lady answered. "Ring
+off, please!"
+
+"Stop!" Deane cried. "Listen, please! This is important! I am Mr.
+Deane--Mr. Stirling Deane--of the Incorporated Gold-Mines Association. I
+have just been rung up by a woman in distress--some one who appealed for
+help. She was dragged away from the telephone before she could tell me
+where she was speaking from. You must try and find out the number for
+me. You must do it! It may be a matter of life or death!"
+
+There was an instant's silence--a buzzing noise--then a man's voice.
+"Sorry, sir," he said, "our operator cannot remember the exact number
+that was speaking to you. It was a house in Red Lion Square, though. She
+is sure of that."
+
+"How many subscribers have you there?" Deane asked swiftly.
+
+"Twenty-four or five, sir," the man answered. "Sorry we can't help you
+further."
+
+Deane left the office in such a hurry that a whole crop of fresh rumors
+were started. He drove as swiftly as his electric brougham could take
+him to the corner of Red Lion Square. All the time with a telephone
+directory on his knee, he was copying out addresses. He entered Red Lion
+Square on foot, with the paper in his hand. There were twenty-eight
+addresses. He had no idea where to begin.
+
+Seven or eight were the addresses of business firms. He struck these
+out. Then he tried the others. One after the other he interviewed all
+sorts of people unsuccessfully. He was received everywhere with
+suspicion. Most of the houses were converted flats or cheap
+lodging-houses. Half-dressed women leered at him over the banisters;
+shabby men of all ages were slavishly anxious to earn a tip. Gradually
+he was forced to realize that his was a mad, almost hopeless search.
+People stood at their doors and watched him, jeering. Women hung out of
+the windows, shouting coarse invitations or derisive comments upon his
+perseverance. His nerves were all on edge, his blood was hot with anger.
+Somewhere within a few hundred, perhaps a few yards of him, this girl
+was in the hands of persons who meant ill to her. The terror in her
+voice was no ordinary fear. She was face to face with the worst that
+could happen.
+
+He reached the last house on his list. It was on the further side of the
+square, and one of the most respectable in appearance. Contrary to what
+was apparently the usual custom, the front door was closed, and most of
+the blinds drawn. There was no sign of life about the place when he rang
+the bell. Yet after scarcely a moment's delay the door was thrown open,
+and a neatly dressed parlor-maid answered his summons.
+
+Deane adopted new tactics. He drew a sovereign from his waistcoat
+pocket, and held it between his fingers. "You are on the telephone, I
+believe," he said, "number 0198. Someone rang me up from here about an
+hour or so ago. I recognized the voice, but the message was indistinct.
+Will you tell Miss Rowan that I am here?"
+
+The girl shook her head. "There is no one of that name living here,
+sir," she answered.
+
+"A rather pale young lady, tall and slim, who has just arrived," Deane
+persisted. "I am anxious to find her quickly. Can't you help me?"
+
+He pulled out a handful of gold, and the girl looked at it with covetous
+eyes. She sighed as she once more shook her head.
+
+"There is no one here of that name, sir," she said,--"no young lady at
+all, in fact."
+
+"You are quite sure?" Deane asked, with a sinking heart.
+
+"Quite, sir," the girl answered confidently.
+
+She made a movement as though to close the door. It is possible that
+Deane would have taken the hint and departed, but for that last
+searching look which he threw at her. He thrust his boot against the
+door, and resumed his place on the inner side of the threshold. From
+there he looked at her once more. He was right. There were traces of
+powder on her cheeks, and her eyebrows were certainly not natural.
+Underneath her trim black skirt he had caught a glimpse of brown
+open-worked stockings, and tan shoes with a large bow and high heels.
+Instinctively he felt that no ordinary servant would have been allowed
+to go about like this.
+
+"I should like to see your mistress before I go," Deane said firmly.
+"Please go and tell her. I will not detain her more than a few moments."
+
+"She's not in," the girl answered, with a distinct change of manner.
+"Please don't stay about here or I shall get into trouble."
+
+"I am sorry," Deane answered, "but if she is not in, I am going to wait
+for her."
+
+He was in the hall now,--a miserable, untidy place with a broken-down
+mirror and hat-rack as sole furniture, and covered with a much soiled
+oilcloth. The stairs were right ahead of him, and Deane looked up. He
+looked into a woman's face as she leaned over the well of the banisters,
+looking down. Almost immediately she drew away and came down.
+
+Deane rose up to meet her. She was dressed in black, was very pale, with
+large earrings,--pretty in a way, and certainly not of formidable
+appearance.
+
+"You wished to see me?" she asked, a little hesitatingly, as she reached
+the bottom stair. "I thought I heard you tell my servant that you wished
+to speak to her mistress."
+
+"You are right, madam," Deane answered. "I do wish to speak to you."
+
+"And what is it that you wish?" the lady asked.
+
+"An act of kindness," Deane answered, "for which I am willing to pay--to
+pay heavily. I am in search of a young lady who rang me up only an hour
+or so ago from this locality,--I believe from this house. I am offering
+a reward of two hundred pounds for any one who may help me in my
+search."
+
+He raised his voice. He meant the servant, or the person who was posing
+as a servant, to hear him. He was unable to observe her closely, but he
+noticed that she moved a little nearer, and appeared to be listening
+intently.
+
+"I am afraid that you have come to the wrong house," the lady answered
+gently. "This is not a very nice neighborhood, I know, but we are quite
+respectable people here, and we are not upon the telephone at all."
+
+"Not on the telephone at all?" Deane repeated. "But I have your name and
+number from the telephone company,--number 0198--Mrs. Garvice!"
+
+"Mrs. Garvice has left," the lady declared. "I have taken the house, but
+the telephone was of no use to me, so I have had it taken away."
+
+"May I see the place where the instrument was?" Deane asked. "I have a
+particular reason for asking."
+
+"Certainly not!" the lady answered, a little sharply. "Open the door,
+Hilda. We have nothing else to say to you, sir."
+
+The maid obeyed, and Deane reluctantly took up his hat. He was already
+upon the threshold when he suddenly stopped. A remarkable change came
+over him. He stepped quickly back. The woman had gone as pale as death.
+From one of the rooms upstairs came the shrill, unmistakable summons of
+a telephone bell, and mingling with it the chiming of a cuckoo clock.
+
+"Shut the door," Deane ordered sternly. "Madam," he said, turning
+towards the lady of the house, "it is still within your power to earn
+that two hundred pounds!"
+
+The woman looked at him curiously. "Two hundred pounds," she said, "is a
+great deal of money. One does not carry about sums like that."
+
+Deane thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew out a little roll of
+notes. "I have twelve ten-pound notes here," he said, "and I can write a
+cheque for the balance. You know what I want. If you turn me away, I
+shall be back with a search warrant in less than half-an-hour."
+
+She held out her hand for the notes. "Follow me," she said. "You
+understand that I am simply a lodging-house keeper. I cannot be
+responsible for my tenants or their actions."
+
+"I understand that," Deane answered eagerly. "Quick! Lead the way
+upstairs."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+WINIFRED IS TRAPPED
+
+
+Deane followed his guide up two flights of stairs,--on the landing of
+the third she paused.
+
+"I do not usually interfere with the comings and goings of my lodgers,"
+she said. "They pay for their rooms. That is all I ask. You see the door
+opposite you?"
+
+"Yes!" Deane answered quickly.
+
+"That room is tenanted by a young woman who called herself Montague, but
+received letters under the name of Sinclair. She had a visitor this
+afternoon who might be the young person of whom you are in search. You
+had better go in and see."
+
+Deane was across the landing in a moment. He tapped sharply upon the
+door. There was no answer. He tried the handle. The door was locked!
+
+"Open the door," he cried out, shaking it vigorously.
+
+There was no answer. To Deane the silence was ominous. He turned to the
+woman who stood silently by his side, with a fierce little exclamation.
+"Where is the telephone?" he demanded.
+
+"Inside there," she answered. "It used to be my sitting-room."
+
+"The door is locked!" he exclaimed.
+
+"I do not understand it," she admitted.
+
+"Have you another key?"
+
+"No!"
+
+He flung himself at the door, tearing it half from its hinges. Another
+assault, and with a tearing of splinters it fell inside. Deane stepped
+over it into the room, and a low cry of anger broke from his lips. The
+woman at his side fled shrieking downstairs. On the floor lay Winifred
+Rowan, her limbs bound with cords, a gag in her mouth, her clothing all
+dishevelled, her eyes shining with an almost painful intensity from her
+ashen gray face. Deane fell on his knees by her side.
+
+"Winifred!" he exclaimed. "My God!"
+
+He snatched his knife from his pocket, removed the gag from her mouth,
+and cut all her bonds. Her hands tried nervously to rearrange her dress
+over her bosom. He tore off his own coat and threw it over her.
+
+"Are you badly hurt?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I am not hurt much," she answered weakly, "but--"
+
+"But what?" he demanded.
+
+She commenced to cry softly but insistently. Black fear rose up to
+torture him. "But what?" he repeated, with sinking heart.
+
+"It has gone!" she murmured, crossing her hands upon her bosom.
+
+"What has gone?" he asked. "Quick!"
+
+"The deed!" she whispered. "Don't look at me like that. I couldn't help
+it. It was a trap, of course, to get me here, and I was a fool. The
+letter was from you, but I ought to have known that it was a forgery. I
+was taken unawares. She was like a madwoman. She would have torn the
+clothes from my body. I struggled. I called out. It was no use. She has
+taken it away."
+
+"But you are not hurt?" he exclaimed anxiously.
+
+"I--no!" she answered, a little vacantly. "But it is gone! I was not fit
+to be trusted with it. I ought to have given it up to you."
+
+She was very pale, and he was afraid of her fainting. He summoned the
+landlady once more. She was waiting on the stairs close by.
+
+"Something very serious has happened here," he said, sternly. "This
+young lady has been assaulted and robbed."
+
+"I'm sure I'm very sorry," the woman declared. "You can't blame any of
+us, though. I never heard a sound, no more did Hilda, and I can't
+prevent my lodgers having visitors."
+
+"We won't discuss it," Deane said sharply. "But if this is Miss
+Montague's room,--"
+
+"It isn't," the woman interrupted. "It's my sitting-room. Miss Montague
+has only an attic, and she came to me and said that she couldn't receive
+a visitor there, and asked me to lend her my room for a few minutes."
+
+Deane nodded. "The other rooms on this floor are unoccupied, of course,"
+he said. "Oh! it's quite easy to understand. I don't need to ask you any
+more questions. I don't want any more explanations. If you want to keep
+this out of the police court, you will do exactly as I tell you."
+
+"Yes!" she exclaimed eagerly. "I will do anything."
+
+"Send your servant for a cab," Deane said, "and arrange this young
+lady's dress so that I can take her home."
+
+"I will fetch her a bodice of my own," declared the woman, hurrying off.
+
+Winifred had risen to her feet, and was sitting in an easy-chair. She
+was leaning forward, with her face half buried in her hands. Deane
+turned towards her.
+
+"Winifred--"
+
+She avoided his gaze. "Don't!" she begged. "Please don't talk to me. I
+can't bear it."
+
+"But I may say--" he began.
+
+"No!" she interrupted, almost fiercely. "Please say nothing. I mean it.
+I cannot bear to talk! I cannot bear to be talked to!"
+
+A little throb of anger darkened his face. She had not even common
+gratitude for her rescue! She had but one thought, one regret,--the loss
+of that future of luxury to attain which she had bound herself to him. A
+curious anger burned in his blood,--a pain which he could not analyze
+shook his heart. Then there came the sound of voices on the stairs,
+feminine voices raised in anger! The door was burst open. Ruby stood
+there upon the threshold, looking in upon them, her lips curved in an
+ugly smile of triumph, her eyes ablaze. Behind her stood the landlady, a
+black bodice in her hand, her forehead wrinkled in a deprecating frown.
+
+"So you've found her, have you?" Ruby exclaimed, her face turned towards
+Deane, her finger outstretched to where Winifred sat shrinking back in
+her chair. "Thieves, both of you! Thieves! Thieves!"
+
+Deane pointed to Winifred's torn clothing. "And that?" he asked.
+
+"It was restitution," the girl declared fiercely. "The deed was mine!
+Your millions are mine! She stole it for you--her brother was a murderer
+for you! How do you think the story will look in the newspapers, eh?
+Inciting to murder and theft! Isn't that a crime? Swindlers, both of
+you!" she cried passionately. "You'd have kept me a beggar, eh," she
+cried to Winifred, "while you clad your poor body in silks and laces,
+covered yourself with jewels and made him marry you? And I was to
+starve!--to starve or worse! Well, we'll see! We'll see!"
+
+"Young lady," Deane said calmly, "you are being led away by your
+imagination. You have taken a paper away from Miss Rowan which you seem
+to think is going to turn out a sort of El Dorado. It isn't worth the
+paper it's written on."
+
+"It's a lie!" the girl shrieked. "I've taken it to the lawyers. It is
+genuine--they all say so."
+
+Deane almost lifted Winifred from her chair. "That remains to be seen,"
+he declared.
+
+"In any case, it was stolen!" she cried. "That young woman there has got
+to say how it came into her possession, and what she meant by going
+around with it sewn into her bodice! Oh, you needn't try to dupe me!"
+she cried. "I want my money--God knows how I want it! And I mean to make
+her suffer, too!" she added, pointing to Winifred. "She's a thief! She's
+lived in luxury while I've starved;--she's worn the clothes of a
+princess while I've gone in rags! But she shall pay! My God, she shall
+pay!"
+
+Deane, with Winifred by his side, had reached the door. "I am afraid,"
+he said turning to the girl, who was still regarding them with
+breathless anger, "that you have let your imagination run away with you
+a good deal. A dose of the law courts will do you no harm. If you care
+for a word of warning from me, you can have it: don't build your hopes
+too much upon that paper!"
+
+"We shall see!" she cried fiercely. "You can't frighten me! If the paper
+is of no value, why did she steal it, why did she carry it sewn in her
+clothes? If you--"
+
+She hesitated for a moment. Her eyes rested upon Deane, her expression
+softened. "If you want to make terms--" she began.
+
+He turned away. "Come, Winifred," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the cab they scarcely spoke. She had the air of a person utterly
+exhausted,--indifferent to anything that might happen.
+
+"Tell me," he asked, soon after they started, "what made you go to that
+house?"
+
+"The letter from you," she answered. "I was a fool, of course, but I
+went. It doesn't matter, does it?"
+
+"I suppose not," he answered.
+
+The despair in her face nerved him to further speech. "I am afraid," he
+said, "that you are worrying about that deed--or rather the loss of it.
+I am sorry that I came too late, but it couldn't be helped. You did all
+that you could! I am sure of that."
+
+"Of course!" she interposed impatiently. "And I have failed! That is the
+end of it!"
+
+He looked out of the window, looked with stern, unseeing eyes upon the
+passing people. The sun had ceased to shine, his heart was heavy as
+lead. He seemed suddenly to realize the reason of her dejection. She
+believed in the deed. She believed that he was indeed a pauper. It was
+for the wreck of her hopes that she was lamenting. The rest went for
+nothing. He was a poor man--no longer of any interest to her! His manner
+unconsciously stiffened as the thought came rushing home to him. He drew
+away from her, and he remained silent until the cab stopped in front of
+her hotel. She stepped out quickly, and almost ran across the pavement.
+
+"To-morrow," she said, holding out her hand as though to prevent his
+following.
+
+He bowed and turned away. Her deshabille was without doubt an
+embarrassment Already he was beginning to find excuses for her.
+Nevertheless, he watched the slim, swaying figure, as the doors closed
+upon her, with something of apprehension. Was it ominous that she should
+pass away without a backward glance? Was she indeed nothing but an
+adventuress, deprived of her prey?...
+
+He paid the cab and walked slowly back to his rooms. His solicitor had
+already rung up. Two of his directors were waiting to see him, a
+reporter buttonholed him upon the pavement. From all of which things
+Deane knew that Ruby Sinclair had lost no time, that the first note of
+battle had been sounded!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MISS SINCLAIR'S OFFER
+
+
+Miss Rowan had left two hours ago, and had taken all her luggage and
+paid her bill. Apparently she had no idea of returning,--at any rate,
+she had not reserved any rooms. The hall-porter of the little hotel
+looked at Deane with some curiosity as he answered his rapid questions.
+The manageress came rustling out of her office and beamed on Deane, who
+had once stayed there for several weeks. She confirmed the information
+which he had already received, and supplemented it with a few further
+details.
+
+"Miss Rowan paid her bill?" Deane asked.
+
+"Certainly, sir," the manageress answered. "Miss Rowan was exceedingly
+particular about paying her accounts the moment they were presented."
+
+"And she left no message?" Deane asked.
+
+"None at all, sir," was the answer.
+
+He noticed the gleam of curiosity in her eyes, and promptly altered his
+tactics. "Thank you very much," he said, turning away. "I quite
+understood that Miss Rowan was not leaving until this afternoon. My
+mistake, I daresay. By the bye, have you any instructions with regard to
+letters?"
+
+"None," the manageress replied. "If any come, we shall keep them until
+we hear from her."
+
+Deane turned away and reentered his brougham. "I shall find a note at my
+rooms, I daresay," he remarked. "Good morning, Mrs. Merrygold."
+
+His words were prophetic. He called at his rooms on his way to the club
+for lunch, and found a note there addressed to him in Winifred's
+handwriting:
+
+     Wednesday morning.
+
+     You will understand, of course, that this is the end. The
+     jewels which you gave me I have returned to-day by registered
+     post. One ring I have kept. It is, I think, the least valuable
+     of any, but I did not wish to part with it. If you insist,
+     however, it is always at your disposal.
+
+     I am going back where I belong--to the world which I should
+     never have quitted. Everything has been a great mistake. Please
+     understand that you are absolutely and entirely free in every
+     way. I only trust that I may live long enough to atone in some
+     measure for my folly.
+
+     WINIFRED ROWAN.
+
+Deane read this letter over a dozen times. One thing alone seemed clear.
+She had deserted him. She had not even waited for the final issue. She
+had fled from the sinking ship with a haste almost indecent. She had
+made no terms, suggested no compromise. Deane, when he thought the whole
+matter over, was still puzzled. Such precipitancy was not logical. If
+his hand was no longer strong enough to open the gates of the promised
+land, it could at least have lifted her up from the miseries of her past
+life. He found himself, after a study of her few lines, curiously
+depressed. She had gone--willingly--apparently without regret except for
+her wasted opportunities. He felt an emptiness in his life which he
+failed to understand. There had been nothing of the sort when Lady Olive
+had held out her hand and bidden him farewell. Was he getting
+sentimental? He set his teeth. Absurd! It was an episode happily
+concluded! Outside there was thunder in the air--a storm for him to
+face!...
+
+His solicitor did not beat about the bush. "In the face of that
+document, Mr. Deane," he said, "the Treasury do not propose to proceed
+with the prosecution of Hefferom. Its existence, of course, throws
+altogether a different light upon the whole situation, whatever may be
+its exact legal worth. Hefferom was simply engaged upon a task of
+compromise. He had something solid behind him. There is not a shadow of
+evidence against him."
+
+"Very well," said Deane, "let Hefferom go. I confess that when I sent to
+Scotland Yard I never anticipated that this particular document would
+ever come into evidence."
+
+"You knew of its existence?" the lawyer asked.
+
+"Sinclair himself showed it to me," Deane answered calmly. "So far as
+Sinclair himself was concerned the affair was a swindle, for it was he
+who recommended me to jump the claim--said he thought that there was
+some stuff there, but he had no money to work it. I let him off a
+hundred pounds he owed me, and took his advice. But that is ancient
+history. The mine is my property all right--or rather it was."
+
+Mr. Hardaway listened with a grave face. "Deane," he said, "I hope and
+believe that you may be speaking the truth, but the original deed is in
+the hands of unscrupulous people. We had a notification this afternoon
+that a suit is about to be commenced against your corporation."
+
+"The sooner the better," Deane answered. "We'll know where we are, at
+any rate. I claim that by the statute laws of the country that claim was
+forfeit. If it was not, then the inducing me to sink capital and work
+the claim was a damnable conspiracy."
+
+"Your corporation fight with you, of course?" the lawyer asked.
+
+"Of course," Deane answered. "What else could they do? We fight to the
+end!"
+
+That night, shares in the Incorporated Gold-Mines Association stood at
+90. At closing time the following day they stood at 74. A few lines in
+the paper had done it. An action had been started by Hefferom, and the
+legatees of the estate of the late Richard Sinclair, claiming as their
+property the Little Anna Gold-Mine. The thing had been talked about for
+some time, but now that it had actually occurred, people seemed none the
+less staggered. The city believed in Stirling Deane--it had believed in
+him so implicitly that in its heart it had never placed any faith in
+this cloud of rumors. Yet there it was now in black and white. It was no
+longer possible to speak of compromise. The matter was to be fought out
+in the open courts, and failure could spell nothing but ruin to one of
+the richest corporations in London. Deane's photograph was in all the
+papers--also the menu of a famous dinner which he gave to his directors.
+He sent a cheque for five thousand pounds to a hospital, and was
+reported to be going on the turf. The lawsuit he treated everywhere as a
+joke. He was careful always to wear the usual bunch of violets in his
+buttonhole, and to affect something of the dandy in his attire. His
+personal demeanor kept his shares at least ten points higher than they
+would otherwise have been.
+
+But Deane, nevertheless, was in hell! He was badgered by his directors,
+worried by his lawyers, and underneath it all, and apart from his
+financial responsibilities, he was suffering from a sense of personal
+loss, a wound whose pain left him but little peace. He never stopped to
+admit to himself exactly what his suffering was. He sat for hours lost
+in thought, and his thoughts were always of that pale lady of his dreams
+who had stolen so abruptly from his arms, the girl who had played for a
+few weeks so strange a part in his life. He tried to find what had
+become of her, but in vain; she seemed to have completely vanished. He
+puzzled over her behavior until the lines in his face grew set and hard.
+Was she indeed ingrate--ready to abandon her strange bargain at the
+first whisper of disaster? Or had she some other reason? He had accepted
+her terms because of the power which she held--what if, at the loss of
+that power, she had taken it for granted that their bargain was
+cancelled, and had hurried away to avoid the shame of dismissal from
+him! It was just what she would do--perhaps just what she had done!
+
+Deane was careful, during these days of probation, to attend at his
+office regularly, and to shrink from none of his customary duties. One
+afternoon his clerk brought him in a card.
+
+"A young lady to see you, sir!" he announced.
+
+Deane's heart gave a jump, the blood rushed through his veins, he was
+scarcely able to read the card which he had taken into his fingers with
+well-affected carelessness. Then the pain came, the black disappointment
+which seemed to turn his heart into a stone. It was not she! He found it
+hard to take any interest in this caller, and yet he felt that her
+coming was significant.
+
+     _Miss Ruby Sinclair._
+
+"You can show the young lady in, Gray," Deane ordered.
+
+When she arrived, Deane scarcely knew her. She was expensively dressed
+from head to foot. She carried herself with an assurance which was
+almost overdone. The fashion of her dress and hat were certainly not
+chosen with a view to being overlooked. She was very modern--she
+reminded him exactly of a young lady in a musical comedy with whom he
+had once had a slight acquaintance. He would scarcely have been
+surprised had he found, when she lifted her veil, that her eyebrows were
+blackened.
+
+"You didn't expect to see me, of course," she said, holding his hand for
+a moment, and looking at him steadfastly. "May I sit down?"
+
+"Of course," he answered.
+
+She chose the easy-chair, and crossed her legs with a good deal of
+rustle and a considerable display of black silk stocking.
+
+She looked at him curiously. "Are you still angry with me?" she asked.
+
+"Well, I don't usually bear malice," he answered, "but I can scarcely
+forgive your method of dealing with Miss Rowan!"
+
+"Or its results?" she asked, with a little laugh. "Well, I came out on
+the top, anyhow, and you must remember, Mr. Deane, that I was
+desperate,--you don't know how desperate," she continued, after a
+moment's pause. "I hadn't a shilling left in the world!--not a
+shilling!--not a friend! And somewhere in London there was wealth that
+belonged to me!"
+
+"That," Deane remarked dryly, "is a matter which is as yet undecided."
+
+"Well, I judge by facts," she answered with a little laugh. "Lawyers
+don't usually throw money away, do they? They're willing to advance me
+all I want on the security of the Little Anna Gold-Mine."
+
+Deane smiled upon her genially. "My mine," he remarked.
+
+"No!" she declared,--"the property of the legatees of Richard Sinclair!"
+
+Deane shook his head. "My dear young lady," he said, "you were more in
+your element when you walked bareheaded upon the sands of Rakney, and
+saved me from a wetting, than in your present pose."
+
+"And you," she declared, "were nicer to me, a great deal, for those few
+days."
+
+"Naturally," he answered, smiling. "How can I be particularly amiable to
+a young lady who is trying to ruin me?"
+
+She looked at him earnestly. In her fashionable attire she presented,
+indeed, a very different appearance from the eager, brown-skinned girl,
+with the shapely limbs and delightful carriage, whom he had first seen
+at Rakney. Yet he fancied that she was trying to reawaken his earlier
+impressions of her,--innocent of vanity as he was, he could not
+misunderstand her appealing gaze!
+
+"I do not want to ruin you," she declared. "I do not want to do anything
+of the sort. Isn't there enough for both of us? Why should we fight?"
+
+He sighed. "How can we compromise?" he asked. "The mine does not belong
+to me any longer. I sold it years ago to the Incorporated Gold-Mines
+Association."
+
+"You could not sell what didn't belong to you," she objected.
+
+"They paid me the money for it, at any rate," he answered.
+
+"If I win," she asked, "who will lose the money?"
+
+"The Incorporated Gold-Mines Association," he answered, "but they would
+have a claim upon me. I suppose, eventually, that I should."
+
+She held out her hand--no longer brown and stained with seaweed, but
+delicately gloved, perfumed, elegant. "Let us be friends," she said. "I
+am sorry I was rough to your little ally! I couldn't help it. She was in
+my way. I chose the only means. We needn't consider her,--you and I are
+different sort of people. We know what we want. I am not only a money
+grubber. I want the rest of life, the whole thing,--the music, the
+poetry, the passion! Remember my wretched, starved existence! Do you
+wonder that I am on fire to pass on to the other things. It isn't the
+money--your money or any one else's! I want life! I want the wine and
+the spices! I want the dregs! Can't you understand? You must!--you
+must!"
+
+Her passionate eyes sought his, her body swayed towards him. Deane
+looked downwards upon his blotter. In the outer office he could hear the
+clicking of typewriters, the subdued murmur of voices. Through the
+half-opened window came floating in the everlasting chorus,--the falling
+footsteps upon the pavement, the jingling of hansom bells, the far-off
+roar of the heavier traffic. All these things seemed to him curiously
+unreal. He was conscious only of the intensity of the moment, the
+pleading of her eyes, the warm breath upon his cheeks. He heard the
+rustling of her skirts. He felt that she was rising from her chair. Then
+he braced himself for his effort.
+
+"My dear young lady," he said,--"if you really want to compromise--for a
+moderate amount--I will send for my lawyer. We cannot arrange this thing
+by ourselves."
+
+She rose to her feet, but for a moment she was speechless. When he
+looked at her face, he found it almost unrecognizable. She dropped her
+veil quickly, but from behind it the flash of her eyes was in itself a
+threat.
+
+"I am sorry," he said lamely. "I hope you understand."
+
+She turned to the door, and passed out without a word.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THROUGH THE MILL
+
+
+Deane stood at last on the other side of those long, dragging months of
+unspeakable weariness. Day after day, in the close atmosphere of the
+Courts, week after week of what seemed to him unnecessary repetitions
+and delays,--so the great machine of the law moved on its slow and
+stately way, and the case of Sinclair _v._ The Incorporated Gold-Mines
+Association crept on toward the end. One thing at least Deane had
+gained. His examination and cross-examination--and he was in the witness
+box altogether for nearly two days--failed to reveal a single weak joint
+in the armor of his truthfulness. His story was consistent and honorable
+throughout. He was able to prove the payment to Sinclair, to prove
+Sinclair's suggestion that he should have a try at the mine. At the end
+of the case, one thing remained certain, and that was that morally
+speaking the mine was Deane's when he had sold it to the Corporation.
+Yet behind it all there were those title-deeds, with which Sinclair had
+never parted, and which now formed the backbone of this present suit.
+The more sensational part of the case, too, concerning which there had
+been endless rumors, collapsed immediately.
+
+"Is it not true that Sinclair paid you a visit at your offices a few
+days before his murder?" counsel asked.
+
+"Certainly!" Deane answered.
+
+"Will you tell us what transpired at that interview?"
+
+"Well, it scarcely amounted to an interview," Deane answered composedly.
+"The man was drunk, and I found him offensive. He brandished the
+document at me on which the present case is founded, and I suspected him
+of an attempt at blackmail. I had him thrown out."
+
+"Yet a few days afterwards you commissioned Rowan--the man who murdered
+Sinclair--to obtain that document from him," counsel said, amidst some
+sensation.
+
+"Scarcely that," Deane answered. "Rowan, who had been a friend of mine
+in South Africa, and was a man of an altogether different stamp than
+Sinclair, called upon me a few days later. I told him the
+circumstances."
+
+"You incited him to procure that document from Sinclair," counsel
+declared.
+
+"I cannot admit that," Deane answered. "I told him that I had declined
+to be blackmailed by Sinclair, but that after all I would prefer to pay
+a reasonable sum of money for the document in question. Rowan had been
+on more friendly terms with Sinclair than any of us, and I thought that
+he might induce him to listen to reason."
+
+"If the document was valueless, why should you bother about it?"
+
+"I'm afraid that you don't know much about the mining world," Deane
+replied amiably. "Any prejudicial report, however malicious, however
+false, affects the market, and one must always consider one's
+stockholders."
+
+"Very well, then," counsel said, "we come to this. You deputed Rowan to
+see what he could do with Sinclair. Do you realize your responsibility
+in this matter? You are aware of what happened?"
+
+"Certainly," Deane answered. "I shall never cease to regret it. Sinclair
+was mad drunk and the two men quarrelled. The blow which killed him was
+struck in self-defence."
+
+"The law did not take that view."
+
+"I stood by Rowan when he died," Deane said, with a sudden note of
+solemnity in his tone. "He told me the truth then, and the truth is what
+I have told you."
+
+"Nevertheless, he stole the document," counsel continued. "It was
+discovered afterwards in the possession of Miss Rowan."
+
+"So I have heard," Deane answered calmly. "It was a pity that she did
+not hand it over to me."
+
+"You would have destroyed it, I suppose?"
+
+"Most certainly!" Deane answered. "The mine belonged to me. Sinclair had
+declared before witnesses that there were no papers, that the claim had
+not been worked for the requisite time; and, therefore, by the mining
+laws of the country my purchase was good."
+
+The case lasted well over the Christmas recess. During the holidays,
+Deane spent a good part of his time seeking for some trace of Winifred
+Rowan. He went himself to her old employers, but they were able to tell
+him nothing. They could only show him the testimonial which they had
+written at her request, and which she had taken away with her a few days
+after her departure from the hotel. There was no one who seemed able to
+help him in the least. Very regretfully, he called in the services of a
+private detective, who, however, was equally unsuccessful. The holidays
+passed, the case was reopened, and Deane was once more immersed in the
+struggle....
+
+It was over at last. The strain remained,--the great judge who had heard
+it declined to pronounce judgment immediately on the conclusion of the
+pleadings. It might be three days or it might be even a week before his
+decision was known. Deane turned away from the court with a strong and
+instinctive desire for solitude. The suspense long drawn out through the
+weeks and through the months, had become unbearable. He felt himself no
+longer able calmly to discuss the pros and the cons of the case with his
+fellow directors and friends. He was sick to heart of it all. He escaped
+from one or two passers-by, and a reporter or so who tried to buttonhole
+him, and ignoring his brougham, around which several others were
+waiting, he sprang into a hansom and drove to the garage where he kept
+his touring car. A few brief orders, a pencilled note to his servant,
+and Deane, leaving the garage by the other entrance, took the Tube to
+its terminus, walked out into the country, and was caught up within an
+hour by the car, in which his servant was sitting on the front seat by
+the side of the chauffeur.
+
+The evening passed swiftly into night as they thundered up the great
+north road into the darkness. Deane, wrapped in his thick coat and rugs,
+leaned back in his seat, with both windows down, feeling an
+inexpressible relief in the sharp sting of the night air, the flakes of
+snow and little clouds of rain blown every now and then through the open
+windows. He was free at last from the hateful environment of the last
+few months. No longer was there anyone to point him out as the man who
+had sold for a million pounds a mine which had never belonged to him.
+Save for the two motionless figures in front, he was alone. There was no
+one to ask him wearisome questions, no one to offer him sympathy or wish
+him good-fortune. On they sped through the night, till the villages were
+like dead haunts, without a light in the windows, and only an occasional
+lamp-post to mark the place where men slumbered. They passed through a
+town, which was like a city of the dead, and on again to the wilder
+country, where the rabbits rushed, terrified, before the streaming
+lights of the car, and the wind alone, of all Nature's voices, seemed
+left to remind him that this was not a world of ghosts through which he
+rushed.
+
+Presently he saw the man at the wheel swerve a little in his seat, and
+he lifted the speaking-tube to his lips. "Can we get through to Rakney,
+Murray," he asked him, "or shall we stop at King's Lynn?"
+
+"We can get through, sir," the man replied, "if we can rest for
+half-an-hour somewhere."
+
+They knocked up an inn-keeper in King's Lynn, and the two men ate and
+drank. Deane himself drank a long whiskey and soda, and lit a cigar.
+Then they rushed onward into the darkness, already lightening a little
+in the east. Dawn was breaking as they climbed their last hill and ran
+down toward the marshlands. A red light loomed over the gray, sullen
+sea. The marshes themselves seemed heavy and undistinguishable--patches
+of land and dark creeks of salt-water running into one another. Out in
+the bay the foam-topped breakers came rolling sullenly in. When at last
+they turned through the gate, and went slowly up the rough road--marked
+out with white stakes--which led up to the tower, the dawn had actually
+come, the night was a thing of the past, although its shadow seemed to
+hang low over the gray land. The sea had been lately over the rough
+road, and progress was difficult. At last, though, they reached the
+little bank of shingle on which the tower was built, and Deane, with a
+little sigh of relief, stepped wearily down. While his servant unlocked
+the front door and busied himself arranging a bed and lighting a fire,
+Deane walked down to the edge of the sea, whose white-topped waves were
+dragging back the shingle as they fell and broke, with a dull, grinding
+noise. Never, it seemed to him, had the beauty of loneliness appealed to
+him more strongly than at this hour of dawn. The birds were silent, the
+wind had fallen, there was no sound whatever from the sleeping land.
+Only the eternal breaking of the waves continued--a sound which was more
+like the background for stillness, grim and mysterious, inevitable as
+existence itself. Far away now seemed that crowded court, with its eager
+faces, its rapt issues,--far away seemed the importance of wealth, the
+great question whether he should remain amongst the millionaires--the
+world buyers, or take his place amongst the poor men of the earth. What
+did it matter, after all, this kingship of the cities, with their lack
+of perspective, their crowded hours, their strange, artificial
+atmosphere? The value of these things was, grotesque, for a
+moment,--distorted. He had been wise to come here, he told himself, as a
+breath of the morning wind stole, faint and fresh, across the salt sea.
+Perhaps he would be wiser still if he defied fortune and stayed here
+always.
+
+His servant summoned him, and he went reluctantly indoors. He ate some
+biscuits and drank some milk. Then, as the real dawn broke over the sea,
+a fiery red, and with many suggestions of troubled weather in its angry
+glow, he opened the window and threw himself upon the little iron
+bedstead with its lavender-scented sheets.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ALL AS IT SHOULD BE
+
+
+There was one person in London who knew Deane's whereabouts, and from
+him there came no word. To Deane himself there seemed something unreal
+about the long hours which he spent in solitude, wandering along the sea
+front, following the sands left by the receding tide--himself a lonely
+figure on the great gray plain. A storm of rain once blew in from the
+sea, but mostly the day was still and colorless. To Deane, after the
+long hours in the crowded courts, his directors' meetings, his
+self-imposed mask of ease and confidence, the relief of this absolute
+solitude was immeasurable. It was just the season of the year when
+nature and those who minister to her seem alike to sleep. It was too
+early for any thought of spring; the storms of autumn lay behind. A
+certain quietness seemed to hang over the land, as though, indeed, sea
+and resisting sands were exhausted with the long struggle of the winter.
+
+Towards afternoon came some few moments of flickering sunlight. Deane
+sat on a wooden bar on the top of one of the dykes, and above his head a
+lark was singing, a little timidly, a little doubtful, even, of his
+lonely music, but still lending a note of real life to the still, gray
+world over which he hovered. Deane looked at the queer stone tower on
+its bank of shingle, and blessed the chance which had led him to
+purchase it. He looked inland to the little red-tiled village, to the
+deserted quay, from which all the fishing-boats had been dragged high
+and dry along the straight line of raised dyke which formed the footpath
+between him and the village. As he looked, he became conscious that
+someone had started out from the village along the dyke top. Far away at
+the other end he could see a slowly approaching figure. His heart gave a
+little beat. Was it a messenger at last, coming to bring him his fate?
+He looked up again to where the lark was singing. It seemed, after all,
+so small a thing! Nearer and nearer the figure came, near enough, at
+last, for Deane to be able to distinguish something of its outline. Then
+he rose to his feet with a quick indrawn breath--a little cry of
+surprise to which there was no one to listen. For this was no messenger
+from the village coming. It was a girl in a long gray cloak, and a hat
+which she carried in her hand, as though the fresh salt air of the
+marshes was something also to her. Deane saw the neatly arranged brown
+hair blown into confusion about her face. Against the empty background
+he recognized the poise of her head, the firm but delicate walk, the
+slender, swaying figure. He knew who it was that came, and it seemed to
+him that from that moment he knew, too, other things! His sense of
+proportions was suddenly shifted,--enlarged, perhaps,--altered
+certainly. He understood things which before had been mysteries to him.
+He understood, as though in some moment of inspiration, that riches or
+poverty, life, even, or death, are the incidents of life before its
+greatest truths. Nothing that he could think of seemed able to hold his
+thoughts. His heart was beating to music, the lark was singing to him a
+song of her own--singing in weak, tremulous notes a song of life and
+love and passion! He rose to his feet and went to meet her. She stopped
+short and faltered for a moment. He hurried on.
+
+"Winifred!" he exclaimed.
+
+She held out her hands. Her eyebrows were upraised, her mouth was
+quivering, her eyes were seeking his with a sort of plaintive
+earnestness. "It is true, then!" she exclaimed. "You are really here!"
+
+"I am really here," he answered, "and it is really you! Nothing else
+seems to matter very much,--and yet, I would like to know why you alone,
+of all the world, should have discovered my hiding place."
+
+She laughed, and seemed quite unconscious of the fact that he was still
+holding her hands. "I have been ill," she said. "I came down here to
+rest. Last night I heard in the village that you had arrived, that you
+were here alone. I knew then," she continued softly, "what had happened.
+I felt that I must come, if it was only for a few moments."
+
+"It was very nice of you," he said.
+
+Then they stood side by side in a silence charged with a sort of
+impotent passion. Why had she troubled to come, he wondered, now that
+the bubble of his wealth was burst,--she, who had held him to her
+cold-blooded compact, who had bound him to her by as sordid a bargain as
+ever the mind of woman could have conceived.
+
+"I am glad to see you," he said, "and yet I don't know why. You did not
+hesitate to leave me without word of you, as soon as you saw the
+breakers ahead."
+
+She drew a little away, looking at him as though she had only half
+understood. "When I lost the bond by which I held you," she said, "I
+could scarcely expect you to continue to pay. I have thought it all over
+since, until I think that I have drunk in all the shame which a woman
+could feel. It was a hateful, miserable thing, but then my life has been
+a hateful, miserable thing ever since I was a child, and I did long,
+yes, I did long," she added fervently, "for something a little
+different."
+
+"You disappeared, then," he said slowly, "because you imagined,
+naturally enough, that so soon as you had lost your hold upon me, I
+should be only too glad to free myself from our engagement?"
+
+"Of course," she answered, the color slowly staining her cheeks. "There
+was no doubt whatever about that. Only since then I have understood how
+great a mistake I made. If things had turned out differently," she
+continued, "I should never have dared to come to you, to tell you this
+and to ask for your forgiveness. But as it is," she added, "you cannot
+misunderstand me any longer, can you?"
+
+"I suppose not," he admitted.
+
+"I wanted to come and tell you that I was sorry," she continued softly,
+"and I wanted, too, to remind you that you are still young, and that the
+loss of a fortune is not the most terrible thing in the world. I heard
+yesterday that you were out upon Salthouse Neck, close to the
+quicksands. You know it is never safe there, with these winter tides.
+Life is not a thing to be trifled with. It may seem terrible to you just
+now to have lost your great fortune, to be once more a poor man. These
+things, after all, don't count for much against the gift of life. I know
+it sounds like humbug to hear me talk like this, but they were gossiping
+about you in the village. One man was saying that he shouldn't be at all
+surprised to hear that you had disappeared, and to find--to find--" she
+added, with a little shiver, "your body come up the creek with the next
+tide. You wouldn't do anything like that, would you?"
+
+"Not a ghost of a chance of it," he answered cheerily. "Besides, I am
+not quite a pauper yet."
+
+"You have lost the case, haven't you?" she asked quickly. "They seemed
+to think so in the village, and I heard that Mr. Sarsby said his niece
+had come into a million pounds."
+
+"Up till last night, at any rate," answered Deane, "nothing was decided.
+The judge reserved his decision."
+
+"Then why," she asked wonderingly, "did you come down here?"
+
+He drew her a little closer to him, and looked into her eyes. "I think,
+dear," he said, "that it was Providence which sent me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They walked along the sands, and for them the sun shone still, and the
+song of the lark was only the faint echo of a still more wonderful
+music. And then, as they turned back, they saw along the dyke a boy
+riding a bicycle, a boy with a leather satchel around his waist, and the
+rim of whose bicycle was red. He pressed her arm.
+
+"Courage, dear," he said. "This is the Mercury who brings us the
+knowledge of our fate. In a few moments you will know whether you are to
+become the wife of a millionaire or a working man."
+
+"If you would only believe," she murmured, "how little it matters!"
+
+"I do believe," he answered. "I came down here, for one reason, to
+escape the shock of hearing the news before others. Now that it comes, I
+simply do not mind. There are greater things in the world than the
+Little Anna Gold-Mine!"
+
+He took the telegram from the boy, and opened it with firm fingers. He
+read it out aloud without a tremor:
+
+     Counsel met in judge's private room by appointment to-day. Have
+     compromised with plaintiffs twenty thousand pounds.
+
+Deane threw a coin to the boy, who remounted his bicycle and rode away.
+Then, turning to Winifred, "You see," he said, "you have brought me
+luck."
+
+"I only pray," she murmured, as they turned together toward the tower,
+"that I may bring you happiness!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deane met Mrs. Hefferom a few months afterwards, and was struck at once
+by her altered expression. They came face to face at the corner of a
+street, and both involuntarily stopped.
+
+"I hope," said Deane, politely, "that you are making good use of my
+money."
+
+"And I hope," she answered, laughing, "that you are making more fortunes
+from my mine."
+
+"I am doing fairly well, thank you," Deane admitted, "but you know that
+I have a wife to keep now."
+
+"And I a husband," she answered. "I am trying to reform Stephen
+Hefferom."
+
+"I hope that you are succeeding?"
+
+"On the whole, yes!" she declared, smiling. "We live at Streatham, and
+he goes in to the city every day. He has bought a share in a business.
+We are not millionaires yet, but one never can tell."
+
+"At any rate," he remarked pleasantly, "to judge by your appearance I
+should say that you find it better than Rakney."
+
+"Don't mention the place, or any one in it," she said, with a shiver.
+"Thank Heaven, I shall never have to go back to it! Stephen is really
+doing very well, and half the money is still settled upon me. You have
+no idea," she continued, "how domesticity has agreed with him. He has
+scarcely a vice left."
+
+"It has made a lot of difference to me," returned Deane. "Can't you
+recognize my subdued appearance?"
+
+"I never saw you looking so well," she answered frankly. "Now I must
+hurry off. I am going to call for my husband and take him to lunch."
+
+"And I am going to fetch my wife for the same reason," Deane answered,
+smiling. "The best of luck to you both!"
+
+They parted in the crowd, swept away by the flood, the endless tide of
+passing humanity, and with a smile upon his lips Deane went to his
+appointment.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Other Works: LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS
+
+
+PASSERS-BY
+
+_By_ ANTHONY PARTRIDGE
+
+Author of "The Kingdom of Earth," etc.
+
+"_Mystery upon mystery_"
+
+Has the merit of engaging the reader's attention at once and holding it
+to the end.--_New York Sun._
+
+It is exciting, is plausibly and cleverly written, and is not devoid of
+a love motive.--_Chicago Examiner._
+
+It can be heartily recommended to those who enjoy a novel with a good
+plot, entertaining characters, and one which is carefully
+written.--_Chicago Tribune._
+
+One of the most fascinating mystery stories of recent years, a tale that
+catches the attention at the beginning and tightens the grip of its hold
+with the turn of its pages.--_Boston Globe._
+
+A mysterious story in which nearly all the personages are as much
+puzzled as the reader and a detective encounters a unique surprise.
+Originality is the most striking characteristic of the personages.--_New
+York Times._
+
+The first chapter compels the absorbed interest of the reader and
+lays the groundwork for a thrilling tale in which mystery
+follows upon mystery through a series of dramatic situations and
+surprises.--_Philadelphia Press._
+
+
+THE DISTRIBUTORS
+
+_By_ ANTHONY PARTRIDGE
+
+_An absorbing novel of a great London mystery_
+
+A story of decided dramatic power.--_Chicago Journal._
+
+Written in striking brilliant style.--_New York World._
+
+A good mystery story which is worth reading.--_Detroit News._
+
+The story is developed with much cleverness.--_New York Times._
+
+A remarkable novel of fashionable English life.--_New York Bookseller._
+
+One of the season's most fascinating books. Almost every character is
+unusual.--_Cleveland Town Topics._
+
+A peculiar but fascinating novel. The author wields a powerful pen and
+this story will produce a profound impression.--_Buffalo Courier._
+
+The author offers a diversion quite unparalleled in fiction in the
+doings of a polite and exclusive circle known as "The Ghosts."--_Book
+Review Digest._
+
+
+THE KINGDOM OF EARTH
+
+_By_ ANTHONY PARTRIDGE
+
+Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell.
+
+_A dashing tale of love and adventure_
+
+The characters are strongly drawn and there is an absorbing love
+theme.--_Pittsburg Post._
+
+Reaches thrilling climaxes and always keeps the reader's interest
+whetted to a razor's edge.--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
+
+A swinging, dashing story full of the excitement that keeps the reader
+on the qui vive.--_Cincinnati Commercial Tribune._
+
+With a distinctly novel and ingenious plot, one involving enough of
+intrigue and adventure to satisfy the most exacting.--_San Francisco
+Argonaut._
+
+Full of adventure, this dashing romance of a European Crown Prince
+and a talented American girl moves to its climax in baffling
+mysteries.--_Baltimore American._
+
+More virile than the Zenda books and their imitators.... Mr.
+Partridge's central idea is a novel one and he has worked it out
+skillfully, leading the reader on from chapter to chapter with new
+complication and mysteries and perils and adventures growing more and
+more exciting.--_New York Times._
+
+
+THE MAN AND THE DRAGON
+
+_By_ ALEXANDER OTIS
+
+Author of "Hearts are Trumps," etc.
+
+Illustrations by J. V. McFall.
+
+_A story of contemporary American life_
+
+A novelist who can hold the interest equally of both women and men is an
+exception. Mr. Otis' first book, "Hearts are Trumps," brought him into
+prominence as a writer of fiction, disclosing as it did a new American
+author who possesses the narrative faculty and the dramatic instinct.
+
+In his new book, "The Man and the Dragon," Mr. Otis has written an even
+stronger story of contemporary American life. Through the center of his
+plot runs the glinting gold thread of a charming love story, strong,
+dramatic, virile. The groundwork depicts the struggle of the young
+editor of the _Carthage News_ against a political boss on the one hand,
+and a ring of traction magnates on the other, unfolding with telling
+penetration and grasp one of the most vital problems facing this country
+to-day.
+
+Those who have followed recent political events will find the defeat of
+political manipulators in congressional districts reflected in "The Man
+and the Dragon."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Web, by Anthony Partridge
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WEB ***
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