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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4a5164 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65811 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65811) diff --git a/old/65811-0.txt b/old/65811-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5077f33..0000000 --- a/old/65811-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8914 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The ’Phone Booth Mystery, by John Ironside - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The ’Phone Booth Mystery - -Author: John Ironside - -Release Date: July 17, 2021 [eBook #65811] -[Most recently updated: October 14, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team -at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously -made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY *** - - - - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber’s note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - -THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY - - -BY -JOHN IRONSIDE - -AUTHOR OF -“THE RED SYMBOL,” “FORGED IN STRONG FIRES,” ETC. - -[Illustration: Logo] - - -NEW YORK -HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY -1924 - - - - -AUTHORIZED EDITION - -_First Printing, August, 1924_ -_Second Printing, October, 1924_ - - -PRINTED IN -UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER PAGE - I. LADY RAWSON 1 - II. “MURDER MOST FOUL!” 8 - III. THE TAXICAB 16 - IV. A BELATED BRIDEGROOM 21 - V. RETURNED! 34 - VI. “NO. 5339” 45 - VII. THE CIGARETTE CASE 54 - VIII. AT CACCIOLA’S 64 - IX. BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM 79 - X. GRACE LEARNS THE NEWS 88 - XI. HALCYON DAYS 98 - XII. ALONE 109 - XIII. AUSTIN’S THEORY 121 - XIV. THE GIRL AT THE GRAVE 128 - XV. AUSTIN’S SILENCE 138 - XVI. MADDELENA 150 - XVII. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM 161 -XVIII. HARMONY--AND DISCORD 174 - XIX. DARK HOURS 188 - XX. AN OLD ROMANCE 197 - XXI. THE CHINESE ROOM 208 - XXII. A PEACEMAKER 220 -XXIII. WHAT GIULIA SAW 231 - XXIV. THE SHADOW OF DOOM 244 - XXV. THE LAST HOPE 252 - XXVI. THE NINTH HOUR 262 -XXVII. INTO THE LIGHT 275 - - - - -THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -LADY RAWSON - - -“I’m extremely sorry, Carling. It’s too bad to keep you to-night, -but----” - -“That’s all right, sir. Lucky they came in to-night and not to-morrow. -I shall soon be through with them.” - -“It’s most awfully good of you,” rejoined Sir Robert Rawson heartily. -“I would deal with them myself, but we are dining with Lord Warrington, -as you know.” - -“Yes, sir; but it’s of no consequence really. I can spare the time -perfectly well.” - -Already Carling’s sleek head was bent over the special dispatches which -had just been delivered at the private residence of Sir Robert Rawson. -There were two sets, written in different languages, but both referring -to one subject--secret intelligence concerning the strained relations -between two foreign countries: a matter that at present was suspected -rather than known, but that might at any moment develop on serious -lines, and even occasion a war involving Great Powers. - -These particular papers were probably of immense importance. That -remained to be seen; and Carling’s duty was to translate and prepare a -précis of them for his chief. - -They certainly had arrived at rather an awkward moment for the young -secretary--on the eve of his six weeks’ holiday, which would include a -honeymoon, for he was to be married on the morrow. - -“I don’t know what on earth I shall do without you, Roger,” Sir Robert -remarked, casting a glance of mingled affection and compunction at the -young man, whom he had learnt to regard as his right hand, and to whom -he was sincerely attached, wishing with all his heart that he had a -son like him; but he had married late in life and he and his wife were -childless. - -She entered the room at this moment, and he advanced to meet her with -courtly apology. - -“Have I kept you waiting, Paula? Forgive me.” - -“It is no matter, we are in good time,” she answered in a voice so rich -and soft that the words sounded like a caress, accompanied as they were -by a smiling glance at her husband. “Why, is that poor Mr. Carling -still at work? It is too bad of you, Robert, to detain him on this -night of all others.” - -She spoke as though she had but just caught sight of the industrious -secretary, yet as she entered the room she had seen him at once, and -noted his occupation. - -She crossed to his side now in a graceful, leisurely manner that, to -her husband’s admiring eyes, seemed perfectly natural. He did not -perceive the keen glance she directed, not at the secretary, but at the -papers over which he was poring. - -“It is too bad!” she repeated in her caressing voice. “You -should--what is the word?--ah, yes, you should _strike_, Mr. Carling.” - -Roger looked up and stumbled to his feet, thereby interposing himself -as a screen between her and his writing-table. - -“Not at all, though it’s awfully kind of you to say so, Lady Rawson,” -he murmured confusedly. “As I told Sir Robert, I had nothing particular -to do this evening; Grace doesn’t expect me, and I’d rather finish up -everything to the last moment.” - -“Is the work important?” She directed the question to her husband. - -“Yes, and we really must not hinder him. Good night, my boy. We shall -see you to-morrow. You’ll put those papers in the safe as usual, of -course. I’ll attend to them in the morning--or to-night, perhaps.” - -“Yes, sir. Good night. Good-bye, Lady Rawson.” - -“Not good-bye; you forget that I also will come to the marriage,” she -said graciously, giving him her hand. - -“We shall be honoured,” he murmured, as he bowed over the small gloved -hand, with outward deference and inward aversion. - -He disliked and distrusted his chief’s lovely young wife--why he did -not know, for her manner towards him had always been charming. It -was a purely instinctive feeling which, naturally, he had carefully -concealed, and of which he was not a little ashamed; but there it was. - -She was of foreign birth, but of what nationality no one seemed to -know; a strikingly handsome young woman, whose marriage to the elderly -financier had created a considerable sensation, for Sir Robert had long -been considered a confirmed bachelor. Malicious tongues had predicted -a speedy and scandalous dissolution of this union of May and December, -but those predictions were as yet unfulfilled, for Lady Rawson’s -conduct was irreproachable. She appeared as absolutely devoted to her -husband as he was to her, and even the most inveterate and malignant -gossip found no opportunity of assailing her fair fame. Yet, although -immensely admired she was not popular. There was something of the -sphinx about her--a serene but impenetrable mystery. Roger Carling was -by no means the only person who felt that strong aversion from her. - -He watched her now as, by her husband’s side, she recrossed the large -room, moving with the languid, sinuous grace peculiar to her. She -looked royally beautiful to-night, in a diaphanous robe of vivid green -and gold tissue, an emerald tiara poised proudly on her splendid, -simply dressed black hair, a magnificent emerald collar scintillating -on her white neck. - -She turned at the door and flashed a farewell smile at the young man, -to which, as to Sir Robert’s genial nod, he responded with a bow. - -“What is there about her that always makes me think of a snake?” he -asked himself as, with a sigh of genuine relief, he reseated himself -at the writing-table. “And Grace feels just the same, though she has -always been jolly nice to her. I wish she wasn’t coming to-morrow, but -of course it can’t be helped. Wonder what took her to that unlikely -place yesterday, for I’ll swear it was she, though I’ve never seen her -in that get-up before, but I’d know her walk anywhere. However, it’s -none of my business where she goes or what she does.” - -He addressed himself to his task again--an absorbing one, for the -papers contained startling and most valuable information, which should -be communicated to the Government with as little delay as possible. -That was Sir Robert’s duty, of course. - -He finished at last, folded and arranged the papers in order, with his -translation and notes on top, tied them with red tape, stuffed them -into a blue, canvas-lined official envelope printed with Sir Robert’s -address, sealed the package--quite a bulky one--and bestowed it in -a small safe in the wall, cunningly concealed behind one of the oak -panels. Only he and his chief knew the secret of the panel or possessed -keys of the safe. - -“Thank goodness, that’s done,” he ejaculated, as he closed the panel, -which slid noiselessly into place. “Ten o’clock, by Jove! Those fellows -will think I’m never coming.” - -He was to spend the last night of his bachelor existence at Austin -Starr’s chambers in Westminster, where a convivial supper-party awaited -him. He had already telephoned that he would not arrive till late. - -In the hall he encountered Thomson, Sir Robert’s confidential man--a -short, spare, reticent individual, who had grown grey in his master’s -service. - -“Won’t you have some coffee, sir, or a whisky-and-soda,” he asked, as -he helped Roger into his coat. - -“No, thanks. Good night, Thomson, and good-bye. I shan’t be back for -some weeks, you know.” - -“Good-bye, sir, and the best of good luck to you and the young lady.” - -The last words were an astonishing concession, for Thomson seldom -uttered an unnecessary syllable--not even to his master. Roger was -surprised and touched. - -“Good old Thomson!” he thought, as he hailed a passing taxi. “I suppose -he actually approves of me after all, though I should never have -guessed it! What a queer old stick he is.” - -He was greeted uproariously by the small assemblage that awaited him -at Austin Starr’s snug flat in Great Smith Street: Starr himself, a -smart young American journalist, whom he had met when he was on service -during the war, and with whom he had formed a friendship that seemed -likely to prove permanent; George Winston, a Foreign Office clerk, who -was to be his “best man” to-morrow; and some half-dozen others. - -Already he had dismissed from his mind everything connected with the -task that had detained him, and never gave it another thought. But it -was abruptly recalled to him the next morning when he was awakened by -his host. - -“Real sorry to disturb you, Roger. Late? No, it’s quite bright and -early, but they’ve rung you up from Grosvenor Gardens--Sir Robert -himself.” - -“Sir Robert! What on earth can he want at this hour!” he exclaimed, -springing out of bed and hurrying to the telephone. - -“Is that you, sir?... Those papers? They’re in the safe.... _Not -there!_ But they must be. Sealed up in one of the blue envelopes. They -can’t have been stolen--it’s impossible.... Yes, of course, sir, I’ll -come up at once.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -“MURDER MOST FOUL!” - - -“I want to telephone.” - -“Yes, madam. What number?” - -“I---- Can’t I ring up for myself?” - -The momentary hesitation in speech caused the busy little postmistress -to glance up at her customer--a lady of medium height and slender -figure, well but quietly dressed. She wore a motor hat with a dark-blue -veil which fell loosely over her face, shrouding her features; but -Mrs. Cave judged her to be handsome, and guessed her elderly, for she -saw the gleam of white hair. A nervous old lady, probably unused to -telephoning. - -“No, madam. If you will just give me the number I will tell you when -you are connected. The booth is at the end of the shop.” - -The lady glanced in the direction indicated and again hesitated, -standing at the railed-in post office counter and resting a fairly -large morocco bag on it--a dressing or jewel bag--though she retained -her grip of the handle with both hands. The right hand was ungloved and -several valuable rings sparkled on the delicate white fingers. - -“Oh, very well! No. 5339 Granton. How much?” she said at last, speaking -in a low voice, with a slight but perceptible foreign accent. Removing -her bejewelled hand from the bag, she fumbled in a châtelaine purse and -produced a shilling. - -Mrs. Cave entered and applied for the call before she took the coin and -dealt out the change. - -The bell tinkled, and at the same instant two other customers came into -the shop. - -“Your number, madam,” said Mrs. Cave, indicating the ’phone booth. -“Your change.” - -But the lady was already on her way to the box, and, setting the -change aside on the counter, the postmistress turned to serve the -new-comers--a woman who wanted to draw ten shillings from the savings -bank, a man and a child demanding stamps. As she attended to them -briskly in turn, two more people entered and went to the stationery -counter opposite. - -Mrs. Cave glanced at them apologetically; fortunately she knew them -both, but it really was trying that a rush should come just at this -moment when she was single-handed. Her husband was out, her niece at -dinner upstairs. - -“That’s your parcel, Mr. Laidlaw,” she called from behind her grating. -“There, on the right. Jessie will be down to serve you in half a -minute, Miss Ellis.” - -As she spoke she rang the bell to summon her niece, and also, as the -telephone sounded the end of the call, she mechanically rang off. Other -customers came in, and for a few minutes she and Jessie were as busy as -they could be, and only when the shop was clear again did she notice -the change set aside for the telephone customer. - -“There, that lady never asked for her change after all, and I didn’t -see her go out either. I dare say she’ll be back for it directly. Did -you finish your dinner, Jessie? No? Then you’d better run up and have -it while there’s time.” - -Jessie Jackson, a nice-looking, fresh-complexioned girl, very like her -capable little aunt, came from behind the news counter, and passed -along to the door at the back leading to the house, close by and at -right angles to that of the telephone booth; a dark corner on this -dull, foggy November day. - -“There’s something wet here!” she exclaimed. “Somebody must have been -spilling some water.” - -She reached for an electric switch and turned on the light. - -An instant later Mrs. Cave heard a shriek that brought her rushing out -of the post office, to find the girl leaning back against the doorpost, -her face blanched, her dilated eyes staring at the horrible pool in -which she was standing--a pool of blood, forming from a stream that -trickled over the sill of the telephone booth, the door of which was -partly open. - -“My God! What’s happened?” cried Mrs. Cave. “Here, pull yourself -together, girl, and get out of the way.” - -Clutching Jessie’s arm she hauled her aside and pulled open the door. -Something lurched forward--a heap surmounted by a blue veil. - -“It’s her, the lady herself; she--she must have broken a blood -vessel--or something,” she gasped, bending down and trying to lift the -huddled figure, for she was a clever and resourceful little woman, and -as yet no suspicion of the ghastly truth had flashed to her mind. “Run, -Jessie--run and call someone--anyone.” - -But Jessie had collapsed on a chair by the counter, sobbing and -shaking, half-fainting, and it was her aunt whose screams summoned the -neighbours and passers-by. The greengrocer from the opposite corner -shop was first on the scene, wiping his mouth as he ran, for he too had -been disturbed at dinner. In less than a minute the shop was filled to -overflowing, and a crowd had gathered outside, through which a belated -policeman shouldered his way. - -“’Ere, make way there! Stand back, will you? What’s up ’ere?” he began -with pompous authority. “Good Lord! Why, it’s murder!” - -“It can’t be--how can it?” sobbed poor Mrs. Cave, whose nerve had given -way at last. “Why, there wasn’t a soul anywhere near her!” - -“Do you know who she is?” demanded the officer, bending over the -corpse, but not touching it. The woman was dead, not a doubt of that. -It was best to leave her as she was till the doctor arrived. - -A ghastly object she looked lying huddled there, her head still -shrouded in the blue motor veil, now horribly drenched and bedabbled. -It had been flung back from her face--probably she had raised it -herself when she entered the booth a few short minutes before--and her -naturally handsome features were distorted to an expression of fear and -horror, the dark eyes half open, the lips drawn back showing the white, -even teeth. There was no doubt as to the cause of death, for under her -left ear was plainly visible the still-welling wound--a clean stab -less than half an inch broad that had completely severed the jugular -vein. - -“I never saw her before,” cried Mrs. Cave, wringing her hands -helplessly. “She just came in to telephone, and when she went into the -booth several people came in and we were busy for a few minutes, and I -never thought a word about her till we found her--Jessie and I--like -that! She _must_ have done it herself--and in our shop, too! Oh, -whatever shall we do!” - -At the moment the obvious thing to be done was to clear the shop and -summon the local doctor and the district police inspector, who arrived -simultaneously a few minutes later. - -The woman had been murdered, not a doubt of that, for it was -impossible that such a wound could have been self-inflicted. It was -extraordinarily deep, penetrating nearly three inches, and causing -practically instantaneous death; while no weapon whatever was -discovered nor anything that, at the moment, disclosed the identity of -the victim. - -One fact was established at once: that she had been partially -disguised, for the white hair which Mrs. Cave had noticed proved to -be a wig--what hairdressers describe as a “transformation”--adjusted -over the natural hair, silky, luxuriant dark tresses closely coiled -about the shapely head. Her age was judged by the doctor to be -about five-and-twenty, and she was a fine and handsome young woman, -presumably wealthy also. Certainly her white, well-shaped, beautifully -kept hands had had no acquaintance with work of any kind, and the rings -on the slender fingers were extremely valuable, among them a wedding -ring. On the floor of the booth was found her gold purse, containing a -sum of four pounds odd in notes and silver. - -But of the murderer there was no trace whatever, except, indeed, a -wet and bloodstained dishcloth lying in the sink of a little scullery -place behind the shop. The house was originally a private one, and the -whole of the ground floor had been converted into business premises. -The Cave’s kitchen and living-room were on the first floor, the stairs -going up just inside the door leading into the shop at the back, beside -the telephone booth. At the foot of the staircase was a private door -opening on to a side street, and beyond it the scullery and a fairly -long garden, with a door at the end through which also the side street -could be gained. This door had bolts top and bottom, but they were now -drawn back, though the door itself was closed. - -“Is this door always kept open like this?” asked the inspector of -little Mrs. Cave, who, though still piteously agitated, followed him -and managed to answer his many questions promptly and intelligibly. - -“No, it’s never unbolted except when the dustmen come, and I bolted it -myself after them yesterday.” - -The inspector nodded, and jotted a line in his notebook. Stepping out -into the street, he glanced up and down. It was a particularly quiet -and respectable little street, the upper end flanked by the walls of -the gardens belonging to the two corner houses, the lower by small -suburban villas, each with its tiny garden in front: a street where -usually at this time of day the only passers-by were children returning -to school, but where already a big and increasing crowd was assembled -at the corner by the Cave’s shop and house. - -“There’s the inspector; you just come along and tell him what you saw, -Margie,” cried a woman, who thereupon ran towards him, dragging a -pretty little girl by the hand. “Please, sir, my Margie saw a man come -out of the side door and run away just before the screaming began.” - -“What’s that? Come, tell me all about it, my dear. Quick, where did he -come from? This door?” - -“No, sir--that,” said the child promptly, pointing to the house door. -“Mother sent me for a lemon, and----” - -“What was he like?” - -“One of them shovers, sir, that drives the taxis. He was saying swear -words, and run ever so fast down the street.” Again she pointed. - -“Did you see his cab--a taxicab?” - -“No, there wasn’t only me and the man.” - -“Should you know him again?” - -“Yes, sir, I think so.” - -“Good girl! What’s your name? Margery Davies--at number six? That’s -right.” - -With a kindly nod, leaving Margie and her mother to be surrounded and -questioned by the excited crowd that had followed them and listened to -the brief colloquy--he entered the garden, just in time to encounter -Jessie Jackson, who stumbled against him, and would have fallen if he -had not shot out a ready arm to support her. - -“Hallo! Who’s this young woman, and what’s the matter with her?” he -demanded, lowering her to the ground, gently enough, and scrutinizing -her face--a pretty, innocent-looking young face, deadly pale at this -moment, for the girl had fainted. - -“It’s Jessie, my niece, that found the poor thing, as I told you. -It’s upset her--no wonder. Why, Jessie, dear,” cried Mrs. Cave, -incoherently, kneeling beside her and frantically chafing her limp -hands. - -“I must see her presently, when you’ve got her round,” said the -inspector, and returned to the house. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE TAXICAB - - -A curious hush brooded over the shop, closed by order of the inspector. -Even the post office business must be suspended for the present. - -On the floor between the counters was a long object covered by a -coloured tablecloth--the corpse of the murdered woman, with limbs -decently straightened now. Beside it, on a shop chair, sat the doctor, -grave and silent, awaiting the arrival of the ambulance which would -convey the body to the mortuary, there to await identification. - -Outside the glass doors two constables were stationed, monotonously -requesting the crowd to “pass along there”; and behind the post office -counter was a third, who turned to his superior. - -“I’ve rung up 5339 Granton, sir, and----” - -“Half a minute,” said the inspector, going to the telephone and giving -instructions to the station, that instituted an immediate search for -a fugitive taxicab driver--one who presumably belonged to and was -familiar with the neighbourhood. - -“Well, what about 5339?” - -“They say that they were rung up, sir, just about the time--one -thirty-five--but nobody spoke, and they supposed it must have been a -wrong call as they were rung off again immediately.” - -“Who are they?” - -“A flat in Lely Mansions, Chelsea, sir, name of Winston; it was a maid -servant spoke, but the name’s all right--Mr. George Winston. I’ve -looked it up in the Directory.” - -A slight commotion was heard from the back, Mrs. Cave was helping her -niece up the stairs, and Inspector Evans promptly followed to the -kitchen over the back shop, which was also the living-room, with the -remains of dinner on the table, including a plate with a mutton chop -and potatoes, untouched. - -The girl had only partially recovered, and was trembling and sobbing. -As the inspector appeared in the doorway she uttered a moan as of fear, -and really looked as if she was about to faint again. - -“Come, come, this won’t do,” he said, cheeringly and encouragingly. -“Pull yourself together, missie. Have you got a drop of brandy to give -her, Mrs. Cave? It’s what she wants.” - -“There’s some in my cupboard upstairs, in case of illness. There, sit -down, dearie, while I run and fetch it.” - -Little Mrs. Cave hurried away, and the girl eyed her companion -shrinkingly, but to her momentary relief he said nothing--merely -glanced round the room in a seemingly casual manner. In half a minute -her aunt fluttered back, bringing a small flat bottle half filled with -brandy. - -“Give it her neat, ma’am. There, that’s better; it’s been an upsetting -time for you both, eh?” - -“That it has!” Mrs. Cave assented vehemently. “I can’t believe it even -now, and never shall I forget it. I don’t wonder the child nearly died -of fright. And--why, Jessie, dear, why ever hadn’t you eaten your -dinner?” - -“I was just going to--when you rang--and--and----” - -The mumbling words broke off and Jessie hid her face in her hands. - -“You didn’t feel to want your dinner then?” - -The inspector’s voice was mild but insistent. - -“Or you hadn’t time to begin--was that it?” - -“But you came up ever so long before. I left it all ready for you; we -haven’t got a servant just now, you see, only a girl that comes in -mornings,” Mrs. Cave interposed flustered, perplexed, and explanatory. - -“Who was here talking to you, so that you forgot to eat your dinner?” - -That question was blunt and sharp enough, and Mrs. Cave stared in -incredulous astonishment and dismay from the inspector to Jessie. - -“Come, answer me, missie!” - -The girl looked up at that, and the wild fear in her eyes rendered his -suspicion a certainty. - -“There wasn’t anyone here,” she muttered. - -“Then what’s this?” It was a half-smoked cigarette, that he picked up -from a used plate at the other side of the table--the plate from which -Mrs. Cave had eaten her pudding an hour before. “Do either of you -ladies smoke Woodbines?” - -“Smoke? I should think not!” cried Mrs. Cave. “Jessie, Jessie--oh, what -does it all mean?” - -The girl started to her feet, her eyes glaring, a spot of colour -flashing into each pallid cheek. - -“I don’t know. I tell you there wasn’t anyone here. I’ll swear it! -What do you want to goad me like this for? I won’t answer another -question--so there!” she vociferated hysterically. “I never murdered -her. I never knew or thought a thing about it all till I saw--I saw----” - -Her fictitious strength departed, and she sank down again, wailing like -a distraught creature. - -“You’ll have to answer questions at the inquest to-morrow, my girl, -and you’ll be on your oath then,” said Evans, stowing the cigarette in -the pocket of his notebook as he retreated. He knew she was concealing -something, but recognized that it was impossible to get any information -out of her at the moment, while there were many other matters that -claimed his immediate attention. - -The ambulance had arrived, together with several more police -constables, and a taxicab had drawn up by the curb. From it an -alert-looking, clean-shaved young man alighted, and, pushing his way -authoritatively through the crowd, began interrogating the men on guard -at the door. - -Evans saw him through the glass, recognized an acquaintance, and -himself opened the door. - -“Come in, Mr. Starr; might have known you’d be turning up, though how -you got wind of it so soon beats me. Vultures aren’t in it with you -newspaper gents!” - -“Pure chance this time. I was on my way to a wedding and saw the -crowd,” said Austin Starr. “You’ll give me the facts as far as they go? -Is that--it?” - -Evans nodded. - -“A lady; we don’t know yet who she is.” - -At a sign from him the doctor bent, and with a quiet reverent touch -uncovered the face. Starr looked down at it, and started uncontrollably. - -“Great Scott!” he ejaculated, in an awestruck whisper. - -“You know her?” - -“I’ve seen her a good few times. She’s Lady Rawson--Sir Robert Rawson’s -wife.” - -“Lady Rawson!” - -“That’s so; and I’m plumb certain she was to have been at this very -wedding to-day, and Sir Ralph, too!” - -“What wedding’s that?” - -“Sir Robert’s secretary, Roger Carling. We’re old friends; he slept -at my place last night, and he’s marrying Miss Armitage at St. Paul’s -Church near here. But that’s no matter. Give me the story right now, -please.” - -A story that, a few minutes later, was augmented by the startling news -that the taxicab for which the police were on the look out had already -been traced, and under singular circumstances. Recklessly driven, it -had come to grief at the Broadway, a mile or so distant, by colliding -with a motor van; with the result that the cab was smashed, the -driver--identified as Charles Sadler, No. C417--badly injured, while -within the vehicle was found Lady Rawson’s bag, which had been cut open -by some sharp instrument and was quite empty. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A BELATED BRIDEGROOM - - -While the tragic commotion in the High Road was at its height a very -different scene was being enacted at the fine old riverside church -three-quarters of a mile away. A smart wedding is a rare event in the -suburbs, and, despite the gloomy weather conditions--for a thick fog -hung over the river and was now rapidly extending inland--an interested -crowd assembled outside, watching the arrival of the many guests, dimly -seen through the thickening murk, while along the Mall was a line of -carriages and motors, looking like a file of fiery-eyed monsters, when -the rapidly increasing darkness necessitated the lighting of their -head-lamps. - -The bevy of bridesmaids waited in the porch, chief among them Winnie -Winston, a tall, handsome girl, with frank, laughing blue eyes. She -alone of the little group appeared undaunted by the sinister gloom. - -“For goodness’ sake, don’t look so lugubrious, girls!” she counselled, -in a laughing undertone. “It’s too bad of the fog to come just -now--after such a lovely morning too!--but it can’t be helped, and----” - -She turned as someone touched her arm--her brother George, who was -“best man” to-day, and even her high spirits were checked by his -worried expression. - -“I say, Win, Roger hasn’t turned up yet. What on earth’s to be done?” - -“Not turned up! Why, where is he? Haven’t you been with him?” - -“No. When I got to Starr’s rooms he wasn’t there. He left a message -that Sir Robert had ’phoned for him, and if he didn’t get back by one -o’clock he’d come straight on to the church, but he’s not here.” - -“Perhaps there’s a fog in Town too,” she suggested, with a backward -glance at the Rembrandtesque scene outside, where the shaft of light -from the open door shone weirdly on the watching faces. “He’ll come -directly--he must! Where’s Mr. Starr?” - -“Haven’t seen him.” - -“Then they’re probably together, or he may be coming on with Sir Robert -and Lady Rawson. They’re not here yet, are they? What on earth can Sir -Robert have wanted him for this morning? Horribly inconsiderate of him! -Goodness, here’s Grace! Have you told the vicar that Roger hasn’t come? -Then you’d better do so.” - -She resumed her place as the bride advanced on her father’s arm, -looking like a white ghost in her gleaming satin robe, with the filmy -veil shrouding her bent head and her fair face. - -“What’s the matter?” whispered the second brides maid. - -“Nothing. S--sh!” answered Winnie, and breathed a silent thanksgiving -as the choir struck up the hymn and began slowly to advance up the -aisle, the bridal procession following. But her heart sank as she saw -her brother hurry along the south aisle and out at the side door, -evidently in the hope of meeting the tardy bridegroom. - -Where could he be? And why hadn’t Austin Starr arrived? Not that -Starr’s absence was anything extraordinary, for his exacting profession -rendered him a socially erratic being. It was for that very reason that -he had refused to fill the office of best man. - -The hymn came to an end, the choir stood in their stalls, the bridal -party halted at the chancel and there was a horrible pause, punctuated -by the uneasy whispers exchanged by the guests. - -The vicar came forward at length and proposed an adjournment to the -vestry. He was no ordinary cleric, but a man with a fine, forceful, and -magnetic personality, endowed, moreover, with consummate tact and good -feeling; in brief, the Reverend Joseph Iverson was--and is--a Christian -and gentleman in every sense of those often misused words. - -“We can wait more comfortably in here,” he announced cheerily, as he -brought forward a rush-bottomed chair for the bride, and in fatherly -fashion, with a compelling hand on her shoulder, placed her in it. - -“There, sit you down, and don’t be distressed, my dear child. I’m quite -sure there’s no cause for alarm. Anyone--even a bridegroom--may be -excused for losing his way in such a fog as this that has descended -upon us. That’s the explanation of his absence, depend upon it. And he -will arrive in another minute or two--in a considerable fluster, I’ll -be bound, poor lad!” - -His genial laugh reassured the others, who stood round, awkward, -anxious, and embarrassed, as people naturally are at such a moment; but -Grace looked up at him with a glance so tragic that it startled and -distressed him. - -He had known her ever since she was a little child, and never had he -thought to see such an expression in her gentle grey eyes. - -“It’s not that--not the fog,” she whispered, so low that he had to bend -his head to catch the words. “Something terrible has happened; I feel -it--I’m certain of it!” - -Winnie Winston, standing close beside her, overheard the whisper. Her -eyes met the vicar’s in mutual interrogation, perplexity, and dismay, -and the same thought flashed through both their minds. Grace knew -something, feared something; but what? - -“Nonsense!” he responded. “You are nervous and upset--that’s only -natural; but you mustn’t start imagining all sorts of things, for----” - -“Here he is!” exclaimed Winnie in accents of fervent relief, as Roger, -attended by George Winston, hurried into the vestry, hot and agitated, -looking very unlike a bridegroom, especially as he was still wearing -his ordinary morning suit. - -He had eyes and speech only for his bride. - -“Grace! Forgive me, darling! I couldn’t help it really. Sir Robert -kept me, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and had to walk from--from the -station.” She did not notice the momentary hesitation that marked the -last words, though she remembered it afterwards. “I lost my way in the -fog and thought I should never get here in time!” - -“Just as I said!” remarked the vicar triumphantly. “Come along now, -we’ve no time to lose.” - -He led the way, a stately self-possessed figure, and the delayed -service proceeded. - -“Oh, Roger, I was so frightened!” Grace confided to her bridegroom as -they drove slowly back through the gloom to her father’s house. “I felt -sure something dreadful had happened to you; and the fog coming on like -this too! It--it seems so unlucky, so sinister!” - -She shivered, and he clasped her more closely, with masculine -indifference to the danger of crumpling her finery. - -“Cheer up, darling, it’s all right. We shall soon be out of the fog and -into the sunshine,” he laughed. “And the fog wasn’t the chief cause of -delay, after all. I should have got to the church before it came on if -I hadn’t had to go to Sir Robert. I was awfully upset about it, but it -couldn’t be helped.” - -“Why, is anything wrong?” - -“Afraid so. Some important papers have disappeared. I put them in the -safe myself last night; the Rawsons were dining out and I stayed rather -late, over these very papers. When Sir Robert went to get them this -morning they were gone, though there was nothing to show that the safe -had been tampered with; in fact, it hadn’t. It’s a most mysterious -thing!” - -He tried to speak lightly, but her sensitive ears caught the note of -anxiety in his voice, and that queer sense of foreboding assailed her -afresh. - -“Oh, Roger, have they been found?” - -“They hadn’t when I came away soon after twelve.” - -“Then--then what will happen? Were they very important?” - -“Very,” he replied, ignoring the first question, which was really -unanswerable. “However, it’s no use worrying about them, darling; if -they should have turned up Sir Robert is sure to come or telephone. -Here we are!” - -There was no time to spare for further thought or conjecture concerning -the mystery of the missing papers until, an hour and a half later, they -were on their way to Victoria, whirling rapidly along in a taxi, for -the fog had lifted. - -They had none too much time to get the train to Dover, where they -intended to stay the night at the “Lord Warden” and cross to Calais -next day, _en route_ for Paris and the Riviera. - -“The Rawsons didn’t come after all,” Grace remarked. “Mother was so -disappointed, poor dear, for she had been telling every one about them, -and then they never turned up! I’m not sorry though--at least about -Lady Rawson. I don’t know what there is about her that always makes me -think of a snake. That sounds very ungrateful when she gave me these -lovely furs”--she glanced down at the costly chinchilla wrap and muff -she wore, which had been Lady Rawson’s wedding gift--“but really I -can’t help it.” - -“Same here! And it really is curious considering she’s always been so -jolly decent to us both. I wonder----” - -He broke off, knitting his brows perplexedly, and as if in response to -his unspoken thought Grace exclaimed: - -“Roger, do you think she could have had anything to do with those -missing papers?” - -He glanced at her in astonishment. - -“What makes you ask that, darling?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. It just flashed into my mind. But do you think -so? Sir Robert didn’t ’phone to you, did he?” - -“No. And I don’t know what to think about Lady Rawson. Oh, bother -the papers; let’s forget all about them--for to-day, anyhow! I say, -beloved, it doesn’t seem possible that we’re really married and off on -our honeymoon, does it?” - -She laughed, softly and shyly, and again the shadow fled for a time. -What did anything matter save the fact that they were together, with -all the world before them? - -“Why don’t you smoke?” she asked presently. “I’m sure you’re dying for -a cigarette, you poor boy; and I don’t believe you had anything to eat -at the house--it was all such a fluster. We’ll have tea in the train, -if George Winston has the sense to order a tea-basket for us.” - -“Trust old George for that,” laughed Roger, feeling in one pocket after -the other. “He never forgets anything. Now, where on earth is that -cigarette case?” - -“Did you have it this morning?” - -“Of course I did. It’s the one you gave me at Christmas; I’ve never -been without it since.” - -“Perhaps it’s in your other suit,” she suggested; “the clothes you were -to have worn.” - -“No, it’s not, for I had it all right this morning; but I haven’t got -it now, that’s certain!” - -His face and manner expressed more concern than mere loss of a -cigarette case would seem to warrant, even though it was one of her -gifts to him. - -“Never mind. I dare say it will turn up; and perhaps you’ll have time -to get some at Victoria. We’re nearly there. Why, Roger, what’s the -matter?” - -The cab had halted by the station entrance in Wilton Road, waiting its -turn to enter, and Roger, still fumbling in his pockets in the futile -search for the cigarette case, suddenly leaned forward and stared out -of the window, uttering a quick exclamation as of surprise and horror. - -There was the usual bustling throng passing in and out of the station, -and on the curb stood a newsboy vociferating monotonously, - -“’Orrible murder of a Society lady; pyper--speshul.” - -“What is it, Roger? Oh, what is it?” cried Grace, leaning forward in -her turn and craning her pretty neck. The newsboy turned aside at that -instant, and she did not see the placard he was exhibiting, but Roger -had seen it: - - - LADY - RAWSON - MURDERED! - - -The great black letters seemed to hit him in the face. He felt for a -moment as if he had received a physical and stunning blow. - -“What is it?” Grace repeated, as the cab glided on. - -“What? Oh, nothing at all, dear. I thought I saw someone I knew,” he -muttered confusedly. But his face was ghastly, and little beads of -sweat started out on his forehead. - -“Here’s George!” he added, and Winston, who had gone on with the -luggage, opened the door of the taxi. He also looked worried and -flustered, though perhaps that was only natural since he greeted them -with: - -“Here you are at last! I thought you were going to miss the train. -We’ve only a bare minute, but the luggage is in all right, and I’ve -reserved a compartment. Come on.” - -He hustled them on to the platform, and as Grace, bewildered and -disturbed, entered the carriage, he detained Roger, ostensibly for the -purpose of handing him the tickets. - -“I say, have you heard the news--about Lady Rawson?” - -“I saw a placard a moment ago, and I can’t credit it.” - -“It’s true enough, I’m afraid. Awful, isn’t it? So mysterious too, and -within a mile of the church where you were married--that makes it all -the more horrible. Here’s a paper; don’t let Grace see it though; keep -the whole thing from her as long as you can. It will upset----” - -“Going on, sir? Step in, please.” - -At the guard’s admonition Roger sprang in, the door was slammed, the -whistle sounded, and as the train glided away George Winston ran -alongside, waving his hat and shouting with an excellent assumption of -gaiety. - -“Good-bye, Grace--good-bye, old man. Good luck to you both.” - -Roger leaned out of the window and nodded as if in responsive -farewell, an action that gave him a few seconds in which to regain his -self-possession and marshal his distracted thoughts. - -George was right. The knowledge of the tragedy that necessarily -would affect them both so strongly must be kept from Grace as long -as possible. That it should have occurred on their wedding day, and -that the victim should have been the woman who was to have been the -principal wedding guest seemed monstrous, incredible. Yet it was true! -Hastily he stuffed the evening paper Winston had given him into his -pocket. If he had kept it in his hand he could not have resisted the -impulse to read the fatal news, and he dare not trust himself to do -that at present. Grace’s voice, with a new, nervous note in it, roused -him to the necessity of facing the situation. - -“Roger! Do take care, dear. You’ll lose your hat or----” - -“Or my head? Mustn’t lose that, or it will be all up with me, -considering that I lost my heart ages ago!” - -He laughed as he settled himself in the seat opposite her, but he did -not meet her eyes, dark with trouble and perplexity. She loved him -with all the strength of her nature--a nature essentially sweet and -pure and steadfast. She thought she understood his every mood; but now, -on this supreme day that linked her life to his once and for all, his -manner was so strange that her heart failed her. - -His restless gaze lighted on a tea-basket and a pile of periodicals -ranged on the cushions beside her. - -“Hallo! So he thought of the tea after all. Good old George! Let’s have -it, shall we, darling?” - -He talked gaily, irresponsibly, as they drank their tea but she was not -deceived--was more than ever certain that he was concealing something -from her, though what it might be she could not imagine. - -Presently she leant back in her corner and closed her eyes, but after -an interval of silence she glanced up. Roger’s face was concealed -behind a newspaper, which he appeared to be studying intently. - -“Any news?” she asked. “I don’t believe I’ve looked at a paper for -days.” - -He did not lower the sheet immediately, and she noticed, half -mechanically, that his grip on it tightened. She recalled later, as -one does recall such trifles when circumstances have invested them -with special significance, the little convulsive movement of his -hands--fine, characteristic hands they were, strong and nervous. - -“Nothing of any consequence; these rags are all alike,” he answered, -as he tossed the paper out of the open window and moved impetuously to -her side. “Grace! My own--my very own at last, there’s nothing in the -world matters to you and me to-day except ourselves!” - -He caught and held her in his embrace with a passion that increased -her vague fears, for hitherto he had never been a demonstrative lover, -devoted though they were to each other. - -He kissed her lips, her eyes, her soft white throat, fiercely, hungrily. - -“Roger, Roger, don’t; you--you frighten me!” she gasped, weak and -breathless. “Oh----” - -Her head drooped limply on to his shoulder. For a moment he thought she -had actually fainted, and the shock restored his self-control. - -“Forgive me, sweetheart!” he cried with quick compunction. “I must have -been mad to upset you so. It’s been an upsetting sort of day, hasn’t -it? But it’s all right now, really!” - -He was holding her now firmly, tenderly, protectively, master of -himself once more; and she nestled against him, revived and reassured. -He was her own Roger again--the man whom she loved and trusted. - -“It was silly of me,” she confessed, smiling up at him--an April smile, -for the tears had risen to her sweet grey eyes. “And you’re right, -dear; it has been an upsetting day, with the fog, and Sir Robert -detaining you, and--and everything else. And you’re still worrying -about those missing papers. I know you are, though you’re trying to -pretend you’re not! Perhaps you think I might be--oh, I don’t know how -to put it--jealous. No, that’s not the word I want. That you’re afraid -I might be vexed because you could think of anything in the world -except me, on this day, of all the days in our life! But it’s not so, -Roger--really it isn’t! I want to share your troubles--I mean to share -them. I--I’m your wife.” - -Too deeply moved for words he held her to his heart, and again their -lips met, though this time the kiss was reverent as a sacrament. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -RETURNED! - - -“You are certain no one but yourself and Mr. Carling possesses a key to -the safe, Sir Robert?” - -“Absolutely.” - -“And you think it impossible that anyone may have obtained either of -the keys and had a duplicate made.” - -“No copy has been made,” Sir Robert answered. “The pattern is unique, -it could not be reproduced except by the makers, and I telephoned to -them this morning. In any case they would not have made another key -except from my personal instructions.” - -“H’m.” - -Snell, the detective, who had been summoned to Grosvenor Gardens on -that eventful afternoon, stood thoughtfully sliding the secret panel to -and fro. - -“You are sure no one could have access to either of the existing -keys--in the course of the night, or early this morning?” - -“Quite sure. Carling declares that his was never out at his possession -for an instant till he handed it to me just now, and I put it on the -ring with my own.” - -Sir Robert pulled the keys, attached to a strong steel chain, out of -his trousers pocket, and slipped them back again. - -“Just so. I’d like to have seen Mr. Carling, but of course he had to -go; a man doesn’t get married every day. Where do you keep your own -keys at night, Sir Robert?” - -“Under my pillow. It is quite impossible that anyone can have obtained -possession of them without my knowledge.” - -“Yet the papers disappeared,” remarked the detective dryly. “Well, will -you give me a description of them, Sir Robert? You say they were secret -dispatches; were they in cipher?” - -“One was; it was in French, and would be quite unintelligible to anyone -who did not possess the key to the code used. Mr. Carling’s report on -them both was also written in our private cipher, which only he and I -understand.” - -“Have you a key to that cipher?” - -“Only in our heads; Carling invented it, and we memorized it.” - -“How about the French code? Was that memorized also?” - -“By ourselves, yes; at least we are so familiar with it that we never -need to consult the code. It’s in the drawer of the safe.” - -“That has not been stolen, then?” - -“No. The theft of the French paper and of Carling’s report really does -not matter much, for practically it would be impossible for any outside -person to decipher them; but the other, which is by far the most -important, was not in cipher, unfortunately.” - -“What language was it in?” - -“Russian.” - -Snell glanced up quickly, as the thought flashed to his mind that Lady -Rawson was herself said to be Russian by birth. Sir Robert did not meet -his eyes. He appeared to be regarding an ivory paper-knife that he was -fingering. His face was drawn and haggard; he seemed to have aged by -ten years in the course of the last few hours, yet he was perfectly -self-possessed. - -“Whom do you suspect, Sir Robert?” - -The blunt, point-blank question would have startled any ordinary man -into an admission--even by an unguarded gesture--that he was concealing -something. But Sir Robert Rawson’s face betrayed nothing, and he -continued to play with the paper-knife as he replied: - -“If I had any reason to suspect anyone, I should have told you at once, -Mr. Snell. The whole affair is a mystery to me.” - -“They were in the safe last night?” - -“I cannot say. As a matter of fact, I meant to have dealt with them -last night, but when we returned--Lady Rawson and I were at a dinner -party--I felt extremely tired and went straight to bed. When I found -the papers were missing this morning I was not especially alarmed at -the moment; I imagined they had proved to be of little consequence, -and that perhaps Carling had taken them with him to finish later. It -was only when I rang him up on the telephone, and he came round, that -I realized how serious the matter was, and even then I thought it -possible that he might have merely mislaid them.” - -“Who besides yourself and Mr. Carling knew of the existence and -importance of the papers, and that they were in the house?” - -“Not a soul!” Sir Robert’s tone was absolutely emphatic. - -“Not to your knowledge perhaps, Sir Robert; but someone must certainly -have known. Did anyone come into the room while Mr. Carling was engaged -on them last night?” - -“No one at all after I left.” - -“He told you so?” - -“Yes, and Thomson, my confidential servant, confirmed that.” - -“Does Thomson know of the loss of the papers?” - -“Yes. He is the only one of the servants who does know at present, -though the others were questioned--all who were in and out of the room -either last night or this morning. Although Carling was positive he -placed the papers in the safe, I thought it possible he might have been -mistaken, and that he left them on the table.” - -“Has he ever made such a mistake before?” - -The ghost of a smile flitted across Sir Robert’s stern face. - -“No, but there would have been considerable excuse if he had been -guilty of such carelessness last night. However, he declares that he -did put them away, in the same envelope in which they were sent to -me--an official one, printed with my name and address. He sealed it.” - -“About the servants. Are there any foreigners among them?” - -“Two only, I believe, both French: the _chef_ and Lady Rawson’s maid.” - -“I will see them all in turn, beginning with Thomson. May I ring?” - -He put one or two questions to the footman who answered the summons -before sending him in search of the valet. - -“Who was on duty in the hall last night?” - -“I was, sir--till ten, when I went to supper.” - -“Were there any callers?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Mr. Carling was in this room the whole time?” - -“I suppose so, sir. I never saw him come out.” - -“Did anyone enter the room while Mr. Carling was there?” - -“No, sir, only Sir Robert and my lady.” - -“Who relieved you when you went off duty?” - -“Mr. Thomson was in the hall, sir; he was going to wait up for Sir -Robert and my lady. Mr. Jenkins, the butler, and some of the others had -the evening off, as the family dined out.” - -“Just so. Will you send Mr. Thomson here?” - -In the interval Snell turned to Sir Robert, who had evinced no special -interest in the brief colloquy; doubtless he had questioned the man to -the same purpose already. - -“I suppose Lady Rawson is already aware of the loss of these papers, -Sir Robert?” - -The query was uttered lightly, as if it was of no importance or -significance, but was accompanied by a keen glance at Sir Robert’s -harassed yet inscrutable face--a glance which again the financier did -not meet. He laid down the paper-knife before he answered, in a tone as -apparently careless as the detective’s had been. - -“No. I should have told her, of course, when we came to the conclusion -that they were really lost, but she had already gone out. I was to have -joined her after lunch, and gone on to Carling’s wedding. She will be -there now,” he added, glancing at the clock on his writing-table. - -Snell’s eyes glistened. (“Lady Rawson’s in this, right enough,” he told -himself confidently. “And he knows it. He only sent for me as a bit of -bluff!”) - -Thomson entered, and advanced towards his master, ignoring the presence -of a second person. At that moment the telephone on the writing-table -tinkled, and Thomson stood still, silent and deferential as usual, as, -mechanically, Sir Robert took down the receiver. - -“Yes? Yes, I am Sir Robert Rawson. Who is speaking?... Oh!... What’s -that?... What?” - -The two who were watching him, more or less furtively, were startled, -for he dropped the receiver, stumbled to his feet, and glared round -helplessly, a dusky flush rising to his face, which was horribly -distorted. - -Thomson was by his side in an instant, thrusting a supporting arm -around him, but Snell sprang forward, seized the receiver and spoke -imperatively into the telephone. - -“Who is there?... Yes, Sir Robert Rawson was speaking a moment ago, -but he has been taken ill.” - -He glanced at the group close by. Sir Robert had fallen, or been -lowered by Thomson to the floor, and the valet was rapidly unloosening -his collar. - -“Who are you?... Oh, it’s you, Evans. Western Division. Yes, I’m John -Snell of Scotland Yard.... Well, what is it? Lady Rawson murdered! Had -she any papers in her possession?... What? Right. I’ll be with you as -soon as possible. Ring off.” - -“Master, master!” Thomson was stammering. “He’s dying!” - -Snell pressed the electric bell, and hurried to meet the footman. - -“Sir Robert is taken ill; he’s had bad news. Lady Rawson has been -murdered. Better telephone for a doctor and fetch the housekeeper.” - -Two minutes later he was speeding westward in a taxi, eager to -investigate this sudden and tragic development of the case, for he -assumed instantly that the murder was the outcome of the theft of the -papers. - -At the house in Grosvenor Gardens confusion reigned for a time. -The only one among the flurried servants who kept a clear head at -this crisis was the imperturbable Thomson, who, after the unwonted -outburst of emotion that escaped him as he knelt beside his stricken -master, resumed his habitual composure, and promptly took charge of -the situation as it affected Sir Robert himself. For the time being -he practically ignored the news of the murder, which the others, -naturally enough, began discussing with awestruck excitement. Now, as -ever, his one thought was his master, and with deft tenderness he did -what he thought best--loosening the sufferer’s clothes and raising his -head. When the doctor arrived Thomson proved an invaluable assistant in -every way. - -“Will he recover, sir?” he asked, with poignant anxiety, when at length -they quitted the room to which Sir Robert had been carried, leaving him -still unconscious, but breathing more naturally, and with a trained -nurse already in attendance. - -“Yes, yes, I hope so; but it was an overwhelming shock, of course. Is -this terrible news about Lady Rawson true? It seems incredible.” - -Thomson passed his hand over his forehead dazedly. - -“I suppose it is, sir. I haven’t seemed to have time to think about -it. It’s a terrible upset, and Mr. Carling away and all. There’s Lord -Warrington. Excuse me, sir. I’d better speak to him.” - -There were several people in the hall, including a couple of energetic -reporters who had managed to enter and were endeavouring to interrogate -the worried butler and anyone else whom they could buttonhole, for -the news had spread like wildfire, and outside a crowd had assembled, -watching and waiting for the grim homecoming of the woman who had left -that house but a few hours before in the full vigour of youth and -beauty. - -Thomson approached a short, spare, but authoritative-looking man, -who had just been admitted, and before whom the others gave way -respectfully--Lord Warrington of the Foreign Office. - -“Will you come in here, my lord?” he said, and ushered him into the -library. - -The same young footman whom Snell had questioned hurried forward and -detained Thomson for a moment, extending a salver with a heap of -letters. - -“These have just come by post, Mr. Thomson. Hadn’t you better take -them?” - -Thomson did so mechanically, and followed Lord Warrington, who turned -to him the instant the door was closed. - -“This is an awful business, Thomson! Where’s Sir Robert?” - -“In bed, and at death’s door, my lord. They telephoned the news to him -about my lady, and he had a kind of stroke.” - -“Good Heavens! But what does it all mean, man? What was Lady Rawson -doing out there in the suburbs--and murdered in a post office telephone -booth, of all places in the world!” - -He waved an evening paper he was carrying, and Thomson glanced at it -dully. - -“I don’t know anything about it, my lord, except just that my lady was -murdered. The Scotland Yard detective told me that, but I didn’t seem -to grasp it at the time; I was too distressed about my master, and I’ve -been with him ever since.” - -“A detective? Did he bring the news?” - -“Oh, no, my lord, it was through the telephone. He was here about those -papers that are missing----” - -“Papers? What papers?” - -“Some that arrived by special messenger yesterday, my lord.” - -Warrington stared aghast. - -“Those! He told me about them at dinner. Missing! D’you mean they’re -lost? Stolen?” - -“I thought perhaps you knew, my lord. Mr. Carling put them in the safe -last night--or said he did--and this morning they were gone. Sir Robert -was very put out, and so was Mr. Carling.” - -“Gone! Good Lord! I wonder what was in them and who’s got hold of -them?” muttered Lord Warrington in utter consternation. His glance -lighted on the letters that Thomson held. - -“What have you got there?” - -Thomson looked at them with a preoccupied air. - -“Only some letters, my lord, just come. I don’t know what to do with -them, as Mr. Carling’s away.” - -“Here, give ’em to me--that one anyhow.” - -“That one” was a big, bulky, blue envelope, printed with Sir Robert’s -name and address, and showing also the district postmark and a big -official stamp indicative of the surcharge for an unpaid letter. - -“Where the dickens is Broadway?” Warrington muttered, as he scrutinized -it. “Look here, Thomson, I’m going to open this. Why the seal’s broken -already!” - -“Very good, my lord,” Thomson murmured deferentially but abstractedly. -Yet he looked up with quickened interest as Lord Warrington uttered an -involuntary exclamation. - -“My lord! They--they’re not those very papers?” - -“They are! By Jove, that’s the queerest thing I’ve ever known! Now, who -the deuce has found and returned them?” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -“NO. 5339” - - -“Thank goodness for some peace and quietness at last! What a day it has -been, with everything going wrong from beginning to end; and then this -awful affair about poor Lady Rawson coming on the top of all the other -happenings. I shall hate the very thought of a wedding in future!” - -Winnie Winston shivered and spread her hands to the cheerful blaze in -the cosy drawing-room of the flat in Chelsea which she shared with her -brother George, who sprawled luxuriously in the easy chair opposite -her, while between them was Austin Starr, also very much at his ease. -He had found time to come round to apologize for his absence at the -wedding, and to discuss the startling and mysterious tragedy of Lady -Rawson’s death. There were very few days when he did not manage to see -or converse with Winnie Winston, even if their intercourse was limited -to a few sentences hurriedly exchanged over the telephone. He loved -her; from the first moment that he met her he had decided that she was -the one woman in the world for him. But he would not ask her to marry, -or even to become engaged to him, until he had an assured position to -offer her. Meanwhile, though he secretly hoped that she loved him, he -could not be certain of that, for her attitude towards him was one of -frank camaraderie that reminded him of his own countrywomen. In many -ways she was much more like an American than an English girl. - -“Don’t say that, Miss Winnie. I guess the next wedding will be all -right,” he responded cheerfully. - -“This one wasn’t,” she declared. “I’m not a bit superstitious--not as -a rule--but really I’ve never known such a succession of misfortunes. -First, the fog, and then Roger being so late, and the Rawsons not -turning up. Mrs. Armitage was so sniffy about that; and of course she -never imagined what the reason was. Who _could_ imagine anything so -horrible? And everything seemed so forlorn after Roger and Grace had -gone; it always does somehow, but it was worse than usual to-day. Some -of the people were staying--Mrs. Armitage had arranged a theatre party -for us all to-night--I wonder if they’ve gone. I expect so! And she -made me sing--you know how fussy she is--and I broke down utterly. -Awfully silly of me, I know, but really I couldn’t help it. I can’t -think what ‘the _maestro_’ would say if he knew it! So I came away: -I simply felt I couldn’t stay in the house another minute; and there -wasn’t a cab to be had, so I had to walk to the train; and the rain -came on and ruined my new frock, which I meant to wear to-morrow--I’m -singing at Æolian Hall in the afternoon.” - -“Never mind, wear that one you’ve got on now. You look just lovely in -it!” counselled Austin, regarding her with tender admiration. - -“That’s just like a man!” she laughed, glancing down at her gown; but -the laugh had an uncertain ring, with a suggestion of tears in it. -“Why, this is ever such an old thing that I only wear at home. But it’s -not the frock really that I mind. I--I can’t help thinking about the -horror of it all; poor Lady Rawson being murdered like that, so near to -the church, too; she must have been actually on her way to the wedding!” - -“I don’t think she was,” said Austin reflectively, remembering how the -murdered woman had been attired when he saw and identified her. “It’s a -big mystery that will take a lot of unravelling.” - -“But they’ve got the chap already,” interposed George Winston, reaching -for a late edition of an evening paper that he had just thrown -aside--“that taxicab driver. It’s as clear as daylight so far. He must -have seen Lady Rawson’s bag, thought she had something valuable in it, -followed and stabbed her, and then made off through the back door, bag -and all.” - -“Queer sort of impulse to seize a highly respectable ex-service man,” -remarked Starr dryly. “And what was in the bag anyhow, for the contents -haven’t been found up to now.” - -“You don’t believe he did it?” - -Before he could answer, the hall door-bell sounded imperatively, and -Winnie started nervously. - -“Now, who can that be at this hour!” - -An elderly maidservant entered, Martha Stenning, who had grown grey in -the Winstons’ service. - -“It’s the same gentleman that called before, Mr. George, and asked to -see you or Miss Winnie. He says you wouldn’t know his name, but his -business is important.” - -“All right, I’ll come, Martha,” said George, rising and following her -from the room. - -“I wonder who it is?” Winnie exclaimed anxiously. “Martha says someone -has been ringing up on the telephone several times while we were out, -and asking all sorts of questions about----” - -They both looked round as George re-entered, followed by Snell, the -detective, at sight of whom Starr rose, exclaiming: - -“Why, it’s you, Mr. Snell! Anything fresh?” - -“Not much at present, and I didn’t expect to see _you_ here, Mr. Starr. -Miss Winston? I must ask you to excuse my intrusion.” - -“This is Mr. Snell of Scotland Yard, Winnie,” George explained -hurriedly. “He says Lady Rawson rang up our number--5339--just before -she was murdered. They’ve got it down in the post office book, and she -must have been speaking at the very moment----” - -“Lady Rawson! Our number!” gasped Winnie, in utter surprise and -perplexity. - -“Did you expect to receive a message from her, Miss Winston?” Snell -inquired. - -“I? Certainly not; why, I’ve never spoken to her in my life, though I -expected to meet her to-day at my friend’s wedding. You don’t know her -either, do you, George?” she added, turning to her brother. - -“I’ve been to her receptions once or twice, but I’ve never exchanged -a dozen words with her,” George asserted truthfully. “And I can’t -imagine why she should have rung us up. I doubt if she even knew that -my sister and I were to be at the wedding to-day or that we’re old -friends of Carling and Miss Armitage--Mrs. Carling I mean, of course.” - -“Yet Mr. Carling has been on intimate terms--like a member of the -family--with Sir Robert and Lady Rawson,” Snell remarked. - -“With Sir Robert,” Winston corrected. “Lady Rawson was always quite -kind, I believe; and I know she asked Miss Armitage to her house once -or twice; but she never showed any real interest in either of them--no -personal friendship, don’t you know! At least so I’ve gathered from -Carling,” he added, wondering the while what the detective was driving -at. - -“Then you think it unlikely that, assuming that she wished to speak to -Mr. Carling on the telephone, she would expect to find him here?” - -“I’m quite sure she wouldn’t,” said George, and Winnie, nodding a -confirmatory assent, added: - -“Besides, she wouldn’t expect him to be anywhere just then except at -the church or on his way there. Not if the time is given rightly in the -paper. It said she went into the office about half-past one.” - -“Just so,” Snell agreed, and after a brief pause looked up with a query -that at the moment sounded startlingly irrelevant. - -“Do you know Signor Cacciola, Miss Winston?” - -She stared in astonishment, scarcely grasping the question, especially -as he mispronounced the name. - -“He’s a music master or something of the sort; lives at Rivercourt -Mansions West,” Snell added. - -“Signor Cacciola? Why, of course I know him; he’s my singing -master--‘the _maestro_’ we always call him,” she answered, knitting -her pretty brows in bewilderment, while Austin Starr, watching Snell, -screwed his lips in the form of whistling, and listened intently for -what might follow. - -“He comes here often?” - -“Yes. At least he does when he is coaching me for a special concert or -anything like that. He has been here every morning this week except -to-day.” - -“You did not expect him to-day?” - -“No. I was going to the wedding; and besides, he has an engagement -every Thursday--at Blackheath, I think.” - -“You know him well? Have you known him long?” - -“For several years--ever since he came to London. He is a dear old man.” - -“An Italian?” - -“Yes, though he has not been in Italy for many years.” - -“He took a keen interest in Russian affairs,” Snell asserted. - -“Did he? I’m sure I don’t know. He certainly never talked about such -things to me.” - -“Did he ever speak to you of Lady Rawson?” - -“Never!” - -It was impossible to doubt Winnie’s emphatic negative. - -Again he shifted his point, or appeared to do so. - -“Then you can’t give me any reason why Lady Rawson should have rung you -up to-day?” - -“None at all, unless she gave a wrong number and it happened by chance -to be ours.” - -“That’s just what I think,” exclaimed George. - -“It might have been so,” Snell assented. “I’ve known a good many -coincidences as queer. Well, I’m very sorry to have troubled you so -late, Miss Winston, and I must thank you for answering me so clearly. -Some folks beat about the bush and are scared out of their senses at -the very sight of a detective--when they know him as such,” he added, -with a smile. “But we’re bound to get whatever information we can, even -at the risk of worrying people who really haven’t anything to do with -the case. And now I’ll take myself off.” - -“Have a whisky-and-soda first,” urged George Winston hospitably. “Of -course we know you have to look up every point, and if we’d guessed -the reason why we’ve been rung up so often to-day we should have been -expecting you--or someone else on the same errand.” - -Snell declined the proffered refreshment, but accepted a cigarette, -and lingered for a minute or two, chatting in a casual manner on the -subject that was uppermost in all their minds. - -George questioned him about the suspected man, Sadler, the taxicab -driver. - -“He’s doing all right; not as much hurt as was thought at first, and -he’ll probably be able to attend the opening of the inquest to-morrow. -But we haven’t been able to interrogate him yet; in fact he doesn’t -know he’s under arrest.” - -“Do you believe he did it?” demanded George. - -“I never form an opinion on slight evidence,” Snell replied guardedly. -“Good night, Miss Winston, good night, sir. Many thanks. Are you coming -with me, Mr. Starr?” - -Starr shook his head. - -“I guess I shan’t get anything out of you if I do, Mr. Snell.” - -Snell smiled enigmatically. - -“Yet I’ve given you a lot just now, Mr. Starr, though I doubt if you’ll -be able to make much of it in time for to-morrow’s ‘Courier.’” - -“What did he mean by that?” whispered Winnie, as her brother -accompanied the unexpected guest to the door. - -“I’ll tell you to-morrow. I’m going to follow it up, right now, as he -surmises. There are no flies on Mr. Snell! Good night, Miss Winnie.” - -In a minute or so George returned to the room. - -“My hat! This is queer experience, isn’t it, Win? I say, let’s try -and get on to the ‘Lord Warden’ and speak to Roger. He’ll be awfully -anxious to know about everything; there’s a lot in the late editions -too that he won’t be able to see down there to-night.” - -“Oh, you can’t ring him up at this hour,” Winnie protested, glancing -at the clock. “Besides, it would frighten Grace if she knew. You said -Roger was going to keep it from her.” - -“I’m going to ring him up,” George insisted. “It’s not really late--not -for Roger anyhow. It’s only just on eleven.” - -Winnie let him have his way, not choosing to urge the various reasons -against it that occurred at once to her quick feminine mind, but -escaped her brother’s obtuse one. - -In a surprisingly short time for a “call” the telephone bell tinkled -its summons, and George went out into the little hall to answer it. - -The colloquy was very brief, and as George hurriedly re-entered she -looked up with a whimsical “I told you so” expression on her pretty -face, which fled as she saw his agitated aspect. - -“I say, Win, they’re not there!” - -“Not there!” she ejaculated, starting up. - -“Haven’t been there at all. They must be crossing by the night boat -after all; such a beastly night too--half a gale and raining cats and -dogs. It’s worse there than it is here. I asked.” - -“Crossing _to-night_! And Grace is the worst sailor imaginable. What on -earth possessed Roger to take her?” - -“He must be mad--mad as a hatter!” cried George, but the same thought -and explanation occurred to him as to Winnie, and their eyes met in a -glance of mutual horror and consternation. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE CIGARETTE CASE - - -From Chelsea, Austin Starr went direct to Rivercourt Mansions, a -quadrangular block of flats, standing back from the high road and -fronting a square of grass and trees. - -He dismissed his cab at the entrance to the square, which he noted was -nearly opposite to the post office where Lady Rawson had been done -to death a few hours before. He stood for a minute, regardless of -the drizzling rain, staring across the thoroughfare, almost deserted -on this dreary night. He imagined the illfated woman crossing it, -with the assassin dogging her footsteps. Who was that assassin, and -what was his motive? He was already certain in his own mind that the -taxi-driver was as innocent of the crime as he was himself, although he -had undoubtedly been close at hand at the time. And why had Lady Rawson -visited Cacciola at his flat, and failing to find him there tried to -ring him up at the Winstons’? He meant to discover that right now, if -possible, feeling instinctively that here was the clue to the mystery. -He guessed that Snell was already in possession of that clue, and had -racked his brains in conjecture concerning it as he drove hither. -But, though he had been with Snell all the afternoon, that astute -individual had maintained silence concerning the stolen dispatches. He -did not intend Starr or any other reporter to know of them at present. -There were cases when he was glad to avail himself of the assistance -of the Press, but this was not one of them. Already, thanks to a -lucky accident--lucky from his point of view--he was in possession of -evidence which he considered of the utmost importance, and on which he -was building up a certain theory, which so far appeared to have very -few flaws in it. - -A tram came clanking along the road and Austin Starr turned away along -the side-walk, glancing up at the Mansions. Most of the windows were -dark, but there were lights here and there. One shone cheerily from a -window high up in the block he wanted. As he reached the entrance the -lights in the hall and on the staircase went out, and in the sudden -darkness he collided with a man in the doorway who accosted him with -facetious apology. - -“Sorry, Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you.’ If I’d seen you coming I’d have waited -till you got up. Half a minute, and I’ll switch on again.” - -He suited the action to the word, and Austin saw he was the porter, a -small, spare man with a sharp-featured, whimsical face. - -“It’s all right,” Starr assured him, “I’m going up to Mr. Cacciola’s. -The top flat, isn’t it? I guess he’s home, for there’s a light in the -window.” - -“I don’t think he is, sir, he’s mostly later than this; but old Julia -will be sitting up for him. Are you Mr. Roger Carling, by any chance, -sir?” - -Austin Starr was considerably startled, though he made no sign beyond -a penetrating glance at his interrogator, and answered quietly: - -“No, but I’m his intimate friend. What made you take me for him?” - -“Beg pardon, sir, I’m sure. I don’t know the gentleman, but I saw the -name on the cigarette case he dropped outside Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ -door this morning. I always call the old gentleman that--nearest I can -get to his name--and he don’t mind a bit, not he! Julia’s got the case -all right--she’s Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ house-keeper; Italian same -as him, and a good old sort. I thought perhaps you were Mr. Carling -come after it.” - -Austin saw and interpreted aright a slight and significant crook of the -little man’s fingers and produced a coin. - -“So you found the case?” he remarked pleasantly. “Mr. Carling will be -glad to know it. I guess he hadn’t a notion where he dropped it. He’s -left town to-day--on his honeymoon.” - -“Thank you, sir, though I’m sure I didn’t expect anything,” responded -the little man, promptly pocketing the tip. “Gone on his honeymoon, -has he? Why, he’s never the gentleman that was married at St. Paul’s -to-day--the wedding that poor lady was on her way to when she was -murdered? They didn’t give his name in the paper, I saw. Terrible -thing, isn’t it, sir? And will you believe me, I never heard a word -about it till nigh on teatime! It must have ’appened just after I went -to my dinner: I was a bit late to-day; had to take a parcel up to No. -20--that’s when I found the cigarette case; and if only I’d been about -I might ’ave seen it all. And to think of young Charlie Sadler doing -such an awful thing. He must ’ave gone clean off his nut!” - -“You know him?” asked Starr quickly, thankful that the garrulous little -man had strayed from the subject of Roger Carling’s presence so near -the scene of the tragedy, though at the moment he was unable to analyse -his thought sufficiently to know why he should feel thankful. - -“Know Charlie Sadler? Why, I’ve known him ever since he was a little -nipper so high. Lives with his mother--a decent old soul--down in -Milsom Cottages, and he’s courting little Jessie Jackson over at the -post office, on the sly, for her aunt, Mrs. Cave, don’t think him good -enough for her; and it seems she’s right after all. But whoever would -’ave thought of ’im going and doing a murder like that?” - -“We don’t know yet that he did it,” said Starr. - -“Well, of course it’ll ’ave to be proved against him; but if he didn’t, -then who did? That’s the question. And he was there right enough. -Slipped in by the side door to see Jessie while her aunt was safe in -the shop, and when the girl was called down he must ’ave seen the lady -and been taken with one of these ’ere sudden temptations; and then -when he found what he’d done he ’ooked it, and smashed up the cab -and himself in his ’urry. There it is in a nutshell, sir!” Withers -concluded triumphantly. Evidently he had been gossiping pretty freely -during the evening, but as evidently he as yet knew nothing of Lady -Rawson’s visit to Cacciola’s flat--if, indeed, she had been there--and -attached no significance to Roger Carling’s visit. How should he? - -“Perhaps you’re right,” Starr conceded. “We’ll all have just to ‘wait -and see’ anyhow. Well, I’ll go up----” - -“I’m sure Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ not in yet, sir; but I’ll give him -any message for you in the morning,” suggested Withers officiously. - -“No, thanks, I’ll leave it with Julia if necessary. Good night.” - -“Good night, sir, and thank you. I’ll keep the lights on till you’ve -got to the top.” - -Starr thanked him again and went upstairs--eight flights of -them--outwardly composed, inwardly more perturbed than he had ever been -in his life before. His mind was in a dark tumult of suspicion and -perplexity, which would have been increased if he could have known the -news George Winston had just learnt from Dover--that Roger and Grace -were not at the “Lord Warden.” - -“It’s impossible! He can’t have had anything to do with it!” he told -himself impatiently, refusing even to formulate the suspicion that had -arisen in his mind. Yet the suspicion was there. - -The lights below went out as he pressed the bell button at No. 19, but -an instant later one flashed up within the hall of the flat and he -heard a soft shuffle of slippered feet. But the door was not opened to -him. The letter slit moved and through the aperture a woman’s voice -demanded, in good enough English, though with a strong foreign accent: - -“Who is zere?” - -He responded with a counter-question: - -“Is Mr. Cacciola at home?” - -“He is not. He vill perhaps not return to-night. Who are you?” - -“I reckon you won’t know my name. You’re Julia, aren’t you?” - -“Yes, I am Giulia. Vat ees it?” - -“Open the door, there’s a good soul, and I’ll tell you. I can’t shout -it through. It’s important.” - -“I do not know you,” she protested nervously after a pause. “You are -from the police again?” - -So, as he guessed, Snell had already been here. He wondered that the -loquacious porter had not seen him and scented the errand. - -“Yes,” he lied boldly. “So you’d better open the door right now. You’ve -nothing to fear from me, and I shan’t keep you many minutes.” - -She muttered something that he could not catch, but a chain clanked, -and a moment later she opened the door a few inches and peered out--a -short, plump old woman, whose comely brown face and lustrous black eyes -wore a strained, anxious expression, that relaxed a little as she eyed -her visitor. - -His appearance seemed to reassure her, for she drew back and motioned -him to enter the little square hall. - -He smiled at her, and there were few women, young or old, who could -resist Austin Starr’s smile. He had what some folk term “a way with -him,” all the more effective since it was exerted unconsciously. - -“It’s real good of you, signora, to admit me at this unholy hour, and -I’ll not keep you any time,” he began diplomatically. “First, I want -that cigarette case that Mr. Roger Carling lost on your lobby this -morning. The porter says he gave it to you.” - -“The leetle case? But I have it not! I gave it to the officer of -police--he who came to-day, saying he was of the police, though he wore -no uniform; he was like yourself, signor,” she stammered. - -Starr’s heart sank. The moment he had heard of that cigarette case -he determined to get possession of it, and if possible prevent any -knowledge of it reaching the police, though again he did not attempt to -analyse his motive. - -“I have done wrong in giving it him?” Giulia continued uneasily. - -“Not a bit of it, signora--that’s all right,” Starr answered, with a -cheerfulness he was very far from feeling. “I haven’t seen Mr. Snell -since or he’d have told me you had it. I guess you’ve told him about -everything else too, but I’ll have to trouble you to tell me also. The -_maestro_ left home as usual to go to his class at Blackheath. What -time did he go out?” - -“At a leetle after nine, signor.” - -“You’re sure he was going to Blackheath?” - -“Ah, yes, signor. Vere else would he go?” - -“When did Lady Rawson come?” - -“In a ver’ leetle time after the _maestro_ go. He could scarce have -reach the stazione.” - -“So early! Then she knew he would not be back. Why did she return?” - -Giulia hesitated. - -“I do not comprehend,” she muttered. - -“When did she go away?” - -“I do not remember.” - -“Come, that’s nonsense, signora. You must know; try to think. She was -here after one o’clock, we know that; in fact, she went straight from -here to the post office where she was murdered.” - -Giulia stood speechless, plucking nervously at her white apron, and as -he saw her embarrassment an idea flashed to his mind. - -“Great Scot! She was here the whole morning: she came in and waited. -That’s so?” - -She nodded a reluctant assent. - -“She was here when Mr. Carling called just after one. Did he ask for -her?” - -Again Giulia nodded. - -“Did he see her?” - -She shook her head. - -“She did not vish it. I said she vas not here. It vas a lie, and I do -not like lies; but she vould have it so; and he go away. She look from -the vindow, and vatch till he pass the corner, and then she go away -also.” - -Starr stood musing for a space, and, master of his emotions though he -was, Giulia’s keen old eyes detected a certain expression of relief on -his face. - -He was inwardly reproaching himself also for part at least of the -suspicion that had assailed him the instant he learnt that Carling had -been there. He thought he knew Roger Carling as thoroughly as one man -can know another, believed him to be the soul of honour and rectitude. -But he also knew that in every human being there are depths that none -other can plumb; and, remembering the circumstances, the thought had -occurred involuntarily that some shameful secret might be the cause and -explanation of the mysterious tragedy. - -It was such an obvious solution. Lady Rawson, young, beautiful, -extraordinarily attractive, married to a man almost old enough to be -her grandfather and meeting every day one of her own age, handsome -and debonair as was Carling. Dangerous conditions enough, human -nature being what it is! And Carling would not be the first man to be -fascinated and entangled by an unscrupulous woman, even while he loved -another woman--as Roger loved Grace--with all the strength of his -better nature. - -But that idea might be dismissed, so far as Carling was concerned as a -principal in the matter anyhow. Lady Rawson had not come here to meet -him, had not expected or wished to see him when he followed her there. - -Yet if Lady Rawson did not come here to meet Carling, whom did she -come to see--whom did she wait for all those hours? Not old Cacciola, -certainly, for she learnt at once that he was out for the day. He -turned to Giulia and put the question point blank. - -“Who was here this morning with you and Lady Rawson?” - -“No one; nevare any person at all!” she cried emphatically. - -“But you expected someone; that was why Lady Rawson waited.” - -She shook her head, but her eyes did not meet his, and her hands were -trembling as she still fidgeted with her apron. - -“Zere vas no one, zere nevare has been no one; I have told all, -signor.” - -He found it was useless to question her further, and decided that he -would not wait on the chance of learning anything from Cacciola. He -gathered that the old man seldom returned till long after midnight. - -Groping his way down the dark staircase, he reached the high road just -in time to board a tram going eastwards, which set him down at the -terminus within a few hundred yards from the hospital to which Sadler -had been taken. He might as well call and inquire as to the man’s -condition. If there was anything to report there was still time to -telephone to the office. - -A minute later he pushed back the swing-door and entered the lobby of -the hospital, to find himself face to face with Snell. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AT CACCIOLA’S - - -Snell greeted Austin with a smile and a significant cock of his left -eyebrow. - -“You haven’t lost any time, Mr. Starr. But there’s nothing fresh here. -Sadler’s just the same, and the doctor says it will be impossible for -him to attend the inquest to-morrow, so we shall ask for a week’s -adjournment. And he won’t be allowed to be ‘interviewed’ by anyone,” he -added pointedly. - -“I guessed that, of course. I only meant to inquire how he was. I take -it he’s practically under arrest?” - -“Not at all. Under surveillance perhaps, which is a very different -matter. And the less said about that or _anything else_ the better for -the present, Mr. Starr. No ‘stunts’ in this case, please. Well, did you -find Cacciola at home? Or old Julia amiable?” - -“How did you know I’d been there?” - -“Guessed it, knowing you. That’s meant as a compliment.” - -“Cacciola hadn’t returned. I know him fairly well, having seen him a -good few times at Miss Winston’s. And Giulia was civil enough, though -she seemed a bit scared. She told me some yarn about a cigarette case -she had found.” - -As they spoke in guarded tones, they had reissued from the hospital and -now stood on the steps, where the lamp-light fell full on Snell’s face. -Starr’s keen eyes were fixed on it, but it revealed nothing. - -“A cigarette case? Whose was it?” asked Snell. - -“Don’t you know? You’ve got it, haven’t you?” - -Starr strove to speak in a casual tone, but it was difficult to control -his voice. Of all the many sensational cases he had come across this -was the first that had touched him personally, and the horrible fear -that Roger Carling might in some way be mixed up in it, and that Snell -knew it, was still strong upon him. - -“Are you trying to cross-examine me?” asked the detective dryly. - -Possibly for the first time in his life under such circumstances Austin -lost his self-possession. - -“See here, Snell, what’s the use of fencing?” he asked hotly. “You’ve -got that case right enough. It’s Rog----” - -“Stop!” interrupted Snell imperatively, though without raising his -voice. “I’ve mentioned no name. Take my advice, Mr. Starr, and don’t -you mention one either. I’ve told you already that the less said the -better, and if you can’t take the hint--well, that’s your affair.” - -Austin bit his lip, inwardly cursing himself for his indiscretion. -If he had held his tongue about his knowledge of Roger Carling’s -movements he might, sooner or later, have got some hint of what was in -the detective’s mind. Now, in all probability he would get no further -information at all. - -“Sorry,” he muttered somewhat ungraciously. “You’re right, of course. -But----” - -“But there’s nothing to add to your story to-night. Take my word for -it,” said Snell, with restored good humour. “Which way are you going? -Tube? I’m for the tram. What a beastly night! I shan’t be sorry to get -indoors.” - -“Nor I,” Austin confessed with a shiver. - -Almost in silence they walked side by side through the chill drizzle to -the station, and there parted, Snell crossing to the tram terminus. - -But he was not yet bound for home, as he had allowed and wished Starr -to infer. Tireless and relentless as a sleuth-hound, he believed he was -already fairly on the track of Lady Rawson’s murderer, but there were -certain preliminary points he wished to clear up, and till he succeeded -in that there would be no rest for him. - -The tram was crowded with returning theatre-goers, most of whom were -discussing the grim crime and the reports in the late editions of the -evening papers. None guessed how intimately the wiry little man in the -drenched Burberry, meekly strap-hanging among them, was concerned with -it, and quite a number alighted from the tram when he did, opposite the -post office, and lingered in the rain staring at the house of tragedy, -now dark and silent as a grave, with a solitary policeman standing -guard, and in a subdued, monotonous voice requesting the whispering -crowd to “Pass along, please.” - -Snell did not even glance at the house or the sentinel, but disappeared -into the darkness of the square nearly opposite, three sides of which -were occupied by the tall blocks of flats known as “Rivercourt -Mansions,” fronted by shrubberies, and with more shrubs and trees -in the centre: a pleasant place enough in daylight, but gloomy and -mysterious on this miserable wet midnight. Treading as lightly as a -cat in his “silent-soled” shoes, Snell walked swiftly to the end of -the square, and paused, to be joined immediately by a man in a dark -mackintosh, who emerged from the shadow of the shrubs. - -“Anything to report, Evans?” Snell asked softly. - -“He hasn’t returned yet, sir. Mr. Starr went in and stayed a good few -minutes, just after ten-thirty.” - -“I know. Did he see you?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Good. Anything else?” - -“A good many have come and gone--people living in the block; but none -that I could spot as on this business.” - -Together they withdrew into deeper gloom again, and in dead silence -waited and watched. Not for long. - -Another tram clanked westward, halted, went on, and a minute later -footsteps approached--heavy, weary, dragging footsteps; and the figures -of two men passed into the radius of light from the street lamp nearest -the watchers. - -“That’s the Signor--the fat one,” Snell’s subordinate whispered. “The -other’s the Russian.” - -“Come on,” said Snell, and silently they followed the two men, -overtaking them as Cacciola was inserting a latchkey into the outer -door of the block where he lived. - -He turned with a start as Snell courteously accosted him. - -“Signor Cacciola? I have been waiting your return, and must have a few -words with you to-night concerning the late Lady Rawson. If you will -look at my card you will know who I am and that my business is urgent.” - -As he spoke he switched on his electric torch, handed the card to -Cacciola, and watched the old man’s face as he read it--a plump, -olive-complexioned, usually jolly face that now looked drawn and -grief-stricken. - -“By all means; enter, signor,” said Cacciola with grave dignity. -“I--we--will give you all the assistance possible. You are not alone?” -he added, narrowing his dark eyes in an endeavour to pierce the gloom -beyond the circle of light. - -“No. But perhaps you will permit my man to wait in your hall for me,” -returned Snell blandly. - -He did not anticipate danger, but anything might happen in that top -flat, and, though he was courageous enough he never took unnecessary -risks. - -“But certainly. Lead the way, Boris. Will you continue the light, -Signor? The stairs are very dark--and long.” - -With hushed footsteps, and no sound beyond Cacciola’s heavy breathing, -they stole in procession up the staircase, Evans bringing up the rear -just behind Snell. - -As they reached the top landing the door of Cacciola’s flat opened, and -Giulia appeared on the threshold, a dark figure against the lighted -hall, began to speak volubly in Italian, and then, seeing her master’s -companions, and recognizing Snell, stopped short and retreated a pace -or two, glancing nervously from one to the other. - -“It’s all right, ma’am. No cause for alarm,” said Snell reassuringly. -“I’ve been here before to-day, sir, in your absence, as I expect she -was trying to tell you. Let her tell her story now, it will help us. -And in English, please, as I don’t understand your language.” - -“She shall do so. Come with us, Giulia. Take off your wet coats, my -friends.” - -Cacciola led the way into a large, comfortable room where a gas fire -glowed cosily--a musician’s room, with the place of honour occupied by -a magnificent grand piano. - -The Russian, who had not spoken a word, and moved like a man in a -dream, allowed Cacciola to remove his dripping overcoat and push him -into an easy chair. He was a delicate-looking, handsome-featured young -man, who seemed, and was, dazed with grief and horror. - -Rapidly, but quite coherently, Giulia poured out her story in broken -English, frequently lapsing into Italian, to be as frequently, though -gently, checked by her master. Much of it was already known to Snell, -but there were one or two fresh and illuminative points. - -“La Donna Paula,” the name by which the old woman designated Lady -Rawson, had come quite early, soon after the _maestro’s_ departure, -demanding to see Signor Boris, who was away, Giulia did not know -where. Then she telephoned to Blackheath, in the hope of speaking -to the _maestro_, and learnt he was not expected there to-day, and -presently she tried to telephone again, but lo! the instrument would -not serve--it was out of order! - -(“So that’s why she went to the call office,” Snell mentally commented, -having already noticed the telephone on a table beside the piano.) - -Donna Paula appeared very impatient, also agitated, and when the bell -rang bade Giulia deny that she was or had been there, if one should ask -for her, and, of a verity, the young signor who came did so, and ask -oh, very many questions. - -“Did he tell you his name?” interposed Snell. - -“But no, signor. Yet I learnt it later, for soon after Donna Paula had -gone, the _portaire_ ring and give me a little silver case he find, -with a name on it that I forget, for then the signor there come, and -I give him the case, and he have it now, and he tell me Donna Paula -have been murdered, and I know not what to do or to say, but I wait and -wait for you or Signor Boris, and no one come till late, so late, when -yet another signor arrive, and say he also is of the police and ask -for the little silver case, and I tell him I have it not. That is the -truth--you have the case still, signor?” - -She whirled round towards Snell, who spoke soothingly. - -“Yes, yes, that’s all right, signora. Nobody’s blaming you for -anything, and you’ve told your story admirably. Thank you very much. -And now, sir, if you please, we’ll have our chat.” - -“Go, my good Giulia,” said Cacciola, “and be not so distressed, though, -indeed, we are all cut to the heart. Now, signor?” - -“I want you to tell everything you know about Lady Rawson--you and this -gentleman, who, I think, were on terms of intimate friendship with the -unfortunate lady.” - -It was no chance shot. Hours ago he had searched Lady Rawson’s rooms, -and in her boudoir, hidden in the secret drawer of a costly antique -writing-table, had found a big packet of letters, some of quite recent -date, written in Russian. They were all signed merely with the initial -“B,” and those which he had got translated at once gave him a fair -inkling of the relations between the writer and the dead woman. The -translation of the others would be in his hands to-morrow morning. - -If the Russian heard and understood the words he made no sign. He sat -huddled in the chair where Cacciola had placed him, with one hand over -his eyes. He might have been asleep for any movement that he made. - -“It is but very little I can tell,” said Cacciola. “It is true that she -came here from time to time--not to see me, to see her cousin, my dear -pupil Boris Melikoff here, who has been in the North since three days, -and returned to-night only, to hear of this deed of horror. It has -overwhelmed him, as you see. He is utterly exhausted. One moment----” - -Rising, he opened a corner cupboard, brought out a decanter half filled -with wine, and some glasses, placed them on a table at Snell’s elbow, -and filled one glass. - -“This may revive him, and I think we all need it. I pray you help -yourself and your friend, signor. - -“It is good wine, I give you my word,” he added with a courteous -gesture. - -Crossing to Melikoff, he touched him, speaking caressingly as one would -speak to a sick child. - -“Rouse yourself, _caro_, and drink. It is I, _maestro_, who implore -you. The signor is here to learn the truth, and you must aid him.” - -Melikoff obeyed, and, after an instant’s hesitation, Snell accepted -Cacciola’s invitation, poured out a glass of wine for himself and -passed one to Evans with an affirmative nod. - -The old man was right. It was jolly good wine, and jolly well they all -needed it! - -“That is better, eh?” said Cacciola, emptying and setting down his own -glass, and looking with anxious affection at Boris, who sat upright and -turned his brilliant, haggard eyes on Snell. - -“You want to know--what?” he asked in perfect English, and in a low, -singularly musical voice, tense with repressed emotion. - -“Everything you can tell me concerning Lady Rawson, whom the Signor -here says was your cousin. Is that so?” - -“That is so. But I can tell you nothing more.” - -“Come, come, Mr. Melikoff. That won’t do!” Snell retorted, more sternly -than he had yet spoken. “I am in possession of many of your recent -letters to her, and am aware of their contents. Do you understand me?” - -“No,” said Melikoff curtly. - -“Then I must try to make you.” - -“You think I murdered her!” cried the Russian, with more vehemence than -a moment before he had seemed capable of. “I, who would have given my -life, my soul, to save her!” - -“Nothing of the kind. I might have done so if I hadn’t happened to know -that your friend here spoke the truth when he said you were away--miles -away from here--at the time. But it’s my duty to discover who _did_ -murder the unfortunate lady, and if you don’t choose to give me any -information you can that may assist me, here and now, you’ll only have -it wrung from you later in cross-examination. So please yourself!” - -“He is right--you must tell him all you know, my son,” interposed -Cacciola. “I myself know so little,” he added plaintively to Snell. -“They have always kept me--how do you call it?--in the dark, these two -unhappy ones.” - -“Well, while Mr. Melikoff makes up his mind as to whether he’s going -to say anything or nothing to-night, Signor Cacciola, perhaps you’ll -explain just what your association with them both was, and why her -ladyship came here, more or less disguised, so often?” - -The old man flung out his hands with a deprecating gesture. - -“I know so little,” he repeated distressfully. “At least of Milady -Rawson--Donna Paula as we call her. I love him--Boris--as if he were my -son. I learn to know him first, oh, many years since, in Russia, when -he was a little boy, with the voice of an angel. Though quite untrain, -Signor, he sing like the birds of the air! And I say to him then, and -to his mother, the countess, ‘He shall come to me in good time, and -I make him the greatest singer in the whole world.’ And at last he -came----” - -“When?” - -“But two years since, signor; and the good saints guided him to me, -for he did not mean to come. He had escaped with the bare life from -his unhappy country, having fought in the Great War, and then against -the Red Terror, till all was lost--all, all swept away. He was at the -gate of death when I find him and bring him home here so joyfully, and -Giulia and I nurse him back to health, and I begin to train him, or I -try, for the voice is there, signor, beautiful as ever, but the desire -to sing--alas!” - -He shrugged his shoulders, and again threw up his hands with an -expressive gesture. - -“He doesn’t want to go in for singing now?” asked Snell, with a swift -glance at the Russian, who had relapsed into his former attitude. Yet -the detective believed he was listening to the colloquy. - -“That is so, Signor. It is my great grief. I tell him it is wrong -to waste the gift of God; I tell him music is a great and a jealous -mistress that demands all devotion--that the singer should have no -country, no other love, no other mistress than his art!” - -“H’m! And where does Lady Rawson come in?” asked Snell dryly, mindful -of those letters. - -Cacciola hesitated and glanced uneasily at Melikoff. Hitherto his -manner had been engagingly frank; now it changed, became guarded, even -furtive. - -“It is so--so difficult,” he said slowly. “They are cousins--yes. They -had not met for years; he thought she had perished, like so many--so -many, until he found she was here in England, married to the great Sir -Rawson.” - -“When did he find that out? Before or after he came to you?” - -“After--many weeks after he recover. I was glad--and sorry: glad that -one whom he loved still lived, sorry----” - -“Go on, sir--sorry because?” - -“It is so difficult,” Cacciola murmured, with another appealing glance -at Boris. - -“Did Sir Robert know of their connection?” - -Cacciola shook his head. - -“Did he ever go to see her in her own house?” - -Again the mute negative. - -“So they used to meet here, in your flat, in secret?” - -“It was not my wish,” Cacciola muttered, his distress increasing under -interrogation. - -“And they were engaged in some Russian plot. Were there any others in -it? Who made this their meeting place?” - -“I do not----” - -Cacciola’s faltering denial was cut short, for Melikoff sprang to his -feet and confronted Snell, who also rose. - -“Enough!” cried the Russian. “The _maestro_ is right--he does not know! -And there was--there is--no plot as you call it, save that she and I, -like many others of our race, were always waiting and watching, and -hoping for some means of serving our unhappy country. Also, we loved -each other--yes! But I swear to you it was love without one taint of -dishonour to her, to me, to that old man, her husband!” - -Was he speaking the truth in this respect? Snell, with his wide -knowledge of poor human nature, and mentally comparing this -handsome, passionate, emotional youth with Sir Robert--old, formal, -pompous!--greatly doubted it. - -But the point did not interest him except as it might afford some clue -to the mystery. It was not his job to make inquisition into anyone’s -morals. - -“Did you expect Lady Rawson to visit you to-day?” he asked. - -“No. How could I? It is two weeks--more--since I have even seen her. I -had to go to Birmingham----” - -“On my affairs--there is no secret about that,” interposed Cacciola, -but neither heeded him. - -“I did not send word to her of my journey--you know that, if you -have--her--letters, as you say,” Boris continued. “I do not know why -she came to-day--to meet her death!” - -“She came to give or show you some important and secret papers which -she stole from her husband’s safe this morning,” said Snell bluntly. - -“So? I know nothing of that.” - -“But someone knew. Those papers were in her hand-bag, which was -snatched from her by the person who followed and stabbed her, and has -since been found empty. Now, do you know of anyone whatsoever, man or -woman, who would be likely to know or guess that she had those papers -in her possession?” - -“Of our people? None! Was she not one of us--the most trusted, the -most beloved? Not one of _us_ would have harmed a hair of her head! -Wait--let me think. They were her husband’s papers----” - -For some seconds he stood knitting his dark brows, then, very slowly: - -“There is one man. Her husband’s secretary----” - -“Do you know him?” - -“I have never seen him, but his name is Car--Carling!” - -“Were they enemies?” - -“No, not openly; but she feared him. She thought he--watched her. _Mon -Dieu!_ The man who came here to-day, as Giulia said, and asked for her. -That was the man! I will find him! I will kill him!” - -His haggard young face was terrible to see in the frenzy of hatred that -distorted it; his slender hands moved convulsively as though he already -felt his fingers clutching Roger Carling’s throat. Cacciola seized one -arm, Snell the other, and he collapsed under their grasp, and fell into -the chair, sobbing like a woman or like a man who has been shot. - -“It is too much for him!” cried Cacciola. “Boris, Boris. Courage, my -child!” - -“Poor chap!” said Snell. “I won’t worry him any more, nor you either -to-night, sir. And I must ask you to keep silence for the present. -You’ll be worried by a horde of inquirers--journalists especially--for -the next few days, but you tell your old Julia to lock the door. Don’t -you see anyone, and take care he doesn’t.” - -“You may trust us, signor,” said the old man. - -“Then, good night, sir. Come on, Evans.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM - - -Even a short railway journey often has the effect of creating an -interval that means far longer than the actual lapse of time--a -honeymoon journey perhaps most of all, marking, as it does, the turning -point, the beginning of a new epoch in two young lives. - -Therefore, by the time Roger and his bride arrived at Dover he had -not only recovered his equanimity, but the extraordinary events of -the morning, and even the grim and startling news he had learned at -the moment of departure had receded far away, like the remembrance of -an evil dream. The only thing that really mattered was the great and -wonderful fact that he and Grace were together, and would be henceforth -not only, as the beautiful words in which they had so lately plighted -their solemn troth declared, “till death us do part,” but, as all true -lovers hope and believe, together in spirit for all eternity--“out -beyond into the dream to come.” - -The proud, tender, protective air with which he assisted Grace to -alight, the radiant happiness of their young faces, were instantly -“spotted” by the nearest porter, who bustled up in cheery anticipation -of a noble tip. - -“Two cabin trunks, kit-bag, and two hat-boxes in the van--very -good, sir,” said he, taking possession of Grace’s dressing case and -travelling rugs. “What are they like? New?” - -“Oh, no! quite old. We’ll point them out,” said Grace with demure -dignity, and shot an adorable glance at Roger as they followed the man, -threading their way through the crowd on the platform. - -They had decided to avoid any brand-new appearance, fondly imagining -thereby that they would pass as an “old married couple”--as though any -such device could conceal their blissful state from even the least -observant of onlookers! - -They halted behind an opulent-looking couple, the man smoking a huge -cigar, the lady shrilly claiming a whole pile of trunks as they were -bundled out of the van, and Grace, with a little gasp of dismay, -clutched Roger’s sleeve and drew him aside. - -“Oh, look, Roger!” she whispered, “there are the Fosters, and they’re -putting up at the ‘Lord Warden’!” - -“Well, what about it, darling?” - -“We’re bound to meet them, and I do dislike them so and wouldn’t let -mother ask them to the wedding; we had quite a scene about it, and -Daddy backed me up. They _are_ such impossible people. It _will_ be so -awkward. Can’t we dodge them?” - -“Of course we can--nothing easier. We’ll lie low till they clear off -and then go to the Grand.” - -So they did, and once safe in the taxi laughed gaily over the narrow -escape, little imagining what a sinister significance would soon be -attached to their impulsive change of plan. - -He waited in the lounge while Grace was upstairs unpacking and dinner -was being laid in the private sitting-room he had secured. As it -happened there were very few people staying in the hotel, and for the -moment he had the place to himself. - -He ordered a whisky-and-soda, and with it the attendant brought an -evening paper. - -“Just come down, sir. There’s been a horrible murder of a lady in -London.” - -So it was impossible to escape from the tragedy that haunted him on -this, his wedding day. - -He took the paper without comment, glanced at it, and laid it aside. It -was the same edition that George Winston had thrust into his hands at -Victoria. For a minute or more he sat in painful thought, then, leaving -his glass untouched, went through to the office and gave the Grosvenor -Gardens telephone number for a long-distance call. - -“I’ll call you, sir; it may be some time getting through.” - -“All right. I’ll be in the lounge.” - -But within a couple of minutes the summons came, and, hastily finishing -his drink, he hurried to the booth. - -Thomson’s voice sounded, civil, precise, distinct, as usual. At the -telephone as in most other respects Sir Robert’s trusted attendant was -admirable, unimpeachable. - -“Hullo, Thomson! Carling speaking. I’ve just arrived at Dover and seen -the awful news. Where is Sir Robert?” - -“In bed, sir, and still unconscious, though the doctors say that is all -the better under the circumstances. In fact, I believe he is under an -opiate. He had a sort of stroke, sir, when he heard--by telephone--of -her ladyship’s death.” - -“How on earth did it happen--the--the murder I mean? I’ve only seen the -bare announcement.” - -“In a ’phone booth, sir. If I may be permitted to state an opinion” -(agitated though he was, Roger smiled at the formal phraseology, so -entirely characteristic of old Thomson), “her ladyship was followed by -someone who imagined she had valuables in her bag--a large and very -handsome one--struck her down, and then finding those papers in it, and -not knowing how to get rid of them, just put them into a post box, so -then they came back to Sir Robert----” - -“What! What papers?” Roger shouted into the transmitter, scarcely able -to believe he had heard aright. “Not those we were searching for this -morning?” - -“The same, I understand, sir. They were delivered, surcharged, by -the five o’clock post, and as Lord Warrington happened to be here, -inquiring for Sir Robert, I made bold to give them to his lordship, who -has taken charge of them.” - -“What wonderful, what incredible luck!” exclaimed Roger, forgetting for -the moment the grim central circumstance, and was ashamed next instant, -especially as Thomson’s voice sounded distinctly severe and shocked: - -“I fear it cost her ladyship her life, sir.” - -“You’re right, Thomson. The whole thing is too terrible, and I oughn’t -to have spoken like that. But it _is_ a relief to know that the papers, -at least, are safe. They are tremendously important. But, look -here, Thomson, is there anything I can do? I am terribly concerned -and anxious about Sir Robert. Do you think I ought to come back to -town to-morrow, or--or even to-night? I don’t _want_ to, of course, -and, if possible, I shall keep the news from--Mrs. Carling--till the -morning----” - -There was a little pause--only a few seconds, though it seemed -longer--before Thomson replied: - -“I don’t think it should be at all necessary, sir. I’m sure you can do -nothing for Sir Robert at present; the doctors do not anticipate any -immediate danger.” - -“Well, I’ll ring you up in the morning then.” - -“Very good, sir. I hope you will not consider it presumptuous of me -to express my deep regret that these terrible occurrences should have -marred your wedding day, and to convey my respectful wishes to you and -your good lady?” - -“Presumptuous! Good Lord, no! It’s very kind of you, Thomson. Many -thanks,” said Roger, again smiling involuntarily. “Well, if Sir Robert -should ask for me, tell him you’re in touch with me.” - -“I will, sir. Good night, sir.” - -“Good night.” - -Only after he had replaced the receiver did he remember that he had not -told Thomson where he was speaking from, but decided it wasn’t worth -while putting another call through. For to-night at least he would not -be wanted, and he would strive to dismiss the whole tragedy from his -mind. What a queer old stick Thomson was, but a good sort too! And -that astounding news of the recovery of the papers was very reassuring. - -Now for Grace--his own, his beloved! He went up in the lift, and tapped -softly at the bedroom door. It opened instantly, and there she stood, -fresh and fair, in a simple evening gown of some filmy grey stuff, a -shy smile on her dear lips. - -“Oh, what a tired and grubby boy!” she laughed. “He wants his dinner -very badly, he does, and I b’lieve I do too! As the king and queen are -travelling without attendants on this interesting occasion, the queen -(that’s me) has laid out your things, sir--your majesty, I mean--and -quite correctly I’m sure. I’ve done it so often for daddy. Now, don’t -be long!” - -“I shan’t be ten minutes, darling,” Roger assured her, and was almost -as good as his word. - -As charming a pair of lovers as could be found in the whole, wide -world they looked, as they sat facing each other at the daintily -appointed dinner-table, with the head waiter--a little apple-cheeked, -grey-haired, blue-eyed old man with an expansive smile--gliding in and -out and ministering to their wants with paternal solicitude. _He_ knew -well enough what was due to the occasion; those travel-worn trunks -hadn’t deceived him, any more than they had deceived the railway porter -or anyone else! And the flourish with which he presented the wine list -was mere pretence, for when, after a short discussion, they decided -on champagne, he didn’t even have to go to fetch it, but instantly -produced a magnum of the best, placed there, all ready, on the -sideboard. - -Dinner over, they moved to the big chesterfield drawn up before the -blazing fire, and sat down in discreet silence till the table was -cleared and the beneficent waiter finally departed. - -“At last!” said Roger, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the -fire, and drawing his wife to him. “Isn’t this cosy and jolly, darling?” - -“Lovely,” Grace murmured, snuggling happily in his arm. “Almost as good -as our own home’s going to be. Don’t you wish we were there already, -Roger, sitting in front of our very own fire?” - -“I don’t wish for anything better in the world than to have you beside -me, sweetheart,” he responded. - -The little silence that followed, of sheer peace and content, was -disturbed by a fierce onslaught of hail on the window-panes, and a -blast of wind that swept and shrieked round the building like a legion -of lost souls. - -“My word, hark at that! It’s going to be a wild night,” said Roger. “No -crossing for us to-morrow if it’s like this. Why, you’re shivering, -dearest. Cold?” - -“No, it’s only that dreadful wail of the wind. When I was a little girl -my nurse used to tell me it was the souls of drowned sailors shrieking, -and I believed her, for years and years.... God guard all who are on -the sea to-night!” - -The words, uttered in a fervent whisper, were a real and fervent -prayer. He knew that as he looked down lovingly at her sweet, -thoughtful face. - -“D’you know, Roger,” she resumed presently, “I’m not sure that I want -to go to Nice, or anywhere else abroad, after all.” - -“Why, then, we won’t! The queen shall do exactly as she likes. I’m not -a bit keen on a smart place either, only----” - -Grace looked up with a little whimsical smile in which there was a -touch of pathos. - -“Only mother said we were to--that it was ‘the proper thing’--and it -was less trouble to agree with her than to argue the point. That’s the -real trouble, isn’t it? And, after all, we haven’t had a quiet moment -to discuss anything between ourselves for weeks and weeks, what with -mother and dressmakers on my side, and Sir Robert keeping you so hard -at work on yours, right up to the last moment too, upsetting us all so, -and nearly making you too late to be married! Tiresome old gentleman!” - -“It wasn’t his fault,” said Roger hastily. “But don’t let us think any -more of that. We’re free to please ourselves now--go where we like and -do what we like. So what shall we do? Stay here?” - -“No. I’ve been thinking. Really it flashed into my mind while I was -dressing and waiting for you before dinner. There’s such a dear little -place quite close here--St. Margaret’s--where daddy and I stayed when -he was getting over influenza, just after Armistice--this very same -time of year, when you were still in France, you poor boy! We had the -loveliest time, all by ourselves. Mother wouldn’t come; she said it -would be too deadly in the winter, but it wasn’t--not for us, anyhow! -And we had the cosiest rooms imaginable in a dinky cottage on the -cliff, a regular sun-trap, with a dear old landlady, Miss Culpepper, -who reminded us of ‘Cranford’ and cherished us both no end. Let’s go -over and see if she’s still there and can put us up. I expect she can, -for I remember we seemed to have the whole place to ourselves.” - -“Topping!” Roger agreed heartily, as he would have done if she had -proposed to start on an expedition to Timbuctoo. “And, I say, darling, -I’ll try to get a car just for the time we’re down here, and we’ll have -some jolly runs.” - -“Splendid! But won’t that cost a lot?” - -“Why, bless your careful little heart, think of all the money we shall -save by scrapping that continental trip! It’s a simply ripping idea!” - -“I wonder what mother will say when she knows?” laughed Grace. “I -shan’t say a word to her about it when I write to her to-morrow; she’ll -think we’re travelling; so will every one else for a week or two, for -we won’t own up till they might be getting anxious, except perhaps to -daddy and Winnie, and they’ll keep counsel all right. What fun it will -be!” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -GRACE LEARNS THE NEWS - - -“To think that it should have been on our wedding day--almost at the -very moment! Oh, the poor, poor soul! Who _can_ have done the awful -thing?” - -Grace Carling’s sweet face was pale and tear-stained. At last she had -learned the grim news that Roger had successfully suppressed until now, -just after breakfast in their sitting-room at the hotel. It would have -been impossible to keep the secret from her longer; all the morning -papers were full of the murder, though the mystery appeared deeper than -ever. As he hastily scanned the columns while he waited for Grace, -Roger noted that none of the reports so much as mentioned the stolen -papers that had been returned in so extraordinary a manner and that -almost certainly were the pivot of the tragedy. The police knew of -these, for he himself had rung up Scotland Yard, and Sir Robert was -awaiting the arrival of a detective when he, Roger, had been obliged -to leave him. But evidently the information had been withheld from the -Press. - -The theory advanced, and considerably elaborated, was that which -Thomson had propounded over the ’phone, and much stress was laid on the -fact that the murderer had missed some at least of his anticipated -spoil--the gold purse--with much conjecture as to whether the bag had -contained any other valuables. - -Naturally, Grace was terribly distressed; also, her quick mind -instantly divined that this was the cause of Roger’s strange emotion -yesterday, that, for the moment, had so startled and alarmed her. - -“It was a shock,” he confessed. “Honestly, darling, when I saw that -poster, and George gave me the paper, I was more upset than I’ve ever -been in my life before; what with the horror of the thing itself, and -wanting to keep it from you. I couldn’t bear to let you know, just -then, the great day of our lives! Though even now I don’t know how I -managed it.” - -His voice was husky with emotion, and she looked up at him, smiling -through her tears. - -“It was dear of you, Roger! I never suspected--how could I?... But -what in the world can she have been doing there, so near us, and in -disguise, as they say?” - -“Heaven knows, dear, except that I’m pretty certain she had been to a -flat in a square nearly opposite; not for the first time, though why -she went there, I know no more than you do.” - -“The square opposite? Why, that must be Rivercourt Mansions. What makes -you think she had been there?” - -“Because I saw her, a few days ago. By George! it was only last -Tuesday, though it seems more like a year. You remember I came to -dinner----” - -“Of course, and turned up very early.” - -He nodded. - -“It was because I got away so much earlier than I expected that I -walked from the station, and presently I saw her walking rapidly a few -yards in front of me. I shouldn’t have known her but for her gait: you -know that curious way of hers--graceful I suppose, but----” - -“I know, like a snake; we always said so!” - -“Yes, and she was very plainly dressed, in a long, dark cloak and -floating veil, almost like a nurse’s uniform; but I was quite sure -it was she; and it _was_, for she evidently wore the same get-up -yesterday,” he added, picking up one of the newspapers and pointing to -the detailed description. - -“What did you do?” breathed Grace. - -“Well, it wasn’t my business, of course, and I had no right to spy on -her, so I loitered a bit, increasing the distance between us. I saw her -turn the corner, and when I reached the square I really couldn’t resist -just glancing down, and I caught sight of her blue veil disappearing -through the entrance of the north block. That’s all; I scarcely gave -another thought to it.” - -“And you believe she went there again yesterday, but that’s very -important, isn’t it, Roger? Oughtn’t you to tell the police?” - -“I don’t know,” he said slowly, and, hands in pockets, he paced up -and down the room, paused and stared out of the window, frowning -perplexedly. - -Grace watched him with anxious, puzzled eyes. It seemed a long time -before he turned to her again, and spoke with curious hesitation. - -“You see, it’s this way, darling. I’m thinking of Sir Robert, and of -him alone. I fear there is a great deal more behind this--this crime -than appears on the surface. The Press don’t know of it yet, that’s -evident; the police may suspect, but I doubt if they _know_--in fact -they can’t know everything unless they’ve seen those papers that were -lost, and that’s unlikely, if it’s true, as Thomson said, they’ve been -returned, and are in Lord Warrington’s hands. _He_ will keep them safe -enough!” - -“But I don’t understand,” protested Grace. “Surely, Roger, the most -important thing is to trace Lady Rawson’s murderer?” - -“No,” said Roger decisively. “The most important thing is to keep -all knowledge of those papers secret for the present. No disclosures -can bring that poor, unhappy woman back to life; while if the secret -information contained in those papers were prematurely divulged God -knows what would happen--war, almost to a certainty, and thousands of -lives would be sacrificed.” - -Grace drew a little sobbing breath, her eyes still intent on his face. -She had a curious feeling that he was not speaking to her, but was -arguing with some invisible person. - -“I don’t believe her visit to Rivercourt Mansions had any connection at -all with the murder,” he continued, “except, indeed, that it brought -her into the neighbourhood. She was robbed and killed by some loitering -ruffian who had watched her--an old hand, doubtless, who, when he found -he’d got nothing, got rid of the evidence instantly, very cleverly -too--chucked the bag through the window of the cab, and slipped the -envelope into the nearest post box.” - -“You are sure she had those papers?” - -“Absolutely, though I’ve no actual evidence. But I was certain of it -from the first, and so, I am convinced, was Sir Robert, though of -course he gave no hint of that. But she was the only person except -ourselves who could possibly have had access to the keys of the safe.” - -“But why should she steal them?” - -“That I don’t know; I can only conjecture. You see, I’ve suspected -her more or less vaguely for months. She was always coming in and out -of the room--the only person who was allowed to do so when I was at -work; but Sir Robert adored her, never crossed her in anything, and of -course it was impossible for me to raise any objection! She used to -come and go as softly as a cat--or a snake. Time after time I’ve been -startled to find her close beside me, looking over my shoulder. On -Wednesday night, the last time I saw her, she tried to get a look at -those very papers, and I was just in time to prevent her. It all sounds -very trivial perhaps, but there it is; and of course there was always -the feeling that she was an alien. But I really couldn’t define my -suspicions--at any rate, not till yesterday, and then not clearly.” - -“How did you know she had gone to that place again?” - -Again he hesitated, and resumed his restless pacing. Should he tell his -wife everything? Yes. She was part of himself now--the better, purer, -nobler part. He would have no secrets from her, except such secrets of -State as were entrusted to him by his chief; and this was not one of -those. - -“I’ll tell you the whole thing from first to last, darling,” he said, -seating himself beside her. “The moment I knew the papers were stolen -I thought of her instinctively, and when I learned she was out I -thought of the queer incident of Tuesday night. While Sir Robert was -questioning the servants I turned up the Directory. There’s only one -foreign name among all the list at Rivercourt Mansions: ‘G. Cacciola, -Professor of Voice-Production.’” - -“Cacciola! Good gracious!” gasped Grace. “Why, I know him quite well. -He’s Winnie’s _maestro_, the dearest, kindest, funniest old thing -imaginable. You must have heard me speak of him!” - -“Don’t remember it. But anyhow I thought I’d go there on spec. and ask -for her. It couldn’t do any harm and might be of immense service. As -it was so near the church I’d just time, if I didn’t go to Starr’s to -change, and I knew you’d forgive me for not turning up in glad rags, -darling, if I told you all about it afterwards. So I said good-bye -to Sir Robert, jumped into a taxi, and drove straight there. I saw -an old Italian woman, and asked boldly for Lady Rawson. I’d guessed -rightly--she was there, I’m convinced from the woman’s manner, though -she swore she wasn’t, but she knew the name well enough, and I’d take -my oath she was lying. I couldn’t very well force my way in and search -the place; and as time was running short there was nothing to be done -but push off. Like an ass I had paid the taxi and never told the man to -wait, and there wasn’t another in sight.” - -“There never is thereabouts.” - -“That’s why I was so late--that and the fog. I jumped on a tram, got -down at the Avenue, and plunged right into the fog. My hat! how thick -it was--you couldn’t see your hand before your face! Pretty position -for a bridegroom, eh? I thought I never should get through in time; -I kept barging into trees and palings till--well, you know the rest, -darling.” - -“You poor boy! No wonder you looked half dead,” Grace commented. -Somehow his vivacious narrative had relieved the tension, diverted -her mind from the main tragedy. “But how very queer about the -_maestro_--Signor Cacciola, I mean. I wonder if Winnie knows that poor -Lady Rawson knew him? I don’t think she can, or she would certainly -have said something about it.” - -“Well, she was there. But you see now, don’t you, darling, why I am so -reluctant to put the police on this? If her visits were innocent, why -did she disguise herself? If they were not innocent--may I be forgiven -if I wrong her--goodness knows what might come out, to add to poor Sir -Robert’s distress. So I’m sure it’s best to do and say nothing, for the -moment anyhow, except to ring up as I said I would.” - -He returned in about twenty minutes, and found her at the writing-table. - -“Thomson again. Sir Robert is going on fairly well, but is not allowed -to see anyone but him, and the nurse, of course. He says he gave him -my message, and he seemed very touched, and begged me not to dream of -coming back, as I could do nothing; I offered to, you know----” - -“Of course, dear,” Grace assented. - -“And our plan holds? We’ll be off to St. Margaret’s?” - -“Yes, oh, yes! let’s get away from here,” said Grace, with a quick -little shiver, glancing round the room, where last night they had been -so happy, but that had now become distasteful to her. - -“All right, sweetheart. I’ll be off to see about a car.” - -His quest was speedily successful, and within an hour they were on -their way in a trim little two-seater. - -They were still grave and subdued when they set forth, as was -inevitable, but the shadow lifted from them, and their spirits rose as -they sped on their way. - -It was a glorious morning, more like April than November, for the gale -had blown itself out during the night: the sun shone in a cloudless -sky, the blue sea was flecked with dancing white wavelets, the keen, -clear air exhilarating as champagne, and overhead larks soared to sing -in heavenly chorus. - -“Isn’t it a dear, quaint, up-and-down little place?” said Grace, as -they neared the village and slowed down. “Oh, there’s the church! It’s -very, very old, and so beautiful. Roger, I’d like to go in just for a -few minutes.” - -“Now?” he asked, in some surprise. - -“Yes, if you don’t mind. We’ve lots of time.” - -Of course he didn’t mind, though he did wonder; and, after he had -lovingly watched her slender figure mount the steps and disappear -through the churchyard, he backed the car into a by-way, hailed a -village lad and bade him keep an eye on it, and then followed her. - -She was kneeling, her face bowed on her hands in prayer. - -He stood still, there at the back of the church, his own head bowed, -his eyes fixed on that kneeling figure that was all the world to him; -and as slow minutes passed the sacred peace of the hushed and holy -place stole into his own soul. - -Presently she rose and joined him, and hand in hand they went out -silently into the sunshine. Her eyes were misty with tears, but her -face was serene and beautiful as that of an angel. - -“I felt I must go, Roger, just for the little while,” she whispered. -“It was for _her_--for poor Lady Rawson. Some people say we should not -pray for the dead, but--but if it is true, and it _is_, that souls live -for ever, they may know--I believe they do--when we who are still here, -think of them gently and lovingly, and it may comfort them! And I’m -sure God loves us all, His poor erring human children, however sinful -we are, and--and that He _wants_ us to think lovingly of each other.” - -Too moved for words, Roger could only look down at her with an almost -adoring gaze. Dearly as he loved her, he had not realized as yet -the spiritual strength and sweetness of her nature, so simple, so -straightforward, and so steadfast. - -He felt strangely humble, yet strangely happy, and from his own heart -there went up a little silent prayer: “God make me worthy of her!” - -“And now for dear old Miss Culpepper,” she announced almost gaily as -they settled themselves in the car once more, and Roger dismissed the -attendant lad with a generous tip. “Oh, I do hope we shall find her at -home, and that she can put us up. Down the hill, Roger, and the first -turning. I’ll tell you where to stop.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -HALCYON DAYS - - -It was the prettiest white cottage imaginable, approached from the road -by a flight of irregular steps and a steep little garden, now gay with -chrysanthemums. - -“It’s like one of those toy ‘weather houses,’” said Roger as they -mounted the steps. “Does a little lady come out on fine days and a -little man on wet ones?” - -“I don’t know anything about a little man, but you’ll see the little -lady directly--at least, I hope so. She’s just like the cottage; you -couldn’t imagine anyone else owning it! Oh! did I warn you that she’s -a regular Mrs. Malaprop, bless her? She loves using long words, French -for preference, and they’re invariably the wrong ones, but she does -it with an ineffable air of gentility, and is dreadfully offended if -anyone laughs, so be careful! Oh! and be _sure_ you wipe your shoes as -you go in, and she’ll love you for ever. S-sh!” - -The green door, adorned with brilliantly polished brass handle, -knocker, and letter box, was opened by a small, spare, trim little -woman, who might have stepped out of the pages of “Punch” some forty -years ago. She wore her white hair in a closely curled “fringe,” neatly -held in place by a fine net, with an absurd little butterfly bow of -black lace perched on the crown of her head, presumably as a sort of -apology for a cap. The skirt of her long, skimpy gown of black merino -was trimmed with a series of tiny frills of the same stuff, and had -quillings of snowy net at the neck and wrists, and her black silk apron -was artfully adjusted to accentuate the slimness of her tiny waist. -Through a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez her mild blue eyes scanned her -visitors inquiringly. - -“How are you, Miss Culpepper?” said Grace, extending her hand. “I -wonder if you remember me?” - -“I ought to do, I’m sure,” said the little old lady graciously. “But -at the moment--why, of course, it’s Miss Armitage! How often I have -thought of you and your dear father. I trust Mr. Armitage is in good -health.” She glanced at Roger, and Grace blushed and smiled. - -“Quite, thanks. But I’m not ‘Miss Armitage’ now. May I introduce my -husband, Mr. Roger Carling? You see, we are taking a--a little holiday, -and made up our minds all in a hurry to come over and ask whether you -could put us up for a week or two.” - -“Dear me--married--how romantic!” Miss Culpepper chirruped. “Permit me -to tender my congratulations, my dear, to you both. And pray step in.” - -She led the way into the parlour on the right--a cosy and charming -little room, spotlessly clean and bright. - -“I shall be delighted to accommodate you, to the extent of my very -humble _menace_. As you may remember, my dear Miss--I mean, Mrs. -Carling--I retain no domestic during the winter months, when I so -seldom have any guests, though I am very glad when they do come, like -you and Mr. Armitage. And, do you know, I still think of that delicious -_jambon_ he sent me for Christmas, just after you left. As I wrote to -him at the time, a more delicious bird was never brought to table! Now -perhaps you would like to see the sleeping apartment--the large one -over this; it is not quite ready, of course, as I did not expect you, -but can be _dérangered_ in a very few minutes.” - -“We don’t want to put you about in the very least,” Grace explained. -“We can go and get lunch somewhere in the village--we shall have to -find a garage for the motor-car anyhow; it’s waiting there in the -road--and we can come back at any time you like. Oh, you darling! Why, -is this Cæsar?” - -A magnificent black Persian cat stalked into the room, and stared -gravely at Grace with its inscrutable amber eyes. - -The question seemed to embarrass little Miss Culpepper, who, after -a deprecating glance at Roger’s back--he was looking out of the -window--mysteriously beckoned Grace out of the room. - -She followed, cuddling the cat, which she had picked up, and which lay -quite quietly in her arms without evincing any emotion whatever. - -“It’s the same animal, my dear, whom you were so fond of as a kitten,” -Miss Culpepper explained in a discreet whisper; “but unfortunately -she proved to be a--a female; very embarrassing! So she is now -_inconnu_ as ‘Cleopatra.’ Perhaps I should not have said unfortunate -though, for a lady near possesses a most beautiful Persian with whom -Cleopatra--er--mates; and the provender are exquisite, and provide -quite a nice little source of additional income. She has two now, -that I expect to dispose of for quite a large sum, though I _do_ hate -parting with them; it seems so sordid.” - -“Oh, do let me see them,” Grace pleaded, and was graciously invited -into the kitchen, where the two kittens, an adorable pair, pranced to -meet them. Cleopatra jumped down and crooned over her offspring, and -Grace promptly sat on the floor and gathered all three of them into her -lap. - -“Most extraordinary,” murmured Miss Culpepper, “Cleopatra evidently -remembers you, after all this time. As a rule she never allows anyone -but myself to caress her or the kittens; in fact, she usually swears at -and attempts to bite any stranger who has the timidity to approach her. -So unladylike!” - -“I feel quite honoured,” laughed Grace. “Of course you remember me and -love me, don’t you, Cleopatra, darling? And you’ll let me have one of -your babies. We must take one home with us, Miss Culpepper, if it’s old -enough.” - -“Oh, yes, quite old enough, just three months to-day; indeed one has -already gone--Cæsarion--to the clergyman who was staying here when they -were tiny, and bespoke him at once. It was he who named them. This is -the other--er--male, ‘Dear Brutus.’ Why ‘Dear’ I really don’t know, -though naturally he is very dear to me. And his sister is Semiramis, -because she is so _melligerent_. The Rev. Smithson--such a learned man, -my dear Mrs. Carling--said she would certainly grow up into a warrior -queen. They are beautiful names, I consider--pathological, of course.” - -“Historical,” Grace suggested, and instantly repented. For Miss -Culpepper drew herself up and spoke, gently indeed, but in a tone that -conveyed a subtle reproof. - -“I consider ‘pathological’ the more correct. It is as well to be -accurate even in the smallest matters, and I believe it is very -doubtful if the originals of the names ever really lived.” - -“She’s priceless!” Grace declared, when she repeated this to Roger, as -she accompanied him back to the car, with a perfect imitation of the -old lady’s manner. “And the dearest, kindest old soul in the world. -Aren’t you glad we came? She’s going to give me all sorts of household -tips, as she did when I was here with daddy. She’s a wonderful cook. So -hurry back when you’ve garaged the car, and we shall have lunch ready.” - -“Good!” said Roger heartily. “I’m as hungry as a hunter. So long, -darling.” - -When he returned he found Grace, enveloped in one of Miss Culpepper’s -big cooking aprons, and with Dear Brutus perched on her shoulder, -busily putting the finishing touches to the table, while a delicious -fragrance of omelette was wafted from the kitchen. - -A very dainty meal the resourceful old lady managed to serve at such -short notice, and how they enjoyed it! - -For the time the shadow had passed from them. London and the Rawsons, -all the tragedy and trouble, had receded into the far distance, and -life seemed very fair, very joyous. They were not callous--far from -it; they were only a pair of lovers, rejoicing in each other, in the -sunshine, in “the delight of simple things, and mirth that hath no -bitter stings!” - -It was a wonderful week-end, halcyon days of sheer, unalloyed -happiness; an abiding memory to dwell on in the time to come, when the -world was dark indeed, and even hope seemed dead. - -It was amazing how swiftly the hours sped. There was a shopping -expedition down the village in the afternoon to order supplies, when -the crowning glory of the purchases was a noble dish of big pink -prawns, caught that very morning, and still steaming hot from the -pot. They carried them back and had them for tea--a real square-meal -tea, and ate them all, except such as were demolished by Cleopatra, -Semiramis, and Dear Brutus, who attended the feast and exhibited an -appreciative appetite for fresh prawns nicely peeled and proffered. - -And how snug it was, how peaceful in the little parlour, with the lamp -lighted and the curtains drawn, when Roger lounged happily in the easy -chair beside the fire, and Grace sat at the little mellow-toned old -Broadwood piano, and sang old songs, played snatches of old melodies, -grave and gay, finishing up with Sullivan’s tender and wistful love -duet: - - - None shall part us from each other, - One in life and death are we, - - -and Roger came to her side and sang Strephon’s part, quite softly, for -her ears alone, though if he could have sung with like expression on -the stage, and to order, he would have made his fortune! - -After that there was such a silence that little Miss Culpepper -considered it advisable to be seized with a fit of coughing and to make -quite a business of opening the door when she brought the supper-tray. - -A chill breath from the world they had left behind swept over them -indeed for a few brief minutes next morning, when Roger went down to -the garage to fetch the car, and brought back three London papers--all -he could get in the village. - -“Very little about it at all,” he said. “And nothing fresh.... The -inquest was merely opened and adjourned for a week; and they say, ‘The -police are following up a clue’; but they always say that.” - -“How is Sir Robert?” asked Grace. - -“Improving steadily. I heard that from Thomson. I rang him up from the -hotel. He says the funeral is fixed for Tuesday, at noon, and I really -think I ought to go up for it, darling. I’m sure Sir Robert would like -to see me, if he’s allowed to see anyone by then, and I could get back -at night.” - -“Of course,” Grace assented gravely. “It’s right that you should go. -Poor Sir Robert! My heart aches for him; and I--I feel almost ashamed -of our happiness, Roger, when I think of his crushing sorrow.” - -“I know. But, after all, it wouldn’t do him any good--or her either, -poor soul!--if we were to try to be as miserable as anything. Come -along, sweetheart, let’s get out into the sunshine. The car’s a regular -peach, isn’t she? And what weather! Perfect ‘Indian summer,’ by Jove! -Might have been made on purpose for us.” - -So they set forth for another glorious day in the open, over the downs -and through the weald, splendid with the gracious, wistful beauty of -late autumn; and back by the coast, to arrive as dusk was falling at -their peaceful retreat. How invitingly homelike the little room was -with its cheerful fire, and Miss Culpepper and the cats coming out to -the porch to welcome them. - -“And what’s the programme for to-morrow?” asked Roger after supper, as -they sat together in lazy content on the couch drawn up by the fire, -Cleopatra and Semiramis ensconced on Grace’s lap, Dear Brutus snuggling -on Roger’s shoulder. - -“I want to go to the early Celebration in the morning,” said Grace. “I -nearly always do, you know, and to-morrow----” - -“Me too, beloved,” he answered softly; and she slipped her hand in his. - -There was no need for further speech; on this great point there had -long been perfect understanding, perfect sympathy between them. - -And so, in the fresh, sweet dawn of an exquisite morning, they went up -the hill together to the little church, and with full hearts made their -“sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.” As they knelt before the altar, -I am sure they silently renewed those solemn vows they had made three -short days before; as I am very sure also that Grace’s gentle soul -sent up a fervent prayer for that of Paula Rawson, the beautiful woman -whose fate had been so strange and sudden and terrible. - -The glory of the risen sun shone on their happy faces when they came -forth, and life was beautiful beyond words. They would have liked to -share their happiness with the whole world. As that was impossible they -shared it with little Miss Culpepper, and took her, snugly sandwiched -between them, in the car to Canterbury. It was Roger’s idea, joyfully -acclaimed by Grace. - -“She’d love it; she told me yesterday she had never been in a motor-car -in her life, and I thought then we must take her for some runs. She may -think Sunday excursions wicked; but we’ll ask her.” - -Never was an old lady more gratified by an invitation. - -“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carling and Mr. Carling, there is nothing, I assure -you _nothing_, would give me greater pleasure!” she cried; “but”--Grace -glanced at Roger as one who would say “I told you so”--“but I am torn -between inclination and duty. The cathedral! It is so many, many years -since I visited that beautiful vane; it would indeed be a privilege to -do so once more, and in such a positively uxorious manner. But your -dinner--there will be no one to prepare it!” - -So that was the only objection, easily disposed of. - -“We’re going to dine at Canterbury, of course,” said Roger; and Grace -reminded her that the pheasant would keep till to-morrow and there was -plenty in the house for supper. - -Her housewifely scruples set at rest, in what a delightful flutter of -excitement she retired to “dress,” reappearing enveloped in quite an -assortment of ancient shawls and a long ostrich feather “boa,” the -floating ends of which, with those of the gauze scarf adjusted around -her “toque,” flapped across Roger’s eyes horribly when they started, -till Grace twined them snugly round the old lady’s neck and tucked the -ends in securely. - -Good it was to see Miss Culpepper, proudly erect, beaming with -benevolent condescension on such pedestrians as they met; good to hear -the ecstatic comments she chirped into their sympathetic ears; to note, -when they reached the cathedral just in time for the service, the -superb dignity with which she advanced up the aisle, visibly fortified -with the consciousness that she had “come in a motor-car.” - -Verily she had the time of her life that sunny Sunday, as she told -Grace, with tears in her kind old eyes, after dinner at the hotel, when -Roger had gone to bring round the car for the homeward run. - -“I’ve never had such a treat in all my long life before!” she cried. -“And nobody has ever been so good to me as you two dear young people. -I don’t know how to begin to thank you, only--God bless you both and -send you the rich happiness you deserve all your lives!” Grace hugged -her, and between smiles and tears Miss Culpepper continued: “Do you -know there’s only one little thing in this happy, happy day I’d have -wished different, and you’ll think it silly of me. But, though the -lovely music in the cathedral thrilled me, I _did_ wish they had chosen -another anthem. ‘Hear my prayer, O Lord, incline Thine ear, consider -my complaint,’ is most beautiful, but I couldn’t really echo it to-day, -for I hadn’t any ‘complaint’ to make to Him. I’d have liked them to -sing the Hallelujah Chorus, and I believe I should not only have stood -up, but have joined in!” - -Happy, happy day, with never a cloud to mar it! - -Next morning the storm broke. - -Roger went down the village to fetch the papers, and on returning saw, -with some surprise, a taxi-cab standing in the road below the cottage. - -In the tiny hall, almost blocking it up, stood a big, burly man, whom -he instantly discerned as a policeman in plain clothes, and who greeted -him with a civil “Good morning.” - -He had the impression that Miss Culpepper was fluttering nervously in -the background, by the kitchen door, with Cleopatra beside her, staring -with her big, luminous eyes at the intruder. - -“Do you wish to speak to me?” he asked. - -The man merely motioned towards the half-open parlour door, and, with a -curious sense of impending disaster upon him, Roger entered. - -Grace was standing there, her fair face as white as the big cooking -apron she had donned, and with her was a little, wiry man, a stranger. - -“This is my husband, Mr. Carling,” said Grace quietly. “Roger, this -gentleman wishes to speak to you.” - -“Just so--and alone, if you please, ma’am,” said Snell. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -ALONE - - -“Roger has been arrested for the murder of Lady Rawson.” - -The words repeated themselves over and over in Grace Carling’s brain -with maddening persistence, as she sat perfectly still and silent, her -hands grasping the arms of the chair, her lips firmly set, her eyes -gazing straight in front of her. But for those wide, tragic eyes she -might have been a stone figure. - -She could never afterwards clearly remember what happened in that brief -half-hour--possibly less--before Roger was taken away, and she was left -alone. - -She had made no scene--that at least was something for which to be -thankful; though when the detective said he wanted to speak to her -husband alone, some strong instinct had forbidden her to go, and she -had moved to Roger’s side, saying quite quietly: - -“I don’t think you can have anything to say to my husband that I may -not hear”; and, after a moment’s hesitation, Roger said: - -“My wife is quite right; I have no secrets from her. What is your -business with me?” - -And then--and then--the shock came, or rather was intensified, for when -she first saw these two men of ill-omen a strange, swift premonition -told her what their errand was. - -So when Snell--more embarrassed than he had ever before felt in the -execution of his duty, and most anxious to get the difficult business -over--bluntly pronounced his formula, and added the customary caution -as to any statement made by his prisoner being liable to be used as -evidence against him, she was scarcely conscious of surprise, only of -intense indignation. - -Roger had uttered a startled, horrified exclamation, and she -involuntarily slipped her hand through his arm, not for support--that -hand did not tremble, nor did she, but its pressure was eloquent. - -Her slender figure drawn to its full height, her grey eyes fixed -steadily on Snell, she spoke, coldly, deliberately, in a voice that -sounded in her own ears like that of a stranger: - -“How utterly preposterous. You have made a great, a terrible mistake.” - -“Excuse me, madam; I have to do my duty. I would have spared you if I -could, but you _would_ stay, you know,” Snell protested, watching her -as closely and relentlessly as she watched him, for the moment leaving -Roger Carling to Evans, who had silently entered the room and taken up -his position beside him. - -Having had a good deal of experience with women under such -circumstances, Snell fully expected a violent hysterical outburst, -but, as he afterwards confided to his wife, he had never seen such -marvellous self-possession as Mrs. Carling displayed. - -“I never felt sorrier for anyone in my life, nor ever felt a greater -respect for anyone. She was simply splendid! And it was rough on her, -poor girl--on their honeymoon and all; and of course she had nothing in -the world to do with the crime. And she loves him and believes in him -utterly. Mark my words, she’ll believe in him to the very end, whatever -that may be.” - -“Perhaps he didn’t do it,” suggested Mrs. Snell. - -“That’s to be proved at the trial,” said Snell. Not even to the wife of -his bosom would he commit himself to any expression of opinion on the -guilt or innocence of any prisoner. That was outside his duty. - -And he was right. The control Grace imposed on herself, and that helped -Roger to maintain his during the ordeal, was nothing less than heroic. - -She announced her intention of accompanying them back to London, but -accepted Snell’s decision that that was undesirable--in fact not -permissible--and arranged to settle up and follow in the course of the -day. - -“When and where shall I see you, Roger?” she asked. “This--this -dreadful mistake will be put right, of course, but I suppose it will be -a few days at least--and till then?” - -“That will be all right,” Snell interposed. “Mr. Carling’s solicitors -will arrange everything, and you will be able to see him at any -reasonable time for the present.” - -“Thank you. Who are your solicitors, Roger?” - -“The only firm _I_ know anything about are Twinnings--Sir Robert’s -solicitors, you know; but they’ve never done any business for me -personally. I’ve never needed it. I’d better communicate with them. I -suppose I shall have facility for that?” he added, glancing at Snell. -“I don’t know anything about these things, or the procedure, myself.” - -“You’ll have every facility,” Snell assured him. “But though I don’t -want to hurry you, we must be getting off now--within ten minutes, in -fact--and you’ll want to take some necessaries with you. Perhaps Mrs. -Carling will put them together? I’m sorry, madam, but I must not lose -sight of Mr. Carling. Duty’s duty!” - -“I will fetch them,” she said, and exchanged a long, silent glance with -Roger ere she left him. Still she would not--dare not--trust herself to -think of anything but the task of the moment, and swiftly collected and -packed in his bag all he would be likely to want--“only for a few days” -she told herself, to sustain her courage--and returned to the parlour -within the stipulated time. - -Even when the moment of parting came, and she clung to him in a last -embrace, she did not weep. - -“Good-bye, my darling, till to-morrow,” he said in a hoarse, broken -whisper. “It will be all right in a few days; try not to fret--to -worry. Oh, my God, how hard it is!” - -“I will be brave,” she whispered back--“brave as you are, my own, -my beloved. God guard you, and show your innocence before all the -world--soon!” - -She stood in the porch and watched him, all her soul in her eyes, -managed even to smile and waft a last kiss to him as he leaned forward -for one final glimpse. Then, as the sound of the motor died away in -the distance, she went back to the parlour and sat down, in dumb, -stricken, tearless misery. - -All the time little Miss Culpepper had fluttered about in a state of -increasing agitation, peering out of the kitchen door at intervals, -retreating swiftly when she feared she might be discovered, and keeping -Cleopatra and her kittens from intruding on the colloquy. Now she -fluttered in and out the parlour, looking wistfully and anxiously at -that still figure in the chair, but not daring to speak to her. At -last she could bear it no longer, but fell on her knees beside Grace, -putting her thin old arms round her and crying: “Oh, my dear, my dear, -don’t sit like that; you frighten me so! Say something, do something; -tell me what’s the matter; let me do something to help! Oh, you’re as -cold as ice--my poor darling!” - -Grace shivered; she was indeed icy cold, though she had not been -conscious of that or of anything else but those words that whirled -round and round in her brain, and that now at last she uttered aloud -with stiff, white lips. - -“Roger has been arrested. They say he murdered Lady Rawson.” - -Miss Culpepper uttered a shrill little scream. - -“Oh, my dear child, how wicked, how positively supposterous. Not the -murder, of course--no, no, I don’t mean that, it _was_ wicked--but -to say that dear young gentleman could have done such a thing--he to -whom Cleopatra has taken as she has never taken to any human being of -the sterner sex, not even to the Reverend Smithson, though he is such -a learned man. And I trust Cleopatra’s common sense against all the -judges and juries in the world! But, my darling girl, you must excuse -me--I can’t help it--for you _are_ a darling and so is your dear, -handsome young husband--no wonder you are so distressed! But don’t -sit like that! Weep, my love, weep; it will ease your poor heart! As -for me, if I’d only known what those meridians of the law were after -I’d--I’d let them have a piece of my mind! I’ll let them have it yet, -that I will!” - -She actually shook her small fists, in imagination threatening Snell -and his fellow-“meridian” with physical violence; and so irresistibly -comic did the staunch little creature appear that the tension in -Grace’s overwrought brain snapped, and she laughed aloud--laughter that -brought blessed tears--and for a time they just clung together and -sobbed, till gradually she regained a measure of real composure, quite -different from that frozen, unnatural calm she had forced herself to -maintain. - -She told Miss Culpepper as much of the circumstances as seemed -necessary. It was a relief to do so now, and the old lady punctuated -the recital with exclamations and comments. - -“I saw something about a murder in those newspapers you lent me on -Saturday,” she confessed; “but I really did not read it. I very seldom -do read newspapers; they are so full of _cunards_ in these days that -one really does not know what to believe. And of course I never -associated it with you two--how could I? And on your wedding day! Of -course, I _knew_ you were only just married; though I pretended I -didn’t, as you didn’t tell me in so many words. And to think of the -honeymoon ending like this!” - -“It hasn’t ended,” said Grace. “Roger will be, he must be, -released--soon; to-day, perhaps. But I must be up and doing--I must get -back to Town by the next train; and I must go to the garage and see -about having the car sent back to Dover.” - -There were, indeed, many things to see to, and eagerly the old lady -helped. Lovingly, while Grace had gone on her errand, she prepared a -dainty meal, and stood over her, coaxing and insisting till she made a -pretence at least of eating. - -“I can’t bear to think of you travelling alone,” she declared. “I wish -I could go with you, though it is many years since I went to London. -But if I can be of any help, of any comfort, my dear, be sure to let -me know and I will shut up the cottage and come to you at once. And -there’s ‘Dear Brutus’--you won’t want to take him with you, of course, -but the very moment you are ready for him I will send him up--a little -present with my love, for I couldn’t think of selling him to you. He -may be a little _consommé_, and bring you luck! Who knows?” - -She wished she could have taken the old lady with her, but that -was impossible. It was far more of a wrench to leave her and the -cottage--that tiny abode of peace and love and goodwill where she and -her beloved had had those three days of unalloyed happiness--than -it had been to leave the home of her girlhood, whither she must now -return, for to-day at least. - -A horror of great loneliness came over her as she drove to the station, -and she strove against it valiantly. She must put aside all selfish -considerations, and be brave and calm--for Roger’s sake. - -From the station she sent a wire to her mother, and one to Winnie -Winston, giving the time of her arrival at Charing Cross. - -There was no one to meet her, but she was not surprised; Winnie would -probably be out when the wire was delivered; it was very unlikely that -her mother would trouble to come to the station, and her father she -knew was lecturing at Edinburgh this week. - -The sight of the contents bills of the evening papers, all flaunting -the news of Roger’s arrest, hurt her like a physical blow; but she -could not obtain a copy of any paper; the next edition was due, and was -evidently being eagerly awaited. - -After a moment’s thought she decided to drive first to the solicitor -Roger had mentioned, whose offices were in Westminster. There a fresh -shock awaited her. - -She was shown at once into the private room of the senior partner, Mr. -Twining, who received her very kindly, with a grave attitude of pity -that was somehow disconcerting, and her heart sank as she listened to -what he had to say. - -“Yes, Mr. Carling rang us up from--er--when he arrived in Town, and we -immediately furnished him with the address of a most reliable firm, -Messrs. Spedding and Straight, who, as we have since ascertained, have -undertaken to arrange for his defence. It is, of course, absolutely -impossible for us to do so, under the circumstances, as we are acting -for Sir Robert Rawson.” - -It flashed to her mind instantly what this meant, and she spoke -impulsively. - -“Mr. Twining, surely Sir Robert does not for a moment believe my -husband is guilty of this--this awful thing?” He did not answer, and -his eyes avoided her steady, searching gaze. “No one who really knows -Roger could believe it for a moment,” she continued; “and Sir Robert -knows and loves him: they have been almost like father and son!” - -“Quite so; but this is a most painful and complicated matter. I cannot -explain more fully, but you will realize in time that we could not -come to any other decision. And I assure you, Mrs. Carling, that with -Messrs. Spedding your husband’s defence will be in the best hands.” - -“Will you give me their address? I will go to them now.” - -“With pleasure. I will write it for you.” - -He took a sheet of paper, wrote the address, and handed it to her, -saying: - -“But if you will be advised by me you will not go to them till -to-morrow. It’s getting late now, and you cannot possibly learn -anything or do anything to-night. In fact, their office will be closed. -Good-bye, and please believe that I sympathize with you most deeply, -and would gladly do anything in my power to help you,” he added, and -himself escorted her through the clerks’ office and to the waiting cab. - -He was sorry for _her_--would help _her_ if he could, but not Roger! -He, too, like Sir Robert, believed him guilty. She knew it as if he had -said so openly. - -“When you see anyone selling evening papers, stop, I want one,” she -instructed the cab-driver, and at the next corner he pulled up for the -purpose. - -It was the final edition with half the front page occupied by the -latest news of the “Rawson Murder Mystery,” which included a brief -account of Roger’s arrest, and also the full story of the secret -service papers that had been stolen and restored, very much as Roger -had narrated it to her, with no hint as to the actual contents of -the papers, merely stating that they were of great international -importance; but with the account of Lady Rawson’s visit to Rivercourt -Mansions, and some picturesque notes on Cacciola and his Russian -protégé. - -What was it Roger had said the other day when he broke the news to her? -That it was far more important that all information about those papers -should be suppressed than that the murderer of Lady Rawson should be -traced. Then who could have divulged the secret, given it to the Press? - -She could scarcely believe her eyes as she saw a subheading--“Interview -with Sir Robert Rawson”--over a few brief paragraphs revealing the -astounding fact that Sir Robert himself had authorized and endorsed the -publication! - -She was still brooding painfully over this revelation when she reached -her destination--the big, comfortable suburban house she had left as a -bride such a few days before, that now seemed like a lifetime. - -The trim maid who opened the door uttered a little compassionate -exclamation. - -“Oh, miss--I mean, ma’am--isn’t it dreadful? And how ill you look! -Madam’s in the drawing-room. Shall I pay the cab?” - -“No. Ask him to wait,” said Grace, though why she said so she did not -know. - -She went swiftly through the hall, entered the drawing-room, and closed -the door behind her. - -Her mother was seated by the fire--a remarkably pretty woman, with fair -hair and turquoise-blue eyes, who looked younger than her daughter -to-day, for Grace, white checked and hollow eyed, had aged visibly -during these terrible hours. - -“Mother!” she said piteously. - -Mrs. Armitage rose, throwing down the newspaper she had been absorbed -in--an earlier edition of the one Grace still clutched--and came -towards her daughter. - -Her pretty, pink-and-white face wore a most peevish, disagreeable -expression, and there was no trace of sympathy in her hard, blue eyes. - -“So you’ve got here, Grace. I had your wire, but I simply couldn’t come -to meet you. I was too terribly upset, and your father’s away. What an -awful disgrace for us all. Roger must have been mad--raving mad!” - -Grace threw up her hand, as if to ward off a blow. - -“Mother!” she cried, “what do you mean? You don’t--you can’t think that -my Roger is a----” - -She could not bring herself to utter the word. But Mrs. Armitage could. - -“A murderer! Of course he is. There’s not a shadow of doubt about it. -He knew poor Lady Rawson had those wretched papers, and followed and -stabbed her as he couldn’t get them any other way; and then had the -nerve to come on and be married to you--to _my_ daughter! No wonder he -was so late, and looked so disreputable. I never liked him, I never -trusted him--you know I didn’t; but I never dreamed that he was capable -of such a horrible thing. As I say, he must have been mad, but that -doesn’t make it any better for us; and what on earth we are to do I -don’t know! If only----” - -“Stop!” cried Grace, so imperatively that Mrs. Armitage recoiled. “If -you or anyone else say my husband committed this murder you lie!” - -The elder woman’s blue eyes flashed, her voice rang out shrilly. - -“How dare you speak to me like that! I say he did do it; and he’ll hang -for it--and serve him right for disgracing you and your family. Where -are you going?” - -“Out of this house,” said Grace, and stumbled into the hall, where the -maid lingered by the open outer door, stumbled blindly forward and -almost fell into the arms of Winnie Winston, who arrived, breathless, -on the doorstep. - -“Grace! Oh, my darling girl! I got the wire too late to meet you, so -rushed on here!” - -Grace clutched her, searched her face with anguished eyes. - -“Winnie, tell me the truth. You don’t believe my Roger did--it?” - -“Believe it? I should think not, indeed! Who could believe it who knows -him?” said Winnie staunchly. - -“God bless you for that, Winnie,” cried Grace brokenly. “Oh, my dear, -take me out of this--anywhere, anywhere!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -AUSTIN’S THEORY - - -“If I hadn’t turned up just at that very moment, I believe Grace would -have died on the doorstep. I hope there’s not another woman in the -world would have behaved so abominably as Mrs. Armitage; but it is just -like her. I never could imagine how she came to have such a daughter -as Grace! But of course she takes after her father--the professor’s a -dear. But what a life the pair of them have had with that horrid little -creature!” - -Winnie Winston spoke in an emphatic undertone, for the walls of the -Chelsea flat were thin, and in the adjoining room Grace was in bed, -worn out and fast asleep. - -Winnie had insisted on administering hot soup and a full dose of -aspirin, and sat beside the exhausted girl, holding her hand, stroking -her aching forehead, cherishing her with all womanly endearments, till, -between them, she and Mother Nature, and the beneficent drug brought -blessed sleep and oblivion to the tortured brain and heart. - -Then Winnie stole away, and presently, as he so often did, Austin Starr -turned up, to whom she poured out her indignation at Mrs. Armitage’s -callous conduct. - -“I always guessed she could be a holy terror if she chose. Though she -has always been mighty civil to me,” said Austin. - -“Of course. She always is to men, and most of them think she’s an -angel. Why, she made a dead set at Roger when they first knew him, and -was furious when she found he wasn’t taking any, and that it was Grace -he was in love with. She’s been sniffy with them both ever since--mean -little cat! What _do_ you suppose she said to Grace at the very last -moment before she went to the church the other day?” - -“Something sweet and maternal,” suggested Austin sarcastically. - -“I don’t think! She came into Grace’s room, preening herself like a -canary--the first time she’d been near her to my knowledge, and I got -there pretty early to help Grace dress. Mrs. Armitage just looked her -up and down and said, ‘Really, Grace, you look like a corpse; white -never did suit you. Hadn’t you better make up a bit?’ I could have -shaken her! And when there was that dreadful delay at the church she -never even came through to the vestry with us, but was only fussing -and fuming because the Rawsons hadn’t come. While now, if you please, -she’s made up her nasty little mind that Roger is guilty and is going -to be hanged, and had the fiendish cruelty to blurt it out to Grace the -moment she arrived. It was enough to kill her!” - -“Sure,” conceded Austin gravely. “I’m not making any excuse for Mrs. -Armitage--her conduct was just abominable--but we’ve got to face facts, -Miss Winnie; and the great fact is that I’m afraid a good few people -are of the same opinion.” - -Winnie sprang up, a passionate figure, and pointed an accusing -forefinger at him. - -“Austin Starr, you don’t dare to sit there and tell me that you believe -your friend Roger Carling is a murderer!” - -His clever, good-tempered face--a face that inspired confidence in -most people--betrayed embarrassment, distress, perplexity; his silence -infuriated Winnie. - -“Answer me!” she ejaculated in an imperative whisper, emphasized by a -stamp of her foot. - -“No, I do not,” he said slowly. “I never will. But the case is very -black against him, and there’s a lot of excuse for the people who do -think it.” - -She gave a little sigh of relief. - -“I’m glad _you_ don’t, anyhow; for if you did I’d never willingly speak -to you again.” - -Austin rose, and stood beside her, looking down earnestly at her -charming, animated face. - -“I’d give my right hand, I’d give ten years of my life at its -best--Winnie, I’d give everything dearest to me in the world except -the hope of winning you--to be able to clear Roger Carling from this -charge,” he said slowly. - -For weeks, for months she had known in her heart that Austin Starr -loved her, had known too that she loved him, but never before had he -spoken like this, never had there been any sentimental passages between -them, only a beautiful frank friendship, that after all is the very -best foundation on which a man and a woman can build the love that -lasts! - -And now--though how it came about neither of them could have said--her -hands were in his, he drew her, unresisting to his arms, and their -lips met for the first time. - -A wonderful moment for them both, when, without another word, he knew -his hope was fulfilled--that he had already won her. It was excusable -that, for a few moments, they almost forgot those other hapless -lovers, their nearest friends, now so tragically parted. Yet they soon -remembered and resumed counsel, with just one little difference that -meant a lot to them--that whereas before they had sat facing each -other, one each side the fire-place, they were now side by side. - -“Can’t _you_ do anything to bring light on it all, Austin?” she asked. - -He passed his hand perplexedly over his sleek hair. - -“I mean to do everything I can, dear, but----” - -“Haven’t you any theory?” - -“I’ve had quite a lot, and tried to follow them up, but they won’t -wash--not one. I felt mighty uneasy when I found Lady Rawson had been -to your old _maestro’s_ flat and that Roger had followed her there.” - -“Did he! When did you find that out?” - -“The same night, just after Snell, the detective, came here, and asked -so many questions. I went straight to the flat.” - -“You never told me!” - -“I never told anyone; but I soon found that Snell knew all about it -too, and as he kept silence so did I. Though what I couldn’t make out -was _why_ Roger went on her track like that, when he had so little time -to spare. It was an utter mystery till I got the clue when the news -came through about those secret papers, and I went straight to Sir -Robert and saw him. It was he who sent it; Snell must have known it all -the time and suppressed it--never gave even me a hint.” - -“Then you wrote the ‘interview’? I thought so. Did Sir Robert say -anything else? What does he think?” - -“That’s the worst of it. He is absolutely convinced that his wife was -murdered by Roger, and is implacable against him. That’s not to be -wondered at, with the poor thing still lying dead in that great, silent -house. The funeral is to-morrow, and as I can’t go to both, I shall go -there instead of to the court to hear the case opened against Roger.” - -“Oh, Austin, why? It would be a comfort to him and to Grace too, to -have you there!” - -“Yes, but I’ve a queer sort of feeling that at the funeral I may get -some clue that would be of value. I can’t explain it, but there it is. -And anyhow the case will surely be adjourned to-morrow. They can’t do -anything else. It was terrible to see Sir Robert to-day. He is making -a wonderful recovery physically, and was sitting up in a wheel-chair, -though he’s paralysed in the lower limbs, and I doubt if he’ll ever -walk again. But his brain is clear enough, and his animus against Roger -is simply awful. The queer thing is that he acknowledges that those -papers were of such supreme importance that--well honestly, I gathered -the impression that if anyone but his own wife had been murdered in -order to recover them he’d have considered the crime justifiable and -tried to hush it up. The things we’re most up against are that Roger -undoubtedly was there on the scene, and that he was the one person -concerned who knew the contents of the papers and was most interested -in getting them back to Sir Robert. You and I, and poor Mrs. Carling -herself, are certain he did not commit the murder--just because we know -him. But the question is--Who did?” - -“It’s curious that the _maestro_ should be mixed up in it,” mused -Winnie. - -“Have you seen him since?” - -“No, there was no reason why I should.” - -“I have, and Boris Melikoff too--this afternoon. I remembered -him--Melikoff--when I saw him again. I met him here some months back, -in the summer.” - -She nodded. - -“That Sunday night, when he sang so divinely. It’s the only time I’ve -seen him. A handsome boy, but there’s something queer and unbalanced -about him, though I believe the _maestro_ cares for him more than for -anyone else alive. Grace was here that night, too--not Roger; it was -when he was abroad with the Rawsons. Why, Austin, could it have been -him, Melikoff--in jealousy? I could imagine him doing anything!” - -Starr shook his head. - -“No. He’s ruled out personally. He was down at Birmingham. But I’m -going to cultivate him assiduously, and, if possible, his compatriots -who forgather with him at Cacciola’s and elsewhere. I believe that’s -the direction in which the truth will be found. Snell doesn’t. _He_ -is sure he’s got a clear, straightforward case, and that his duty’s -finished!” - -Winnie frowned thoughtfully. - -“You think Lady Rawson and Boris were members of a secret society?” - -“Sure!” - -“And that one of them watched, and followed, and killed her?” - -“Possibly.” - -“Then why didn’t he keep the papers?” - -“That’s the snag. But suppose he or she--it might have been a -woman--didn’t want the papers, that it was a personal vendetta? That’s -the line I mean to follow now.” - -“It sounds quite likely,” she agreed. “How clever of you, Austin. But -how are you going to set about it?” - -“Can’t say yet, dear. I must feel my way somehow.” - -“Perhaps something fresh and helpful will come out in court to-morrow,” -said Winnie hopefully. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE GIRL AT THE GRAVE - - -The beautiful little Russian church was filled to the very doors for -the solemn and stately ceremonial of Paula Rawson’s funeral service. -Many representatives of royalty were there, Lord Warrington and several -of his staff, cabinet ministers, ambassadors, peers--everyone who -was “anyone” in the innermost circle of London society seemed to be -present, except Sir Robert Rawson himself. - -And yet to Austin Starr’s acutely sympathetic and impressionable -mind it seemed that there were no mourners there; that all these -distinguished people had assembled as a mere conventional duty, an -expression of conventional respect and sympathy for the bereaved -husband; that they cared nothing for the dead woman lying there in her -coffin, under the magnificent purple pall. She was even lonelier in -death than she had been in life. - -The impression was confirmed when at last the service was over, and the -congregation emerged into the gloom and mud of the streets, for it was -a damp, dark, dreary morning. - -Crowds of sightseers thronged the pavements outside, waiting and -watching, palpably animated by their curiosity to witness one of the -acts in this sensational drama of real life that had already proved so -thrilling, and that had yet to be played out. - -There were more crowds outside the cemetery gates, through which only -members of the funeral party were admitted; and open expressions of -surprise and disappointment were exchanged at the smallness of the -cortège: only a couple of motor-cars and some half-dozen taxicabs -followed the flower-laden hearse. - -“She doesn’t seem to have had any personal friends,” remarked Bowden, -one of the reporters who had shared Austin’s taxi. “I should have -thought some of the big pots--or of Sir Robert’s relatives--would have -had the decency to come on. There’s Twining, the lawyer--who’s the old -man beside him?” - -“Sir Robert’s valet--sort of confidential attendant. His name’s -Thomson,” said Austin. - -Thomson, decorous and unperturbed as usual, appeared in fact to be -acting as a sort of major-domo, and was giving low-voiced instructions -to the undertaker’s men as they deftly removed the masses of flowers -that covered the coffin. One of them handed him a large heart fashioned -of purple blossoms, which he carried carefully in both hands, as he -moved to a position close to the open grave, and to the priests in -their imposing vestments. - -“Who are the others?” whispered Starr’s companion. “Servants too? They -look like foreigners. Didn’t see ’em at the church.” - -He indicated two groups that had assembled each side the grave, from -which the reporters stood a little apart. - -“Don’t know,” Austin returned curtly, with a gesture imposing silence. - -That was not entirely true; for with the group on the right, some eight -or nine poorly clad men and women, with white, earnest, grief-stricken -faces, was Boris Melikoff, holding in his right hand a single branch of -beautiful crimson lilies. - -“Russian refugees, and they are the real mourners,” Austin said to -himself, and scanned each face in turn searchingly. Did any one of them -know the grim secret he was determined to discover? Could any one of -them, man or woman, be the actual murderer? It seemed unlikely--even -impossible--as he noted their sorrow, restrained, indeed, with touching -dignity, and therefore apparently the more deep and sincere. - -He turned his gaze on the other group--three persons only, a man and -two women. The man was Cacciola, a stately, impressive figure, his fine -head bared, his long, grey locks stirred by the chill, damp breeze. His -dark eyes were fixed anxiously on his beloved Boris, but he showed no -other sign of emotion. - -The short woman who clung weeping to his arm, her face concealed by an -enormous black-bordered handkerchief, was undoubtedly his housekeeper, -old Giulia. - -And the third? Austin caught his breath quickly as he looked at her, -just managing to check the involuntary exclamation that rose to his -lips. - -She was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, quite -young, probably not more than seventeen, Italian certainly; no other -country could produce that vivid, passionate type, that exquisite -contour of cheek and throat, that delicate olive skin, birthright of -daughters of the sun, those wonderful, tawny eyes shadowed by the long, -black lashes. - -She was dressed in deep mourning, with a voluminous black veil flung -back from her face and falling nearly to the hem of her skirt, but that -sombre garb was the only sign of grief about her; it seemed to enhance -rather than dim her radiant youth. - -There was something triumphant, almost insolent, about her, on such a -scene. She stood erect, her graceful head thrown back a little, her -full, curved lips slightly parted, her eyes, like those of Cacciola, -fixed on Boris Melikoff with an ardent, passionate, self-revealing -gaze. She seemed utterly oblivious of every one and everything else, -and as he watched her Austin Starr was momentarily oblivious of every -one but her. - -He was only vaguely aware that the priest’s sonorous voice ceased; -but a moment later he was startled by a swift change in the girl’s -face. It darkened, as a summer sky sometimes darkens at the advent of -a thunder-cloud; her black eyebrows contracted, so did her red lips, -the love-light vanished from her eyes; he could have sworn that they -flashed red. For a moment the face was transformed to that of a fiend -incarnate, obsessed by anger, hatred, jealousy. - -Instinctively he looked around to see what had caused this -extraordinary emotion, and saw that something had happened by the -grave. The Russian group had closed up around Melikoff, towards whom -the priests and Mr. Twining had turned as if in shocked remonstrance, -while the men who were in the very act of lowering the coffin had -paused, and the great purple heart of flowers lay, face downwards, -right on the margin of the moss-lined grave. - -“What’s up?” he asked the man next him--he whom he had silenced a few -minutes before. - -“Didn’t you see? The old man laid the heart on the coffin just at the -last moment, and that tall, dark, foreign chap stepped forward, chucked -it aside, and put those red lilies he had on it. The others pulled him -back, and--look--he’s crying or fainting or something. Queer, eh?” - -Even as he spoke Thomson, who alone seemed to have retained his -composure, lifted the heart and replaced it, but below the lilies, and -signed to the men to proceed with their task. - -The whole thing passed in a few seconds, the priest proceeded with the -last sentences, and pronounced the benediction, and Starr, his brain -awhirl with wild conjectures, looked once more at the girl. - -She was standing with bowed head and downcast eyes, in an attitude of -reverence, her hands clasped on her breast, and he wondered if his -eyes had deceived him just now. Then he noticed that one of her black -gloves was split right across--plain to see even at that distance, -for her white hand gleamed through the rent--and knew he had not been -mistaken. She had clenched her hands in that spasm of fury. The glove -was evidence! - -She loved Boris Melikoff; she hated that dead woman with a hatred that -even the grave could not mitigate. - -Was this the clue he sought? Who was she? What was her connection with -Cacciola--with Melikoff? He must learn that without delay. - -Cacciola was already hastening towards Boris and his friends, while -the girl remained with Giulia, and Austin would have followed, but was -intercepted by Mr. Twining, the lawyer, who had held a brief colloquy -with Thomson, and now hurried up to the little group of journalists. - -“Mr. Starr? I believe you and these gentlemen are representatives of -the Press? I represent Sir Robert Rawson on this solemn occasion, and, -speaking in his name, I beg of you not to give any publicity to the -painful little incident you have just witnessed--I mean the incident -with the flowers. It cannot be of any public interest whatever, and its -publication would add to the distress of Sir Robert and--er--possibly -of others. Can I rely upon you not to mention it?” - -The undertaking was given, of course, and the journalists hurried off, -with the exception of Austin, detained this time by Thomson. - -“I beg your pardon, sir, but I should like a few minutes’ conversation, -and as I know you are pressed for time, would you accept the use of -the car, one of Sir Robert’s that I am to return in, and permit me to -accompany you? We can drive straight to your destination.” - -Austin accepted with alacrity, and they entered a closed car, which -had come laden with flowers, whose heavy, sickly fragrance still clung -about it. - -“I am sure you will excuse the liberty, sir,” said Thomson, in his -precise, respectful way. “I would have liked to have a word with you -yesterday when you called on Sir Robert, but it was impossible.” - -Austin nodded, wondering what was coming. Somewhat to his surprise, -Thomson had been present at the interview yesterday, at Sir Robert’s -own request, standing silently behind his master’s chair. - -“It’s about Mr. Carling, sir. I can’t think why the police should have -arrested him of all people in the world--such a nice young gentleman as -he is. He had no more to do with my lady’s death than you had!” - -“Of course he hadn’t. But, see here, Thomson, do you know anything of -his movements that morning?” - -“Nothing at all, sir, beyond what every one else knows, or will know -soon. But how anybody acquainted with him can believe it for a minute -beats me--my master most of all. I have presumed to speak to him about -it--I’ve been with Sir Robert many years, sir--but he wouldn’t hear a -word, even from me. He says Mr. Carling followed and murdered my lady -so as to get those papers back; he told the police so!” - -“I don’t believe the papers had anything to do with it.” - -Thomson, who was sitting forward on the edge of the seat, his -black-gloved hands resting on his knees, turned his head slowly and -looked at Austin sideways, for the first time during the colloquy. - -“Nor I, sir. I hold that it was a thief, who got rid of the papers as -soon as possible.” - -“It might have been a vendetta!” - -“I beg your pardon, sir, a what?” - -“Someone who had a grudge against Lady Rawson and watched for the -chance of killing her?” - -“That hadn’t struck me, sir,” said Thomson after a reflective pause. - -“It struck me. Do you know anything about Mr. Melikoff and his -associates?” - -“The young gentleman who was so upset just now? Only that he was -related to my lady and they used to meet, as Sir Robert was aware,” -Thomson replied, and Austin had the impression that he was lying, -though why he could not imagine. “I fear there’s no light in that -direction, sir. And Mr. Melikoff was not even in London at the time.” - -“I wasn’t thinking of him, but whether there might be someone, who knew -them both,” said Austin, with that girl’s beautiful, passionate face -still vividly in remembrance. But he could not question the old man -about her. Some instinct, which at the moment he did not attempt to -analyse, forbade him. - -“What did you want to tell me?” he asked bluntly, as the swift car was -nearing Fleet Street and Thomson had relapsed into silence. - -“I beg your pardon, sir. I was forgetting. I took the liberty, knowing -that you are a friend of Mr. Carling’s, merely to ask if you could -possibly convey my respects to him, and to the poor young lady his -wife, and my best wishes that they will soon be restored to each other.” - -“I’ll do it with pleasure. Thank you, Thomson. Good day.” - -“Queer old coon,” he thought, as he dashed up to his room. “So that was -all he wanted. Very decent of him though.” - -Then he concentrated on his work. He was just through when Winnie rang -him up, to say that Grace and her father had returned to the flat and -were anxious to see him that evening, if possible. - -“I’ll come round about nine, dear--perhaps earlier; but I’ve to see -someone first.” - -After a minute’s cogitation he rang up Cacciola. A woman’s voice -answered--a delightful voice, rich and soft--in fluent English, with -a mere intonation (it was slighter than an accent) that betrayed the -speaker’s nationality. - -“Signor Cacciola is away from home. Will you give a message?” - -A dull flush rose to Austin’s face, a queer thrill passed through him. - -“Oh, I’m sorry! Who is speaking? Is it Signora Giulia?” - -“No. She also is not present. I am Maddelena Cacciola. What is the -message?” - -“I’d rather tell it to the _maestro_ himself. When will he be home?” - -“Not till--oh, very late.” - -“Then is Mr. Melikoff home?” - -“No. He also is out with my uncle.” - -“I see. I’m sorry to have troubled you, signorina. I’ll ring up again -to-morrow.” - -“Will you not tell me your name?” - -“Austin Starr. But he may not remember it.” - -“I will tell him, Mr. Starr. Good-bye.” - -He replaced the receiver, and again sat in thought, drumming softly -with his fingers on the table. - -So she was Cacciola’s niece, and was living, or at least staying, with -him, under the same roof as Boris Melikoff. - -What a voice! Worthy of her face, her eyes. And a beautiful name too; -he found himself repeating it in a whisper: “Maddelena!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -AUSTIN’S SILENCE - - -“I can’t understand it, Winnie. It seems almost as if every one--like -mother--had already made up their minds that--that Roger----” - -Grace broke off. She could not bring herself to utter the words “that -Roger is guilty.” But Winnie understood. - -“Nonsense, dear. There are you and I and George and your father and -Austin on his side to begin with, and Mr. Spedding of course----” - -“I don’t know about Mr. Spedding,” said Grace slowly, her hands clasped -round her knees, her troubled eyes fixed on the fire. “I was with -him all the afternoon, you know--there is so much to discuss and to -arrange--and I thought his manner very reserved, very strange, and--and -uneasy.” - -“That’s only because he’s a lawyer. They’re always mysterious. What did -he say?” - -“Well, when I told him the simple truth as Roger told it me--as to why -he followed Lady Rawson, and how it was he was so late at the church, -he said, in quite an offhand way, that he knew all about that, and -Roger would of course embody it in his statement at the proper time; -but that his--Roger’s--unsupported account of his own movements was -no use as evidence! You can’t think what a shock it gave me, Winnie; -it was the way he said it. And then he explained that ‘fortunately the -onus of proof rests with the prosecution, and not with the defence: it -is for them to prove him guilty, not for us to prove him innocent.’ -‘_Fortunately_,’ mind you; and in tone that implied that it would be -quite impossible to prove my darling’s innocence! Now what do you think -of that?” - -“That it was his silly, pompous old legal way of talking and nothing to -be upset about,” said Winnie, with a fine assumption of confidence. - -“Perhaps--but it hurt! He hopes to secure Cummings-Browne for the -defence.” - -“Of course. Austin says there’s no one to touch him.” - -“For the defence,” Grace repeated drearily. “Oh, Winnie! I suppose it -was foolish, but I felt quite sure when I went out this morning that -it was only a matter of a few hours and Roger would be free; and now, -nothing done; just adjourned till after the inquest; and then--and -then---- Mr. Spedding takes it for granted that he will be committed -for trial--kept in prison for weeks, months, till after Christmas, for -the trial cannot come on till January. My Roger!” - -She hid her face in her hands and for the moment Winnie was dumb, -unable to find words of comfort. - -All that long day Grace had borne herself bravely. Betimes in the -morning she had gone to Spedding’s office, and thence, with the -lawyer, to the police court, where, in a private room, she had a brief -half-hour with Roger--only five minutes or so alone with him, for they -had to consult with Mr. Spedding; but those five minutes were precious -indeed. - -Roger was pale, but cheery and confident; and she managed to appear the -same for his sake. - -“I’m staying with Winnie for the present, dearest,” she told him. -“Mother was--well, a little difficult yesterday, so I thought it best. -But I’m going to take possession of the flat--our flat--as soon as -possible, and get it ready for you to come home to, or we’ll get it -ready together if you come to-day--to-morrow.” - -“Not so soon I fear, darling. The law moves cumbrously. But you can’t -go to the flat alone. Why not stay with Winnie?” - -“I’d rather be in--our own home,” she whispered, “getting it straight -for us both, beloved. I shall be happier, and you will seem nearer. -Winnie will come in and out, of course; and you’ll come soon--very -soon--and all will be well again, and all this will have passed like a -bad dream!” - -She smiled at him and he at her, and none but themselves knew how hard -it was to summon those brave smiles to their lips when their hearts -were almost breaking. - -Then her father arrived, the gentle, careworn, grey-haired professor, -who had travelled all night to be with her; and she smiled at him, -too, and sat with her hand in his, and Winnie Winston on the other -side, through the ordeal of the police court; sat with her eyes fixed -on Roger most of the time, utterly unconscious of the scrutiny and -whispered comments of the fashionably dressed women who had literally -fought their way into the court in ghoulish anticipation of sensation. - -The ordeal to-day was not prolonged, for, to the manifest -disappointment of the assemblage of female ghouls, only a brief -statement of the charge and formal evidence of arrest were given, and -an adjournment asked for and granted. - -The remainder of that dark, wet day was passed in a series of -conferences with her father, and with the lawyers, all more or less -painful, all important; but throughout she managed to maintain an -appearance of cheerfulness and confidence, telling herself the while -that she must be brave and strong and clear-headed, “for Roger’s sake.” - -But now, alone with Winnie in the cosy drawing-room at Chelsea, came -reaction. She felt and looked utterly exhausted, unutterably anxious -and sorrow-stricken. - -Her father had gone home, but was to return after dinner to discuss -a vital matter--how, among them, they were to raise money for the -defence. Mr. Spedding had named five thousand pounds as the least -amount necessary. It must be raised, but how none of them knew at -present. Roger’s salary had been a generous one, but he had no private -means, no near or wealthy relatives, and only a very few hundred -pounds at call--which had seemed an ample reserve wherewith to start -housekeeping, as they had already furnished the charming little flat in -Buckingham Gate which was to be their first home. - -Grace herself had a tiny income, only just over a hundred a year, a -legacy from an aunt, but it was strictly tied up under a trustee, and -she could not touch the principal. - -Therefore this question of money was a new and terrible difficulty that -must be surmounted somehow. - -In any other conceivable emergency they would have had Sir Robert -Rawson to back them, with his enormous wealth and influence; but now he -was their enemy, able to bring all his resources against them. - -“I can’t understand it all,” Grace resumed presently. “It seems as -if we had become entangled, in a moment, in a great web of evil. But -_why_? What have we done or left undone to deserve it? Roger _did_ -distrust that poor thing--disliked her in a way, simply because of the -distrust. But he would never have harmed her, or any living creature. -And yet they fix on him of all people, just because he happened to be -near at hand, and to be concerned with those papers!” - -“That’s only because, as Austin says, they’re just a lot of guys who -can’t see as far as their own silly noses. And he’s on the trail -anyhow, so cheer up, darling. Everything’s going to come right soon -perhaps. You trust Austin!” - -Grace sighed and glanced restlessly at the clock. - -“I wish he’d come.” - -“Here he is--that’s his ring,” said Winnie, and hurried out to answer -the front door bell. - -Austin it was, and she questioned him in an eager undertone as he took -off his coat in the little hall. - -“Any news?” - -“Not yet. I’ve been on duty all day, dear. Only just free. I rang up -Cacciola, but he wasn’t in, or I’d have gone around to his place -instead of coming here. How’s Grace?” - -“Terribly down, though she’s been so plucky all day. Come along. She’s -dying to see you!” - -He was shocked at the change these few days had wrought in Grace. As -he had been prevented from attending the wedding he had not seen her -for nearly a fortnight. Her radiant girlhood had vanished; she looked -ten years older, a woman scathed by sorrow; and yet it struck him that -in some subtle way she had become more beautiful, or rather that her -beauty was spiritualized. - -In the brief interval before he entered she had pulled herself -together--only with Winnie, her closest girl-friend, would she betray -any sign of weakness--and greeted him with a smile that belied the -tragic intensity of her grey eyes. - -They had exchanged but a few sentences when there were other -arrivals--her father, and Mr. Iverson the vicar, who somehow brought -with him a breezy breath of comfort. Grace gave him both her hands. - -“Oh, _padre_, how good to see you.” - -“You’d have seen me before if I’d known where to find you; but Mrs. -Armitage was out when I called this afternoon, and I was just going -round again when I met your father, and here we are. We’ve been talking -hard all the way from the bus, and I know all about everything so far. -Roger’s keeping his heart up and so are you? Good!” - -“Trying to, _padre_.” - -“You’re going to, both of you, all the time, however long or short it -is. It’s a black streak, child, but the help and guidance will come -day by day till you’re through it and out into the sunshine again.” - -“I’ve been telling the vicar about this money trouble, darling,” -interposed Mr. Armitage, “and----” - -“Just so; and we shall soon get over that. The house will go into -committee on ways and means, so come along. What’s the state of the -exchequer?” - -“Roger has just over six hundred in the bank.” - -“Splendid, and your father can find another six fifty.” - -“Two hundred and fifty of that’s from himself, Grace,” said her father. -“He insists.” - -“Now, look here, Armitage, that’s sheer breach of confidence, and -you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Let’s be thankful I have it to -spare--which wouldn’t have been the case a year or two ago.” - -Then Austin after a rapid mental calculation, chimed in: - -“Bully for you, _padre_! Put me down for the same to start, and I’ll be -able to raise as much again, or more in a week or two. I’d give every -dollar, every red cent I have to help clear old Roger.” - -He exchanged a swift glance with Winnie, who nodded delighted approval. -She knew perfectly well that his impulsive offer meant that their own -wedding might have to be delayed perhaps for years, but that weighed as -nothing with Roger’s life and liberty in the opposite scale. - -“George and I too,” she said. “I’ve told Grace so already. I don’t know -how much yet, Mr. Iverson, but I’ve lots of engagements for Christmas -and after--good ones, too--so I shall be quite rich.” - -The vicar beamed round at them all and rubbed the shining little bald -circle on his crown in a way he had when he was pleased. That bald -patch, set round with curly, iron-grey hair, was one of his innocent -little vanities. It was perfectly natural, but it did look so like a -real tonsure! - -“Now isn’t that capital! Nearly two thousand pounds in less than five -minutes. Lots to go on with; and we shall get the rest long before -it’s wanted. ‘Hope for the best and prepare to meet the worst,’ is an -excellent maxim.” - -His incorrigible optimism was infectious; it cheered them all as no -amount of conventional and lugubrious sympathy could have done; and -his acceptance of Roger’s innocence as a fact that need not even be -discussed, and would assuredly be established, was an unspeakable -comfort to Grace, whose loyal and sensitive soul had been so cruelly -tortured by the doubt of others, and by her own mother’s attitude above -all. - -He declared his conviction that the first theory advanced and then -abandoned was the right one: that the deed had been committed by some -casual miscreant, who would yet be discovered. - -Austin said nothing of his own newer theory, to the secret surprise of -both Winnie and Grace, who, however, followed his example, supposing he -thought it best to keep silence for the present, even among themselves. - -“How curious that Mr. Cacciola should be mixed up with it all, in a -way,” remarked the vicar. - -“Do you know him, sir?” asked Austin quickly. - -“Only slightly, but I like him immensely. He’s a Catholic, of -course--and a good one, I should say. I often encounter him on Sunday -mornings, on his way from Mass; and we walk along and yarn in all amity -so far as our road lies together. That’s as things should be, to my -mind! And he’s really most generous--often comes to play and brings his -pupils to our little parish concerts, as _you_ know, Miss Winston.” - -Winnie nodded. - -“Yes, the _maestro_ is the kindest old thing imaginable, and so -simple--not a bit of side.” - -“He’s a genius,” said the vicar. “And I think true genius always is -simple. I met him this afternoon, of all places in the world in the -post office itself.” - -“_The_ post office?” cried Grace. “Not where--not Mrs. Cave’s?” - -“Yes. It was when I was on my way from your house, Armitage. I looked -in for a chat with Mrs. Cave, and little Jessie, who really haven’t got -over the shock yet. It will be a long time before they do, and they -talk of giving up the shop as soon as they can find another. No wonder.” - -“The telephone booth is partitioned off now, by order of the police,” -said Austin. - -“Yes, very necessary, of course; but awkward for the Caves, for it -means that they have to go out at the shop door and in at the side one -before they can get to their own rooms. I was just consoling the good -lady--with the suggestion that now she would have more walks abroad and -fresh air than she’s had for years; no use condoling, you know, that -would only make things seem worse than they are--when in comes Mr. -Cacciola and his niece, one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen in my -life.” - -“His niece! I didn’t know he had one--not in England!” exclaimed Winnie. - -“Nor I till now. But I think she must have been educated here, she -speaks English so well; though possibly she has not been with him -all the time. I should certainly have remembered her if I’d seen her -before--such a remarkably beautiful girl. She’s to make her début -soon--as a violinist. And what do you suppose was their errand to-day? -That young girl actually wanted to see the place where poor Lady Rawson -was murdered, and worried her uncle till he brought her across and -asked Mrs. Cave to show it them!” - -“Morbid curiosity isn’t confined to young people,” Mr. Armitage -remarked. - -“Quite so, but it’s unhealthy in anyone, and very distressing in a -girl like that. As a matter of fact, I went round with them myself. -I offered to as Mrs. Cave was alone in the shop--Jessie was out; and -I was glad of the opportunity, not from ‘morbid curiosity,’ I assure -you, but simply so that I could see the place for myself. It seems so -incredible that anyone could be murdered like that in a shop actually -full of people, and the murderer get clean away, unless you’ve seen the -place. It might have been made on purpose--a regular death-trap--for -the booth is really in a narrow passage that at some time has been -thrown into the shop, and the door of it opens outwards, towards the -shop. Just beyond is the scullery-place, and _I_ think it probable the -murderer was lurking there when Jessie Jackson came down to help her -aunt. And close at hand, on the right, is the street door, through -which he simply walked out.” - -“The police think he went out through the garden door,” said Austin. - -“Just like ’em. But they’re wrong. Why? Because Sadler’s cab was -standing outside the _street_ door, where it was the work of an instant -to throw the bag through the window. If the criminal had gone down the -garden and out at that door he’d have had to come all the way back to -pass the cab. And he’d never have done that; he’d have bolted _down_ -the street.” - -“I guess you’re right, vicar. And then he tried to steal the cab. Some -nerve!” - -“Wrong again. That was a bit of boyish mischief.” - -“What in thunder makes you say that?” - -“Because I happen to know. It will all come out at the next -hearing--inquest or police court, or both. However that’s only a -detail.” - -“What did the girl--the _maestro’s_ niece--say?” asked Winnie. - -“Ah! Of course, I was speaking of them. She _said_ very little, but, -do you know, her manner rather shocked me. It takes a lot to do that! -She seemed positively to gloat over that horrible, tragic, dark corner. -Cacciola was quite distressed, and remonstrated with her--at least I’m -sure he did, though he spoke in Italian, which I don’t understand, -and she answered him very briefly, in a passionate whisper, and then -simply walked off, and Cacciola made a sort of incoherent apology -and hurried after her. I couldn’t help thinking there was something -mentally wrong--a most grievous thing, especially in one so young and -beautiful and talented.” - -Austin Starr sat listening intently, but neither then nor later, when -the elder men had gone, did he say that he knew aught of Maddelena -Cacciola, though why he kept silence he really did not know. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MADDELENA - - -“Giulia, thou art a foolish old cow! I tell thee no harm will come to -thee. It is but to make oath and tell the truth; that the young signor -came here inquiring for Donna Paula, and went away, and that Withers -brought thee later the little silver case, and thou gave it to the -police. What is there in all that?” - -In the beautifully appointed kitchen where usually Giulia reigned -supreme Maddelena, attired in a morning wrapper of brilliant hues, -was dividing her attention between preparing the breakfast coffee and -alternately coaxing and scolding Giulia, who sat huddled in a chair, -weeping and muttering prayers and protestations to every saint in the -calendar. - -She was to give evidence in the police court again that day--as she had -already done at the inquest which had terminated in a verdict of wilful -murder against Roger Carling--and nothing would induce the poor old -woman to believe that the object of these interrogations was any other -than to prove her guilty of stealing that silver cigarette case! That, -she was convinced, was what “they of the police” were after, and the -murder of “Donna Paula” was quite a secondary consideration. - -Maddelena shrugged her pretty shoulders and went on with her task, -setting a dainty breakfast-tray with a little silver service. For all -her sharp words to Giulia, there was a smile on her lips, and her fine, -capable white hands touched the inanimate things caressingly; for she -was preparing that tray for Boris, who had not been out the other -evening--as she told Austin Starr on the telephone--but ill in bed. He -had collapsed after that scene at the cemetery, and they had brought -him home more dead than alive. As Giulia was so foolishly upset, -Maddelena and her uncle had nursed the invalid, and already he was much -better. - -She turned brightly to Cacciola as he came into the kitchen. - -“On the instant, for behold all is ready. Tell him he is to eat every -morsel, on pain of my royal displeasure! How is he?” - -“Very weak still, though he says he slept well,” said Cacciola, taking -up the tray. “And he insists on coming with us to-day.” - -Maddelena’s expressive face darkened. - -“To the court? But what folly; there is no need, and he will make -himself ill again,” she cried. - -“I think not. Let him have his way, _carissima_, and he will get over -it the sooner,” said Cacciola pacifically, and retreated with the tray -down the long passage that led to Melikoff’s room. - -The flat was a large one--two thrown into one in fact--for the -_maestro_ liked plenty of room. That was why he had settled in a suburb. - -Maddelena stood frowning for a minute or more, then shrugged her -shoulders again, administered a petulant shake to the sobbing Giulia, -poured out a big cup of coffee, and handed it to the old woman, -sternly bidding her drink it and cease her fuss, and finally sat down -to her own breakfast, breaking her roll and dabbing on butter with -angry, jerky movements, and scolding Giulia between mouthfuls. - -But she showed no sign of ill-humour an hour later when she greeted -Boris. Her manner now was of charming, protective, almost maternal, -solicitude. - -She looked very beautiful too, not in the mourning garb she had worn at -the funeral, but in a handsome furred coat of tawny cloth, almost the -colour of her eyes, and a bewitching little hat to match. - -Even Boris, worn, haggard, brooding resentfully on his tragic sorrow, -summoned up a smile for her, as Cacciola, watching the pair of them, -noticed with secret satisfaction. - -“I ought to scold you Boris, my friend,” she said. “You are not fit to -go out at all, and it will be such a trial for you. But, _altro_, you -must have your way as usual! Give him your arm, uncle. Come, Giulia.” - -Outside the court they parted from the reluctant and trembling Giulia, -leaving her in charge of the kindly postmistress, Mrs. Cave, who was -also to give evidence, and promised to take charge of her in the -witnesses’ room. - -A big crowd had assembled waiting for the public doors to open, -but Cacciola and his companions were admitted through the official -entrance, and given seats in the front row, just above and behind the -solicitors’ table. - -A few minutes later such spectators as could be accommodated swarmed -in, pushing for places; and presently the body of the little court -began to fill up, as solicitors, clerks, and reporters drifted in and -took their places. - -Boris Melikoff, on one side of Cacciola, sat with his hands in his -pockets, his chin sunk on his breast, giving no heed to anyone at -present; but Maddelena, on the other side, watched with lively though -decorous interest, whispering many questions and comments to her uncle. - -“That is Mr. Starr, a journalist,” said Cacciola as Austin appeared and -betook himself to the Press table. - -“He who spoke with me on the telephone? He is very good-looking. I -think I like him! Ah, he sees us!” - -For Austin, surveying the eager, curious faces of the crowd, again -mainly composed of smart women, saw the group in front, and exchanged -a nod of greeting with Cacciola. Then his eyes met Maddelena’s frank, -inquiring gaze. For several seconds--that seemed longer to Austin--they -looked full at each other, till she drooped her long, black lashes -demurely, her lips relaxing in a faint smile. The startled admiration -she thought she discerned in his glance amused and did not surprise -her. She was used to creating such an impression, for, though not in -the least vain, she was fully conscious of her beauty. She did not -imagine that he had ever seen her before, and that his interest in her -was deeper and more complex than that which an exceptionally pretty -girl inspires in most men, young or old. - -When she stole another glance at him he was no longer looking in her -direction, but was listening with frigid courtesy to a fair-haired -woman in a seal coat and expensive hat, who had just come in with a -tall, thin, grey-haired man, and was looking up coquettishly into -Austin’s glum face, as she spoke in a rapid undertone. - -“Who is that?” demanded Maddelena. - -“Mrs. Armitage and her husband--Mrs. Carling’s mother and father,” said -Cacciola. - -Mrs. Armitage it was, who, having realized that as a close connection -of the two central figures in this poignant drama of life, she was a -person of importance in the eyes of the public, had decided that it was -her duty to attend the court; and already, with much complacence, had -permitted herself to be “snapped” by several Press photographers lying -in wait outside, and had assumed a most pathetic expression in the hope -that it would “come out well.” - -Maddelena noted every detail of her attire and manner, and with keen -feminine intuition summed her up accurately on the instant. “So. If the -daughter is like the mother then I, for one, will spare no sympathy for -her,” she decided. - -Cacciola touched her arm. - -“Behold, here is Mrs. Carling. The poor girl, my heart bleeds for her. -Miss Winston is with her. That is good.” - -There was a buzz and flutter, as necks were craned in the endeavour -to see Grace Carling’s face, but she kept her heavy veil down, and -appeared absolutely unconscious of the presence of those inquisitive -onlookers, as she gravely accepted her mother’s effusive greeting, and -then seated herself with her back to the crowd, where she would have -an uninterrupted view of her husband when he should be brought into the -dock. - -Winnie Winston became the centre of attention for the moment, as, -seeing Cacciola, she made her way across to speak to him, and -unashamedly every one in the vicinity tried to overhear. Only Melikoff -maintained his sullen, brooding attitude. He had come there to-day to -see but one person, Roger Carling, the enemy whom he hated. - -“How is Mrs. Carling?” asked Cacciola. - -“Very well, and wonderfully brave,” said Winnie. “They both are, as -they should be, for he is innocent, _maestro_. But it is terrible for -us all. Is this your niece? I have heard of her, but we haven’t met -before.” - -He introduced the girls, and Maddelena leant down over the barrier and -spoke with charming courtesy. - -“My uncle talks so much of you, Miss Winston. You are--oh, one of his -great favourites. I wish we had met more happily. I have just returned -from Milan, into all this sorrow. It is too sad!” - -“Ought Mr. Melikoff to be here? He looks very ill,” said Winnie, with a -glance at Boris; and Maddelena looked at him, too, her eyes softening, -as they always did when they regarded him. - -“Alas! he would come, though I and my uncle sought to dissuade him; but -he is very obstinate, our poor Boris, and distracted with grief. But he -will--he must--recover in time.” - -Winnie nodded sympathetically and retreated, much to the relief -of Austin Starr, who from the distance had watched the incident -uneasily, though why he should be disturbed he could not have said. But -thenceforth, for the greater part of that grim day, he concentrated -his attention chiefly on those three, feeling more and more convinced -that they presented a psychological problem which, if it could be -solved, would elucidate the mystery of Paula Rawson’s murder. When -Roger Carling was brought into the dock Starr saw Boris Melikoff sit -up, as if galvanized into life, his white face set like a fine, stern -mask, his dark eyes, feverishly brilliant, fixed relentlessly on the -prisoner’s face. - -So far as Austin’s observation went, Roger was quite unaware of that -fierce, fanatical stare, and of all the other eyes focused upon him. -With head erect he listened with grave attention as the case against -him was stated by the prosecution, and later supported in nearly every -detail by the many witnesses. Usually he watched each speaker in turn, -and in the intervals his eyes always sought those of Grace, in silent -and spiritual communion that gave strength and courage to them both. -At those moments husband and wife were as unconscious of the crowded -court, of the whispered glances of the spectators, as if they had been -transported to another world which held none but themselves. - -Maddelena could not see Grace Carling’s face, but she watched Roger as -intently as Austin Starr watched her. - -As he watched, Austin’s perplexity increased. At first her expressive -face revealed a most curious emotion, in which there was no trace of -the hatred and resentment betrayed so plainly by Boris Melikoff, or -of the fury that had distorted it by Paula Rawson’s grave. On the -contrary, she looked at Roger admiringly, exultantly, as women look at -a hero who has done some great deed. Austin felt that he really would -not have been surprised if she had clapped and cheered! - -Now, why on earth should she look at Roger Carling like that? - -But presently her face changed and softened, became gravely thoughtful. -She sat very still, leaning forward, her elbows on the rail in front of -her, her chin resting on her clasped hands, her dark brows contracted, -and Austin thought he read in her wonderful eloquent eyes doubt, -dismay, increasing anxiety, and a great compassion. - -What was in her mind? What did she know--or conjecture? - -That was what he must endeavour to discover. - -Dispassionately, inexorably, the case was stated by the prosecution, -based, as nearly every murder charge must be, on circumstantial -evidence. - -There were the undisputed facts that the prisoner had followed and -endeavoured to see Lady Rawson, with the intention of recovering the -stolen papers which he believed to have been--and were now known to -have been--in her possession; that he had been close at hand at the -moment the murder must have been committed, though none of the people -who were in and out of the shop at the time, and who had all been -traced and summoned as witnesses, could swear to having seen him. There -was the agreement of time and place; even allowing for the delay caused -by the fog, there was ample time for him to reach the church, “late -and agitated” as he undoubtedly was, after committing the crime. - -Above all, there, on the table, was the possible--nay, almost certainly -the actual--weapon employed; one of the two pocket knives found on -the prisoner at the time of his arrest. It was a flat, tortoiseshell -penknife, of which the larger blade, of finely tempered steel, keen -as a razor, constituted, in the opinion of the surgical experts, -precisely the sort of instrument with which the wound was inflicted. -The other knife--a thick blunt blade--was out of the question, part of -a “motorists’s compendium,” fitted with several other small tools, none -of which could inflict just such a wound. - -Sadler, the taxi-driver, who had a bandage round his head and still -looked shaky as a result of his smash up, identified the prisoner -as the gentleman he had driven from Grosvenor Gardens to Rivercourt -Mansions, having already picked him out unhesitatingly from among a -number of other men. - -Sadler’s further story was perfectly straightforward. - -Having deposited his fare, and finding himself so close to the house -of his sweetheart, Jessie Jackson, he drove slowly across to the post -office, saw, through the window, Jessie in the shop with her aunt, -guessed that in a few minutes she would be going up to dinner, and they -would have the chance of a few words together, so pulled up in a side -street, just by the house door, and out of sight from the shop, and -smoked a “gasper” while he waited. - -Presently he got down, had another squint into the shop, saw Mrs. Cave -was now alone, so sounded his horn, “in a sort of signal we have,” and -Jessie immediately came down and let him in at the side door. How long -he was up in the kitchen with her he couldn’t say--not exactly--till -her aunt called her down. - -Then he waited for another few minutes, till he thought he heard -someone “cranking up” his cab; ran downstairs, and sure enough the cab -was disappearing down the street. - -He went after it, and round the corner, just by the waterworks, found -it standing, the engine still going, and saw a “nipper” running away. - -He jumped to his seat, followed the boy, and, turning the corner, -crashed right into a lorry, and that was all he knew till he came to -himself in hospital. - -Story corroborated by Jessie Jackson, Jim Trent--a bright faced -mischievous schoolboy, who had himself owned up to the police that, -seeing the cab unattended, he couldn’t resist the temptation of trying -to start and drive it, but soon pulled up and “hooked it,” exactly -as Sadler had said--and several people who had seen the chauffeur in -wrathful pursuit of the cab. - -At this stage the court rose for lunch, and Austin Starr went across -for a word with Cacciola. - -Already Maddelena had changed places with her uncle, and was speaking -softly to Boris, who, the moment Roger Carling disappeared from sight, -had sunk down in his former attitude, looking utterly exhausted. - -Starr could not hear what she said, but she seemed to be remonstrating -with him, tenderly and anxiously, while from her big brocaded bag she -produced a thermos flask, poured out a cup of fragrant Russian tea--it -smelt as if it was laced with brandy as well as lemon!--and coaxed him -to drink, just as a mother might coax a sick and fretful child. - -She was far too absorbed to spare a glance or a thought for anyone else -at the moment, and Austin took himself off, having no time to waste, -and having achieved his immediate purpose--an appointment with Cacciola -at Rivercourt Mansions that evening. He was most anxious to begin a -near study of that “psychological problem” of which Maddelena Cacciola -was the most perplexing--yes, and the most attractive element! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM - - -It was fairly late that evening when Austin Starr arrived at -Cacciola’s, having had a hasty meal at a restaurant when he was through -with his day’s work. - -He had been obliged to decline the _maestro’s_ hospitable invitation to -dinner, and had been assured by the old man that it did not matter how -late he turned up: “I am not what the English call an early bird!” - -Cacciola himself, arrayed in dressing-gown and slippers and carrying -a big curved meerschaum pipe in his hand, admitted and welcomed him -cordially. - -There was no one else in the spacious sitting-room, but Austin’s quick -sense of disappointment was speedily banished by his host. - -“Sit down, my friend. You will find that chair comfortable. Now, will -you have wine--it is here ready? Or wait for the coffee which my -Maddelena will bring soon? She is now preparing it.” - -“Coffee for me, thank you, sir.” - -“And none makes it better than Maddelena,” said the old man, settling -himself in his own great chair, and resuming his pipe. “It is well -indeed for us all that she is at home at this time, for, alas! we are a -sick household, with Boris and my poor old Giulia so much distressed -by this terrible event, which touched us so nearly through our poor -Boris.” - -“It’s a great and awful mystery that I’d give my right hand to solve,” -said Austin bluntly. - -Cacciola looked at him with grave surprise. - -“Say a tragedy, yes. But where is the mystery? There is no doubt of the -guilt of that unhappy young man.” - -“Doubt! Man alive, Roger Carling is as innocent as I am; I’d stake -my life on that! He’s been committed for trial, I know--one couldn’t -expect anything else at present--but----” - -He checked himself. After all, he had come here in search of a clue, -and must say nothing that might put Cacciola on his guard. - -“Now that is strange,” mused Cacciola. “Maddelena has been saying the -same ever since we returned from the court, simply because she has -decided that he does not look like a murderer--a woman’s reason!” - -“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your niece yet. Does she live -with you, sir?” - -“It is her home, and has been these many years, since my brother died -and left her in my charge. She and my poor Boris are to me as children. -But she has not been at home except for holidays since she went to -school; she has been educated here in England, and since two years has -been studying in Milan. She should be there now, the naughty one, but -the moment she heard the news of this terrible thing she came back, -travelling night and day. I was vexed, yes; with a musician, music -should always come first, and her impulse will retard her career; but -I do not know what we should have done without her. None can manage -Boris and our old Giulia as Maddelena does,” he added with an indulgent -smile. - -“Is that so? She’s evidently a very capable as well as a very charming -young lady. Is she a singer, sir?” said Austin, conscious of a curious -sense of relief. What dark suspicions had been in his mind ever since -he saw that fury of hatred in the girl’s face as she stood by Paula -Rawson’s grave he had not dared to formulate, even in thought, but they -had been there, and now Cacciola’s words had dispersed them so far as -Maddelena was concerned. However much she hated the dead woman, she -could have had no hand in her death. - -Yet he was still convinced that here, in this quaint Bohemian -household, the heart of the mystery was hidden. How was he to discover -it? At present all he could do was to cultivate his friendship with -the genial, simple-minded old _maestro_, whom he was learning to like -immensely. At the back of his mind he was secretly ashamed of employing -this plan. It was a low-down trick, yet the only course that seemed -possible at present. And Roger Carling’s life was in the balance: that -grim fact overshadowed all other considerations! - -Cacciola shook his head and shrugged his shoulders with a whimsical air -of resignation. - -“Alas! no. She has a voice indeed which, compared with most English -voices for instance, would pass as good. But a Cacciola who sings must -excel, and my Maddelena will never excel----” - -“As a singer! My uncle is on his old grievance,” said Maddelena -herself, as she entered carrying the coffee-tray, and flashed an amused -glance from one to the other. - -“Aha! What is the proverb about listeners never hearing any good of -themselves?” chuckled Cacciola. “This is my little girl, Mr. Starr; and -if she had come an instant later she would have heard something nicer, -for one of these days she is going to be a great violinist.” - -“So my uncle says; but we shall see,” laughed Maddelena, setting the -tray on a low, carved stand, and giving Austin her hand, and continuing -more seriously: “I am so glad you have come to-night, Mr. Starr, for I -have heard so much of you, and there are, oh, so many things I want to -ask you about. You are a great friend of that poor Mr. Carling and his -bride, are you not? The poor young lovers, how my heart is grieved for -them! But we must have our coffee first and then we will talk.” - -There was something so frank and charming in her manner, so like her -uncle’s, in its easy, gracious simplicity, that again Austin marvelled, -remembering her in that unguarded moment the other day. Was she merely -a creature of passionate impulse or a consummate actress? - -“I am very much the maid-of-all-work these days,” she explained, -seating herself between them on a big “humpty.” “For Giulia--you know -her?” - -“Your old servant, yes, I have seen her.” - -“She is still in such a state of nerves that she is no use at all. It -is very foolish of her.” - -“Have patience, _carissima_; she will get over it in time. We all -shall,” said Cacciola soothingly. - -“I suppose Mrs. Giulia was very fond of Lady Rawson?” hazarded Austin. - -Maddelena turned towards him, raising her dark brows. - -“Fond of her? No, indeed. Why should she be?” - -“I don’t know. But I thought, as she seemed to be fairly intimate with -you all----” - -“Paula Rawson intimate with _us_!” - -There was a note of indignant protest in her rich voice, and her eyes -flashed stormily. Austin metaphorically “sat up,” and Cacciola cast a -deprecating glance at the girl. - -“I’m sorry if I’ve said anything wrong, Miss Maddelena; but it seems -she did come here very frequently, so I naturally thought----” - -“Come here, yes, indeed, and far too often,” said Maddelena with -emphasis. “But not to see _us_. She came to see Boris, her cousin; -not because she loved him--Paula Rawson was not capable of loving -anyone--but because she wanted him as a tool for her ambitions, for her -intrigues. She was ruining him, body and soul!” - -Cacciola interposed, almost sternly: “Peace, Maddelena. We must speak -with charity of the dead!” - -“That is my uncle all over. Oh, yes, ‘speak with charity, think with -charity!’ For me, I cannot, I will not, when I think of Paula Rawson. -I am glad she is dead. If I made any other pretence I should be a -hypocrite. This is the truth, Mr. Starr--my uncle knows it, though he -will not say so now. We were so happy together, he and I and Boris, a -year ago, when I came home from Milan for the winter vacation. You, -who have only seen Boris as he is now, cannot imagine what he was -then--what he was to us both. And his voice!” - -“Ah! she is right,” sighed Cacciola. “It was divine, but the voice is -there still, my child, the saints be praised, and when he recovers he -will sing once more, better than ever perhaps, and be his old self once -again.” - -“Perhaps. Because Paula Rawson is dead and can trouble him no more,” -cried Maddelena. “He met her, she whom he had thought dead, as would to -heaven she had been--and, lo, we became as nothing to him: his voice, -his career became as nothing! He lived only for her, to do her bidding, -to see her from time to time; plotting for their country, they said. -Pouff! He had forgotten his country until he met her--Paula--again, and -fluttered round her like a moth round a candle, singeing his wings. -Well, that candle has been put out, just in time to save him being -burnt up!” - -Cacciola shifted uneasily in his chair, but did not venture on further -expostulation. - -“Do you know any of their Russian friends, Miss Cacciola?” asked Austin. - -She shook her head. - -“They used to come and go like shadows, seeing only Boris, and whoever -might chance to admit them when he did not--Giulia or my uncle usually. -She--Paula--actually had a key, and could let herself into this, _our_ -home, if you please, whenever she liked. I was always furious about it, -as was Giulia, and my uncle did not like it. He should have forbidden -it, as I told him a hundred times.” - -“She had a key!” exclaimed Austin. “Did she use it that last time she -was here?” - -“I do not know. Why do you ask?” - -“Because if she did it ought to have been found either in her purse or -her bag, and certainly it was not there.” - -“That is curious,” said Maddelena reflectively. “I will find out from -Giulia to-morrow; she is in bed now. You think that is of importance?” - -“Every little thing is of importance. See, here, Miss Cacciola----” - -“Well?” she asked, her bright eyes fixed inquiringly upon him, as -he hesitated, wondering if, and how far, he should confide in her. -Cacciola still remained silent but was listening intently. - -“It’s this way,” Austin resumed slowly, weighing each word before -he spoke. “Roger Carling is innocent. A good few of us--every one -who really knows him, in fact, except Sir Robert Rawson himself--are -convinced of that, although appearances are so terribly against him.” - -“I too, since I watched him in the court to-day,” she murmured. - -“I know. The _maestro_ told me so just before you came in. Now we’ve -got to find out the truth, to trace the murderer, before the trial -comes on, and we’ve only a very few weeks to do it in. It’s no use -going to the police, unless and until we’ve got something definite to -put them on. They think the case is clear and their duty done.” - -“But you--there is something in your mind?” - -“There is, but I don’t quite know how to explain it. I believe this -Russian business may provide the clue, and that you can help to find -it. Just suppose there was one of them who had a personal grudge -against her--or even a spy in their councils, for there always is a -spy, sure, in these intrigues.” - -“Or someone who wanted to separate her from Boris,” said Maddelena -dryly, and he was thankful that she was now gazing at the fire and -not at him. “Well, I and my uncle wanted to do that. He is sorry the -separation has been brought about with such tragedy, but I--I care not -how it came about so that it did come. I wonder you did not suspect me, -Mr. Starr!” - -She turned and looked at him again, a sort of challenge in her eyes, -which he met squarely. - -“Maddelena!” exclaimed Cacciola, glancing from one to the other, but -neither heeded him at the moment. - -“Perhaps I did till I met you,” Austin answered. “I don’t now, or I -shouldn’t have asked your help.” - -“Good! I like an honest man, and that is very honest, Mr. Starr. I also -will be honest. I did not murder Paula Rawson, though there have been -many times when I would have done so if I could. And I tell you that if -I knew who did I would do all in my power to shield him.” - -“But not if an innocent man should suffer in his place,” he urged. -“Miss Cacciola, I implore you if you know anything--even if you -suspect anything or anyone----” - -“I neither know nor suspect anything,” she interrupted decisively. -“I had not thought till to-day that there was any doubt. But you -are right, the innocent must not suffer. I--we”--she glanced at her -uncle--“will do all we can to help you.” - -“What can we do?” asked Cacciola perplexedly. “I have heard you with -much surprise, with much distress. I am grieved that Maddelena here is -so hard; she knows it. It is not like her, signor, for she is truly a -loving child.” - -He looked so thoroughly upset and miserable that with one of her swift -impulses Maddelena sprang up, and bent over the back of his chair, -putting her arms caressingly round him. - -“Never mind me, dear uncle. I love when I love and I hate when I hate; -I am made like that, and it cannot be helped. But Mr. Starr is right: -we must do what we can to bring the truth to light.” - -“That’s so, Miss Cacciola. Now do either of you know the names of any -of these Russians or where they live?” - -“I do not, nor you, uncle? As I said, they came and went as they -liked, and my uncle should have forbidden it; but he is so weak where -Boris is concerned. And he is so sorry for them, as for all who -are unfortunate.” She gave him another hug, and resumed her seat, -continuing: “Do you know he used to give them food if he was at home -and knew they were there with Boris, slinking in by one and two -after dark? Well, he would bid Giulia make a good meal; and she did, -grumbling. But she was never permitted to take in the dishes--no, nor -even to peep into the room. Boris always came and took them from her!” - -“What is a little food?” protested Cacciola. “I do not believe there is -any harm in these poor souls; they are not Communists, but aristocrats -who have escaped with their bare lives--whose lives are still perhaps -in danger; and of one thing I am certain: not one of them would have -lifted his hand against Paula--she was their best friend.” - -“There may have been a spy among them for all that, as Mr. Starr -suggested,” said Maddelena. “And I promise you that I will find out all -I can about them. Boris will tell me, if I go to work in the right way.” - -“I’m infinitely obliged to you, Miss Maddelena,” said Austin earnestly. - -“And now let us talk of something pleasanter. Will you have some more -coffee? Ah, it is cold! Some wine, then. That will make my uncle more -cheerful. Will you move the coffee-tray, Mr. Starr? Set it on the -piano--anywhere.” - -He jumped up to do her bidding, while she crossed to the corner -cupboard. Taking the tray from the little carved stand, he glanced -round the room, and noting a small table near the door moved towards it. - -As he did so he saw the door, on which hung a heavy embroidered -_portière_, gently closing. Next instant he remembered that Maddelena -had certainly shut the door after her when she entered; he had noticed -the clever little backward kick with which she did so, and had heard -the click of the latch. None of them had been anywhere near the door -since. Who then was outside? - -Striding swiftly across the room he dropped rather than set the tray on -the table, sprang to the door and threw it wide open. The outer hall -was dark and silent. - -“Who is there?” he demanded, and at the same moment Maddelena called -from the other side the room: - -“What is the matter, Mr. Starr?” - -“The door has been opened--someone has been listening,” he said, -stepping warily into the darkness and feeling for the electric switch. -“Where is that switch?” - -“By the hall door, on the right,” said Maddelena, hurrying to him, -while Cacciola followed more slowly, shuffling in his big slippers. - -He switched the light on. The small, square hall was empty but for -themselves. Maddelena passed swiftly along and switched on another -light that illuminated the two passages at the end that ran right and -left. No one there either. - -“I shut the door when I came in,” she whispered. - -“I know. I saw you,” he answered as softly. - -“And I left the light on in the hall--I had both my hands full. It must -have been either Boris or Giulia. Uncle, go and see if Boris is up. I -will go to Giulia,” she said, motioning Austin to stay where he was. - -He watched her go softly along the right-hand passage, open a door at -the end, and switch on a light. From within the room, even at that -distance, he could hear a sonorous snore. - -Maddelena put out the light, closed Giulia’s door, and beckoned to -Austin to join her. - -“She is fast asleep; it could not have been she. I--I am frightened. -Let us look in the other rooms.” - -They did so; dining-room, kitchen, her own room--a charming one, next -to Giulia’s. No one lurking there. - -They went back and found Cacciola doing the same in the other wing, -which once was a separate flat. He too looked very disturbed. - -“Boris sleeps soundly, as he should do; he is under the doctor and -had a sleeping draught to-night, and there is none other here but -ourselves. Who can have been here?” - -“I guess whoever it was has just walked out,” said Austin, striding -back to the front door. “Why didn’t I think of that first?” - -“Wait, the lights will be out there. Take my torch,” counselled -Cacciola, fumbling for it in his overcoat pocket. - -Softly all three of them went down all those flights of stone stairs. -Still no sign of anyone, no sound. They themselves were evidently, and -as usual, the only occupants of the block who were up so late; but the -street door was open. - -“That is proof,” whispered Maddelena. “It is always closed at eleven; -after that we have to admit ourselves with our pass-key.” - -“How many keys to this door have you?” asked Austin, after looking out -into the night and closing the door, latching it this time. - -“Only one--my uncle has it; and if others are late they must rouse the -porter.” - -“I wonder who has that missing key--the key you told me just now that -Lady Rawson had, and lost,” said Austin, when they had returned to the -drawing-room. “Take my advice, Mr. Cacciola, and have a new lock to -your front door to-morrow. And don’t leave any spare keys around!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -HARMONY--AND DISCORD - - -“Is that all, Mr. Starr?” - -“It’s something to go on, isn’t it?” Austin countered. He had decided -to take counsel with Snell upon that problem he was endeavouring to -solve, and the detective had listened in silence to his account of the -interview with Cacciola and Maddelena, and the curious incident that -had terminated it. - -“Well, if you want my opinion,” said Snell dryly, “it is that you’ve -discovered--or created--quite a nice little mare’s nest.” - -“Now see here, Snell, you’re simply prejudiced!” - -“Not at all, Mr. Starr. If there’s one thing I pride myself on more -than another it is on never being prejudiced. And if you think I -did not, at the very outset, satisfy myself--yes, and my superiors -too--that neither Melikoff and his associates nor the old Signor and -his household had anything at all to do with the murder of Lady Rawson, -I can only assure you that you’re jolly well mistaken!” - -“You’ve got it fixed up in your mind that Roger Carling is guilty, and -you won’t look any further,” Austin said bitterly. - -“I haven’t. It’s for a jury to decide whether he’s guilty or innocent. -And if you or anyone else can point to any clue in any other direction -that I haven’t followed up and sifted I’ll go to work again instantly. -As for the Russians----” He touched an electric button on his table, -scribbled a few words on a card, and handed it to the clerk who -entered. “As you aren’t inclined to believe me, and as I know you’re -to be trusted, I’m going to let you look through the dossiers for -yourself. You mustn’t make any notes, of course.” - -“That’s very good of you. But what about the person who was in the -flat?” - -“Old Madam Giulia--queer old girl too; _what_ a fuss she made in the -witness-box, even for a foreigner!--or perhaps even Melikoff himself, -who thought he’d like to hear what you were all yarning about, and -scooted as soon as you moved.” - -“Impossible! Neither of them could have got down the long passage and -into bed, apparently asleep, in the time. If I’d only thought of the -hall door first we should have caught whoever it was. But I didn’t, and -we never heard a sound. The tray clattered some as I set it down or I’d -have heard the click of the lock. And what about that key that Melikoff -gave Lady Rawson and she lost, or gave away?” - -“That’s really the only point worth anything at all, and I doubt if -it’s worth much. What a fool Melikoff was to give her that key, and -the old signor to allow it. That the lot?”--as the clerk re-entered -bringing several neatly arranged sets of papers. “All right, leave them -for the present. Now, Mr. Starr, here you are. Take your time.” - -He pushed the papers across the table to Austin, and resumed his own -work. - -Rapidly but methodically Austin ran through the dossiers one after -another, his heart sinking as he did so. For Snell was right. They -provided, with much other information, a complete record of the -movements, on the day of the murder, of presumably every one of the -group of refugees with whom Boris Melikoff was associated, compiled -from personal interrogation of each and verified by further searching -investigation. In the face of this no shadow of suspicion could fall -on any one of them. Almost mechanically he memorized the names and -addresses--one never knew when such information might come in useful. - -“Well?” asked Snell laconically as he finished. - -“You’re right, of course. I must say you’ve done the thing pretty -thoroughly.” - -“As usual. Though the public, and some people who might be expected to -know better, don’t give us credit for it,” said Snell dryly. “It was -easy enough in this case, as they’re all aliens and registered as such. -We keep an eye on them all, as a matter of course, and we’ve known -all there is to know about this lot ever since they landed. Quite a -harmless lot, in my opinion.” - -“Yet you didn’t know at the time that Lady Rawson was one of them,” -suggested Austin. “You told me so yourself.” - -“Quite so; but then she wasn’t registered--not necessary as she became -‘British’ on her marriage.” - -“If their meetings were so harmless why did she steal those papers from -her husband?” - -“Ah, that’s quite another question, Mr. Starr. Her motive doesn’t -matter in the least, so far as tracking her murderer is concerned; and -if you hark back to the papers as a clue, why they lead straight to the -one person--Mr. Roger Carling. And there you are!” - -Austin leant his head on his hand in deep dejection. - -“I’ll never believe it was Roger Carling!” - -Snell glanced at him kindly enough. - -“Take my advice, Mr. Starr, don’t go wearing yourself out trying to -find fresh trails. They’ll all turn out as false as this one. The only -thing to be done is to leave it to the jury--or to chance. I’ve known a -lot of mysteries cleared up by what seemed to be pure chance.” - -“There’s still the notion of a casual thief,” mused Austin. - -“There is. And we’re keeping that in sight I assure you. But I don’t -believe it was done by a wrong ’un down on his luck. Whoever it was -wore gloves.” - -“How in thunder do you know that?” demanded Austin, genuinely surprised. - -“Because there were smears on the bag caused by gloved fingers. If -they’d been finger prints they’d have been hanging evidence! There were -no such smears on the envelope, though.” - -“Any finger prints on it?” asked Austin quickly. - -“Lots--from Carling’s own to Lord Warrington’s; it had been handled -by half a dozen people at least--quite legitimately. Carling’s -prints, of course--though they’re the clearest of the lot under the -microscope--won’t be regarded as evidence against him, as he was the -first to handle and seal the envelope the night before. All that will -be threshed out at the trial.” - -“I guess so. Well, I’m infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Snell,” said -Austin despondently. - -“Wish I’d been able to help you,” Snell responded as they shook hands. - -Austin walked slowly along the Embankment in deep and distressed -thought. This interview with Snell was a bitter disappointment; and now -again he seemed up against a blank wall. There was still the mysterious -visitant to the flat to be considered, but if he or she was traced that -might prove nothing. - -Outside Charing Cross Station he paused indecisively. He had an hour or -two to spare. Should he go to Chelsea? He hadn’t seen Winnie for over a -week--not since that day at the police court when Roger was committed -for trial--as she had been singing at Bristol and only returned -yesterday. Or should he go to Cacciola’s on the chance of finding -anyone at home? - -He would not acknowledge even in his own mind that by “anyone” he -meant Maddelena. The girl attracted him most strongly, and in a manner -that he did not choose to analyse. He did not love her--of that he was -quite sure. He had never been of a susceptible nature where women were -concerned; had always held to the high ideals of love and marriage -derived from a long line of Puritan ancestors, for he came of a sound -New English stock. He loved Winnie Winston; he meant to marry her; -would have been profoundly indignant at any suggestion that he could -waver in his allegiance to her. - -And yet at intervals ever since he first saw Maddelena Cacciola beside -Paula Rawson’s grave, and almost continuously since that evening when -he had met and talked with her, that beautiful, vivid face, with its -swift, passionate changes of expression, had haunted him, sleeping and -waking, in a most perplexing and disturbing way! - -He had not seen or spoken to her since, for though he had rung up -several times, only Giulia had answered, to the effect that the signor -and signorina were out. - -As he turned into the station he tried to convince himself that he was -going to Rivercourt Mansions merely to ascertain if the girl had been -able to get any information from Boris, as she had undertaken to do, -and not that he had any desire to meet her again; and all the time, at -the back of his honest mind he was quite aware--and ashamed--of the -subterfuge. - -As he mounted the last of the long flights of stone stairs that led to -Cacciola’s eyrie he heard music from within--a glorious tenor voice, -pure, passionate, thrilling--singing to a masterly accompaniment of -piano and violin. - -Outside the door he waited, listening intently and in sheer delight, -wishing, indeed, that he had been within; but it was unthinkable to -intrude the strident impertinence of an electric bell on that feast of -harmony. - -The voice ceased. There followed a beautiful little ascending passage -on the violin, which he strained his ears to hear, a final grand -chord on the piano. Then silence. He touched the bell at last, and -instantly the door was opened by Giulia, who beamed a welcome to him -and whispered: - -“They make music once more. Go in, signor.” - -Thus informally, and unannounced, he entered the big room. Cacciola, -seated at the piano, had swung round and was talking with eager -animation to Boris and Maddelena, the girl still holding her violin. - -As Austin entered she laid down the instrument and ran towards him, -giving him both her hands in greeting. - -“You! Oh, I am glad! But why did you not come before, so that you could -have heard Boris sing? The very first time for so very many weeks--and -superbly!” - -“I did hear quite a lot from outside--the violin too, Miss Maddelena,” -he said, smiling down at her. “You’re right, superb is the only word.” - -He exchanged greetings with the _maestro_ and Melikoff, who, flushed, -smiling, excited, looked an altogether different being from the -stricken, morose creature Austin had known hitherto. - -“All is coming right, as I told you it would,” said Cacciola -delightedly. “The voice is fine as ever. You heard? It is but a matter -of time now and our Boris will be known as the world’s greatest tenor, -and you, signor, will be able to boast that you are one of the few who -has had the privilege of hearing him in private, for he will sing again -presently. But come, you have not yet seen an old friend of yours, who -happily is also here: my dear young pupil, Miss Winston.” - -Why he should have experienced an extraordinary sensation of -embarrassment and dismay Austin really did not know, but he certainly -did so, as from a big chair in the dusk beyond the grand piano Winnie -rose and came towards him. - -“Winnie! I didn’t think to meet you here,” he murmured confusedly. - -“Nor I you,” said Winnie. “I returned yesterday.” - -“I know. I was coming around to see you to-morrow. Did you have a good -time, dear?” - -“Quite good--thanks. But I must be off now. Good-bye, _maestro_, -and----” - -“But no, no, you must not go!” protested Cacciola. “Giulia will bring -in tea in one moment now--Maddelena will hasten her--real Russian tea -that Boris has taught us to like, and it is so good for the voice too! -Also you must sing again presently. We have not got that new song right -yet.” - -“I’m so tired, _maestro_, and I couldn’t sing after Mr. Melikoff. How -splendid he is!” - -“Pouff! Not sing again indeed; you must not talk like an amateur. -You are an _artiste_, and among ourselves we never make comparisons. -Though there can never be any comparison with Boris: he is unique! How -thankful I am--and so is my Maddelena--that he is recovering himself. -Now sit down again, my child, and here is a chair for Mr. Starr.” - -Maddelena had taken her uncle’s hint and gone to hurry up Giulia with -the tea, and Boris followed her. Austin heard her laugh as they went -along the passage. Truly the atmosphere here had changed marvellously -in these few days. He sat down in the chair Cacciola had pulled up -close to Winnie’s, but for once in his life could find nothing to say -to her; while she virtually ignored him, and chatted with the _maestro_ -till the tea appeared, brought in procession by Giulia and the two -young people. - -Maddelena, in the highest spirits, was a charming hostess, and, like -her uncle, treated Austin with the easy familiarity of old friendship. -It was merely their unconventional, hospitable way, as Winnie at least -knew perfectly well, from her long acquaintance with the _maestro_, -though she had never happened to meet Maddelena till now; yet she -wondered how often he had been there of late, and why he had said -nothing about it. - -There was more music after tea. Winnie sang without further demur, -at the _maestro’s_ bidding, and was painfully conscious, as were her -auditors, that, for her, she sang very badly. She had a beautiful, -mezzo-soprano voice, sweet, true and fresh as a song-bird’s, and -perfectly trained--Cacciola had seen to that--but to-night it was -toneless, lifeless, devoid of expression. - -“I’m sorry, _maestro_,” she murmured apologetically at the end, meeting -his gaze of consternation. - -“We shall do better to-morrow,” he said consolingly. “Will you come to -me at three? Good! It is strange, for it went so well before; but, as -you say, you are tired, I should not have insisted. Now, Boris, once -more?” - -Melikoff, sprawling on the hearthrug and looking through a pile of -music, selected a book of Russian songs, and began to rise. - -“Not those!” said Maddelena imperatively, snatching the book from -him and picking up another. “Mr. Starr wants to hear the Neapolitan -ones--with the guitar. I will get it!” As she passed Austin she bent -and whispered significantly, “He shall sing no Russian here if I can -prevent it,” and he nodded as one who understood. - -Winnie could not hear the words, but she saw the incident, and found in -it fresh food for thought. - -“With a guitar--good; that gives me a rest,” said Cacciola, quitting -the piano and settling himself comfortably in his big chair. “They are -trifles, these songs, but not unworthy even of Boris. There is the soul -of the people in them. Now, my children.” - -He was right. Those songs--sung by generations of humble folk for -centuries, and famous throughout the world to-day--were a revelation -as Boris Melikoff sang them, albeit he was the son of a sterner and -sadder race: songs of life, and love, and death, of sunshine and -storm, with the sound of the sea as an undertone through all, heard -in the thrilling throb of the guitar, which Maddelena played like the -_artiste_ she was. - -Austin listened in sheer delight, forgetful of everything else in the -world for the moment. - -When the last exquisite note died away there was a little interval of -silence more eloquent than any words. Maddelena, the guitar on her lap, -looked up at Boris with a tremulous smile, her eyes shining through -tears, murmuring something in Italian, and impulsively he stooped and -kissed her on the lips, just as Cacciola cried, also in Italian: - -“_Brava! brava!_ dear children. There can be nothing better in its way!” - -Austin joined wholeheartedly in the applause and congratulations. - -“How splendidly you accompany him, Miss Maddelena.” - -“Yes, does she not?” said Boris. “I do not think I could sing those -songs so with anyone but Maddelena. And you would not think it was so -long since we practised them together--nearly a year?” - -“Yes, a long year!” said Maddelena. - -“I must be going,” Winnie announced. “Good-bye, Miss Cacciola; you’ve -given me a most tremendous treat, both of you. Now keep up the singing, -Mr. Melikoff. We’re all so proud of you, and want you to have the world -at your feet, as you will soon! Good-bye, _maestro_. Three o’clock -to-morrow.” - -She turned to Austin, with a curious enigmatic little smile, an -inquiring lift of her eyebrows. - -“I’m coming with you,” he said, and proceeded to make his own adieux. - -Cacciola came to the door with them, but scarcely had they descended -the first flight of stairs when Maddelena came running after them. - -“Mr. Starr!” - -Austin turned and came up a few steps to meet her. - -“I am so sorry,” she whispered hurriedly, bending her charming face -confidentially towards him. “I have not been able to question him about -those others, or, more truthfully, I would not do so, for, as you see, -he is beginning to forget, and I feared to bring the black shadow upon -him again.” - -“I understand, Miss Cacciola, and I’ve got some information already, -from another source; but what about that key, and----” - -“And the person who entered? We do not know. My uncle spoke to Boris -next morning. He knew nothing, and says he is sure it was none of his -friends. But that key which--_she_--had has never been found, and we -have had the lock changed, as you said. Good-bye. Come again soon.” - -She retreated, and he ran down the stairs, overtaking Winnie just -outside. - -“Great luck to find you, dear,” he said, falling into step beside her. - -“Yes? I didn’t know you were so intimate with the Cacciolas.” - -“I’m not, except that they’re so friendly and easy to get on with. -I’ve only met Miss Maddelena once before--when I went around there one -evening.” - -“Oh, how interesting!” - -She spoke quite gently, but in a tone and manner so cold and dignified -that he might have been an utter stranger. He felt hurt, indignant; but -his tone was as aloof as her own as he responded: - -“Yes, it was interesting--very. I went, as I told you I should, to try -and get hold of a clue.” - -She turned to him quickly: - -“Oh! Did you find out anything?” - -“Very little so far. I’ll tell you all about it when we get in. I -should have told you before, of course, if you hadn’t been away.” - -“There’s a tram stopping,” she said inconsequently, and made for it. -“Which way are you going?” - -“To take you home, of course.” - -“I’m not going home, but to Grace at Buckingham Gate. She’s there now.” - -He nodded; it was impossible to talk in the noisy and crowded tram. - -“We’ll take a taxi from here,” he suggested meekly when they alighted -at the terminus opposite the station. - -“Certainly not! I’m going to St. James’s Park,” said Winnie decisively, -and hurried recklessly across the road, in imminent danger of being run -over. - -“Now what in thunder’s wrong?” Austin asked himself, but there was no -opportunity of asking her, until at length they reached the quietude of -Buckingham Gate, and then he found it difficult to begin. - -“I’ve such lots to tell you, but it will have to keep till to-morrow -night, for I’ve to go around to the ‘Courier’ now,” he said awkwardly. -“Give my love to Grace. And--see here, Winnie--what’s wrong, dear?” - -“Wrong? What do you mean? Nothing--or--oh, everything, I think! Never -mind. Here we are. Good night, Austin.” - -She did give him her hand, but withdrew it quickly, and stepped into -the waiting lift, which bore her swiftly out of sight. - -Austin stood for a few seconds, frowning; then lighted a cigarette, -striking the match with an angry jerk, and went on his way feeling -exceedingly ill-used! - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -DARK HOURS - - -There are very few, if any, prisoners, be they innocent or guilty, -who, accused of murder, or of any other crime considered too serious -to admit of release on bail, do not endure agonies of mind during that -terrible interval between their committal and trial. - -Possibly the innocent suffer the most; for to all the restraints and -humiliations of prison life--less severe, indeed, than those imposed -on convicted criminals, but still irksome and wearing to a degree--are -added a bitter sense of injustice and often almost intolerable anxiety -on account of those, their nearest and dearest, who, innocent as -themselves, are yet inevitably involved in the disaster, subjected -to all the agonies of separation, of suspense, sometimes of piteous -privation. Even the fortitude induced by the inner consciousness of -innocence is seldom strong enough to overcome this mental and physical -distress. - -So Roger Carling suffered--all the more because he strove to show -no sign, endeavoured always to appear cheerful and confident in his -interviews with his solicitors and counsel, and above all with Grace, -whose visits, albeit under the strict regulations as to time, and under -more or less official surveillance, were the great events of this grim -and dreary period. - -Like the blessed sunshine she came into that bare, formal room, always -beautifully dressed, with a smile on her dear lips, the lovelight in -her eyes; and they would sit hand in hand and chat almost gaily for the -prescribed time, which sped all too swiftly, while the dark intervals -between dragged on leaden feet. - -Only God, Who knows the secret of all hearts, knew what effort that -courage required, or how nearly their hearts were breaking! - -For the days and weeks were drifting by, and no fresh light whatever -had been shed on the mystery of Paula Rawson’s death. The trial was -to take place early in the New Year, the first on the list for the -session, and Cummings-Browne, K.C., had been secured for the defence. -If anyone could secure acquittal on such slight grounds of defence as -were at present available it was he. But although the faithful few -never wavered in their belief of Roger Carling’s innocence, they knew -it would be a stern fight--in fact, almost a forlorn hope. - -Only Grace herself would never acknowledge that. How his deliverance -would be brought about, his innocence established before all the -world, she did not know; but not even in those long nights when she -lay awake, thinking of and praying for her beloved in anguish of soul, -did she allow herself to doubt that he would be delivered, he would be -vindicated. - -That sublime faith alone enabled her to endure these dark winter days -of loneliness and sorrow. - -Always she kept before her the one thought: “When Roger comes home.” -On that she shaped her whole life. - -That was why she insisted on living alone in the little flat that was -to have been their first home, which she told herself should yet be -their home together. - -Day after day she laboured, putting it in beautiful order, arranging -Roger’s writing-table, their chair that was to be his special one, his -favourite books, just where she felt sure he would like them to be; and -while she was so employed she was almost happy. It seemed as though any -moment he might come in. - -Only when each day’s task was over, and she strove to concentrate her -mind on reading or sewing, the thought of him in his bare prison room -was almost more than she could endure, and slow, quiet tears would fall -on the work or the page, while in her ears and in her aching heart -echoed that haunting strain, last heard in Canterbury Cathedral on that -never-to-be-forgotten Sunday after their marriage: - - - Hear my prayer, O Lord, incline thine ear: - Consider, O consider the voice of my complaint. - - -It seemed now to have been prophetic! - -She never spoke to Roger of these her dark hours, nor he to her of his -own; but they both knew. There was no need of words. - -Rather, in those precious minutes when they were together, they -recalled that brief interlude at St. Margaret’s, those “immortal hours” -when little Miss Culpepper had hovered around them like a quaint, -tutelary goddess. - -“I’ve had another letter from Miss Culpepper,” Grace told him one day. -“Full of flourishes as usual, dear old thing. She’s so upset at the -idea that I haven’t even one maid that if I said half a word I believe -she would come up herself and take charge of me!” - -“I wish you would say the half word, darling,” Roger urged, not for the -first time. - -“I know; but I really can’t. Think of her here in London; it would -be like pulling up a little old silver birch from a forest glade and -sticking it in Shaftesbury Avenue!” - -“I hate to think of your being alone,” he said wistfully. - -“You mustn’t think of it! I’m a great deal better by myself than I -should be with anyone else in the world just now. And I have lots of -visitors: daddy pretty often, of course, and Winnie when she is at -home, though she’s been away so much lately--more engagements than ever -this winter, and most of them in the country, worse luck!” - -“So Austin’s left at a loose end, eh?” - -“I suppose so. I haven’t seen him for some days. Winnie will be back -for Christmas.” - -“You’re going to her then?” he asked quickly. - -“I’m going about with her. As usual, we shall have quite a big -day--a midday dinner in Bermondsey, high tea and a Christmas tree -at Battersea, and a beano for the _padre’s_ poorest, and possibly -blackest, sheep in the evening. Winnie will be a bright particular -star, of course--they’d keep her singing for hours if they could! -While I shall be just an all-round helper, in my old canteen get-up.” - -“Good! I shall be thinking of you all the time. But don’t wear yourself -out, darling,” he said tenderly. - -It was no new thing for her to devote herself through most of -the season of conventional “festivity” to the poorest of her -fellow-creatures, bringing a few hours of mirth and warmth and good -fare to the starving and the squalid, giving to many of them fresh hope -and strength that perhaps might help them to struggle out of the abyss -of misery and destitution into which they had fallen. - -Last year he had been with her, and a wonderful experience it was--an -utter revelation to him of the grim underworld of humanity here in the -greatest city of the world, the very heart of “Christian” civilization! -Very many of the guests they had then helped to entertain had passed -most of their lives in prison: now the prison walls had closed around -himself. He indeed was innocent; he had not sunk into the grim -underworld--had not as yet endured the lot of a common convict; but -already he could sympathize, as never before, with the prisoners and -captives, with all who suffered, whether for their own sins or for the -sins of others. - -“Oh, I shan’t wear myself out,” Grace assured him. “I shall be happier -on duty. Mother is going down to Hove, as usual, and insists on father -going too. He doesn’t want to, but it’s less trouble to give way than -to argue the point; and the change may do him good. He’s not very fit, -poor daddy!” - -In fact that poor professor was having a very trying time at home, -for Mrs. Armitage furiously resented the fact that he had contributed -the utmost amount he could raise to the fund for Roger’s defence, and -on the rare occasions when she saw her daughter made Grace writhe -under the sense of obligation, that was far more distressing than any -consideration of her mother’s utter lack of sympathy; she had been -accustomed to that from her early childhood, and it had long ceased to -hurt her. - -It did seem hard that she should feel more humiliation in accepting -this loan from her own people than in accepting those from -friends--Austin Starr and the Winstons and the dear jolly _padre_, -Mr. Iverson, who had all been as good as their word. But she never -let Roger have a hint of this; kept from him, so far as she could, -everything disquieting, even the fact that there was still a lot of -money needed, and had begged Mr. Spedding, the lawyer, not to reveal -this to him. - -“We shall have quite sufficient in good time, by the New Year,” she -assured Spedding, on such occasions as the point was raised in the -course of their many conferences. - -She had already made arrangements to raise the utmost possible on their -wedding presents, and everything else of value that they possessed; -also, if necessary, to sell up the furniture they had bought so gaily -and lovingly in the months before their marriage, and so break up the -home which, to “get ready for Roger” had been her great solace in this -awful interval; and where she was now living frugally as any nun, -denying herself everything beyond the barest necessaries of life, in -order that she might save. - -And with all this there would not be enough. Where the balance was to -come from she did not know, racked her poor brains to discover, sought -to buoy her mind with the faith that her prayers would be answered, -that help and guidance would come in time. - -She brooded anxiously over it again to-day as she made her way back to -Westminster. As usual, after parting with Roger reaction followed the -joy of the meeting, and a sense of utter desolation was upon her. If -Winnie had been at home she would have gone along to Chelsea before -returning to the loneliness of the little flat at the very top of a big -block. As it was, she lingered aimlessly outside the station, staring -with sad, unseeing eyes into the nearest shop window, then made her way -through to St. James’s Park, and sat down on the seat inside the gates -by the bridge. - -It was a chilly, wistful winter afternoon, the westering sun showing -like a dim red ball through the haze. Very few people were about; near -at hand there were but two strolling towards her--a young couple in -earnest conversation. - -She looked at them dully, then with quickened interest, as she -recognized the man as Austin Starr, bending from his great height to -listen attentively to his companion--a very attractive-looking girl, -even in the distance, who was talking with animation. Any casual -observer would have imagined them a pair of young lovers, and Grace -felt an instant and curious sense of dismay. - -It flashed to her mind that she had not seen Austin once at the -Winstons’ flat during the few days’ interval when Winnie had been at -home, though for months before their engagement, which had come about -so suddenly in the midst of her own trouble, there was seldom a day -that he did not turn up early or late, for a few minutes at least. Also -that Winnie had been strangely reticent about him, though, absorbed in -her own anxieties, she had not given a second thought to that. - -As they drew near she half rose from her seat, but resumed it. They -passed, evidently too intent on each other to spare a glance for anyone -else, and as they did so she heard the girl say, in a rich, vibrant -voice, peculiarly distinct in the quietude: - -“It may be as you say, but what does Sir Robert want with him?” - -Sir Robert! Of whom were they speaking? Could it be Sir Robert Rawson? - -She could not hear Austin’s reply, and though she started up -impulsively she did not follow them--merely watched them cross the -bridge and disappear from view. - -She guessed that the girl was Cacciola’s niece, whom Austin certainly -had mentioned when he told her of his visit, and of the disappointing -result of his inquiries up to the present, but only in a casual manner. -He must have developed the acquaintance swiftly in these few weeks! - -She walked slowly back, turning the matter over in her mind -perplexedly. - -“There’s a lady waiting to see you, ma’am,” said the lift-man, a -cheery, grizzled old veteran, and one of her staunch admirers. - -“Waiting--where?” - -“Why on the landing outside your door, ma’am. Sitting on a box she came -with. I wanted her to come down to my missus, knowing you were out, but -she wouldn’t.” - -He swung open the lift-gates and Grace stepped out. - -There, outside her door, as he had said, sitting on a small tin box, -with an open basket beside her and something that looked like a little -black fur muff cuddled in her arms--cold, tired, travel-stained but -quite cheerful--was little Miss Culpepper! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -AN OLD ROMANCE - - -“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carling, don’t be vexed with me!” cried Miss -Culpepper, rising and fluttering towards Grace. “I’ve been fretting so -about you being here all alone, and now I’ve had the good fortune to -let the cottage for three months, and all the money paid in advance, I -felt I must come straight up, without asking your permission. And--and -I’ve brought Dear Brutus too. He’s been so good through the journey.” - -“You darling!” cried Grace, and just hugged her, kitten and all. “Come -in. How cold and tired you must be! And, oh, how glad I am to see you!” - -Indeed, there was no one in the world, save Roger himself, whom she -would have welcomed more gladly at this moment than the quaint little -woman. It was extraordinary how her very presence dispelled that -tragic, unutterable loneliness which had always hitherto assailed her -when she returned to this her solitary nest, so lovingly prepared for -the mate who might never come home to it. - -As she flitted about, preparing tea for her unexpected guest, despite -Miss Culpepper’s protests that she “hadn’t come to be waited on,” -caressing Dear Brutus and laughing at his antics, listening to the -old lady’s vivacious account of her journey, of the new tenants, and -of the arrangements made for Cleopatra, whom Miss Culpepper had left -as a “paying guest” with her friend at St. Margaret’s, she felt more -cheerful than she had done since the day when the black shadow fell on -her and Roger, eclipsing their honeymoon, severing them perhaps for -ever. - -If Miss Culpepper had had her own way she would immediately have taken -possession of the diminutive kitchen, and remained there, but that -Grace would not hear of for a moment. - -“Indeed, I want you to treat me just as an ordinary servant, except -that I don’t want any pay or to be a burden on you in any way,” the old -lady declared. “You see, I was in service all my life, with very good -families, too, till I saved enough money to buy the cottage and set up -for myself. So I do know my place, dear Mrs. Carling, and I shouldn’t -have assumed to come to you, uninvited, under any other circumstances.” - -“You’re going to stay as my dear and honoured and most welcome guest,” -Grace assured her. “And I promise you that in every other respect you -shall have all your own way, and cherish me as much as ever you like, -when you are rested.” - -Miss Culpepper’s anxious, loving old eyes had already noted the changes -which these weeks of sorrow and anxiety had wrought in the girl since -those few days of radiant happiness at the cottage. She looked, indeed, -more beautiful than ever, but with a pathetic, etherealized beauty, -fragile to a degree. - -“It’s high time somebody came to take care of her; she’s on the -very verge of a breakdown,” Miss Culpepper inwardly decided, and -unobtrusively entered on her self-imposed labour of love. Within -twenty-four hours she and Dear Brutus were as much at home in the -little flat as if they had lived there all their lives--and the -cheerful confidence with which she regarded the future, as it concerned -Roger and Grace, was an unspeakable comfort to her young hostess, while -her amazing phraseology was entertaining as ever, and provided Grace -with a new occupation--that of committing to memory the quaintest of -the old lady’s expressions in order to retail them to Roger when next -she visited him. - -“Never fear that everything will be made clear in the long run, and -your dear husband triumphantly vitiated,” she declared. “It’s terribly -hard for you both now, but keep your courage up, _mettez votre -suspirance in Dieu_: that means ‘put your hope in God,’ as I dare say -you know. You’ll wonder where I picked up such a lot of French,” she -continued complacently. “It was when I was a girl living in Paris with -one of my ladies, and I’ve never forgotten it in all these years.” - -She sighed, and lapsed into silence, gazing meditatively into the fire. -Grace, lying on the sofa, with Dear Brutus curled up in her arms, -watched the wistful, gentle old face, and wondered what the little -woman was pondering over. - -“How long were you in Paris?” she asked presently. - -Miss Culpepper started, and resumed her knitting with a slightly -flurried action. - -“I’m afraid I was _relevée_ in the past,” she confessed. “I was only -there for about two years--the very happiest in all my life: at least -the last year was. Then my lady’s husband died suddenly--he was Sir -Henry Robinson, who had a post at the Embassy, a very nice gentleman -though a little pomptious sometimes--and the establishment had to be -broken up. I came back to England, and soon got another place, a very -good one--again with a lady of title, where I stayed for many years. -And--and that’s all!” - -Again she was silent, apparently absorbed in her knitting, but Grace -saw two tears roll down her withered cheeks, and wondered more than -ever what train of remembrance had roused the old lady’s emotion, -though she did not like to question her further. - -They both started as the front door bell sounded. - -“I’ll go,” said Grace, rising, “I expect it is my father.” - -It was not the professor, but a small, spare, very neatly dressed old -man, whom at first she did not recognize. - -“Mrs. Carling?” he asked. “I must introduce myself, madam. My name is -Thomson.” - -She knew him then, though she had only seen him once previously, when -he had given evidence at the police court on the return of the stolen -papers to his master, Sir Robert Rawson. - -“Mr. Thomson!” she exclaimed. “You--you have come from Sir Robert -Rawson?” - -“Not precisely, madam; though I am in Sir Robert’s service. I came on -my own account to beg the favour of a few minutes’ conversation.” - -“Certainly. Do come in,” she said, her pulses fluttered with the wild -hope that this old servant, whom Roger so liked and trusted, might have -something of importance to communicate. - -As he followed her through the little hall he glanced with an -expression of surprise at a hat and coat hanging there, which he -recognized as Roger’s; at several walking-sticks in a rack, at a sling -of golf clubs in the corner, and, as he entered the dining-room, looked -across at once at the writing-table by the window, and the little table -with pipe-rack, tobacco jar, and match stand beside it. - -“Excuse me, madam,” he said quickly, “but is Mr. Carling at home--has -he been released?” - -Grace turned in surprise. - -“No. What makes you ask that, Mr. Thomson?” - -“I’m sure I beg your pardon, madam; but I saw Mr. Carling’s things in -the hall and his table there, just as he liked to have it when he was -with Sir Robert, and I thought--I hoped----” - -“They are ready for his home-coming,” said Grace. “Won’t you sit down, -Mr. Thomson? This is my friend, Miss Culpepper. Why, do you know each -other?” - -For Miss Culpepper, who had risen hastily at their entrance, was -staring at Thomson in a most curious and agitated manner. “It can’t -be--yes, it is!” she gasped. “James--James Thomson--don’t you know me?” - -He looked at her inquiringly and shook his head. - -“I’m sorry, madam, you have the advantage of me. What name did you say?” - -“Maria Culpepper, that was maid to Lady Robinson when you were Sir -Henry’s valet. I was thinking of you, and of those old days not five -minutes ago. You’ve forgotten me years ago, I can see that, but I’ve -never forgotten you, James, though you never wrote as you said you -would!” - -He put up his gloved hand and rubbed his chin meditatively, then -removed the glove and extended the hand with conventional politeness. - -“To be sure, Miss Maria. I remember you now, though it’s a good many -years ago. I’ve been with Sir Robert near forty years. Strange to meet -you again like this--very strange; and with Mrs. Carling’s permission -I might call some night and have a chat over old times, but I’m a bit -pressed for time just now, and have something urgent and private to say -to Mrs. Carling.” - -“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll go at once,” murmured poor little Miss -Culpepper, hastily gathering up her knitting which had fallen to the -floor, and making a courageous attempt to recover her wonted dignity. -“Good night, James. I--I shall be very glad to see you again, as you -say, one of these days.” - -Grace accompanied her to the door, dismissed her with a kiss, and -whispered a word of sympathy, then returned to Thomson, feeling more -bewildered than ever. - -“How very extraordinary that you and Miss Culpepper should be old -friends,” she said, motioning him to a chair. - -“Thank you, madam. Quite so,” he responded, seating himself bolt -upright on the extreme edge of the chair, and holding his bowler hat -on his knees. “I am sorry I did not remember the old lady at first. -She was quite young then, as I was--a very nice young woman, now I come -to think of it. Indeed, if I remember rightly, I had the intention at -one time of asking her to be Mrs. Thomson, but fate intervened and we -drifted apart.” - -His manner, formal, precise, irreproachably respectful, yet seemed -somehow curiously callous, and exasperated Grace, on behalf of her poor -little friend. - -“Evidently she has never forgotten you, Mr. Thomson,” she said, with -some warmth. “And she is the kindest and most loyal little creature in -the world. She would have made a good and most loving wife.” - -“Quite so, madam. But even at the time I doubted if I was cut out for -matrimony, and I have never seriously contemplated it since.” - -“Why did you come to see me?” she asked point blank, as he paused, and -sat gazing, not at her, but at the crown of his hat. - -“It’s a little difficult to explain, madam,” he said, raising his eyes -for a moment, but without meeting her direct gaze. “And first I beg of -you not to consider it an impertinence. Then--may I ask if Mr. Carling -has ever spoken of me to you?” - -“Often--and always in the very highest terms.” - -“That was like him,” said Thomson, with more feeling in his dry voice -than he had yet exhibited. “Except my master, Sir Robert, there’s no -gentleman in the world I respect so much, or who I’d sooner serve than -Mr. Carling. He was always the same, always treated me like a human -being and not a servant, or a stock or stone. Madam, I’d do anything in -the world that I could to serve him!” - -“I believe you, Mr. Thomson. Thank you,” said Grace softly, telling -herself that she had misjudged the man. - -“This terrible charge that has been brought against Mr. Carling has -upset me more than anything has done for years, madam,” he resumed: -“that and the fact that my master believes him to be guilty and has -turned against him altogether. I can’t understand it. Sir Robert ought -to have known him better. I have presumed several times to try to -remonstrate with my master, but he won’t hear a word even from me. -It’s--well, really, madam, it’s been a great grief to me, for it’s the -only serious difference Sir Robert and I have ever had in all the years -that I have served him.” - -“It’s a great comfort to me--and it will be to my husband--to know that -you are so loyal to him, Mr. Thomson,” Grace said earnestly, greatly -touched, but wondering more and more what had prompted the old man to -come to her now. - -“Thank you, madam. Though that is not actually what I took the liberty -of coming here to say,” he responded, as if in some uncanny manner he -had read her unuttered thought. “It was to ask if you have arranged for -Mr. Carling’s defence?” - -A wild hope flashed to her mind. - -“Mr. Thomson! Is it possible that you know of anything--that you have -any information that would help to clear him?” - -He shook his head. - -“Unfortunately, I know nothing whatever of Mr. Carling’s movements on -that fatal day, madam, beyond what I have heard and read as stated in -evidence. That was not what I meant. He must have the best defence that -money can obtain.” - -“Yes. And I hope--I think--we have arranged that Mr. Cummings-Browne, -the famous K.C., will undertake the defence.” - -“Very good, madam. But I understand that these big legal gentlemen come -very costly; and--I’m sure you will pardon me, and take the question -as it is meant, as confidential and most respectful I do assure you, -but--have you got the money in hand?” - -“The greater part of it; and I shall get the rest by the time it is -needed.” - -“Might I make bold to ask how much is still wanted?” - -“About five hundred pounds,” she replied, watching him perplexedly, -while he continued to gaze down at his hat. - -There was a little pause. Then: - -“That’s what I was afraid of, madam, knowing that Mr. Carling couldn’t -be by any means wealthy,” he said slowly, and putting his hat on the -table, unbuttoned his overcoat and from an inner pocket fetched out a -worn and bulky leather case. “That’s just why I came here to-night, -madam. I’ve thought about it constant for weeks past, but it was a bit -difficult to know how to do it without giving offence--though, in a -matter of life and death, which is what this is, a lady like you and -a gentleman like Mr. Carling wouldn’t take offence where none was -meant. I’ve got five hundred and fifty pounds in Bank of England notes; -they’re all my own, they’re not a quarter of my savings--for I’ve had -good wages these many years and never any expenses to speak of, and -I’ve invested well and regular. And now I beg you and Mr. Carling to do -me the honour of accepting this as a loan--and as much again and more -if it should be wanted--to be repaid any time, it doesn’t matter how -many years hence.” - -As he spoke he opened the case, extracted a sheaf of crisp white -bank-notes, opened, smoothed them, laid them on the table, and rose, -adding, “I think you’ll find there are twenty-eight--twenty-seven -twenties and one ten.” - -Grace had listened, too utterly amazed for speech; and now she, too, -rose, in tearful, trembling agitation. - -“Oh! Mr. Thomson, what can I say? It is too noble, too generous! -But--I--we--can’t really----” she cried incoherently. - -“Please, madam, please!” he said, more hurriedly than he had yet -spoken, and edging his way towards the door. “I’m not going to take -them up nor touch them any more. The--the honour and the privilege is -mine, and I’d take it kindly if you wouldn’t mention the matter to Mr. -Carling or to anyone; it’s just between you and me, if you don’t mind, -madam. My respectful duty to Mr. Carling when you’re able to see him, -madam.” - -He was now in full retreat across the little hall, his hand actually on -the latch of the door. - -“Wait one minute,” she pleaded distractedly. “At least let me try to -thank you--try to say what I feel and think; or do come back to see -your old friend, Miss Culpepper----” - -But he had the door open and was already outside. - -“Thank you kindly, madam. I would be very glad to call one evening -and have a chat with Maria over old times. And please don’t be so -distressed, madam.” - -With that he was gone, passing like a grey shadow down the staircase, -leaving Grace staring after him through her tears. - -“And he didn’t even let me shake hands with him!” she thought, as she -went in and shut the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE CHINESE ROOM - - -When he reached the street Thomson discovered that he had left his -right-hand glove in Mrs. Carling’s flat. Not worth returning for it, he -decided, thrusting his hand into his overcoat pocket. He would go round -as he had suggested some evening and renew his acquaintance with Maria -Culpepper--little Maria, whose very existence he had forgotten for so -many years. The glove would provide an excuse. - -Strange, indeed, to meet her again in their old age, like a ghost of -the past. As he walked slowly along Buckingham Gate he deliberately -and more or less successfully tried to recall recollections of -those youthful days in Paris, and found it quite an interesting -experiment--as interesting as turning out some old cupboard full of -forgotten relics and rubbish. - -“Yes, she was a pretty little creature,” he concluded. “Cheerful as -a bird, and a nice hand at cribbage she could play too--very nice. -P’r’aps she can still. I wonder where we’d have been now if we hadn’t -drifted apart? It was her fault though; for, now I come to think of it, -I’m pretty sure I did write, and she never answered. Well, well.” - -Still musing, he made his way back to Grosvenor Gardens. It was -nominally his “evening out,” an institution Sir Robert had recently -insisted on reviving. Thomson himself wanted no evening out--wanted -nothing but to continue to tend the stricken master whom he served with -such silent, dogged, and dog-like devotion. It was still early, only -just after eight o’clock, and he meant to spend the remainder of this -his leisure evening in his own room, within call if he should be needed. - -As he neared the great house, so silent and dark in these days, with -the shadow of tragedy still heavy upon it, he saw a motor car before -the door, and quickened his pace, fearing that Sir Robert might have -had a relapse and that this was the doctor’s car. He was reassured as -he recognized the car as Lord Warrington’s Rolls-Royce, but at the same -instant experienced a minor shock; for a tall, slender man, wearing -a furred overcoat, approaching from the opposite direction, paused, -looked up at the house, and then knocked and rang. That man was Boris -Melikoff. - -Earl Warrington and Melikoff both visiting Sir Robert together! What -was in the wind now, he asked himself perplexedly, as, unobserved, -he went down the area steps and let himself in at the basement door. -Much-privileged servant that he was, he had for years possessed his own -latchkey, and came and went as he chose, accountable to none but his -master. - -By the back staircase he made his way to the first floor and entered -his own room--a fair sized, comfortable apartment at the end of the -suite occupied by his master, and with a door that led direct into Sir -Robert’s bedroom. - -Before the fire, in the one easy chair, reading an evening paper, was -a nice-looking fresh-complexioned young man, Perkins, the male nurse, -who, with Thomson himself, took charge of the invalid. - -“I didn’t expect you back so soon, Mr. Thomson,” he said, rising -deferentially. “Sir Robert’s had his dinner all right, and there’s a -gentleman with him now.” - -“Yes--Lord Warrington,” said Thomson, removing his overcoat and hanging -it in a cupboard. - -“Really, sir? I didn’t know, of course. I gather that he came -unexpected. But Sir Robert’s expecting another gentleman directly. I -was going to have my supper sent up here as you were out, but now----” - -“That’s all right, Perkins, you go and have it downstairs, it’s -livelier for you,” said Thomson, kindly enough. “And don’t hurry -yourself. I shall be at hand now if anything’s wanted. Tell them to -send mine up as usual about half-past nine.” - -Seating himself, he picked up the paper, and Perkins promptly -retreated. The servants’ quarters were indeed by far the most cheerful -in that grim house! - -Thomson waited for two or three minutes, then rose, and with his usual -noiseless tread passed through into Sir Robert’s bedroom, illuminated -only by a cheerful fire, and stood, listening intently. - -No sound could be heard from the further room--the “Chinese -Drawing-room,” which did not communicate directly with this--where Sir -Robert and his visitor were; and Thomson moved to the door, opened it -very slightly and stood, again listening. - -Soon he heard far off the tinkle of an electric bell, and rightly -guessed it a summons to Jenkins, the butler, whose soft footsteps -and pursy breathing thereupon sounded ascending the staircase. Then -a murmur of voices from the Chinese Room: Lord Warrington’s cheery -tones, “Well, good-bye, old man! I’m glad indeed to see you so well on -the way to recovery. I’ll look in again soon if I may”; and retreating -footsteps on the thick carpet. - -Swiftly, Thomson emerged from his retreat, crossed the spacious -landing, and entered a door to the left, closing it silently behind -him. This room was in darkness, except for the faint greenish, ghostly -light from a street lamp that penetrated the jade-green silk curtains, -and the air was oppressive with the fragrance of flowers, roses, -violets, narcissi. - -It was Lady Rawson’s boudoir, kept, by Sir Robert’s orders, exactly -as it had been in her lifetime, the flowers frequently renewed, books -and magazines placed there daily, as if ready for their mistress. A -strange, uncanny atmosphere pervaded the luxurious room. The servants -dreaded it, the housemaids whose duty it was to tend it worked in -pairs, and scurried away the moment their task was finished. The -only exception was Thomson himself, who usually arranged the flowers -and periodicals before wheeling his master in for his daily visit, -remaining beside him in imperturbable, unobtrusive attendance. - -Unerringly, stepping as lightly as a cat on the soft carpet, he made -his way across to the opposite wall, where a dark patch showed against -the whiteness, _portières_ of jade-green velvet that masked folding -doors leading into the Chinese Room. On the other side the doorway was -concealed by magnificent curtains of black and gold embroidery in a -dragon design, that had a very curious feature--one that Thomson had -discovered by pure accident. The eyes of the dragons were pierced with -large eyelet holes, invisible from even a short distance, but through -which a perfect bird’s-eye view could be obtained of the room beyond. - -The doors were closed but not latched, and it was the work of an -instant cautiously to swing them open sufficiently to clear the two -nearest peep-holes, just at a convenient level to Thomson’s eyes. - -Sir Robert was lying on his wheeled couch before the fire, with his -back towards the screened portal and the hidden watcher, who, however, -could see his master’s face reflected in a great lacquered mirror on -the opposite wall. A remarkable face, aged, drawn, but also refined by -these long weeks of suffering and sorrow. Under the short, carefully -trimmed white beard which had been allowed to grow during his illness -his square jaw was firm and relentless, as his steel-grey eyes were -keen as ever beneath their grey penthouse brows. - -He turned his head slightly as the door opened and Jenkins announced - -“Mr. Boris Melikoff.” - -“It is very good of you to come, Mr. Melikoff,” Sir Robert said, with -grave courtesy, extending his hand, over which the young man bowed -respectfully. “I cannot rise to receive you. I am quite helpless as you -see. Will you sit in that chair?” - -Boris complied. The chair, as Thomson had already noted, was placed so -that the lamplight would fall full on the face of the visitor, leaving -that of his host in shadow, an invariable device of the old diplomatist -at important interviews. - -For a few seconds the old man and the young one looked at each other -warily, like a couple of fencers preparing for a bout, then Rawson’s -stern gaze softened. - -“You are very like my dear wife,” he said quietly, “so like her that -you might almost have been brother and sister rather than cousins.” - -The Russian’s handsome, sensitive face relaxed responsively. - -“Many people have said so, sir, who knew us both,” he replied. - -“You wonder why I sent for you?” - -“Yes, sir--naturally.” - -“Naturally. And yet I myself scarcely know why I did so, except----” - -He paused, and Boris waited. Not for long. - -“Why didn’t you two trust me?” - -Sir Robert’s deep voice quivered with poignant emotion, and, though -he controlled his features, his eyes betrayed an agony of regret and -reproach. - -“I--I don’t know, sir,” stammered Boris. “I think--we--believed--feared -that you were the enemy of our unhappy country; that--in your -position----” - -“_I_ the enemy of Russia--of the real Russia? Paula could never have -thought that.” - -“She did indeed, sir,” said Boris earnestly. “Or perhaps it would be -more truthful to say that she believed you set your duty to your -Government above all personal sympathy.” - -“She was right there,” Sir Robert rejoined sternly. “To a man in the -position I once held duty must always come first, if he is to be worthy -of that position. But if she had trusted me--as I never doubted she did -till it was too late--if she had told me what was in her heart, in her -mind, and that she was meeting--wishing to aid--her compatriots, her -kinsfolk, how gladly, how greatly I could have helped her and them! But -she told me nothing--not even of your existence. Yet surely she did -not, she could not, have feared me?” - -“Not personally, sir,” Boris answered slowly. “Paula was absolutely -fearless; also she honoured and--yes, and loved you, though more as a -daughter than----” - -“Than as a wife. I know that. You are very honest, Mr. Melikoff! Well?” - -“But I think--or rather I know--that she wanted to--to play her own -hand herself in a way. To take all risks, and not to involve you----” - -“Not involve me! Do you realize that by her action--her fatal action -in taking those papers--she might have involved the whole of Europe in -catastrophe?” - -“I knew nothing of that, sir,” said Boris dejectedly. - -“Quite so. I have satisfied myself on that point, through sources -quite unknown to you; otherwise you would not be here now but in all -probability would have been deported weeks ago, to meet whatever fate -might be in store for you in your own country,” said Sir Robert -grimly. “However, let that pass. Tell me this, Mr. Melikoff--I have a -right to know: you loved each other, you two foolish and headstrong -children?” - -Boris met his searching gaze sadly but steadily. - -“I loved _her_, Sir Robert; and I have loved her ever since we were -little children together. But she never loved me. I do not think Paula -ever loved any man--not in the sense most of us mean by the word.” - -“Again I believe you, and not without evidence.” He drew towards him -a carved sandalwood casket that stood on a small table beside him, -opened it, and took out a thin packet of letters which Boris recognized -as his own. “I have here a number of your letters to her. I have read -them all. They are not ‘love letters,’ but I know from them that you -loved her, without hope and without reward. Would you like to have them -again? In some ways they are dangerous documents to be in any custody -but your own.” - -He passed the packet to Boris, who took it with a trembling hand. - -“Sir Robert, you are too good--too generous! What can I say?” - -“Say nothing. And if you will take my advice put them in the fire. It -is the safest place for them.” - -Simply as a child Boris obeyed on the instant, and in silence they -watched the packet consumed to a little mass of black ashes. - -“I have but one letter of hers, sir,” said Boris presently. “The last -she ever wrote me, and therefore most precious. It is very brief. -Would you--care to read it?” - -He unfolded the letter--it was but a half-sheet--with a lingering, -reverent touch, and held it towards Sir Robert. - -“No, no, keep it, lad. It is yours and sacred,” the old man said after -a moment’s hesitation. “As I have said, I believe you and trust you. -That was the only one she wrote?” - -“Oh, no, sir! There were several others. Mere formal notes like this, -in Russian or sometimes in French. I ought to have destroyed them at -once--she told me to; and they are lost, or they have been stolen from -me.” - -“Stolen!” - -“I fear so, sir, though when or how I cannot say. I was ill, very ill, -for a time after Paula’s--death. They were in an escritoire in my -bedroom, and after I recovered I found they were gone.” - -“Do you suspect anyone?” - -Boris shook his head. - -“Impossible to suspect the good friend with whom I live, or any of -my visitors. I have wondered sometimes whether, in my delirium, I -might not myself have destroyed them, on some subconscious impulse, -remembering that she had told me to burn them. They could not possibly -be of any value, or of any danger, to anyone. Except to myself, they -were quite meaningless, and with nothing but the hand-writing itself to -show by whom they were written.” - -“Strange,” mused Sir Robert. “You are sure they were as harmless, as -meaningless, as you say?” - -“Quite sure. And may I say this, Sir Robert? I am certain that when -Paula took those papers from your safe--as I fear there is no doubt she -did--that it was the very first time she had done or attempted to do -such a thing: that she yielded to a sudden and overwhelming temptation.” - -“I wish I could believe that,” said Sir Robert with stern sadness. - -“You may believe it, sir, for it is the truth. She would have told -me of any such attempt, and I give you my word--believe it or not -as you choose--that I should have attempted to dissuade her. I am a -fighter--or I was one, when I could fight and could see my enemy--but -I am no intriguer, nor was she really. She bewildered me often by her -romantic schemes--they were so wild, so vague--but I humoured her in -them, because I loved her, because it brought her nearer to me. It--oh, -how can I put it?--it was like child’s play, though she herself was so -much in earnest.” - -“Child’s play!” echoed Sir Robert bitterly. “Child’s play that cost her -life, and that will cost the life of the one whom, next to her, I cared -for most in this world! I tell you, Melikoff----” - -He broke off, and Boris looked at him in surprise and apprehension. -But Sir Robert was not looking at him; he was staring into the big, -lacquered mirror, and his face had become absolutely expressionless. - -“One moment,” he said quietly, and touched a button of an electric -bell-stand on the table beside him, without removing his gaze from the -mirror. - -“Can I do anything?” Boris began, and paused as Sir Robert lifted his -hand warningly. He appeared to be listening intently. - -In about a couple of minutes Thomson entered the room. - -“Oh, it’s you, Thomson,” said Sir Robert quietly. “I thought you were -out?” - -“I returned some time ago, sir.” - -“Where is Perkins?” - -“Downstairs at supper, Sir Robert.” - -“Oh! Will you put on the lights in Lady Rawson’s boudoir? Go through -this way, please,” Sir Robert added as Thomson moved towards the door -by which he had entered. - -“Very good, sir,” he answered, and imperturbably drew back the dragon -curtains, pushed back the partly opened doors, switched on the lights -in the inner room, and returned for further orders. - -“I should like you to see that room, Mr. Melikoff,” said Sir Robert. -“It is my dear wife’s boudoir. Will you come with me? Wheel me in, -Thomson.” - -As Thomson obeyed, his master’s keen glance swept over the beautiful -room. - -“The outer door is open. Close and lock it and give me the key,” he -commanded, and, when Thomson had complied, added, “thank you. That will -do for the present. I will ring when I need you again.” - -Thomson retreated through the Chinese Room, went to the bedroom and -mechanically tended the fire, then to his own room, where he sat down -and waited. - -It was half an hour or more before he was again summoned, and then he -found Sir Robert alone. The dragon curtains were still pulled apart, -but the folding doors of the boudoir were closed and locked. - -Master and man looked steadily at each other for a good half-minute, -then Sir Robert said: - -“For how long have you been in the habit of spying on me, Thomson?” - -“I have never done such a thing before, sir.” - -“Humph! I wonder if that is true? It is something at least that you do -not attempt to deny that you were spying on me to-night. Why did you do -it?” - -“Need you ask that, Sir Robert? It was by chance that I discovered that -Russian gentleman was coming to see you. I thought it a very dangerous -thing for you to see him alone.” - -“When I pay you to ‘think’ I’ll tell you so,” Sir Robert replied icily. -“I am still able to think for myself, Thomson.” - -A quiver of emotion passed over Thomson’s usually passive face. - -“I’m sorry, Sir Robert; it was an error of judgment on my part. It -shall not occur again. I--I have served you faithfully these many -years.” - -“I never said you hadn’t. But remember in future, please, that excess -of zeal is sometimes more dangerous than a deficiency of that otherwise -excellent commodity. And now you had better call Perkins to help you -put me to bed.” - -“Very good, sir,” said Thomson. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A PEACEMAKER - - -On Christmas morning Grace Carling knelt before the altar in -Westminster Abbey, where, as usual at this early service, there were -but a few worshippers. - -Through the vast, dim spaces above, beyond the radiance of the lighted -chancel, the soft coo of the pigeons outside was distinctly audible -above the low tones of the ministrant priest. Of other sounds there -were none; the very spirit of peace seemed to brood over the glorious -old place, the spiritual heart of England to-day as through so many -long, long centuries. - -There was peace in Grace Carling’s heart for the moment, renewed -strength and courage for the long ordeal through which she and her -beloved were painfully passing. She knew that at this hour, yonder -in the prison chapel, such a little distance away in reality, Roger -himself would likewise be kneeling; and, as always at these times, they -were very near to each other, in that spiritual communion which, to -those who have experienced it, is a sublime and eternal fact, albeit a -fact that even they can neither explain nor understand. - -When she went out presently with the words of the benediction still -lingering in her ears, her pale face was serene and beautiful as that -of an angel. - -There were very few people about at this early hour--a mild, grey -morning, with the great towers of Westminster looming through the -haze like those of some dim, rich city of dreams. She walked swiftly, -absorbed in thought, and as she reached Buckingham Gate came face to -face with Austin Starr. - -“Why, what an early bird!” she said, smiling up at him. - -“I’ve been around to your place with some flowers--spring flowers, that -mean hope! I guessed you would be at church, and wanted you to find -them to greet you,” he explained. - -“That was dear of you, Austin; just like you. Have you breakfasted? No? -Then come back to breakfast with me, do. You haven’t met my dear little -Miss Culpepper yet.” - -“Thanks, I’d like to. Is that the old lady I saw right now? She looks a -real peach.” - -“She’s priceless, and such a comfort to me. What a long time since I’ve -seen you, Austin. I began to think you were forgetting me.” - -“I couldn’t do that,” he assured her earnestly. “But I’ve been very -busy and very worried. I’ll tell you all about it directly, if I may.” - -He did look worried--she had noticed it at once--but there was no -opportunity to say more at the moment, as they had reached the lift. - -Miss Culpepper came running out at the sound of Grace’s key in the lock. - -“Oh, my dear, a gentleman has been with a mass of such beautiful -flowers and a great basket of fruit!” - -“I know. Here he is, come back to breakfast. Miss Culpepper--Mr. Austin -Starr. Now go in to the fire, Austin, and make yourself at home--you’ll -find Dear Brutus on the hearthrug, I expect--while I take my hat off.” - -“Pleased to meet you, Miss Culpepper,” said Austin. “Mrs. Carling has -just been telling me what a great comfort you are to her, and I can -well believe it. We all hated her to be living here all alone. Why, did -you expect me or is someone else coming?” - -His quick eyes had noted that the table was laid for three persons, and -already adorned with his own gifts. - -Miss Culpepper paused in the act of laying another place, and put her -finger to her lip mysteriously, with a significant glance towards the -door. - -“That’s Mr. Carling’s place,” she whispered. “It’s always laid ready -for him at every meal. It pleases her, and I think it’s a beautiful -idea really.” - -Austin nodded sympathetically, but felt troubled nevertheless. The -thought occurred to him that “if things went wrong with Roger”--the -only way in which at present, even to himself, he would acknowledge the -probability of Carling being convicted of the crime with which he was -charged--Grace would surely die, or lose her reason. - -He felt somewhat reassured, as to her mental state anyhow, when -she re-entered, looking so cheerful, so self-possessed, yet, alas! -physically so fragile. - -She seemed perfectly normal, and yet he noticed how often she glanced -at that vacant place with the chair drawn up before it, with such a -curious expression in her eyes, as if she indeed saw Roger sitting -there in the flesh. It was absolutely uncanny. - -“Now what’s the trouble, Austin?” she asked, when the simple meal was -at an end, and Miss Culpepper retreated with the breakfast things, -leaving them together. She had drawn up a chair for him in front of the -fire, and he knew that the vacant easy one was reserved for Roger, that -“shadowy third.” - -“First it’s about Roger. I’ve been following up every trail I could -think of, Grace, and every one of them has led just nowhere. I seem to -get up against a blank wall every time. I’ve even been to Snell again, -but he can’t or won’t help; and sometimes I feel just about in despair!” - -She met his troubled gaze serenely. - -“I know you are leaving no stone unturned, Austin, and that the reason -why you have not been to see me was because you had discovered nothing -at present. But don’t let it trouble you. We must just go on keeping -our hearts up, trusting and waiting. That’s sometimes the hardest -thing in life, but it’s got to be done. And Roger will be cleared, how -or when I do not know--yet: only that he will be saved, freed, his -innocence established before the whole world!” - -“You’re wonderful, Grace! I wish to heaven I had such faith.” - -“I couldn’t live without it,” she said simply. “We all seem to be -moving in a terrible fog, or, rather, to be so enveloped in it that -we can’t move, we don’t know which way to turn! But the fog’s going -to lift, the sun’s going to shine--in time! Have you seen much of the -Cacciolas lately?” - -“Not for the last few days. I’ve been in and out a good deal, have got -to know them pretty well, and the more I know them the better I like -them--even young Melikoff--and the more I’m convinced that none of -them had any more to do with that unhappy woman’s death than you or -I had, and know no more about it. They seldom speak of it now--never -when Boris is there. Lady Rawson seems to have had a sort of malign -influence over him, which Maddelena resented bitterly; so did the -_maestro_, for all he’s so gentle and tolerant, dear old man!” - -“Was that Miss Maddelena I saw you with last week?” asked Grace quietly. - -“Saw me with her--where?” - -“In St. James’s Park. I was sitting down. You passed quite close to me.” - -“Oh, yes! I did meet her one day, by pure chance. I never saw you. -Curious too, she was very upset because Boris had had a letter from Sir -Robert Rawson asking him to go and see him, and she didn’t want him to -do so.” - -“Did he go?” asked Grace quickly. - -“I don’t know--I haven’t seen or heard from any of them since. But if -he did, and anything transpired that would give us any light, Maddelena -would have got it out of him and sent word to me--sure.” - -“I wonder why Sir Robert wanted to see him,” mused Grace, “and why Miss -Maddelena didn’t want him to go?” - -He smiled. - -“She was afraid it would upset him. She’s very fond of Boris, and -that’s why she was so jealous of Lady Rawson’s influence over him. As a -matter of fact, she’s made up her mind to marry him, and I guess she’ll -have her way! She’ll be a charming and a jolly good wife too, though it -will be a case of ‘one who loves and one who graciously permits himself -to be loved.’ They’re going to the States in the spring; Cacciola’s -just fixed up a season in New York, where Boris will make his début, -and then they’ll go on tour. I bet Maddelena comes back as Mrs. -Melikoff. She’s just about the most masterful young woman I’ve ever -met, though a real good sort too.” - -He smiled again, indulgently and reminiscently, then sighed. - -“Cacciola wanted Winnie to go with them,” he continued slowly, staring -fixedly at the fire; “but I gather she’s refused. It would have been -a big chance for her; and besides, I’ll have to go over myself in the -early spring. We could all have gone together, and she’d have met my -mother and sisters, and---- But now of course----” - -He turned to Grace with startling suddenness. “Grace, do you know that -Winnie’s giving me the frozen mitten?” - -“Giving you the--what?” she echoed in sheer surprise. - -“That she’s turned me down. I haven’t even seen her since the day after -she came back from Bristol.” - -“Nor have I, or only for a few minutes between whiles. She’s been away -most of the time, with all these provincial engagements--only got back -late last night; she rang me up.” - -“Did she say anything about me?” - -“No, only that she hadn’t seen you. I’m going to help down at -Bermondsey. Aren’t you coming too?” - -“No--I don’t know. She hasn’t asked me. Fact is, she hasn’t answered my -letters--she’s simply ignored me. I went around yesterday, and her maid -said she wasn’t at home, though I’m plumb certain she was all the time. -Then I rang up, and again the maid answered and said Winnie had gone to -bed, and again I didn’t believe her. Why is she treating me like this? -I can’t understand it. It’s worrying me no end. I’d have tried to find -out from George, but he’s in Paris, as you know.” - -Grace nodded. - -“When did you see her last?” - -“I told you--the day after she returned from Bristol. It was at -Cacciola’s, as it happened, and she came on here to you afterwards. -I came with her as far as the lift, but she’d scarcely speak to me, -though _why_ I don’t know to this moment.” - -He looked so utterly forlorn and lugubrious that Grace had to smile, -while she rapidly reviewed the situation and recalled her own vague -suspicions. - -“You say you last saw her at Cacciola’s,” she mused. “What happened -there?” - -“Nothing that I know of,” he asserted earnestly. “They were singing--or -Boris was--when I got there, and I didn’t see Winnie at first; she was -sitting in a dark corner.” - -“H’m! And Miss Maddelena was there?” - -“Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?” - -“Does Winnie know what you’ve just told me--about Mr. Melikoff and -Maddelena?” - -“I don’t know--how should I? I’ve told you I haven’t seen her since. -What’s that got to do with it, anyhow?” - -“Quite a lot, perhaps. Look here, Austin, I’ll be quite frank with -you. When I saw you and Miss Maddelena--if it was she--last week, -until I recognized you I really thought you were--well, just a pair of -sweethearts. You really appeared to be on such very confidential terms!” - -“Great Scott! Why I--she--it’s only her way! She’s impulsive, -affectionate with people she likes, even when they’re only casual -acquaintances like myself. The old man’s the same. See here, Grace, you -don’t mean that you think Winnie’s jealous--jealous of Maddelena?” - -She laughed outright. She couldn’t help it. His consternation and his -air of injured innocence were so comical. - -“I think it highly probable, my dear Austin.” - -“But it’s absurd!” he protested. “And it’s not a bit like Winnie.” - -“Isn’t it? I’m afraid you don’t know much about women, Austin, even -though you _are_ a novelist, and psychologist, and all the rest of it.” - -He laughed too, then, somewhat ruefully: - -“I guess you’re about right. You generally are. Question is--what’s to -be done?” - -“What did you send her for Christmas?” - -“Only some flowers and candies. I took them around myself last night -and left them. But I’ve got this.” From his waistcoat pocket he -extracted a dainty little morocco case, opened it and passed it to -Grace, adding sheepishly, “You see, I wanted to give her this myself, -if she’ll only see me.” - -“Oh, how beautiful!” Grace cried, as she examined the ring--a superb -sapphire surrounded by small diamonds. - -“Sapphire’s her favourite stone, and just the colour of her eyes, that -wonderful deep blue,” he said. “I bought it weeks back, and have been -carrying it around ever since, waiting the opportunity to give it her.” - -“You are a dear, Austin, and you won’t have to wait much longer. Take -my advice and go straight along to Chelsea now; you’ll catch her before -she starts out for church, and you can go with her. I’m coming along -later. She’ll see you right enough this time.” - -He obeyed with alacrity, and when she had started him off she rang up -Winnie. Martha answered, and asked her to “hold the line” while she -fetched her mistress. A minute later came Winnie’s fresh young voice. - -“That you, Grace, darling? How are you? You’re coming along directly?” - -“Yes, in an hour or so, I’ve just had an early visitor--Austin. The -poor boy’s awfully upset.” - -“Really? Why?” Winnie’s tone had become frigid. - -“I think you know well enough, old thing. He’s confided to me that you -seem to have given him the frozen mitten!” - -A pause. Then, icily: - -“I don’t understand the expression; it sounds exceedingly vulgar!” - -“Win, darling, don’t fence, or pretend not to understand. It’s serious. -I saw something was wrong; I’ve suspected it for some time, and had -no end of trouble to get it out of him. But he says you’ve cut him -systematically ever since you got back from Bristol, that you won’t see -him or answer his letters, and he’s frightfully unhappy about it.” - -“Is he?” Another pause, and what sounded like an angry sob. “It’s all -very well for him to talk, but if you’d seen him as I did, with that -Maddelena Cacciola, when he didn’t know I was there--why I thought he -was going to kiss her in front of everybody! And--and--oh, I can’t -explain, but I--I saw and heard quite enough that day to--to realize -that--I’d made a mistake--or he had.” - -“Winnie, you’re quite wrong! I know all about that, and there’s -nothing in it. Surely you know the Cacciolas well enough by this -time to know how unconventional and--well--effusive they are. Austin -admires the girl in a way, but he says she’s ‘the most masterful young -woman he’s ever met,’ and--he loves you, Win; you know that in your -heart. It--it’s not worthy of you, dear, to mistrust him so--not to -give him a chance to explain. Darling, are you going to let the rift -widen--perhaps to spoil both your lives for nothing--when there’s so -much real sorrow in the world?” - -“I know. I’ve been pretty miserable too, and--I don’t know when I -shall see him again,” said Winnie tremulously, and Grace smiled. - -“You’ll see him in about ten minutes, if he’s been able to find a taxi. -He’s on his way to you now. Bye-bye till lunch time.” - -She put up the receiver. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -WHAT GIULIA SAW - - -Mr. Iverson’s Christmas party for his poorest, and some of his -“blackest,” sheep was in full swing when Grace arrived there that -evening. - -Outside the Parish Hall a taxicab was standing, unattended, and she -wondered for whom it might be waiting. She entered and stood for a -time, unobserved, among the throng inside the door, for the place was -crowded. - -On the tiny stage was Maddelena Cacciola, a bewitching figure in a gay -_contadina_ costume, singing a merry, rollicking song to her own guitar -accompaniment. - -A roar of applause followed, the rough audience stamping, shrilling, -whistling their delight, till the girl reappeared, beaming at them, and -waved her hands to enjoin silence. - -“Just a little dance now, my friends, and that must be the very last, -please,” she announced; and forthwith Cacciola’s master touch brought -forth real music, even from the old tinpotty piano. And Maddelena -danced. - -Grace watched her, fascinated. How charming, how versatile, how utterly -unaffected she was; and what a consummate _artiste_! No wonder Austin -had been attracted by her. Who could resist her? She was glad she -had persuaded Winnie and him not to come on here with her to-night, -but to get into “glad rags” and go to dine and dance at the Savoy. -Her peacemaking effort had been entirely successful, and all was -well with those two whom she loved. Winnie, the sapphire and diamond -ring gleaming on her hand, had been radiant all through that tiring -afternoon, had sung delightfully, had been her most lovable self; but -it was just as well that she should not enter into rivalry with this -irresistible Italian girl! - -The end of the dance evoked another tumult of appreciation, but -Maddelena had vanished, not to return, and the vicar’s jolly voice -boomed out. - -“We’d like to listen all night to the signorina, but we mustn’t be -greedy and work her too hard. Now I vote we have some more tea and -cakes--they’re all ready in the next room--and then we’ll clear for a -dance.” - -In the movement that followed he caught sight of Grace, and made his -way towards her. - -“My dear child, how long have you been here?” - -“Only a few minutes, just in time to help, _padre_.” - -“Nothing of the sort; you look tired out. Come along; we’ll find a -chair in a comparatively quiet corner.” - -“I’m not tired, really; I’m happier at work.” - -“I know that,” he said in his fatherly way. “But you mustn’t overdo it, -you know. Where’s Miss Winston?” - -“I persuaded her not to come. She’s been singing all the afternoon at -one place and another; we’ve had quite a big day of it, _padre_.” - -“Just so. And it’s all right here, as it happens. We’ve got the -Cacciolas, as you see, and they’re a host in themselves--dear folk! -Isn’t Miss Maddelena wonderful? Why didn’t you bring your little Miss -Culpepper along?” - -“She’s keeping house with Dear Brutus, and expected an old sweetheart -to tea.” - -“You don’t say so! Well, well. Now sit you down, child, and I’ll bring -you some coffee.” - -“I’ve got some here; and please, Mr. Iverson, do introduce me to Mrs. -Carling.” - -It was Maddelena herself who joined them, a dark wrap thrown over her -picturesque dress, a big steaming cup of coffee in her hand. - -He complied, and Maddelena smiled down at her, and tendered the coffee. - -“It is for you; I saw how tired you were looking, and brought it -on purpose. Now you must drink it,” she said in her charming, -authoritative way. “And, oh, I am so glad to meet you at last, Mrs. -Carling! I think of you so often.” She drew up another chair for -herself, and the vicar slipped away to resume his duties as host. “You -are so brave, so good--you set aside your so great sorrow and anxiety -and think always of others; and _padre_ has told me. It is wonderful,” -Maddelena continued. “And, oh, I do so wish I could help you! I have so -wanted to come and see you, but I did not like to, as we had never met.” - -“Well, now we have met I hope you will come and see me some day soon, -Miss Cacciola,” said Grace. “I have heard of you too, from my old -friend Austin Starr.” - -“Ah, yes--that nice Mr. Starr! He is seeking still for fresh evidence -that might help your husband. Has he any success yet?” Grace shook her -head sadly. “Alas! it is a terrible mystery. We sought to help him, my -uncle and I, yes, and even Boris, as perhaps he told you, but we could -discover nothing--nothing at all!” - -“Yes, he did tell me, and indeed I am very grateful, Miss Cacciola. It -_is_ strange--terrible--that we can get no fresh light at all. But I -am quite sure that the truth will be revealed. But for that faith I--I -don’t think I could bear the suspense.” - -“Do you know, at the first, Mrs. Carling, I thought--as Boris also -and doubtless very many others did--that your husband must have been -guilty, until I saw him in the police court that day, and then I -knew--though how I knew I cannot tell you--that he was innocent; and I -would do anything in the world that I could to help to prove it. But -what can we do?” - -Grace pressed her hand, keenly touched by the girl’s earnest, impulsive -sympathy, but could find no words to reply. What, indeed could be said? - -“I have wondered often of late,” Maddelena resumed, her dark brows -contracted in thought, “whether our old Giulia would be able to tell -you anything.” - -“Your Giulia? Why, who is she?” asked Grace. - -“My uncle’s housekeeper--in fact our only servant. She has been with -him for many years and is devoted to us all. She is Italian, of course, -a peasant, and quite uneducated, but she has--what do you call -it?--clairvoyance, the ‘second sight,’ sometimes, and can see, oh, the -most extraordinary things--for some people!” - -“Really!” Grace exclaimed, almost in a whisper, her heart beginning to -flutter, her eyes searching the girl’s vivid, thoughtful face. - -“Yes. She can see nothing for herself--it is often so--only for others, -and she tells me things that do come true. Many times of late, as I -begged her to, she has tried to see what happened that day, but she has -failed so far. She says she knew, when Paula Rawson left, that there -was tragedy round her; she saw her depart as in a red cloud, and was -half minded to follow her at the time. If only she had done so! But -she disliked and feared her always. And she has never been able to -see anything clearly about it--for me. She says it is because Paula -really does not come into my life at all, except indirectly. It might -be different with Boris, though she has never tried to ‘see’ for him. -He does not know of her powers, and I do not want him to let her try -with him--it might upset, unbalance him again, restore the terrible -influence Paula had over him. You understand that, don’t you? Or you -would if you knew him, and how terribly he has suffered! But I do -believe she might be able to see something for you.” - -“I wonder,” Grace murmured perplexedly. “I don’t know anything about -such things, Miss Cacciola; of course I have heard of clairvoyants.” - -“Yes, fortune tellers and charlatans most of them; but our Giulia is -not like that. It is a real gift with her. Oh, if you would come to -see her! Why not come now? She is all alone, and it will be quite -quiet. Or are you too tired?” - -“Tired? Oh, no, indeed,” Grace declared eagerly. “But I should be -taking you away from here.” - -“I’m quite ready to go. They’ll have to do without me for the rest of -the evening,” said Maddelena rising. “We’ve a cab waiting outside, Mrs. -Carling, so I will just find the chauffeur and tell my uncle we are -going. Will you stay here till I return?” - -She flitted away and disappeared among the noisy, merry crowd that -was beginning to drift back from the refreshment-room, to return in a -minute or two accompanied by the taxi-driver. - -“Here we are. I have told the _padre_ that I am going to start you off -home, as I will after you have seen Giulia. Come along.” - -They drove along the Mall, almost deserted on this Christmas night, -a peaceful and beautiful scene with the river at full tide under the -moonlight. The last time Grace had driven along here was on her way -from church on that wedding day that seemed a lifetime ago. Now she -felt as if she were bound on some strange, vague adventure in the world -of dreams! - -The cab turned up a narrow street on the left, and paused at the high -road, held up by a couple of passing trams--paused just outside that -fatal post office. The house was dark, the shop windows plastered with -big posters announcing that the premises had been sold by private -treaty. - -“The horrible place is to be pulled down,” said Maddelena. “That is -well. Mrs. Cave has got another shop about a quarter of a mile away, -nearer the station. She moved there, post office and all, a few days -ago. She is very glad. No wonder.” - -As they crossed the road and drove down the quiet square, Grace, -staring out of the window, could almost imagine that she saw the -ghost-like figure of Paula Rawson gliding along in the shadow--gliding -to her doom--and shivered involuntarily. - -“You are cold!” exclaimed Maddelena solicitously. - -“No. I was only--remembering,” she answered, and Maddelena pressed her -arm with an impulsive gesture of sympathy. - -“You can wait,” she told the chauffeur. “Go down and tell Mr. Withers -you are to sit by his fire till I call you. Take my arm, Mrs. Carling. -We will go slowly up these many stairs. They are trying to a stranger.” - -Grace, indeed, was breathless when they reached the top, and Maddelena -led her straight into the big drawing-room, where the cosy gas fire was -aglow as usual--the Cacciolas loved warmth--switched on the lights, and -pushed her guest into the easiest chair. - -“Now you must have a glass of my uncle’s famous wine and a biscuit. -Yes, yes, I insist, it is here--everybody has to do as I say; Mr. Starr -calls me ‘she who must be obeyed.’ Has he told you that? He is very -funny sometimes, that Mr. Starr, but he is right there. So, drink it up -while I go and prepare Giulia.” - -She found the old woman sitting in her old armchair in the spotless -kitchen--placidly enjoying her Christmas evening playing “patience,” in -company with a flask of Chianti and a dish of salted almonds--bestowed -a hearty kiss upon her, and explained why she had returned so early. - -“But who is it?” protested Giulia. “I do not know that I shall be able -to see for her.” - -“Thou wilt try, dear good Giulia,” coaxed Maddelena. “It will be kind -indeed, for she is in deep distress over the fate of one whom she loves -most dearly. Yes, she is a stranger. I will not even tell thee her -name; it is not necessary: at least thou hast often said so. Let the -light come if it will.” - -“Well, well, thou wilt have thy way as usual, _carissima_,” said Giulia -resignedly, pushing aside her cards. “But she must come to me here.” - -“I will bring her on the instant,” said Maddelena, and returned to -Grace. - -“She is ready. Do you mind coming into the kitchen? She is always at -her best in her own domain. Do you understand Italian? No? Then I must -be with you to translate, for when she ‘sees’ she always speaks in her -own tongue. I will write it down--that will be best. Ah, you have drunk -the wine--that is good. You look just a little bit less like a ghost -now, dear lady. This way.” - -Giulia rose as they entered the kitchen, dropped a quaint little -curtsey, and fixed her dark eyes earnestly on the visitor. - -“Yes, I zink it vill be that I vill see. Zere is light all around -you--ze great protecting light! Vill you sit here at my feet; take off -your gloves and hold my hands--so! Vait now; do not speak!” - -She pulled out a hassock, on which Grace obediently seated herself. -Giulia took her hands, holding them lightly and moving her own wrinkled -brown ones over them with a curious massage-like movement for a minute -or more, while she continued to gaze searchingly at her. Maddelena, -pencil and notebook in hand, leaned on the back of Giulia’s chair. - -In the silence the slow tick of the clock sounded unnaturally loud; in -Grace’s ears her own heartbeats sounded even louder. - -Then Giulia ceased moving her hands and grasped those of her visitor -closely and firmly, in a grip that occasionally, during the minutes -that followed, became almost painful. Grace saw the light fade from -the old woman’s eyes, leaving them fixed and glassy, like those of -a corpse, till the lids drooped over them and she seemed to sleep, -breathing deeply and heavily. Soon she began to speak, in Italian, -slowly and with difficulty at first, then more fluently. - -Grace, watching and listening with strained attention, could only -understand a word here and there, but Maddelena later gave her the -written translation. - -“There is light all around you--a beautiful light; it is the great -protection; but beyond there is gloom and within it I see a man; he is -your beloved. I think he is young and handsome, but I cannot see him -clearly. I could not see him at all but for the light around you that -penetrates even to him. You stretch hands to each other, striving to -meet--you in the light, he in the darkness--and sometimes the hands -touch, just for a moment. - -“Ah, the darkness passes a little. I see a large building; many people -are there: it is a Court of Justice. The beloved is apart from you, -from all, in a place by himself; there is but one beside him--I think -he is an officer of police. The light streams from you to him, it gives -him strength and courage. - -“Alas! the darkness gathers; it shrouds you both now--black, black! The -very Shadow of Doom--the Shadow of Death!” - -Maddelena, still writing rapidly, almost mechanically, drew her breath -with a little gasp of dismay, and Grace glanced at her with agonized -eyes. - -“What is she saying?” she whispered. - -“S-sh--wait, it is not the end,” Maddelena whispered back hurriedly. -It seemed a long time, though probably it was not more than a minute, -before Giulia spoke again. - -“The light comes once more, but it is a different light, and the air is -full of the odour of flowers. Now I can see. It is a large, a beautiful -room--larger than the _maestro’s_ music-room. The hangings are green -and the chairs of gold. There are many flowers. A clock strikes--it is -the ninth hour. Hush, there are footsteps and voices, low voices; men -come in softly; I do not know them; they look like great lords. Now -two more enter--one is young and one older; I have seen them before, -but I know not where. You are not there, nor your beloved. Someone is -speaking; I cannot see him, there is a mist rising--a red mist; it -hides all.... - -“But the end is not yet. Once more the light comes. It is another room -now--a smaller one. A woman kneels beside a bed. She is very still, -and I cannot see her face, but I think--nay, I am sure--it is thou -thyself, signora; and the light is all radiant above thee--the light -of the ‘great protection.’ There is a little table close by with a -telephone. Listen, it is the bell ringing. The woman rises--yes, she is -thou. It is news, good news. The tears come, but, ah, they are tears of -joy. - -“Here is thy beloved--at last I see him clearly. He is at thy side, he -is free. The shadow has passed away. See, thou art in his arms, and the -light--the glorious light is upon both!” - -Silence once more. Slowly her grasp relaxed--for days afterwards -Grace’s hands showed blue marks from the grip of those strong brown -fingers--she drew a long sigh, shivered, and then slowly opened her -eyes and gazed dreamily at the girl. - -“Vat is it? Vat have I see?” she muttered in her broken English. - -“Thou hast seen much that was very strange and very comforting; thou -hast done well, dear Giulia,” said Maddelena, leaning forward and -bestowing a hug and kiss on her from behind. “Rest now, thou art -exhausted. So, thou shalt sleep for a while.” - -Giulia leant back and closed her eyes again, and Maddelena turned to -Grace, who had risen with difficulty. - -“Come, Mrs. Carling, she will be all right in a few minutes. You are -faint and trembling. No wonder! It was a marvellous séance.” - -“What did she see? What did she say?” faltered Grace, glad of the -support of Maddelena’s strong young arm as the girl led her along the -passage. - -“I will tell you directly. I have it all down, or nearly all, I think, -but in Italian--there was no time to translate. I will do that and send -it to you to-morrow.” - -“It sounded so tragic, so terrible,” said Grace piteously. “I couldn’t -understand, of course; but surely she said something about death--the -shadow of death--when you seemed so upset!” - -“Yes. I was afraid for a moment, but the shadow passed in the end. I am -sure, quite sure, she has seen rightly, and that Mr. Carling will be -saved, though how I don’t know and she doesn’t, but listen.” - -Rapidly she turned over her scrawled notes, and read the last part -only, from the description of the room with the flowers and the green -hangings. She thought it kindest to suppress the earlier episodes, and -as a matter of fact did not divulge them fully to Grace until weeks -later. - -“Do you recognize the rooms?” - -“Not the large one,” said Grace perplexedly. “I cannot place it at all. -But the other must be our--my--bedroom: the telephone is there, as she -says. And you say she saw Roger there!” - -“Yes, that’s the very last thing; you are to think of that, dear Mrs. -Carling, whatever may happen. No matter how dark things may be, the -light _will_ come--the ‘great protection’ will be over you both all the -time. So you will never lose courage, even for a moment, will you? Oh, -I _am_ so glad you came!” - -“You dear child!” cried Grace, and kissed her. - -“And now I am going to see you home--you are tired to death. Well, only -to the station then, if you will have it so. And I may come and see you -soon? We will be friends, real friends, won’t we?” - -When she arrived home, still musing over this strange, almost -incredible, episode, Grace found Miss Culpepper--also playing -“patience”--with a cheerful fire, a dainty little supper, and a loving -welcome. - -“What a long day you’ve had, my dear. You must be worn out,” she said, -fluttering round and helping her remove her wrap. - -“Yes, it has been long, but very interesting. And how have you got on? -Did Mr. Thomson come to tea?” - -“Y-e-s--oh, yes, though he didn’t stay very long. Sir Robert is not so -well, and he was anxious to return. He brought me this--a beautiful -little bit of bigotry, isn’t it?” - -“This” was an antique brooch, set with pearls, a really exquisite piece -of workmanship. - -“It’s lovely, and suits you perfectly in that lace fichu.” - -“Yes. James always had excellent taste, and I really was very pleased, -and very surprised. But do you know, dear Mrs. Carling, I see a great -difference in him--naturally perhaps after all these years; but--oh, -I don’t know what it is, something I cannot fathom! And Dear Brutus -did behave so badly, spat and swore--_swore_ at Mr. Thomson, till I -actually had to take him out to the kitchen and shut him up there. It -was quite upsetting!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE SHADOW OF DOOM - - -The trial of Roger Carling for the murder of Lady Rawson was drawing to -an end. No case heard in the Central Criminal Court had ever created -greater public interest, by reason of the sensational and unique -circumstances of the crime, and the social status of the victim and of -several of the persons involved. - -Also, many of the callous and curious spectators, most of them -fashionably dressed women, who waited for hours in the bitter cold -of those grey winter mornings to gain admission to the court, fully -expected a series of scandalous revelations; for rumours had been -rife of some passionate intrigue between the murdered woman and Roger -Carling, or Boris Melikoff, or both men; and circumstantial lies, -invented by salacious minds, were broadcasted by malicious tongues from -Mayfair and Belgravia to the far suburbs. - -Those prurient anticipations were never satisfied. No fresh -evidence was forthcoming; but as the case developed so the tension -increased, the interest became cumulatively more poignant, more -painful, concentrated on the prisoner, pale and worn but perfectly -self-possessed, and his girl-wife, whose eyes never left his face, and -who seemed utterly oblivious of every one and everything else in the -world except during the brief interval when, in the witness-box, she -gave evidence on the important episode of the sudden change of their -honeymoon plans. - -The opening indictment by counsel for the Crown seemed flawless. -Inexorably, with consummate skill, and in absolutely passionless tones, -he reconstructed and related the story of the crime, from the discovery -of the theft of the secret papers to the arrest of the prisoner on the -fourth day of his honeymoon. Calmly, relentlessly he wove the threads -of circumstantial evidence and presented it as a complete web. - -In imagination, those who listened saw Roger Carling enter on his hasty -quest--“Bear in mind the importance that he attached, and rightly -attached, to those missing papers--an importance so tremendous that his -own wedding, the bride who was awaiting him at the very altar, became -secondary considerations!”--followed him as in the increasing gloom he -dogged the footsteps of his victim, watched him pass swiftly through -the shop, unperceived by the other persons there, a circumstance that -sounded almost incredible until its possibility was demonstrated by -the model and plans of the place, which were duly passed to the jury -for examination. Then the fatal stab in that obscure corner, a deed -premeditated, if only for a brief minute before hand, as the weapon -(counsel held up that little tortoiseshell knife) must have been ready -in his hand. It was the work of a moment; it was done not in the heat -of passion, but coolly, deliberately; and as coolly and deliberately, -having achieved his immediate purpose and regained possession of the -papers, he thereupon not only effected his own escape for the time -being, but, with a resource amazing in its ingenuity, instantly got rid -of his incriminating booty, the recovered papers, in the one way that -might, and as a matter of fact did, effect their safe return to Sir -Robert Rawson, by posting them in the letter-box close at hand! - -“Is it probable--nay, is it possible or even conceivable--that any -other person than the prisoner, the one man in England who at that -moment knew the contents and the inestimable importance of those -documents, would have acted in such a manner? - -“The reaction came, naturally and inevitably. The prisoner’s demeanour, -the agitation he exhibited when eventually he arrived at the church -where his bride awaited him, were precisely what might be expected in a -man who had come straight from the perpetration of an appalling crime, -as they were far in excess of the physical and mental distress that any -ordinary individual would suffer through the accidental inconvenience -and delay experienced in consequence of the fog. - -“Finally, there was a sudden change of plans and of destination -effected after the prisoner and his bride had actually started on their -honeymoon. Why did he not take his bride to the hotel where rooms had -already been booked for them? Because he had begun to realize what the -consequence of his crime would be--feared that he would be arrested -that very night, sought to gain time, a few hours, a few days.” - -Cummings-Browne sprang up. - -“I protest! There is a complete explanation of the change of plans -which will be given in evidence.” - -“My learned friend says the change of plans will be completely -explained in the course of evidence. It will be for you, gentlemen -of the jury, to decide on its significance when you have heard the -explanation, as it will be your duty to weigh the whole of the -evidence.” - -Hour after hour through that day and the next the succession of -witnesses gave their evidence, and were subjected to searching -cross-examination and re-examination by the respective counsel. Those -in court, and they were many, who were familiar with the methods of -the famous counsel for the defence discerned from the first that -Cummings-Browne was on his mettle, fighting for his client’s life -against most desperate odds; for the great mass of evidence provided -corroboration on nearly every point of the theory formulated by the -prosecution; and in refutation of that theory there was practically -nothing except Roger’s own simple, straightforward statement of his -movements, and Grace’s pathetic testimony regarding their change of -plan, for which she insisted that she alone was responsible. - -One point which Cummings-Browne elicited was, that while it was -practically certain that the murderer wore gloves--a fact indicated by -the smears on the bag--Sadler, the taxi-driver, swore positively that -Roger Carling was not wearing gloves when he left the taxi. - -“I noticed how cold his hands looked when he paid me, and wondered that -a well-dressed young gentleman didn’t have his gloves on on such a raw -day.” - -Neither old Giulia nor any of the witnesses who were questioned -concerning the time he arrived at the church, and his appearance when -he did arrive, could give any definite information on this matter, -while he himself admitted that he had gloves in his pocket, and very -probably put them on while he was on his way to the church, though -he had no recollection of doing so; but asserted that they were the -same gloves--a pair of grey antelope--that he had worn on his journey -back to Town when he was under arrest, and that were now among the -“exhibits” in court. Those gloves were soiled, but with ordinary wear, -and a microscopic examination proved that there were no incriminating -stains on them, and that they had never undergone any process of -cleaning. - -That circumstance--so small in itself, but of such tremendous -importance when a man’s life depended on it--was duly emphasized by -Cummings-Browne in the course of his three hours’ speech for the -defence--a speech afterwards acknowledged to be the most brilliant, the -most impassioned, the most moving that even he had ever delivered; one -that held his auditors enthralled. - -There was dead silence for a few seconds after he sat down, then a wave -of emotion swept over the crowded court, and a spontaneous murmur of -applause, instantly and sternly suppressed by the ushers. - -Austin Starr, sitting close to Grace, drew a deep breath of relief and -flashed a smile at Roger. He believed, as many others did at that -moment, that Cummings-Browne had triumphed once more--that Roger was -saved. - -Then, grim and relentless as Fate, counsel for the Crown rose to reply. -Bit by bit, calmly, remorselessly he demolished that eloquent defence, -exposed the slight foundation on which it was based compared with the -mass of evidence that supported the case for the prosecution; dwelt on -the atrocious nature of the crime--“a crime far worse than ordinary -homicide, for which there was often the excuse that it was committed in -the heat of passion; but this was assassination--the cool, deliberate -assassination of a helpless, defenceless woman!” - -After that cold, calm, implacable denunciation came the judge’s -summing-up--grave, reasoned, meticulously impartial. Then the jury -retired. - -One hour, two hours dragged by, each seeming long as a lifetime. Would -they never return? At last at the little movement that heralded the -final scene, counsel and solicitors, Grace Carling and her friends -came in and resumed their places, the judge took his seat once more, -the prisoner reappeared in the dock. Roger stood with shoulders -squared, head erect, lips firmly set, pale indeed, but apparently as -self-possessed as was the judge himself. - -The jury filed in. - -“Guilty!” - -With that one low-voiced word the Shadow of Doom seemed to descend; and -above the subdued sound of sobbing the judge’s deep, solemn voice was -heard asking the prisoner if he had anything to say before sentence was -passed on him. - -Roger looked at him full and fearlessly, and answered in tones that -rang through the court: - -“Only this, my lord, that I am absolutely innocent--innocent in thought -as well as in deed--of this appalling crime!” - -As he spoke Grace rose in her place, slowly, silently, till she stood -at her full height, her hands clasped on her breast. There was a -strange, ecstatic expression on her fair face, subtle and inscrutable -as the smile of Mona Lisa, and her eyes were fixed on Roger’s, as, from -the moment he ceased speaking, his were fixed on hers. - -So those two lovers looked at each other while the dread sentence was -pronounced that would part them for ever in this world. They did not -even seem to hear the words of doom. - -Many women, and some men, were sobbing hysterically, none were unmoved; -but still Grace stood like a statue, scarcely seeming to breathe, -gazing no longer at Roger--for he, with the two warders in attendance, -had disappeared--but at the place where he had been. - -Austin Starr slipped his arm round her on the one side, Winnie Winston, -tearful and trembling, on the other. - -“We must get her away,” sobbed Winnie. “Come, darling!” - -She yielded to their touch, walking quite steadily, but as unconscious -of her surroundings as a somnambulist. - -Only when they reached the anteroom and a little crowd of friends -and counsel clustered round her, she turned her head and looked at -Austin, that faint unearthly smile still on her lips, and said, quite -distinctly: - -“It is not the end. There is still the light--the great protection!” - -With that she swayed forward, and Austin held and lowered her gently to -the floor. - -“Oh, she’s dead!” cried Winnie, kneeling distractedly beside her. -“Grace--Grace, darling!” - -“She’s only fainted, thank God! It’s better for her,” said Austin -huskily. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE LAST HOPE - - -In the room that had once been Paula Rawson’s boudoir Sir Robert Rawson -lay on his wheeled couch, drawn up near a blazing fire. Of late he had -extended his daily visits to this room of poignant memories, spending -many hours there, with Thomson or Perkins in attendance on him--usually -Perkins, for since the evening of Boris Melikoff’s visit, when Sir -Robert had detected and rebuked that “error of judgment” in his trusted -old servant, he had not resumed the confidential relations that had -existed between them for so many years. He never again referred, in -words, to the incident, but an impalpable barrier had risen between -master and man that in all probability would never be surmounted. - -Over the mantelpiece hung the famous half-length portrait of Paula -which, entitled “The Jade Necklace,” had been _the_ picture of its year -at the Academy, a masterpiece that showed her in all her imperious -beauty, dressed in a robe of filmy black over which fell a superb chain -of jade beads, the one startling note of vivid colour in the whole -picture. - -For hours Sir Robert would lie and gaze at the portrait that seemed to -gaze back at him with proud, tragic, inscrutable dark eyes. He was -gazing at it now, and might or might not have been listening as Perkins -conscientiously read aloud column after column from “The Times.” -Perkins read remarkably well--Sir Robert occasionally complimented -him--but he often wondered whether his master really did listen! - -He paused when the butler entered with a visiting card, on which a -brief message was written in pencil below the name: “Entreating five -minutes’ interview on a most urgent and private matter.” - -“Mr. Austin Starr,” Sir Robert muttered, frowning meditatively over the -card. - -“There’s a lady too, Sir Robert,” said Jenkins. “I asked her name, but -the gentleman said she would only give it to you.” - -For a full minute Sir Robert pondered, holding the card in his thin -fingers, before he answered slowly: “Very well. Bring them up, -Jenkins.... You can wait in the next room, Perkins.” - -In the interval he looked up again at the portrait, with a strange -expression in his haggard eyes, as if he were mutely questioning it; -but his stern old face was impassive as a mask as he turned it towards -his visitors. - -“I remember you, Mr. Starr; but who is this lady?” - -Grace, for it was she, came forward and raised her veil. - -“I am Roger Carling’s wife, Sir Robert.” - -He looked at her intently. He had seen her once or twice, when she -had been a guest at his wife’s receptions, and he never forgot a face -he had once seen, but he could scarcely recognize in this pale, worn -woman with appealing, pathetic, grey eyes, the radiant young girl of -such a few months ago. - -“I thought it might be you,” he said slowly. “I am very sorry for you, -Mrs. Carling--and sorry that you have come here to-day. I fear you will -only add to your own distress--and to mine. Why have you come?” - -“To plead with you for my husband’s life,” she cried. “As our very -last hope, Sir Robert! You know--you must know--that the appeal -has failed, the petition to the Home Secretary has failed, and -to-morrow--to-morrow----” - -She faltered and Sir Robert said grimly: - -“To-morrow Robert Carling will pay the just penalty for his crime.” - -Austin clenched his hands in indignation, but dared not speak, dared -do nothing to interrupt this terrible old man, who, if he could be -prevailed upon to intervene, might yet save Roger Carling from the -scaffold. If Grace could not move him, assuredly no one else could! - -“No, no, Sir Robert--he is innocent; you, of all people, should have -known that from the first.” - -“I? I would give everything I possess in this world to be able to -believe that, but I cannot. He has been tried and found guilty. There -is no shadow of doubt that he _is_ guilty, and that knowledge is the -bitterest thing in the world to me, for I loved him, I trusted him as a -son, and he murdered my dear wife!” - -She fell on her knees beside his couch, stretching out piteous hands to -him. - -“Sir Robert, I implore you to hear me! Roger never raised his hand -against Lady Rawson. God knows who did, but it was not he! The truth -will be discovered some day, I don’t know how or when, but it will; -and if it comes too late--and there are such a few hours, such a few -short hours in which he may still be saved--his death will be at your -door, on your conscience! For you can save him now if you will! Your -influence is so great, if you will but say one word on his behalf the -Home Secretary--the King himself--will listen to you, will respond -to you as to no other man in the world. They will grant a reprieve, -and then, whenever the truth does come out, his innocence will be -established--he will be set free. Sir Robert, I implore you.” - -Again he looked at the portrait, and her agonized eyes followed the -direction of his. - -For a few seconds there was a tense silence. The deathly fragrance -of the masses of flowers in the room seemed to increase till it was -overpowering, suffocating. Then Grace spoke softly, brokenly, not to -the stern old man, but to the woman in the picture. - -“Oh, if only you could speak; if you could but tell us the whole truth! -Do you know--I wonder, I think you may do--how I wept and prayed for -you when I learned of your terrible fate, that overshadowed those -sacred hours of our happiness; how my beloved grieved for you and your -stricken husband, whom he so loved and honoured? If you _do_ know, -then, as a woman, you will know what we suffer, in our great love and -all our sorrow, with the shadow of doom upon us--you will strive to -touch your husband’s heart, to soften it towards us!” - -“Enough!” Sir Robert’s voice broke in harshly. “It is useless for you -to invoke the dead, useless to ask me to intercede for your husband. I -have no power to save him, and if I had I would not exert it; the law -must take its course!” - -Austin stepped forward impetuously. - -“Sir Robert,” he began indignantly, but Grace checked him with a -gesture. - -In some uncanny way she seemed suddenly to regain her composure, and -rose to her feet, standing erect just as she had done in court when the -judge pronounced Roger’s doom. Slowly her glance travelled from the -portrait round the beautiful room, as if she was noting each detail, -and the two men watched her in silence. - -“The room with green hangings and many flowers,” she said softly; “the -room where the truth will be made known--at the ninth hour.” - -“Come away, Grace,” said Austin huskily, moving to her side and taking -her arm. He feared her mind had given way at last under the long strain. - -She looked at him with that faint, inscrutable Mona Lisa smile on her -white face. - -“It is all right, Austin, good friend. I am not mad. Yes, we will -go--to Roger. It was good of you to see me, Sir Robert. I will forget -what you have said; you will know better soon--at the ninth hour. -Good-bye. Come, Austin.” - -She moved towards the door, scarcely seeming to need Austin’s support, -and when it closed behind them Sir Robert covered his eyes with his -hand and sank back on his pillows. - -As they went down the wide staircase Thomson silently appeared on the -landing, and, after a moment’s hesitation, followed them. Jenkins met -them in the hall, ceremoniously ushered them out, and opened the door -of the waiting taxi. Austin helped Grace into the cab and was about to -follow her when Thomson crossed the pavement. - -“Half a minute, Mr. Jenkins. Can I have a word with you, Mr. Starr?” - -Jenkins retreated, imagining that Thomson had come with a message from -his master, and Austin turned. - -“Well, what is it?” - -“This way, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Thomson, drawing him a little -aside. “Am I right in thinking that you and Mrs. Carling have been to -ask my master to use his influence on behalf of Mr. Carling?” - -“You are, and he has refused,” said Austin curtly. - -“I feared as much, sir. And there’s no hope that Mr. Lorimer, the Home -Secretary, or the King himself, even now----” - -“None that I can see.” - -“I am very distressed, sir--very distressed indeed, but there’s still -time--while there’s life there’s hope! Could you manage to come round -here again to-night, sir--say at nine o’clock?” - -“Here! What for?” asked Austin bluntly. - -“I can’t explain, sir. I don’t quite know yet, but if you would -come--ask for Sir Robert--I think there might be someone here--there -might be a chance. Better not say anything to the poor lady, but -perhaps you would give her my best respects, and try to cheer her up -generally. Tell her not to despair.” - -“I’ll come. And you’re a good chap, Thomson,” Austin said earnestly, -though his own hopes were dead. He would have shaken hands with the -little man, but Thomson evaded the proffered grasp and slipped back -into the house. - -Grace asked no question, but sat upright in her corner, with that -strange, unnatural composure still possessing her. - -They were on their way to the prison for their last interview with -Roger, whose execution was fixed for eight o’clock on the following -morning, and Austin, who had fought valiantly in the American Army in -that last year of the Great War, had there seen death in many dreadful -forms--the death of comrades whom he loved--dreaded this interview as -he had never dreaded anything in his life before. Possibly for the -first time in his life he felt an arrant coward, and when the moment -came he was speechless. He just wrung Roger’s hands, bent and kissed -them, and hastily retreated, quite unconscious of the fact that the -tears were rolling down his face. - -It was quite otherwise with Grace. She spoke gently, with a gracious -smile to the watchful warders, whose guard over the prisoner must now -be ceaseless till the end, and then clung to Roger, raising her lips -to his, her great, grey eyes shining, not with tears. - -“It’s not good-bye, darling,” she said softly. “It’s only till -to-morrow--such a little time--perhaps even sooner--to-night, at the -ninth hour--and we shall be at home together--at last. The light is -coming--the great protection is over us!” - -He thought, as Austin did, that for the time being at least she had -become insane. It was better so, for her sake; but, oh, it was hard! He -had to summon all his fortitude. The iron will that had sustained him -through all these terrible weeks must sustain him to the last. - -“Good-bye, my own dear love. God guard you and bring you to me in His -own good time,” were his last words. - -She flashed a radiant smile at him. - -“Till to-morrow!” she said, and with that she left him, passing like -a wraith, quite oblivious of the deep interest and sympathy of the -officials, and of the prison chaplain who accompanied her and Austin to -the outer gates, but with tactful delicacy refrained from speaking to -her. He too thought, “it was better so.” - -Winnie and little Miss Culpepper, pale-faced and red-eyed, were waiting -anxiously for her return. She smiled on them too, as they took off her -outdoor wraps and lovingly tended her. - -“Yes, I will have some tea--just a cup. And I’m so tired I’m going to -lie down for an hour or two. You see it won’t do for me to be a wreck -when Roger comes home. That’s nice. Thank you, darlings. You _are_ good -to me. If I don’t wake before nine will you wake me then?” - -Like a child she submitted to be wrapped in a rest-gown and tucked up -under the eiderdown on her bed. When Winnie stole in to look at her -presently she was fast asleep. - -“What does she mean about Roger coming home, and that we are to wake -her at nine o’clock?” Winnie asked Austin when she rejoined the others. - -“I don’t know. She’s been like that, poor girl, ever since we were with -Sir Robert. He was brutal to her--brutal! I wish we had not gone, but -you know how she insisted on doing so. She just stood and looked around -the room, and I guess something snapped in her poor brain. She said -something then about ‘the ninth hour,’ and it’s a queer coincidence, -but directly after, old man Thomson, Sir Robert’s valet, followed us -and asked me to go back there at nine o’clock--though why, he wouldn’t -say, and I can’t surmise. But I’m going!” - -“Did you tell her about that?” - -“No. He asked me not to. And it didn’t seem any use to talk to her, -poor girl; she was just insensible, as you saw her now, like an -animated corpse.” - -“How is Roger?” - -“Well, I can’t quite say,” Austin acknowledged. “I think he was quite -calm, but--well, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t! The _padre_--Mr. -Iverson--has permission to stay the night with him. He’ll be there now, -I guess.” - -They spoke in hushed tones, as people do in the presence of death, and -then lapsed into silence, sitting hand-in-hand, as unhappy a pair of -lovers as could be found in London that night. - -The evening dragged on. Time after time Winnie peeped into the bedroom, -finding Grace still asleep, until just before nine, when Austin had -departed to keep his appointment, she returned and whispered to Miss -Culpepper that Grace had risen and was kneeling beside the bed. - -“She is very still, but she’s breathing regularly and quietly. Look. -I’ve left the door open. What ought we to do?” - -“Don’t disturb her for a few minutes anyhow,” Miss Culpepper -counselled; and again they waited, outside the door, whence they could -just see the kneeling figure, watching and listening intently. - -The grandfather clock in the hall chimed and struck nine. At the sound -Grace raised her head, then bowed it again. - -Slowly the minutes passed, each, to those distressed watchers, seeming -like an hour. A quarter past nine--half-past nine! - -“I think we ought to rouse her now,” Winnie whispered anxiously. “She -will be quite numb and cramped--if she hasn’t fainted!” - -As she spoke the telephone bell sounded--a startling summons in that -hushed place. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE NINTH HOUR - - -Silently, and with his accustomed efficiency, Thomson moved about the -boudoir rearranging some of the furniture. In the centre he placed the -largest of the beautiful ormolu tables, set round it several of the -gilt Louis-Seize chairs, leaving a clear space at the side that faced -Lady Rawson’s portrait; and finally put pens, ink, and paper before -each chair. That done he made up the fire, looked round the room as if -to assure himself that all was in order, and departed, going first to -his own room. There he unlocked a drawer, took out an old cigar-box, -glanced at the contents, and, with the box under his arm, went through -to his master’s bedroom. - -Sir Robert was in bed and sound asleep. He had become restless and -feverish after the departure of Grace Carling and Austin Starr, and -Thomson had taken upon himself to ring up the doctor, who came round -at once, ordered the patient to bed, and administered an opiate, which -took effect immediately. - -Thomson stood for a minute or so looking at his master’s face, stern -even in sleep, then slightly opened the outer door so that he could -hear anyone ascending the staircase, and seated himself near, where he -could still watch the invalid. - -Presently he heard the sounds for which he listened--a knock and ring -at the front door, soft footsteps outside, and glanced at the clock. -Ten minutes to nine. He did not move, but still waited and listened. - -Jenkins, the butler, acting on the very explicit instructions he had -received, took the visitor up to the boudoir. He was none other than -the Home Secretary, Gerald Lorimer--a tall, thin, aristocratic-looking -man, with alert, clean-cut face. - -He glanced round the room with an air of surprise, sniffed disapproval -of the heavy perfume-laden atmosphere, and asked quickly: - -“Where is Sir Robert?” - -“In bed, sir; he has unfortunately been taken worse. Will you take a -seat, sir; the other gentlemen will be here directly.” - -“Other? Why, who is coming?” - -“Lord Warrington, for one, sir; and, if you’ll excuse me, I think I -hear his lordship arriving.” - -Lord Warrington it was who entered next, and the two greeted each other -with mutual amazement. - -“What’s up now, Warrington? I hear Sir Robert’s ill.” - -“So I hear; but he rang me up, or, rather, that invaluable factotum of -his did so, and said Sir Robert begged me to come here at nine to-night -on a most urgent matter, so I came of course.” - -“Same here--precisely the same message. Looks as if it were to be a -sort of board meeting. Is it about Carling? Poor chap! Personally, I -wish it had been possible to save him, but that’s impossible, in the -face of the evidence, and that verdict.” - -“I suppose so,” Lord Warrington assented gravely. “It’s an awful -tragedy--a brilliant youngster like that! And you know, Lorimer, if -ever homicide was justifiable, that was--from _our_ point of view. He -ought to have been rewarded rather than punished! For if _she_”--he -frowned up at the portrait--“had passed on those papers--whew!--Rawson -himself never actually saw them, doesn’t know their contents to this -day. If he did he’d think as I do, even though his own wife was the -victim--as she was the thief, confound her! I say, this room’s pretty -weird, what? Damn those flowers, they smell like death!” - -“Here’s Cummings-Browne. So it _is_ about Carling,” said Lorimer, and -stalked towards the new-comer, his old friend since the days when they -were both briefless barristers sharing chambers in the Temple. “Look -here, old man, if you arranged this conference, or whatever it is, in -the hope of getting a reprieve for Carling, you must know as well as I -do that it’s absolutely useless.” - -“I know nothing about any conference, and never expected to meet you -here, Lorimer, or you, Lord Warrington. I had an urgent message from -Rawson.” - -“As we did; but why on earth he sent for us we can’t imagine, unless -there is something fresh about Carling.” - -“I hope there may be. If he’s hanged to-morrow you’ll be responsible -for a frightful miscarriage of justice, Lorimer!” said Cummings-Browne. - -“Oh, come now! You put up a magnificent fight for him at the trial and -since, but you don’t--you can’t--personally believe he is innocent?” - -“You are wrong for once. I am absolutely convinced in my own mind that -he is innocent--was convinced almost from the first. It’s the most -difficult, the most baffling case I’ve ever had!” - -Lorimer looked at him perplexedly, but made no further comment, for -Jenkins announced, “Mr. Austin Starr and Mr. Snell,” and the two -entered. They had arrived together, and exchanged murmured questions as -they came up. - -Cummings-Browne greeted Austin, Lorimer nodded to Snell with the -question: - -“Anything fresh, Mr. Snell?” - -“Not that I know of, sir.” - -“But what are we all supposed to be here for?” Lord Warrington demanded. - -“I beg your pardon, my lord. If you and the other gentlemen will kindly -be seated I will explain,” said a quiet voice. - -Lord Warrington turned sharply, so did the others, and stared at -Thomson, who had entered silently, through the inner doors that led -to the Chinese Room. He was carrying the cigar-box carefully in both -hands, and looked pale, but otherwise self-possessed as usual. - -“What is the meaning of all this? Why has Sir Robert sent for us?” -asked Warrington imperatively. - -“If you and the gentlemen will be seated, my lord, I will explain at -once,” Thomson repeated, advancing to the table and depositing the box -on it. There was something so curiously compelling in his formal, -respectful manner that they actually complied--Lord Warrington taking -the head of the table, the Home Secretary facing him, Cummings-Browne -opposite Thomson. Snell slipped round and took the chair beside -Thomson, on his right hand, and, sitting sideways, watched him closely. -Austin was on his left. - -Thomson stood erect, looking down at the cigar-box, on which his right -hand rested lightly. They all looked at him expectantly, a scrutiny -which he seemed to disregard entirely. - -“It was I who took the liberty in my master’s name of asking you, my -lord, and the other gentlemen to come here to-night,” he said slowly, -as if weighing every word before he spoke. “And when you have heard my -explanation you will know that the matter was urgent--a matter of life -and death; and also the importance that what I have to say should be -written down. The materials are before you. - -“_It was I who killed my lady!_” - -If a bomb had exploded in their midst it could scarcely have created a -greater mental sensation than those seven quietly uttered words. There -was a low-voiced chorus of exclamation from his astounded listeners, -which he heard unmoved, never raising his eyes from the cigar-box: then -Cummings-Browne’s stern voice, - -“Go on. Tell us everything.” - -Thomson looked up then, met Cummings-Browne’s eyes full and steadily, -and thenceforth addressed himself to him direct. - -“I will, sir--from the beginning. On that morning when the papers were -missing from Sir Robert’s safe I was awake very early--I often am. At -that time I slept in the basement: it is only since that date and Sir -Robert’s illness that I have occupied a room on this floor. I thought I -heard a sound in the library just above. Later I had reason to believe -it was the sliding of the panel that concealed the safe----” - -“What time was this?” - -“Just after five, sir. I had heard the clock strike. I went out and -along to the foot of the stairs in the dark and then saw there was a -light in the hall. Thinking there might be burglars, I felt in a stand -that is there in the lower hall, took a thick stick, and went softly -up the stairs. Just as I got to the top I saw my lady, in a green -dressing-robe, pass up the stairs, and a moment later the light went -out--there is a control switch on the first floor. I went back to bed, -thinking my lady had been down for a book. - -“It was not till the middle of the morning, nearly noon, that Sir -Robert sent for me to the library and told me some papers were missing. -Mr. Carling was there and they were both very upset--very upset indeed.” - -“Did you tell Sir Robert what you had seen?” - -“No, sir. I realize now that I ought to have done so, but at the moment -I didn’t like to. Sir Robert told me not to say anything to anyone, and -I did not. I went down and thought it over. I felt sure in my mind that -my lady had the papers, whatever they were. I knew she was out--she -had gone out about ten o’clock--so was her maid, Mam’selle Périer, -who had been given the day out. I wondered if my lady had gone to -Rivercourt Mansions.” - -“How do you know she was in the habit of going there?” - -“I had known it a long time, sir. I discovered the address almost by -chance, from a letter.” - -“Blotting paper?” asked Cummings-Browne dryly. - -“Well, yes, sir. My lady was careless once or twice that way, though it -was only the address I could make out. I believe she was always very -careful to post those private letters herself.” - -“And you had tracked her to the place?” - -“Yes, sir, a good many times--usually at night. I nearly always knew -when she was going; it would be on Mam’selle Périer’s evening out, or -when my lady sent her to a theatre, as she often did.” - -“Well, go on.” - -“I found out quite a lot one way and another about Mr. Melikoff and the -Russians who used to go there, and the old Italian gentleman. It wasn’t -my business, of course, and I don’t quite know why I did it, for I had -no real grudge against my lady, except that I knew how my master doted -on her, so to speak, and I felt she was not doing the right thing by -him. - -“And now I made up my mind all in a moment to go there and see if I -could find out anything. I didn’t ask Sir Robert. I thought I would -risk him missing me, as I’d often done before, and it wasn’t necessary -for me to tell Mr. Jenkins or anyone else. I took the train, and -just got to the corner of the square when, sure enough, I saw my lady -herself cross the road to go into that post office. I knew it quite -well, having been in and out several times when I’d happened to be in -the neighbourhood. - -“I followed her sharp, and peeped in. My lady was standing at the -counter, and there was no one else in the shop but the person behind -it, who had her back turned getting a telephone call. I went straight -through--neither of them saw or heard me--passed the telephone-booth -and turned to the right by the foot of some stairs and the side door. -There was another door farther on half open, leading into a scullery.” - -Cummings-Browne nodded. He knew--so did Snell--how accurate the -description was to the last detail. - -“I don’t quite know what I meant to do. I think it was to snatch her -bag as she went into the booth and make a run for it. But--I had this -in my pocket.” - -He opened the cigar-box, took out an article that looked like the -haft of a small dagger, of some dull metal elaborately chased, and -held it up to view. There was a click, and out of the haft sprang a -slender, vicious-looking little blade, some four inches long. Snell -involuntarily put out his hand as if to seize Thomson’s arm, but the -latter, having exhibited the weapon, pressed the spring again, causing -the blade to disappear, and laid the thing on the table. - -“I bought it off a sailor years ago in Constantinople, when I was -there with my master, and he used to go about so reckless by himself -in places that weren’t safe for an English gentleman that often I -followed him, with this as a sort of protection, but I never had to use -it--never did use it but the once! - -“I don’t know what came over me all in a moment. When my lady had gone -into the telephone-booth I found I’d got the dagger in my hand. I -opened the door, struck at her, and snatched the bag that was resting -on the little sloping shelf under the instrument. She only made a -little gurgling sound and dropped forward. I shut the door on her and -went through to the scullery and pushed to the door. The whole thing -couldn’t have taken half a minute, and I was just in time, for I heard -someone come along to the stairs and call ‘Jessie!’ There was a wet -rag on the scullery table--the place didn’t seem to be used much for -anything but rubbish: there was a heap of waste paper and boxes in the -corner. While I waited I wiped my glove on the rag and took it off; -here they both are. I’ve never cleaned them.” - -He took a neatly folded pair of tan gloves out of the cigar-box and -laid them on the table. - -“I opened the bag, found the big envelope addressed to Sir Robert just -as Mr. Carling had said, and knew the papers must be inside, but didn’t -try to look at them. I also found this key and this little box, and put -them in my pocket.” - -He took out a Yale latchkey and a small ornate powder box of gold set -with jewels, and placed these beside the other articles. - -“I saw through the window a taxicab standing before the side door. -There was no one at all in sight, so I listened for a minute--by the -sound there were several people in the shop--then went out at the side -door, put the bag through the cab window, walked away, slipping the -envelope into the post box at the corner. Then I walked to the station, -got a train at once--I had taken a return ticket--and was back here -soon after two. I had only been away just over an hour, and so far as I -know I had never been missed. - -“I found my dinner on a tray in my room--I have always had my meals in -my own room--and I sat down and ate it.” - -“Ate his dinner! Good heavens!” muttered Lord Warrington. The others -were silent, Austin Starr, an expert stenographer, was taking down the -confession verbatim; the Home Secretary and Cummings-Browne making -occasional notes; Snell maintained his ceaseless vigilance. - -“I had just finished when Sir Robert’s bell rang for me. I went up -to the library and found him and Mr. Snell there. Sir Robert again -questioned me about the papers, and while he was speaking the news came -by telephone that my lady had been murdered, and my master fell down in -a fit. - -“That’s about all it’s necessary to tell, I think, though if I might -be permitted to say a few words more--about this key, and something -else----” - -“Go on; say all you have to say,” Cummings-Browne responded. - -“Thank you, sir. I knew this key wasn’t one of ours--of this house--and -I thought it just possible it might be the key to Mr. Melikoff’s flat. -I knew, too, that my lady had written him a lot of letters first -and last, and that if they should ever be found they might raise a -scandal that would add to Sir Robert’s trouble, and I made up my -mind to try and get hold of these. It was some time before I got the -opportunity--it was a risky thing to do, of course. But the day that -Mr. Carling was committed for trial I managed it. I knew the whole -household was in the police court--I saw them there when I was in the -witness-box in the morning--and in the late afternoon I went to the -flat, and sure enough the key fitted. I had a look round just to take -my bearings, found Mr. Melikoff’s room--there was a photo of my lady -on his writing-table--and found the letters in a drawer of it. I was -just about to go when they all came back; I’d run it a bit too close! -I slipped into a room opposite Mr. Melikoff’s--a bare room, that -looked like a schoolroom with very little in it except a piano and -music-stands--and bolted the door. I thought, and so it turned out, -that it wouldn’t be used at night. Hours and hours I waited there in -the dark and cold before it seemed safe to try and get out. - -“At last I ventured, and when I got into the hall, where the light was -on, I saw the drawing-room door was ajar; there was a curtain inside, -so I couldn’t see in.” - -“But the door had been closed!” ejaculated Austin Starr. - -“I beg your pardon, Mr. Starr, I assure you it was open then, just an -inch or two, and I heard voices inside--your voice, sir, and a lady’s, -and you were talking about Lady Rawson. Dangerous as it was I couldn’t -help listening for a minute; then I turned off the hall light and -slipped off, closing the front door quietly with the key, and got away -all right. Here are the letters. - -“One word more, my lord and gentlemen. It was a terrible shock to me -when Mr. Carling was accused, and I never believed they’d find him -guilty, and right up to to-day I hoped he would be reprieved, so that -it mightn’t be necessary for me to own up just yet. If my master had -died I would have owned up at once; but I did hope I should be able to -tend him as long as he needed me--and he needs me more now than he ever -did before.” - -For the first time his voice faltered, and he leaned with both hands on -the table, as if for support. Snell half rose, but sat down again as -Thomson recovered himself and resumed: - -“It would be very kind if you could keep the truth from Sir Robert, for -a bit anyhow--if you could tell him I’d been taken ill. And Mr. Carling -will be safe--he’ll soon be released now, won’t he, sir?” He looked at -the Home Secretary, and from him to Lord Warrington. “And you’ll excuse -the liberty I took in sending for you all. I wouldn’t leave nothing to -chance, so to speak. And now, Mr. Snell, I’m quite ready for you, and -I’ll go quiet, of course, though I suppose you’ll want to put on the -handcuffs, if you’ve got them with you?” - -They all rose, and Thomson, respectful to the last, stepped back and -stood, with Snell close beside him, as if the buzz of low-toned, -agitated conversation among the others did not concern him in the -least. - -Austin Starr unceremoniously clutched Lorimer’s arm. - -“Say, Mr. Home Secretary, this does it! Roger Carling’s saved? You’ll -put the order for his release through right now?” - -“It will have to be ‘the King’s pardon,’ of course, and it will be -put through at the earliest possible moment. Thank God that--that -extraordinary old villain confessed to-night!” - -“When will Roger be home?” - -“That I cannot say at the moment--possibly to-morrow.” - -“I may ’phone right now to his poor young wife?” - -“Assuredly; and I will telephone to her myself later.” - -Austin glanced round the room. A telephone was there, but concealed -under a tall Sèvres china doll gorgeously arrayed in Louis-Seize court -costume, and he couldn’t see it. Downstairs he dashed, and seized the -instrument in the hall. - -“Victoria ten-four-double-three, quick please! That you, Grace? Austin -speaking. Oh, my dear girl, it’s all right! Roger’s saved--cleared! -He’ll be home as soon as ever the Home Secretary can fix it. Old -Thomson’s confessed everything right now. It was he who murdered Lady -Rawson!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -INTO THE LIGHT - - -At Argeles in the Pyrenées--where already the sheltered valleys were -glorious with spring blossoms, where the snow mountains shone dazzling -under the strong sunshine against the deep blue of the sky, and the air -was exhilarating as champagne--Roger and Grace Carling finished and -prolonged the honeymoon that had been so tragically interrupted. - -They left England as soon as possible after Roger’s release, which -created even more sensation than his trial and condemnation had done, -and here in this idyllic retreat, where they were quite unknown, these -two lovers, who had gone together through the very valley of the -shadow of death, in which all seemed lost, save love, rejoiced in the -sunshine, and in each other, restored as if by a miracle to life and -hope and youth. - -Miss Culpepper, at her own desire, remained in charge of the little -flat until they should return. The staunch little woman’s joy at -Roger’s vindication--“vitiation” was her word for it--was very little -affected by the knowledge that Thomson was the criminal; in fact, she -accepted it quite philosophically. - -“It’s terrible to think James should have done such a deed, but I -don’t think I am really surprised after all. I saw a great change -in him when he came here on Christmas day, as I think I told you, -my dear. It was something--oh, I don’t know how to describe it in -English--something _mécompte_--that means sinister, you know--that I -didn’t like at all. I shall never again wear that brooch he gave me!” - -The day before they left England Roger had a message from Sir Robert, -begging him to go to see him. He did so and found the old man still in -bed, very frail and broken. - -“Can you ever forgive me, Roger?” he asked piteously, clinging to -Roger’s hands and searching his worn face with anxious, haggard eyes. - -“There’s nothing to forgive, sir. Things looked so very black against -me, it was only natural that you should have thought as you did; and I -know how that belief must have added to your grief and distress.” - -“I shall never forgive myself. I ought to have known you better, my -boy. And to think that it should have been Thomson, of all people in -the world--after all these years I have trusted him! Well, well, it’s a -strange and terrible world; but I shall soon be done with it. I shall -never see you again, Roger; but while I do last--I hope it won’t be -many weeks--you’ll never be out of my mind. You’ll come back, with your -dear young wife--ask her to forgive me too--and take up your career. It -will be a brilliant one. I think I’ve been able to ensure that you will -have your chance, and _I_ know how great your abilities are! Have you -seen Warrington yet?” - -“Yes, I’ve just come from him. He was kindness itself, and has offered -me an excellent post; I am to take up my duties after Easter. He told -me what you said about me, Sir Robert. It was very good of you!” - -“Good! It was the bare truth, and the very least I could do to make -some amends. I shall make more amends, as you’ll know in time, Roger. -Good-bye, my dear boy, good-bye. In time perhaps--Time is always the -great healer--you will be able to forget as well as to forgive!” - -Roger never saw him again. Next week news of his death reached them -at Argeles, and later tidings that he had bequeathed to them both ten -thousand pounds, and to Roger the greater part of his superb library. - -Towards the end of Easter week, Austin and Winnie unexpectedly turned -up at Argeles, also on their honeymoon, having been quietly married -on the previous Tuesday. “Nobody there but George, and a dear fat old -pew-opener,” Winnie announced gleefully. “And we decided we must come -and have a peep at you two. Can’t we all go back together next week as -far as Paris? Then we’re off to the States, via Havre.” - -“That’s so, but only for a few months. We shall come back to London in -the fall,” said Austin. “Say, Roger, have you seen any New York papers?” - -“Not I, and very few others. We’ve almost forgotten, here, that the -Press exists!” - -“I guess so. But you may be interested to hear that Cacciola’s first -concert--Melikoff’s début--was an immense success. Melikoff got right -there--a regular furore; the critics are just about raving over him and -Miss Maddelena--or Mrs. Melikoff as I suppose she is by this time, for -they’re to be married this week. Won’t she mother him--some; keep a -tight hand over him, too, I guess.” - -Later, when Austin and he were alone together, Roger asked for news of -Thomson. - -“I meant to tell you, though not while Grace was here. You know he -was certified as insane and unable to plead, and so was consigned to -Broadmoor?” - -Roger nodded. - -“Well, I got permission to go and see him last week. He’s mad, right -enough, but only on the one point, that he seems to have forgotten -everything about the murder, and thinks he is still in Sir Robert’s -service; but on every other point he appears as sane as you or me. -He’s a model prisoner, gives no trouble, and devotes himself to a -fellow-criminal--patient I suppose one might say--whom he believes to -be Sir Robert, an old man who really does resemble him, white beard -and all. He waits on him hand and foot, and they tell me he’s always -miserable when he’s out of his sight! He knew me well enough and seemed -glad to see me. - -“‘I take it very kind of you to come, Mr. Starr,’ he said. ‘We’re -fairly comfortable here, though it’s not what Sir Robert has been used -to, of course; but he’s much better--very much better. May I ask if -you’ve seen Mr. Carling lately?’ - -“I said I hadn’t--that you and Mrs. Carling were abroad, but I should -probably be seeing you soon, and he answered: - -“‘If you do, sir, perhaps you’ll give them my best respects and good -wishes. A very nice gentleman is Mr. Carling. My master misses him -greatly and will be glad to see him back.’ - -“Then he said something that I couldn’t make sense of; perhaps you can? -Would I ask Mrs. Carling to tell little Maria that he did write to her -more than once, and she never answered, so that it really wasn’t his -fault. Do you know what he meant?” - -“Yes. Grace told me. Maria’s our little Miss Culpepper. They were in -service together, and more or less in love with each other years ago, -but somehow drifted apart and only met the day old Thomson came round -and insisted on lending five hundred pounds of his savings for my -defence. Oh, of course that’s news to you; I forgot he enjoined Grace -to secrecy.” - -“He did that! Well, he’s the most extraordinary case I’ve ever struck! -I wonder whether he really is mad, or only consummately clever? Anyhow, -I’m convinced that when he killed Lady Rawson he did it with no more -animus--and no more compunction--than I’d kill a ’squito!” - -Roger made a warning gesture. - -“Hush, here are the girls. Don’t speak of him before Grace!” - - * * * * * * * - -Later from the balcony he and Grace watched these two loyal friends go -down the road to their hotel, and stood there long after the sound of -their footsteps had died away. Roger’s arm was round his wife, her -dear head rested on his shoulder. - -It was a beautiful evening, with a full moon flooding the valley and -the towering snow mountains beyond with almost unearthly radiance, and -no sound but the murmur of the river and the light breeze stirring the -young leaves and white “candles” of the chestnuts. - -London and the great busy world--all the tragedies and the shadows of -the past--seemed very far away! - - -THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ’PHONE BOOTH -MYSTERY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The ’Phone Booth Mystery</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: John Ironside</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 17, 2021 [eBook #65811]<br /> -[Most recently updated: October 14, 2021]</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY ***</div> - -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:<br /><br /> -Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="front" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY</h1> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE ’PHONE BOOTH<br />MYSTERY</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">JOHN IRONSIDE</p> - -<p class="bold">AUTHOR OF<br />“THE RED SYMBOL,” “FORGED IN STRONG FIRES,” ETC.</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br />1924</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">AUTHORIZED EDITION<br /><br /><i>First Printing, August, 1924</i><br /> -<i>Second Printing, October, 1924</i></p> - -<p class="center space-above">PRINTED IN<br />UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I. </td> - <td class="left">LADY RAWSON</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II. </td> - <td class="left">“MURDER MOST FOUL!”</td> - <td><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III. </td> - <td class="left">THE TAXICAB</td> - <td><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV. </td> - <td class="left">A BELATED BRIDEGROOM</td> - <td><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V. </td> - <td class="left">RETURNED!</td> - <td><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI. </td> - <td class="left">“NO. 5339”</td> - <td><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII. </td> - <td class="left">THE CIGARETTE CASE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII. </td> - <td class="left">AT CACCIOLA’S</td> - <td><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX. </td> - <td class="left">BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM</td> - <td><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X. </td> - <td class="left">GRACE LEARNS THE NEWS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI. </td> - <td class="left">HALCYON DAYS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII. </td> - <td class="left">ALONE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII. </td> - <td class="left">AUSTIN’S THEORY</td> - <td><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV. </td> - <td class="left">THE GIRL AT THE GRAVE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV. </td> - <td class="left">AUSTIN’S SILENCE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI. </td> - <td class="left">MADDELENA</td> - <td><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII. </td> - <td class="left">THE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM</td> - <td><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII. </td> - <td class="left">HARMONY—AND DISCORD</td> - <td><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX. </td> - <td class="left">DARK HOURS</td> - <td><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XX. </td> - <td class="left">AN OLD ROMANCE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXI. </td> - <td class="left">THE CHINESE ROOM</td> - <td><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII. </td> - <td class="left">A PEACEMAKER</td> - <td><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>XXIII. </td> - <td class="left">WHAT GIULIA SAW</td> - <td><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIV. </td> - <td class="left">THE SHADOW OF DOOM</td> - <td><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV. </td> - <td class="left">THE LAST HOPE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI. </td> - <td class="left">THE NINTH HOUR</td> - <td><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII. </td> - <td class="left">INTO THE LIGHT</td> - <td><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">LADY RAWSON</span></h2> - -<p>“I’m extremely sorry, Carling. It’s too bad to keep you to-night, -but——”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, sir. Lucky they came in to-night and not to-morrow. -I shall soon be through with them.”</p> - -<p>“It’s most awfully good of you,” rejoined Sir Robert Rawson heartily. -“I would deal with them myself, but we are dining with Lord Warrington, -as you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; but it’s of no consequence really. I can spare the time -perfectly well.”</p> - -<p>Already Carling’s sleek head was bent over the special dispatches which -had just been delivered at the private residence of Sir Robert Rawson. -There were two sets, written in different languages, but both referring -to one subject—secret intelligence concerning the strained relations -between two foreign countries: a matter that at present was suspected -rather than known, but that might at any moment develop on serious -lines, and even occasion a war involving Great Powers.</p> - -<p>These particular papers were probably of immense importance. That -remained to be seen; and Carling’s duty was to translate and prepare a -précis of them for his chief. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<p>They certainly had arrived at rather an awkward moment for the young -secretary—on the eve of his six weeks’ holiday, which would include a -honeymoon, for he was to be married on the morrow.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what on earth I shall do without you, Roger,” Sir Robert -remarked, casting a glance of mingled affection and compunction at the -young man, whom he had learnt to regard as his right hand, and to whom -he was sincerely attached, wishing with all his heart that he had a -son like him; but he had married late in life and he and his wife were -childless.</p> - -<p>She entered the room at this moment, and he advanced to meet her with -courtly apology.</p> - -<p>“Have I kept you waiting, Paula? Forgive me.”</p> - -<p>“It is no matter, we are in good time,” she answered in a voice so rich -and soft that the words sounded like a caress, accompanied as they were -by a smiling glance at her husband. “Why, is that poor Mr. Carling -still at work? It is too bad of you, Robert, to detain him on this -night of all others.”</p> - -<p>She spoke as though she had but just caught sight of the industrious -secretary, yet as she entered the room she had seen him at once, and -noted his occupation.</p> - -<p>She crossed to his side now in a graceful, leisurely manner that, to -her husband’s admiring eyes, seemed perfectly natural. He did not -perceive the keen glance she directed, not at the secretary, but at the -papers over which he was poring.</p> - -<p>“It is too bad!” she repeated in her caressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> voice. “You -should—what is the word?—ah, yes, you should <i>strike</i>, Mr. Carling.”</p> - -<p>Roger looked up and stumbled to his feet, thereby interposing himself -as a screen between her and his writing-table.</p> - -<p>“Not at all, though it’s awfully kind of you to say so, Lady Rawson,” -he murmured confusedly. “As I told Sir Robert, I had nothing particular -to do this evening; Grace doesn’t expect me, and I’d rather finish up -everything to the last moment.”</p> - -<p>“Is the work important?” She directed the question to her husband.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and we really must not hinder him. Good night, my boy. We shall -see you to-morrow. You’ll put those papers in the safe as usual, of -course. I’ll attend to them in the morning—or to-night, perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Good night. Good-bye, Lady Rawson.”</p> - -<p>“Not good-bye; you forget that I also will come to the marriage,” she -said graciously, giving him her hand.</p> - -<p>“We shall be honoured,” he murmured, as he bowed over the small gloved -hand, with outward deference and inward aversion.</p> - -<p>He disliked and distrusted his chief’s lovely young wife—why he did -not know, for her manner towards him had always been charming. It -was a purely instinctive feeling which, naturally, he had carefully -concealed, and of which he was not a little ashamed; but there it was.</p> - -<p>She was of foreign birth, but of what nationality no one seemed to -know; a strikingly handsome young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> woman, whose marriage to the elderly -financier had created a considerable sensation, for Sir Robert had long -been considered a confirmed bachelor. Malicious tongues had predicted -a speedy and scandalous dissolution of this union of May and December, -but those predictions were as yet unfulfilled, for Lady Rawson’s -conduct was irreproachable. She appeared as absolutely devoted to her -husband as he was to her, and even the most inveterate and malignant -gossip found no opportunity of assailing her fair fame. Yet, although -immensely admired she was not popular. There was something of the -sphinx about her—a serene but impenetrable mystery. Roger Carling was -by no means the only person who felt that strong aversion from her.</p> - -<p>He watched her now as, by her husband’s side, she recrossed the large -room, moving with the languid, sinuous grace peculiar to her. She -looked royally beautiful to-night, in a diaphanous robe of vivid green -and gold tissue, an emerald tiara poised proudly on her splendid, -simply dressed black hair, a magnificent emerald collar scintillating -on her white neck.</p> - -<p>She turned at the door and flashed a farewell smile at the young man, -to which, as to Sir Robert’s genial nod, he responded with a bow.</p> - -<p>“What is there about her that always makes me think of a snake?” he -asked himself as, with a sigh of genuine relief, he reseated himself -at the writing-table. “And Grace feels just the same, though she has -always been jolly nice to her. I wish she wasn’t coming to-morrow, but -of course it can’t be helped. Wonder what took her to that unlikely -place <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>yesterday, for I’ll swear it was she, though I’ve never seen her -in that get-up before, but I’d know her walk anywhere. However, it’s -none of my business where she goes or what she does.”</p> - -<p>He addressed himself to his task again—an absorbing one, for the -papers contained startling and most valuable information, which should -be communicated to the Government with as little delay as possible. -That was Sir Robert’s duty, of course.</p> - -<p>He finished at last, folded and arranged the papers in order, with his -translation and notes on top, tied them with red tape, stuffed them -into a blue, canvas-lined official envelope printed with Sir Robert’s -address, sealed the package—quite a bulky one—and bestowed it in -a small safe in the wall, cunningly concealed behind one of the oak -panels. Only he and his chief knew the secret of the panel or possessed -keys of the safe.</p> - -<p>“Thank goodness, that’s done,” he ejaculated, as he closed the panel, -which slid noiselessly into place. “Ten o’clock, by Jove! Those fellows -will think I’m never coming.”</p> - -<p>He was to spend the last night of his bachelor existence at Austin -Starr’s chambers in Westminster, where a convivial supper-party awaited -him. He had already telephoned that he would not arrive till late.</p> - -<p>In the hall he encountered Thomson, Sir Robert’s confidential man—a -short, spare, reticent individual, who had grown grey in his master’s -service.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you have some coffee, sir, or a whisky-and-soda,” he asked, as -he helped Roger into his coat. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No, thanks. Good night, Thomson, and good-bye. I shan’t be back for -some weeks, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, sir, and the best of good luck to you and the young lady.”</p> - -<p>The last words were an astonishing concession, for Thomson seldom -uttered an unnecessary syllable—not even to his master. Roger was -surprised and touched.</p> - -<p>“Good old Thomson!” he thought, as he hailed a passing taxi. “I suppose -he actually approves of me after all, though I should never have -guessed it! What a queer old stick he is.”</p> - -<p>He was greeted uproariously by the small assemblage that awaited him -at Austin Starr’s snug flat in Great Smith Street: Starr himself, a -smart young American journalist, whom he had met when he was on service -during the war, and with whom he had formed a friendship that seemed -likely to prove permanent; George Winston, a Foreign Office clerk, who -was to be his “best man” to-morrow; and some half-dozen others.</p> - -<p>Already he had dismissed from his mind everything connected with the -task that had detained him, and never gave it another thought. But it -was abruptly recalled to him the next morning when he was awakened by -his host.</p> - -<p>“Real sorry to disturb you, Roger. Late? No, it’s quite bright and -early, but they’ve rung you up from Grosvenor Gardens—Sir Robert -himself.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert! What on earth can he want at this hour!” he exclaimed, -springing out of bed and hurrying to the telephone.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, sir?... Those papers? They’re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> in the safe.... <i>Not -there!</i> But they must be. Sealed up in one of the blue envelopes. They -can’t have been stolen—it’s impossible.... Yes, of course, sir, I’ll -come up at once.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">“MURDER MOST FOUL!”</span></h2> - -<p>“I want to telephone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madam. What number?”</p> - -<p>“I—— Can’t I ring up for myself?”</p> - -<p>The momentary hesitation in speech caused the busy little postmistress -to glance up at her customer—a lady of medium height and slender -figure, well but quietly dressed. She wore a motor hat with a dark-blue -veil which fell loosely over her face, shrouding her features; but -Mrs. Cave judged her to be handsome, and guessed her elderly, for she -saw the gleam of white hair. A nervous old lady, probably unused to -telephoning.</p> - -<p>“No, madam. If you will just give me the number I will tell you when -you are connected. The booth is at the end of the shop.”</p> - -<p>The lady glanced in the direction indicated and again hesitated, -standing at the railed-in post office counter and resting a fairly -large morocco bag on it—a dressing or jewel bag—though she retained -her grip of the handle with both hands. The right hand was ungloved and -several valuable rings sparkled on the delicate white fingers.</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well! No. 5339 Granton. How much?” she said at last, speaking -in a low voice, with a slight but perceptible foreign accent. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>Removing -her bejewelled hand from the bag, she fumbled in a châtelaine purse and -produced a shilling.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cave entered and applied for the call before she took the coin and -dealt out the change.</p> - -<p>The bell tinkled, and at the same instant two other customers came into -the shop.</p> - -<p>“Your number, madam,” said Mrs. Cave, indicating the ’phone booth. -“Your change.”</p> - -<p>But the lady was already on her way to the box, and, setting the -change aside on the counter, the postmistress turned to serve the -new-comers—a woman who wanted to draw ten shillings from the savings -bank, a man and a child demanding stamps. As she attended to them -briskly in turn, two more people entered and went to the stationery -counter opposite.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cave glanced at them apologetically; fortunately she knew them -both, but it really was trying that a rush should come just at this -moment when she was single-handed. Her husband was out, her niece at -dinner upstairs.</p> - -<p>“That’s your parcel, Mr. Laidlaw,” she called from behind her grating. -“There, on the right. Jessie will be down to serve you in half a -minute, Miss Ellis.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke she rang the bell to summon her niece, and also, as the -telephone sounded the end of the call, she mechanically rang off. Other -customers came in, and for a few minutes she and Jessie were as busy as -they could be, and only when the shop was clear again did she notice -the change set aside for the telephone customer. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There, that lady never asked for her change after all, and I didn’t -see her go out either. I dare say she’ll be back for it directly. Did -you finish your dinner, Jessie? No? Then you’d better run up and have -it while there’s time.”</p> - -<p>Jessie Jackson, a nice-looking, fresh-complexioned girl, very like her -capable little aunt, came from behind the news counter, and passed -along to the door at the back leading to the house, close by and at -right angles to that of the telephone booth; a dark corner on this -dull, foggy November day.</p> - -<p>“There’s something wet here!” she exclaimed. “Somebody must have been -spilling some water.”</p> - -<p>She reached for an electric switch and turned on the light.</p> - -<p>An instant later Mrs. Cave heard a shriek that brought her rushing out -of the post office, to find the girl leaning back against the doorpost, -her face blanched, her dilated eyes staring at the horrible pool in -which she was standing—a pool of blood, forming from a stream that -trickled over the sill of the telephone booth, the door of which was -partly open.</p> - -<p>“My God! What’s happened?” cried Mrs. Cave. “Here, pull yourself -together, girl, and get out of the way.”</p> - -<p>Clutching Jessie’s arm she hauled her aside and pulled open the door. -Something lurched forward—a heap surmounted by a blue veil.</p> - -<p>“It’s her, the lady herself; she—she must have broken a blood -vessel—or something,” she gasped, bending down and trying to lift the -huddled figure, for she was a clever and resourceful little woman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> and -as yet no suspicion of the ghastly truth had flashed to her mind. “Run, -Jessie—run and call someone—anyone.”</p> - -<p>But Jessie had collapsed on a chair by the counter, sobbing and -shaking, half-fainting, and it was her aunt whose screams summoned the -neighbours and passers-by. The greengrocer from the opposite corner -shop was first on the scene, wiping his mouth as he ran, for he too had -been disturbed at dinner. In less than a minute the shop was filled to -overflowing, and a crowd had gathered outside, through which a belated -policeman shouldered his way.</p> - -<p>“’Ere, make way there! Stand back, will you? What’s up ’ere?” he began -with pompous authority. “Good Lord! Why, it’s murder!”</p> - -<p>“It can’t be—how can it?” sobbed poor Mrs. Cave, whose nerve had given -way at last. “Why, there wasn’t a soul anywhere near her!”</p> - -<p>“Do you know who she is?” demanded the officer, bending over the -corpse, but not touching it. The woman was dead, not a doubt of that. -It was best to leave her as she was till the doctor arrived.</p> - -<p>A ghastly object she looked lying huddled there, her head still -shrouded in the blue motor veil, now horribly drenched and bedabbled. -It had been flung back from her face—probably she had raised it -herself when she entered the booth a few short minutes before—and her -naturally handsome features were distorted to an expression of fear and -horror, the dark eyes half open, the lips drawn back showing the white, -even teeth. There was no doubt as to the cause of death, for under her -left ear was plainly visible the still-welling wound—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> clean stab -less than half an inch broad that had completely severed the jugular -vein.</p> - -<p>“I never saw her before,” cried Mrs. Cave, wringing her hands -helplessly. “She just came in to telephone, and when she went into the -booth several people came in and we were busy for a few minutes, and I -never thought a word about her till we found her—Jessie and I—like -that! She <i>must</i> have done it herself—and in our shop, too! Oh, -whatever shall we do!”</p> - -<p>At the moment the obvious thing to be done was to clear the shop and -summon the local doctor and the district police inspector, who arrived -simultaneously a few minutes later.</p> - -<p>The woman had been murdered, not a doubt of that, for it was -impossible that such a wound could have been self-inflicted. It was -extraordinarily deep, penetrating nearly three inches, and causing -practically instantaneous death; while no weapon whatever was -discovered nor anything that, at the moment, disclosed the identity of -the victim.</p> - -<p>One fact was established at once: that she had been partially -disguised, for the white hair which Mrs. Cave had noticed proved to -be a wig—what hairdressers describe as a “transformation”—adjusted -over the natural hair, silky, luxuriant dark tresses closely coiled -about the shapely head. Her age was judged by the doctor to be -about five-and-twenty, and she was a fine and handsome young woman, -presumably wealthy also. Certainly her white, well-shaped, beautifully -kept hands had had no acquaintance with work of any kind, and the rings -on the slender fingers were extremely valuable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> among them a wedding -ring. On the floor of the booth was found her gold purse, containing a -sum of four pounds odd in notes and silver.</p> - -<p>But of the murderer there was no trace whatever, except, indeed, a -wet and bloodstained dishcloth lying in the sink of a little scullery -place behind the shop. The house was originally a private one, and the -whole of the ground floor had been converted into business premises. -The Cave’s kitchen and living-room were on the first floor, the stairs -going up just inside the door leading into the shop at the back, beside -the telephone booth. At the foot of the staircase was a private door -opening on to a side street, and beyond it the scullery and a fairly -long garden, with a door at the end through which also the side street -could be gained. This door had bolts top and bottom, but they were now -drawn back, though the door itself was closed.</p> - -<p>“Is this door always kept open like this?” asked the inspector of -little Mrs. Cave, who, though still piteously agitated, followed him -and managed to answer his many questions promptly and intelligibly.</p> - -<p>“No, it’s never unbolted except when the dustmen come, and I bolted it -myself after them yesterday.”</p> - -<p>The inspector nodded, and jotted a line in his notebook. Stepping out -into the street, he glanced up and down. It was a particularly quiet -and respectable little street, the upper end flanked by the walls of -the gardens belonging to the two corner houses, the lower by small -suburban villas, each with its tiny garden in front: a street where -usually at this time of day the only passers-by were children returning -to school, but where already a big and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>increasing crowd was assembled -at the corner by the Cave’s shop and house.</p> - -<p>“There’s the inspector; you just come along and tell him what you saw, -Margie,” cried a woman, who thereupon ran towards him, dragging a -pretty little girl by the hand. “Please, sir, my Margie saw a man come -out of the side door and run away just before the screaming began.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that? Come, tell me all about it, my dear. Quick, where did he -come from? This door?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir—that,” said the child promptly, pointing to the house door. -“Mother sent me for a lemon, and——”</p> - -<p>“What was he like?”</p> - -<p>“One of them shovers, sir, that drives the taxis. He was saying swear -words, and run ever so fast down the street.” Again she pointed.</p> - -<p>“Did you see his cab—a taxicab?”</p> - -<p>“No, there wasn’t only me and the man.”</p> - -<p>“Should you know him again?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I think so.”</p> - -<p>“Good girl! What’s your name? Margery Davies—at number six? That’s -right.”</p> - -<p>With a kindly nod, leaving Margie and her mother to be surrounded and -questioned by the excited crowd that had followed them and listened to -the brief colloquy—he entered the garden, just in time to encounter -Jessie Jackson, who stumbled against him, and would have fallen if he -had not shot out a ready arm to support her.</p> - -<p>“Hallo! Who’s this young woman, and what’s the matter with her?” he -demanded, lowering her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> to the ground, gently enough, and scrutinizing -her face—a pretty, innocent-looking young face, deadly pale at this -moment, for the girl had fainted.</p> - -<p>“It’s Jessie, my niece, that found the poor thing, as I told you. -It’s upset her—no wonder. Why, Jessie, dear,” cried Mrs. Cave, -incoherently, kneeling beside her and frantically chafing her limp -hands.</p> - -<p>“I must see her presently, when you’ve got her round,” said the -inspector, and returned to the house.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">THE TAXICAB</span></h2> - -<p>A curious hush brooded over the shop, closed by order of the inspector. -Even the post office business must be suspended for the present.</p> - -<p>On the floor between the counters was a long object covered by a -coloured tablecloth—the corpse of the murdered woman, with limbs -decently straightened now. Beside it, on a shop chair, sat the doctor, -grave and silent, awaiting the arrival of the ambulance which would -convey the body to the mortuary, there to await identification.</p> - -<p>Outside the glass doors two constables were stationed, monotonously -requesting the crowd to “pass along there”; and behind the post office -counter was a third, who turned to his superior.</p> - -<p>“I’ve rung up 5339 Granton, sir, and——”</p> - -<p>“Half a minute,” said the inspector, going to the telephone and giving -instructions to the station, that instituted an immediate search for -a fugitive taxicab driver—one who presumably belonged to and was -familiar with the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>“Well, what about 5339?”</p> - -<p>“They say that they were rung up, sir, just about the time—one -thirty-five—but nobody spoke, and they supposed it must have been a -wrong call as they were rung off again immediately.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who are they?”</p> - -<p>“A flat in Lely Mansions, Chelsea, sir, name of Winston; it was a maid -servant spoke, but the name’s all right—Mr. George Winston. I’ve -looked it up in the Directory.”</p> - -<p>A slight commotion was heard from the back, Mrs. Cave was helping her -niece up the stairs, and Inspector Evans promptly followed to the -kitchen over the back shop, which was also the living-room, with the -remains of dinner on the table, including a plate with a mutton chop -and potatoes, untouched.</p> - -<p>The girl had only partially recovered, and was trembling and sobbing. -As the inspector appeared in the doorway she uttered a moan as of fear, -and really looked as if she was about to faint again.</p> - -<p>“Come, come, this won’t do,” he said, cheeringly and encouragingly. -“Pull yourself together, missie. Have you got a drop of brandy to give -her, Mrs. Cave? It’s what she wants.”</p> - -<p>“There’s some in my cupboard upstairs, in case of illness. There, sit -down, dearie, while I run and fetch it.”</p> - -<p>Little Mrs. Cave hurried away, and the girl eyed her companion -shrinkingly, but to her momentary relief he said nothing—merely -glanced round the room in a seemingly casual manner. In half a minute -her aunt fluttered back, bringing a small flat bottle half filled with -brandy.</p> - -<p>“Give it her neat, ma’am. There, that’s better; it’s been an upsetting -time for you both, eh?”</p> - -<p>“That it has!” Mrs. Cave assented vehemently. “I can’t believe it even -now, and never shall I forget it. I don’t wonder the child nearly died -of fright.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> And—why, Jessie, dear, why ever hadn’t you eaten your -dinner?”</p> - -<p>“I was just going to—when you rang—and—and——”</p> - -<p>The mumbling words broke off and Jessie hid her face in her hands.</p> - -<p>“You didn’t feel to want your dinner then?”</p> - -<p>The inspector’s voice was mild but insistent.</p> - -<p>“Or you hadn’t time to begin—was that it?”</p> - -<p>“But you came up ever so long before. I left it all ready for you; we -haven’t got a servant just now, you see, only a girl that comes in -mornings,” Mrs. Cave interposed flustered, perplexed, and explanatory.</p> - -<p>“Who was here talking to you, so that you forgot to eat your dinner?”</p> - -<p>That question was blunt and sharp enough, and Mrs. Cave stared in -incredulous astonishment and dismay from the inspector to Jessie.</p> - -<p>“Come, answer me, missie!”</p> - -<p>The girl looked up at that, and the wild fear in her eyes rendered his -suspicion a certainty.</p> - -<p>“There wasn’t anyone here,” she muttered.</p> - -<p>“Then what’s this?” It was a half-smoked cigarette, that he picked up -from a used plate at the other side of the table—the plate from which -Mrs. Cave had eaten her pudding an hour before. “Do either of you -ladies smoke Woodbines?”</p> - -<p>“Smoke? I should think not!” cried Mrs. Cave. “Jessie, Jessie—oh, what -does it all mean?”</p> - -<p>The girl started to her feet, her eyes glaring, a spot of colour -flashing into each pallid cheek.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I tell you there wasn’t anyone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> here. I’ll swear it! -What do you want to goad me like this for? I won’t answer another -question—so there!” she vociferated hysterically. “I never murdered -her. I never knew or thought a thing about it all till I saw—I saw——”</p> - -<p>Her fictitious strength departed, and she sank down again, wailing like -a distraught creature.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to answer questions at the inquest to-morrow, my girl, -and you’ll be on your oath then,” said Evans, stowing the cigarette in -the pocket of his notebook as he retreated. He knew she was concealing -something, but recognized that it was impossible to get any information -out of her at the moment, while there were many other matters that -claimed his immediate attention.</p> - -<p>The ambulance had arrived, together with several more police -constables, and a taxicab had drawn up by the curb. From it an -alert-looking, clean-shaved young man alighted, and, pushing his way -authoritatively through the crowd, began interrogating the men on guard -at the door.</p> - -<p>Evans saw him through the glass, recognized an acquaintance, and -himself opened the door.</p> - -<p>“Come in, Mr. Starr; might have known you’d be turning up, though how -you got wind of it so soon beats me. Vultures aren’t in it with you -newspaper gents!”</p> - -<p>“Pure chance this time. I was on my way to a wedding and saw the -crowd,” said Austin Starr. “You’ll give me the facts as far as they go? -Is that—it?”</p> - -<p>Evans nodded.</p> - -<p>“A lady; we don’t know yet who she is.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p>At a sign from him the doctor bent, and with a quiet reverent touch -uncovered the face. Starr looked down at it, and started uncontrollably.</p> - -<p>“Great Scott!” he ejaculated, in an awestruck whisper.</p> - -<p>“You know her?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen her a good few times. She’s Lady Rawson—Sir Robert Rawson’s -wife.”</p> - -<p>“Lady Rawson!”</p> - -<p>“That’s so; and I’m plumb certain she was to have been at this very -wedding to-day, and Sir Ralph, too!”</p> - -<p>“What wedding’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert’s secretary, Roger Carling. We’re old friends; he slept -at my place last night, and he’s marrying Miss Armitage at St. Paul’s -Church near here. But that’s no matter. Give me the story right now, -please.”</p> - -<p>A story that, a few minutes later, was augmented by the startling news -that the taxicab for which the police were on the look out had already -been traced, and under singular circumstances. Recklessly driven, it -had come to grief at the Broadway, a mile or so distant, by colliding -with a motor van; with the result that the cab was smashed, the -driver—identified as Charles Sadler, No. C417—badly injured, while -within the vehicle was found Lady Rawson’s bag, which had been cut open -by some sharp instrument and was quite empty.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">A BELATED BRIDEGROOM</span></h2> - -<p>While the tragic commotion in the High Road was at its height a very -different scene was being enacted at the fine old riverside church -three-quarters of a mile away. A smart wedding is a rare event in the -suburbs, and, despite the gloomy weather conditions—for a thick fog -hung over the river and was now rapidly extending inland—an interested -crowd assembled outside, watching the arrival of the many guests, dimly -seen through the thickening murk, while along the Mall was a line of -carriages and motors, looking like a file of fiery-eyed monsters, when -the rapidly increasing darkness necessitated the lighting of their -head-lamps.</p> - -<p>The bevy of bridesmaids waited in the porch, chief among them Winnie -Winston, a tall, handsome girl, with frank, laughing blue eyes. She -alone of the little group appeared undaunted by the sinister gloom.</p> - -<p>“For goodness’ sake, don’t look so lugubrious, girls!” she counselled, -in a laughing undertone. “It’s too bad of the fog to come just -now—after such a lovely morning too!—but it can’t be helped, and——”</p> - -<p>She turned as someone touched her arm—her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> brother George, who was -“best man” to-day, and even her high spirits were checked by his -worried expression.</p> - -<p>“I say, Win, Roger hasn’t turned up yet. What on earth’s to be done?”</p> - -<p>“Not turned up! Why, where is he? Haven’t you been with him?”</p> - -<p>“No. When I got to Starr’s rooms he wasn’t there. He left a message -that Sir Robert had ’phoned for him, and if he didn’t get back by one -o’clock he’d come straight on to the church, but he’s not here.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps there’s a fog in Town too,” she suggested, with a backward -glance at the Rembrandtesque scene outside, where the shaft of light -from the open door shone weirdly on the watching faces. “He’ll come -directly—he must! Where’s Mr. Starr?”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t seen him.”</p> - -<p>“Then they’re probably together, or he may be coming on with Sir Robert -and Lady Rawson. They’re not here yet, are they? What on earth can Sir -Robert have wanted him for this morning? Horribly inconsiderate of him! -Goodness, here’s Grace! Have you told the vicar that Roger hasn’t come? -Then you’d better do so.”</p> - -<p>She resumed her place as the bride advanced on her father’s arm, -looking like a white ghost in her gleaming satin robe, with the filmy -veil shrouding her bent head and her fair face.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” whispered the second brides maid.</p> - -<p>“Nothing. S—sh!” answered Winnie, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> breathed a silent thanksgiving -as the choir struck up the hymn and began slowly to advance up the -aisle, the bridal procession following. But her heart sank as she saw -her brother hurry along the south aisle and out at the side door, -evidently in the hope of meeting the tardy bridegroom.</p> - -<p>Where could he be? And why hadn’t Austin Starr arrived? Not that -Starr’s absence was anything extraordinary, for his exacting profession -rendered him a socially erratic being. It was for that very reason that -he had refused to fill the office of best man.</p> - -<p>The hymn came to an end, the choir stood in their stalls, the bridal -party halted at the chancel and there was a horrible pause, punctuated -by the uneasy whispers exchanged by the guests.</p> - -<p>The vicar came forward at length and proposed an adjournment to the -vestry. He was no ordinary cleric, but a man with a fine, forceful, and -magnetic personality, endowed, moreover, with consummate tact and good -feeling; in brief, the Reverend Joseph Iverson was—and is—a Christian -and gentleman in every sense of those often misused words.</p> - -<p>“We can wait more comfortably in here,” he announced cheerily, as he -brought forward a rush-bottomed chair for the bride, and in fatherly -fashion, with a compelling hand on her shoulder, placed her in it.</p> - -<p>“There, sit you down, and don’t be distressed, my dear child. I’m quite -sure there’s no cause for alarm. Anyone—even a bridegroom—may be -excused for losing his way in such a fog as this that has descended -upon us. That’s the explanation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> of his absence, depend upon it. And he -will arrive in another minute or two—in a considerable fluster, I’ll -be bound, poor lad!”</p> - -<p>His genial laugh reassured the others, who stood round, awkward, -anxious, and embarrassed, as people naturally are at such a moment; but -Grace looked up at him with a glance so tragic that it startled and -distressed him.</p> - -<p>He had known her ever since she was a little child, and never had he -thought to see such an expression in her gentle grey eyes.</p> - -<p>“It’s not that—not the fog,” she whispered, so low that he had to bend -his head to catch the words. “Something terrible has happened; I feel -it—I’m certain of it!”</p> - -<p>Winnie Winston, standing close beside her, overheard the whisper. Her -eyes met the vicar’s in mutual interrogation, perplexity, and dismay, -and the same thought flashed through both their minds. Grace knew -something, feared something; but what?</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” he responded. “You are nervous and upset—that’s only -natural; but you mustn’t start imagining all sorts of things, for——”</p> - -<p>“Here he is!” exclaimed Winnie in accents of fervent relief, as Roger, -attended by George Winston, hurried into the vestry, hot and agitated, -looking very unlike a bridegroom, especially as he was still wearing -his ordinary morning suit.</p> - -<p>He had eyes and speech only for his bride.</p> - -<p>“Grace! Forgive me, darling! I couldn’t help it really. Sir Robert -kept me, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and had to walk from—from the -station.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> She did not notice the momentary hesitation that marked the -last words, though she remembered it afterwards. “I lost my way in the -fog and thought I should never get here in time!”</p> - -<p>“Just as I said!” remarked the vicar triumphantly. “Come along now, -we’ve no time to lose.”</p> - -<p>He led the way, a stately self-possessed figure, and the delayed -service proceeded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Roger, I was so frightened!” Grace confided to her bridegroom as -they drove slowly back through the gloom to her father’s house. “I felt -sure something dreadful had happened to you; and the fog coming on like -this too! It—it seems so unlucky, so sinister!”</p> - -<p>She shivered, and he clasped her more closely, with masculine -indifference to the danger of crumpling her finery.</p> - -<p>“Cheer up, darling, it’s all right. We shall soon be out of the fog and -into the sunshine,” he laughed. “And the fog wasn’t the chief cause of -delay, after all. I should have got to the church before it came on if -I hadn’t had to go to Sir Robert. I was awfully upset about it, but it -couldn’t be helped.”</p> - -<p>“Why, is anything wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Afraid so. Some important papers have disappeared. I put them in the -safe myself last night; the Rawsons were dining out and I stayed rather -late, over these very papers. When Sir Robert went to get them this -morning they were gone, though there was nothing to show that the safe -had been tampered with; in fact, it hadn’t. It’s a most mysterious -thing!”</p> - -<p>He tried to speak lightly, but her sensitive ears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> caught the note of -anxiety in his voice, and that queer sense of foreboding assailed her -afresh.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Roger, have they been found?”</p> - -<p>“They hadn’t when I came away soon after twelve.”</p> - -<p>“Then—then what will happen? Were they very important?”</p> - -<p>“Very,” he replied, ignoring the first question, which was really -unanswerable. “However, it’s no use worrying about them, darling; if -they should have turned up Sir Robert is sure to come or telephone. -Here we are!”</p> - -<p>There was no time to spare for further thought or conjecture concerning -the mystery of the missing papers until, an hour and a half later, they -were on their way to Victoria, whirling rapidly along in a taxi, for -the fog had lifted.</p> - -<p>They had none too much time to get the train to Dover, where they -intended to stay the night at the “Lord Warden” and cross to Calais -next day, <i>en route</i> for Paris and the Riviera.</p> - -<p>“The Rawsons didn’t come after all,” Grace remarked. “Mother was so -disappointed, poor dear, for she had been telling every one about them, -and then they never turned up! I’m not sorry though—at least about -Lady Rawson. I don’t know what there is about her that always makes me -think of a snake. That sounds very ungrateful when she gave me these -lovely furs”—she glanced down at the costly chinchilla wrap and muff -she wore, which had been Lady Rawson’s wedding gift—“but really I -can’t help it.”</p> - -<p>“Same here! And it really is curious considering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> she’s always been so -jolly decent to us both. I wonder——”</p> - -<p>He broke off, knitting his brows perplexedly, and as if in response to -his unspoken thought Grace exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Roger, do you think she could have had anything to do with those -missing papers?”</p> - -<p>He glanced at her in astonishment.</p> - -<p>“What makes you ask that, darling?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. It just flashed into my mind. But do you think -so? Sir Robert didn’t ’phone to you, did he?”</p> - -<p>“No. And I don’t know what to think about Lady Rawson. Oh, bother -the papers; let’s forget all about them—for to-day, anyhow! I say, -beloved, it doesn’t seem possible that we’re really married and off on -our honeymoon, does it?”</p> - -<p>She laughed, softly and shyly, and again the shadow fled for a time. -What did anything matter save the fact that they were together, with -all the world before them?</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you smoke?” she asked presently. “I’m sure you’re dying for -a cigarette, you poor boy; and I don’t believe you had anything to eat -at the house—it was all such a fluster. We’ll have tea in the train, -if George Winston has the sense to order a tea-basket for us.”</p> - -<p>“Trust old George for that,” laughed Roger, feeling in one pocket after -the other. “He never forgets anything. Now, where on earth is that -cigarette case?”</p> - -<p>“Did you have it this morning?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I did. It’s the one you gave me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> at Christmas; I’ve never -been without it since.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it’s in your other suit,” she suggested; “the clothes you were -to have worn.”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s not, for I had it all right this morning; but I haven’t got -it now, that’s certain!”</p> - -<p>His face and manner expressed more concern than mere loss of a -cigarette case would seem to warrant, even though it was one of her -gifts to him.</p> - -<p>“Never mind. I dare say it will turn up; and perhaps you’ll have time -to get some at Victoria. We’re nearly there. Why, Roger, what’s the -matter?”</p> - -<p>The cab had halted by the station entrance in Wilton Road, waiting its -turn to enter, and Roger, still fumbling in his pockets in the futile -search for the cigarette case, suddenly leaned forward and stared out -of the window, uttering a quick exclamation as of surprise and horror.</p> - -<p>There was the usual bustling throng passing in and out of the station, -and on the curb stood a newsboy vociferating monotonously,</p> - -<p>“’Orrible murder of a Society lady; pyper—speshul.”</p> - -<p>“What is it, Roger? Oh, what is it?” cried Grace, leaning forward in -her turn and craning her pretty neck. The newsboy turned aside at that -instant, and she did not see the placard he was exhibiting, but Roger -had seen it:</p> - -<p class="center">LADY<br /><br />RAWSON<br /><br />MURDERED!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<p>The great black letters seemed to hit him in the face. He felt for a -moment as if he had received a physical and stunning blow.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” Grace repeated, as the cab glided on.</p> - -<p>“What? Oh, nothing at all, dear. I thought I saw someone I knew,” he -muttered confusedly. But his face was ghastly, and little beads of -sweat started out on his forehead.</p> - -<p>“Here’s George!” he added, and Winston, who had gone on with the -luggage, opened the door of the taxi. He also looked worried and -flustered, though perhaps that was only natural since he greeted them -with:</p> - -<p>“Here you are at last! I thought you were going to miss the train. -We’ve only a bare minute, but the luggage is in all right, and I’ve -reserved a compartment. Come on.”</p> - -<p>He hustled them on to the platform, and as Grace, bewildered and -disturbed, entered the carriage, he detained Roger, ostensibly for the -purpose of handing him the tickets.</p> - -<p>“I say, have you heard the news—about Lady Rawson?”</p> - -<p>“I saw a placard a moment ago, and I can’t credit it.”</p> - -<p>“It’s true enough, I’m afraid. Awful, isn’t it? So mysterious too, and -within a mile of the church where you were married—that makes it all -the more horrible. Here’s a paper; don’t let Grace see it though; keep -the whole thing from her as long as you can. It will upset——”</p> - -<p>“Going on, sir? Step in, please.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the guard’s admonition Roger sprang in, the door was slammed, the -whistle sounded, and as the train glided away George Winston ran -alongside, waving his hat and shouting with an excellent assumption of -gaiety.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, Grace—good-bye, old man. Good luck to you both.”</p> - -<p>Roger leaned out of the window and nodded as if in responsive -farewell, an action that gave him a few seconds in which to regain his -self-possession and marshal his distracted thoughts.</p> - -<p>George was right. The knowledge of the tragedy that necessarily -would affect them both so strongly must be kept from Grace as long -as possible. That it should have occurred on their wedding day, and -that the victim should have been the woman who was to have been the -principal wedding guest seemed monstrous, incredible. Yet it was true! -Hastily he stuffed the evening paper Winston had given him into his -pocket. If he had kept it in his hand he could not have resisted the -impulse to read the fatal news, and he dare not trust himself to do -that at present. Grace’s voice, with a new, nervous note in it, roused -him to the necessity of facing the situation.</p> - -<p>“Roger! Do take care, dear. You’ll lose your hat or——”</p> - -<p>“Or my head? Mustn’t lose that, or it will be all up with me, -considering that I lost my heart ages ago!”</p> - -<p>He laughed as he settled himself in the seat opposite her, but he did -not meet her eyes, dark with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> trouble and perplexity. She loved him -with all the strength of her nature—a nature essentially sweet and -pure and steadfast. She thought she understood his every mood; but now, -on this supreme day that linked her life to his once and for all, his -manner was so strange that her heart failed her.</p> - -<p>His restless gaze lighted on a tea-basket and a pile of periodicals -ranged on the cushions beside her.</p> - -<p>“Hallo! So he thought of the tea after all. Good old George! Let’s have -it, shall we, darling?”</p> - -<p>He talked gaily, irresponsibly, as they drank their tea but she was not -deceived—was more than ever certain that he was concealing something -from her, though what it might be she could not imagine.</p> - -<p>Presently she leant back in her corner and closed her eyes, but after -an interval of silence she glanced up. Roger’s face was concealed -behind a newspaper, which he appeared to be studying intently.</p> - -<p>“Any news?” she asked. “I don’t believe I’ve looked at a paper for -days.”</p> - -<p>He did not lower the sheet immediately, and she noticed, half -mechanically, that his grip on it tightened. She recalled later, as -one does recall such trifles when circumstances have invested them -with special significance, the little convulsive movement of his -hands—fine, characteristic hands they were, strong and nervous.</p> - -<p>“Nothing of any consequence; these rags are all alike,” he answered, -as he tossed the paper out of the open window and moved impetuously to -her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> side. “Grace! My own—my very own at last, there’s nothing in the -world matters to you and me to-day except ourselves!”</p> - -<p>He caught and held her in his embrace with a passion that increased -her vague fears, for hitherto he had never been a demonstrative lover, -devoted though they were to each other.</p> - -<p>He kissed her lips, her eyes, her soft white throat, fiercely, hungrily.</p> - -<p>“Roger, Roger, don’t; you—you frighten me!” she gasped, weak and -breathless. “Oh——”</p> - -<p>Her head drooped limply on to his shoulder. For a moment he thought she -had actually fainted, and the shock restored his self-control.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, sweetheart!” he cried with quick compunction. “I must have -been mad to upset you so. It’s been an upsetting sort of day, hasn’t -it? But it’s all right now, really!”</p> - -<p>He was holding her now firmly, tenderly, protectively, master of -himself once more; and she nestled against him, revived and reassured. -He was her own Roger again—the man whom she loved and trusted.</p> - -<p>“It was silly of me,” she confessed, smiling up at him—an April smile, -for the tears had risen to her sweet grey eyes. “And you’re right, -dear; it has been an upsetting day, with the fog, and Sir Robert -detaining you, and—and everything else. And you’re still worrying -about those missing papers. I know you are, though you’re trying to -pretend you’re not! Perhaps you think I might be—oh, I don’t know how -to put it—jealous. No, that’s not the word I want. That you’re afraid -I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> might be vexed because you could think of anything in the world -except me, on this day, of all the days in our life! But it’s not so, -Roger—really it isn’t! I want to share your troubles—I mean to share -them. I—I’m your wife.”</p> - -<p>Too deeply moved for words he held her to his heart, and again their -lips met, though this time the kiss was reverent as a sacrament.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">RETURNED!</span></h2> - -<p>“You are certain no one but yourself and Mr. Carling possesses a key to -the safe, Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely.”</p> - -<p>“And you think it impossible that anyone may have obtained either of -the keys and had a duplicate made.”</p> - -<p>“No copy has been made,” Sir Robert answered. “The pattern is unique, -it could not be reproduced except by the makers, and I telephoned to -them this morning. In any case they would not have made another key -except from my personal instructions.”</p> - -<p>“H’m.”</p> - -<p>Snell, the detective, who had been summoned to Grosvenor Gardens on -that eventful afternoon, stood thoughtfully sliding the secret panel to -and fro.</p> - -<p>“You are sure no one could have access to either of the existing -keys—in the course of the night, or early this morning?”</p> - -<p>“Quite sure. Carling declares that his was never out at his possession -for an instant till he handed it to me just now, and I put it on the -ring with my own.”</p> - -<p>Sir Robert pulled the keys, attached to a strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> steel chain, out of -his trousers pocket, and slipped them back again.</p> - -<p>“Just so. I’d like to have seen Mr. Carling, but of course he had to -go; a man doesn’t get married every day. Where do you keep your own -keys at night, Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>“Under my pillow. It is quite impossible that anyone can have obtained -possession of them without my knowledge.”</p> - -<p>“Yet the papers disappeared,” remarked the detective dryly. “Well, will -you give me a description of them, Sir Robert? You say they were secret -dispatches; were they in cipher?”</p> - -<p>“One was; it was in French, and would be quite unintelligible to anyone -who did not possess the key to the code used. Mr. Carling’s report on -them both was also written in our private cipher, which only he and I -understand.”</p> - -<p>“Have you a key to that cipher?”</p> - -<p>“Only in our heads; Carling invented it, and we memorized it.”</p> - -<p>“How about the French code? Was that memorized also?”</p> - -<p>“By ourselves, yes; at least we are so familiar with it that we never -need to consult the code. It’s in the drawer of the safe.”</p> - -<p>“That has not been stolen, then?”</p> - -<p>“No. The theft of the French paper and of Carling’s report really does -not matter much, for practically it would be impossible for any outside -person to decipher them; but the other, which is by far the most -important, was not in cipher, unfortunately.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What language was it in?”</p> - -<p>“Russian.”</p> - -<p>Snell glanced up quickly, as the thought flashed to his mind that Lady -Rawson was herself said to be Russian by birth. Sir Robert did not meet -his eyes. He appeared to be regarding an ivory paper-knife that he was -fingering. His face was drawn and haggard; he seemed to have aged by -ten years in the course of the last few hours, yet he was perfectly -self-possessed.</p> - -<p>“Whom do you suspect, Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>The blunt, point-blank question would have startled any ordinary man -into an admission—even by an unguarded gesture—that he was concealing -something. But Sir Robert Rawson’s face betrayed nothing, and he -continued to play with the paper-knife as he replied:</p> - -<p>“If I had any reason to suspect anyone, I should have told you at once, -Mr. Snell. The whole affair is a mystery to me.”</p> - -<p>“They were in the safe last night?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot say. As a matter of fact, I meant to have dealt with them -last night, but when we returned—Lady Rawson and I were at a dinner -party—I felt extremely tired and went straight to bed. When I found -the papers were missing this morning I was not especially alarmed at -the moment; I imagined they had proved to be of little consequence, -and that perhaps Carling had taken them with him to finish later. It -was only when I rang him up on the telephone, and he came round, that -I realized how serious the matter was, and even then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> I thought it -possible that he might have merely mislaid them.”</p> - -<p>“Who besides yourself and Mr. Carling knew of the existence and -importance of the papers, and that they were in the house?”</p> - -<p>“Not a soul!” Sir Robert’s tone was absolutely emphatic.</p> - -<p>“Not to your knowledge perhaps, Sir Robert; but someone must certainly -have known. Did anyone come into the room while Mr. Carling was engaged -on them last night?”</p> - -<p>“No one at all after I left.”</p> - -<p>“He told you so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and Thomson, my confidential servant, confirmed that.”</p> - -<p>“Does Thomson know of the loss of the papers?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He is the only one of the servants who does know at present, -though the others were questioned—all who were in and out of the room -either last night or this morning. Although Carling was positive he -placed the papers in the safe, I thought it possible he might have been -mistaken, and that he left them on the table.”</p> - -<p>“Has he ever made such a mistake before?”</p> - -<p>The ghost of a smile flitted across Sir Robert’s stern face.</p> - -<p>“No, but there would have been considerable excuse if he had been -guilty of such carelessness last night. However, he declares that he -did put them away, in the same envelope in which they were sent to -me—an official one, printed with my name and address. He sealed it.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>“About the servants. Are there any foreigners among them?”</p> - -<p>“Two only, I believe, both French: the <i>chef</i> and Lady Rawson’s maid.”</p> - -<p>“I will see them all in turn, beginning with Thomson. May I ring?”</p> - -<p>He put one or two questions to the footman who answered the summons -before sending him in search of the valet.</p> - -<p>“Who was on duty in the hall last night?”</p> - -<p>“I was, sir—till ten, when I went to supper.”</p> - -<p>“Were there any callers?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Carling was in this room the whole time?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so, sir. I never saw him come out.”</p> - -<p>“Did anyone enter the room while Mr. Carling was there?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, only Sir Robert and my lady.”</p> - -<p>“Who relieved you when you went off duty?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Thomson was in the hall, sir; he was going to wait up for Sir -Robert and my lady. Mr. Jenkins, the butler, and some of the others had -the evening off, as the family dined out.”</p> - -<p>“Just so. Will you send Mr. Thomson here?”</p> - -<p>In the interval Snell turned to Sir Robert, who had evinced no special -interest in the brief colloquy; doubtless he had questioned the man to -the same purpose already.</p> - -<p>“I suppose Lady Rawson is already aware of the loss of these papers, -Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>The query was uttered lightly, as if it was of no importance or -significance, but was accompanied by a keen glance at Sir Robert’s -harassed yet <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>inscrutable face—a glance which again the financier did -not meet. He laid down the paper-knife before he answered, in a tone as -apparently careless as the detective’s had been.</p> - -<p>“No. I should have told her, of course, when we came to the conclusion -that they were really lost, but she had already gone out. I was to have -joined her after lunch, and gone on to Carling’s wedding. She will be -there now,” he added, glancing at the clock on his writing-table.</p> - -<p>Snell’s eyes glistened. (“Lady Rawson’s in this, right enough,” he told -himself confidently. “And he knows it. He only sent for me as a bit of -bluff!”)</p> - -<p>Thomson entered, and advanced towards his master, ignoring the presence -of a second person. At that moment the telephone on the writing-table -tinkled, and Thomson stood still, silent and deferential as usual, as, -mechanically, Sir Robert took down the receiver.</p> - -<p>“Yes? Yes, I am Sir Robert Rawson. Who is speaking?... Oh!... What’s -that?... What?”</p> - -<p>The two who were watching him, more or less furtively, were startled, -for he dropped the receiver, stumbled to his feet, and glared round -helplessly, a dusky flush rising to his face, which was horribly -distorted.</p> - -<p>Thomson was by his side in an instant, thrusting a supporting arm -around him, but Snell sprang forward, seized the receiver and spoke -imperatively into the telephone.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?... Yes, Sir Robert Rawson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> was speaking a moment ago, -but he has been taken ill.”</p> - -<p>He glanced at the group close by. Sir Robert had fallen, or been -lowered by Thomson to the floor, and the valet was rapidly unloosening -his collar.</p> - -<p>“Who are you?... Oh, it’s you, Evans. Western Division. Yes, I’m John -Snell of Scotland Yard.... Well, what is it? Lady Rawson murdered! Had -she any papers in her possession?... What? Right. I’ll be with you as -soon as possible. Ring off.”</p> - -<p>“Master, master!” Thomson was stammering. “He’s dying!”</p> - -<p>Snell pressed the electric bell, and hurried to meet the footman.</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert is taken ill; he’s had bad news. Lady Rawson has been -murdered. Better telephone for a doctor and fetch the housekeeper.”</p> - -<p>Two minutes later he was speeding westward in a taxi, eager to -investigate this sudden and tragic development of the case, for he -assumed instantly that the murder was the outcome of the theft of the -papers.</p> - -<p>At the house in Grosvenor Gardens confusion reigned for a time. -The only one among the flurried servants who kept a clear head at -this crisis was the imperturbable Thomson, who, after the unwonted -outburst of emotion that escaped him as he knelt beside his stricken -master, resumed his habitual composure, and promptly took charge of -the situation as it affected Sir Robert himself. For the time being -he practically ignored the news of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> the murder, which the others, -naturally enough, began discussing with awestruck excitement. Now, as -ever, his one thought was his master, and with deft tenderness he did -what he thought best—loosening the sufferer’s clothes and raising his -head. When the doctor arrived Thomson proved an invaluable assistant in -every way.</p> - -<p>“Will he recover, sir?” he asked, with poignant anxiety, when at length -they quitted the room to which Sir Robert had been carried, leaving him -still unconscious, but breathing more naturally, and with a trained -nurse already in attendance.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I hope so; but it was an overwhelming shock, of course. Is -this terrible news about Lady Rawson true? It seems incredible.”</p> - -<p>Thomson passed his hand over his forehead dazedly.</p> - -<p>“I suppose it is, sir. I haven’t seemed to have time to think about -it. It’s a terrible upset, and Mr. Carling away and all. There’s Lord -Warrington. Excuse me, sir. I’d better speak to him.”</p> - -<p>There were several people in the hall, including a couple of energetic -reporters who had managed to enter and were endeavouring to interrogate -the worried butler and anyone else whom they could buttonhole, for -the news had spread like wildfire, and outside a crowd had assembled, -watching and waiting for the grim homecoming of the woman who had left -that house but a few hours before in the full vigour of youth and -beauty.</p> - -<p>Thomson approached a short, spare, but authoritative-looking man, -who had just been admitted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> and before whom the others gave way -respectfully—Lord Warrington of the Foreign Office.</p> - -<p>“Will you come in here, my lord?” he said, and ushered him into the -library.</p> - -<p>The same young footman whom Snell had questioned hurried forward and -detained Thomson for a moment, extending a salver with a heap of -letters.</p> - -<p>“These have just come by post, Mr. Thomson. Hadn’t you better take -them?”</p> - -<p>Thomson did so mechanically, and followed Lord Warrington, who turned -to him the instant the door was closed.</p> - -<p>“This is an awful business, Thomson! Where’s Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>“In bed, and at death’s door, my lord. They telephoned the news to him -about my lady, and he had a kind of stroke.”</p> - -<p>“Good Heavens! But what does it all mean, man? What was Lady Rawson -doing out there in the suburbs—and murdered in a post office telephone -booth, of all places in the world!”</p> - -<p>He waved an evening paper he was carrying, and Thomson glanced at it -dully.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about it, my lord, except just that my lady was -murdered. The Scotland Yard detective told me that, but I didn’t seem -to grasp it at the time; I was too distressed about my master, and I’ve -been with him ever since.”</p> - -<p>“A detective? Did he bring the news?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, my lord, it was through the telephone. He was here about those -papers that are missing——” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Papers? What papers?”</p> - -<p>“Some that arrived by special messenger yesterday, my lord.”</p> - -<p>Warrington stared aghast.</p> - -<p>“Those! He told me about them at dinner. Missing! D’you mean they’re -lost? Stolen?”</p> - -<p>“I thought perhaps you knew, my lord. Mr. Carling put them in the safe -last night—or said he did—and this morning they were gone. Sir Robert -was very put out, and so was Mr. Carling.”</p> - -<p>“Gone! Good Lord! I wonder what was in them and who’s got hold of -them?” muttered Lord Warrington in utter consternation. His glance -lighted on the letters that Thomson held.</p> - -<p>“What have you got there?”</p> - -<p>Thomson looked at them with a preoccupied air.</p> - -<p>“Only some letters, my lord, just come. I don’t know what to do with -them, as Mr. Carling’s away.”</p> - -<p>“Here, give ’em to me—that one anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“That one” was a big, bulky, blue envelope, printed with Sir Robert’s -name and address, and showing also the district postmark and a big -official stamp indicative of the surcharge for an unpaid letter.</p> - -<p>“Where the dickens is Broadway?” Warrington muttered, as he scrutinized -it. “Look here, Thomson, I’m going to open this. Why the seal’s broken -already!”</p> - -<p>“Very good, my lord,” Thomson murmured deferentially but abstractedly. -Yet he looked up with quickened interest as Lord Warrington uttered an -involuntary exclamation. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My lord! They—they’re not those very papers?”</p> - -<p>“They are! By Jove, that’s the queerest thing I’ve ever known! Now, who -the deuce has found and returned them?”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">“NO. 5339”</span></h2> - -<p>“Thank goodness for some peace and quietness at last! What a day it has -been, with everything going wrong from beginning to end; and then this -awful affair about poor Lady Rawson coming on the top of all the other -happenings. I shall hate the very thought of a wedding in future!”</p> - -<p>Winnie Winston shivered and spread her hands to the cheerful blaze in -the cosy drawing-room of the flat in Chelsea which she shared with her -brother George, who sprawled luxuriously in the easy chair opposite -her, while between them was Austin Starr, also very much at his ease. -He had found time to come round to apologize for his absence at the -wedding, and to discuss the startling and mysterious tragedy of Lady -Rawson’s death. There were very few days when he did not manage to see -or converse with Winnie Winston, even if their intercourse was limited -to a few sentences hurriedly exchanged over the telephone. He loved -her; from the first moment that he met her he had decided that she was -the one woman in the world for him. But he would not ask her to marry, -or even to become engaged to him, until he had an assured position to -offer her. Meanwhile, though he secretly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> hoped that she loved him, he -could not be certain of that, for her attitude towards him was one of -frank camaraderie that reminded him of his own countrywomen. In many -ways she was much more like an American than an English girl.</p> - -<p>“Don’t say that, Miss Winnie. I guess the next wedding will be all -right,” he responded cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“This one wasn’t,” she declared. “I’m not a bit superstitious—not as -a rule—but really I’ve never known such a succession of misfortunes. -First, the fog, and then Roger being so late, and the Rawsons not -turning up. Mrs. Armitage was so sniffy about that; and of course she -never imagined what the reason was. Who <i>could</i> imagine anything so -horrible? And everything seemed so forlorn after Roger and Grace had -gone; it always does somehow, but it was worse than usual to-day. Some -of the people were staying—Mrs. Armitage had arranged a theatre party -for us all to-night—I wonder if they’ve gone. I expect so! And she -made me sing—you know how fussy she is—and I broke down utterly. -Awfully silly of me, I know, but really I couldn’t help it. I can’t -think what ‘the <i>maestro</i>’ would say if he knew it! So I came away: -I simply felt I couldn’t stay in the house another minute; and there -wasn’t a cab to be had, so I had to walk to the train; and the rain -came on and ruined my new frock, which I meant to wear to-morrow—I’m -singing at Æolian Hall in the afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, wear that one you’ve got on now. You look just lovely in -it!” counselled Austin, regarding her with tender admiration. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s just like a man!” she laughed, glancing down at her gown; but -the laugh had an uncertain ring, with a suggestion of tears in it. -“Why, this is ever such an old thing that I only wear at home. But it’s -not the frock really that I mind. I—I can’t help thinking about the -horror of it all; poor Lady Rawson being murdered like that, so near to -the church, too; she must have been actually on her way to the wedding!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think she was,” said Austin reflectively, remembering how the -murdered woman had been attired when he saw and identified her. “It’s a -big mystery that will take a lot of unravelling.”</p> - -<p>“But they’ve got the chap already,” interposed George Winston, reaching -for a late edition of an evening paper that he had just thrown -aside—“that taxicab driver. It’s as clear as daylight so far. He must -have seen Lady Rawson’s bag, thought she had something valuable in it, -followed and stabbed her, and then made off through the back door, bag -and all.”</p> - -<p>“Queer sort of impulse to seize a highly respectable ex-service man,” -remarked Starr dryly. “And what was in the bag anyhow, for the contents -haven’t been found up to now.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t believe he did it?”</p> - -<p>Before he could answer, the hall door-bell sounded imperatively, and -Winnie started nervously.</p> - -<p>“Now, who can that be at this hour!”</p> - -<p>An elderly maidservant entered, Martha Stenning, who had grown grey in -the Winstons’ service.</p> - -<p>“It’s the same gentleman that called before, Mr. George, and asked to -see you or Miss Winnie. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> says you wouldn’t know his name, but his -business is important.”</p> - -<p>“All right, I’ll come, Martha,” said George, rising and following her -from the room.</p> - -<p>“I wonder who it is?” Winnie exclaimed anxiously. “Martha says someone -has been ringing up on the telephone several times while we were out, -and asking all sorts of questions about——”</p> - -<p>They both looked round as George re-entered, followed by Snell, the -detective, at sight of whom Starr rose, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s you, Mr. Snell! Anything fresh?”</p> - -<p>“Not much at present, and I didn’t expect to see <i>you</i> here, Mr. Starr. -Miss Winston? I must ask you to excuse my intrusion.”</p> - -<p>“This is Mr. Snell of Scotland Yard, Winnie,” George explained -hurriedly. “He says Lady Rawson rang up our number—5339—just before -she was murdered. They’ve got it down in the post office book, and she -must have been speaking at the very moment——”</p> - -<p>“Lady Rawson! Our number!” gasped Winnie, in utter surprise and -perplexity.</p> - -<p>“Did you expect to receive a message from her, Miss Winston?” Snell -inquired.</p> - -<p>“I? Certainly not; why, I’ve never spoken to her in my life, though I -expected to meet her to-day at my friend’s wedding. You don’t know her -either, do you, George?” she added, turning to her brother.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been to her receptions once or twice, but I’ve never exchanged -a dozen words with her,” George asserted truthfully. “And I can’t -imagine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> why she should have rung us up. I doubt if she even knew that -my sister and I were to be at the wedding to-day or that we’re old -friends of Carling and Miss Armitage—Mrs. Carling I mean, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Yet Mr. Carling has been on intimate terms—like a member of the -family—with Sir Robert and Lady Rawson,” Snell remarked.</p> - -<p>“With Sir Robert,” Winston corrected. “Lady Rawson was always quite -kind, I believe; and I know she asked Miss Armitage to her house once -or twice; but she never showed any real interest in either of them—no -personal friendship, don’t you know! At least so I’ve gathered from -Carling,” he added, wondering the while what the detective was driving -at.</p> - -<p>“Then you think it unlikely that, assuming that she wished to speak to -Mr. Carling on the telephone, she would expect to find him here?”</p> - -<p>“I’m quite sure she wouldn’t,” said George, and Winnie, nodding a -confirmatory assent, added:</p> - -<p>“Besides, she wouldn’t expect him to be anywhere just then except at -the church or on his way there. Not if the time is given rightly in the -paper. It said she went into the office about half-past one.”</p> - -<p>“Just so,” Snell agreed, and after a brief pause looked up with a query -that at the moment sounded startlingly irrelevant.</p> - -<p>“Do you know Signor Cacciola, Miss Winston?”</p> - -<p>She stared in astonishment, scarcely grasping the question, especially -as he mispronounced the name.</p> - -<p>“He’s a music master or something of the sort; lives at Rivercourt -Mansions West,” Snell added. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Signor Cacciola? Why, of course I know him; he’s my singing -master—‘the <i>maestro</i>’ we always call him,” she answered, knitting -her pretty brows in bewilderment, while Austin Starr, watching Snell, -screwed his lips in the form of whistling, and listened intently for -what might follow.</p> - -<p>“He comes here often?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. At least he does when he is coaching me for a special concert or -anything like that. He has been here every morning this week except -to-day.”</p> - -<p>“You did not expect him to-day?”</p> - -<p>“No. I was going to the wedding; and besides, he has an engagement -every Thursday—at Blackheath, I think.”</p> - -<p>“You know him well? Have you known him long?”</p> - -<p>“For several years—ever since he came to London. He is a dear old man.”</p> - -<p>“An Italian?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, though he has not been in Italy for many years.”</p> - -<p>“He took a keen interest in Russian affairs,” Snell asserted.</p> - -<p>“Did he? I’m sure I don’t know. He certainly never talked about such -things to me.”</p> - -<p>“Did he ever speak to you of Lady Rawson?”</p> - -<p>“Never!”</p> - -<p>It was impossible to doubt Winnie’s emphatic negative.</p> - -<p>Again he shifted his point, or appeared to do so.</p> - -<p>“Then you can’t give me any reason why Lady Rawson should have rung you -up to-day?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> - -<p>“None at all, unless she gave a wrong number and it happened by chance -to be ours.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what I think,” exclaimed George.</p> - -<p>“It might have been so,” Snell assented. “I’ve known a good many -coincidences as queer. Well, I’m very sorry to have troubled you so -late, Miss Winston, and I must thank you for answering me so clearly. -Some folks beat about the bush and are scared out of their senses at -the very sight of a detective—when they know him as such,” he added, -with a smile. “But we’re bound to get whatever information we can, even -at the risk of worrying people who really haven’t anything to do with -the case. And now I’ll take myself off.”</p> - -<p>“Have a whisky-and-soda first,” urged George Winston hospitably. “Of -course we know you have to look up every point, and if we’d guessed -the reason why we’ve been rung up so often to-day we should have been -expecting you—or someone else on the same errand.”</p> - -<p>Snell declined the proffered refreshment, but accepted a cigarette, -and lingered for a minute or two, chatting in a casual manner on the -subject that was uppermost in all their minds.</p> - -<p>George questioned him about the suspected man, Sadler, the taxicab -driver.</p> - -<p>“He’s doing all right; not as much hurt as was thought at first, and -he’ll probably be able to attend the opening of the inquest to-morrow. -But we haven’t been able to interrogate him yet; in fact he doesn’t -know he’s under arrest.”</p> - -<p>“Do you believe he did it?” demanded George.</p> - -<p>“I never form an opinion on slight evidence,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> Snell replied guardedly. -“Good night, Miss Winston, good night, sir. Many thanks. Are you coming -with me, Mr. Starr?”</p> - -<p>Starr shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I guess I shan’t get anything out of you if I do, Mr. Snell.”</p> - -<p>Snell smiled enigmatically.</p> - -<p>“Yet I’ve given you a lot just now, Mr. Starr, though I doubt if you’ll -be able to make much of it in time for to-morrow’s ‘Courier.’”</p> - -<p>“What did he mean by that?” whispered Winnie, as her brother -accompanied the unexpected guest to the door.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you to-morrow. I’m going to follow it up, right now, as he -surmises. There are no flies on Mr. Snell! Good night, Miss Winnie.”</p> - -<p>In a minute or so George returned to the room.</p> - -<p>“My hat! This is queer experience, isn’t it, Win? I say, let’s try -and get on to the ‘Lord Warden’ and speak to Roger. He’ll be awfully -anxious to know about everything; there’s a lot in the late editions -too that he won’t be able to see down there to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you can’t ring him up at this hour,” Winnie protested, glancing -at the clock. “Besides, it would frighten Grace if she knew. You said -Roger was going to keep it from her.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to ring him up,” George insisted. “It’s not really late—not -for Roger anyhow. It’s only just on eleven.”</p> - -<p>Winnie let him have his way, not choosing to urge the various reasons -against it that occurred at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> once to her quick feminine mind, but -escaped her brother’s obtuse one.</p> - -<p>In a surprisingly short time for a “call” the telephone bell tinkled -its summons, and George went out into the little hall to answer it.</p> - -<p>The colloquy was very brief, and as George hurriedly re-entered she -looked up with a whimsical “I told you so” expression on her pretty -face, which fled as she saw his agitated aspect.</p> - -<p>“I say, Win, they’re not there!”</p> - -<p>“Not there!” she ejaculated, starting up.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t been there at all. They must be crossing by the night boat -after all; such a beastly night too—half a gale and raining cats and -dogs. It’s worse there than it is here. I asked.”</p> - -<p>“Crossing <i>to-night</i>! And Grace is the worst sailor imaginable. What on -earth possessed Roger to take her?”</p> - -<p>“He must be mad—mad as a hatter!” cried George, but the same thought -and explanation occurred to him as to Winnie, and their eyes met in a -glance of mutual horror and consternation.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">THE CIGARETTE CASE</span></h2> - -<p>From Chelsea, Austin Starr went direct to Rivercourt Mansions, a -quadrangular block of flats, standing back from the high road and -fronting a square of grass and trees.</p> - -<p>He dismissed his cab at the entrance to the square, which he noted was -nearly opposite to the post office where Lady Rawson had been done -to death a few hours before. He stood for a minute, regardless of -the drizzling rain, staring across the thoroughfare, almost deserted -on this dreary night. He imagined the illfated woman crossing it, -with the assassin dogging her footsteps. Who was that assassin, and -what was his motive? He was already certain in his own mind that the -taxi-driver was as innocent of the crime as he was himself, although he -had undoubtedly been close at hand at the time. And why had Lady Rawson -visited Cacciola at his flat, and failing to find him there tried to -ring him up at the Winstons’? He meant to discover that right now, if -possible, feeling instinctively that here was the clue to the mystery. -He guessed that Snell was already in possession of that clue, and had -racked his brains in conjecture concerning it as he drove hither. -But, though he had been with Snell all the afternoon, that astute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -individual had maintained silence concerning the stolen dispatches. He -did not intend Starr or any other reporter to know of them at present. -There were cases when he was glad to avail himself of the assistance -of the Press, but this was not one of them. Already, thanks to a -lucky accident—lucky from his point of view—he was in possession of -evidence which he considered of the utmost importance, and on which he -was building up a certain theory, which so far appeared to have very -few flaws in it.</p> - -<p>A tram came clanking along the road and Austin Starr turned away along -the side-walk, glancing up at the Mansions. Most of the windows were -dark, but there were lights here and there. One shone cheerily from a -window high up in the block he wanted. As he reached the entrance the -lights in the hall and on the staircase went out, and in the sudden -darkness he collided with a man in the doorway who accosted him with -facetious apology.</p> - -<p>“Sorry, Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you.’ If I’d seen you coming I’d have waited -till you got up. Half a minute, and I’ll switch on again.”</p> - -<p>He suited the action to the word, and Austin saw he was the porter, a -small, spare man with a sharp-featured, whimsical face.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” Starr assured him, “I’m going up to Mr. Cacciola’s. -The top flat, isn’t it? I guess he’s home, for there’s a light in the -window.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think he is, sir, he’s mostly later than this; but old Julia -will be sitting up for him. Are you Mr. Roger Carling, by any chance, -sir?”</p> - -<p>Austin Starr was considerably startled, though he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> made no sign beyond -a penetrating glance at his interrogator, and answered quietly:</p> - -<p>“No, but I’m his intimate friend. What made you take me for him?”</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, sir, I’m sure. I don’t know the gentleman, but I saw the -name on the cigarette case he dropped outside Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ -door this morning. I always call the old gentleman that—nearest I can -get to his name—and he don’t mind a bit, not he! Julia’s got the case -all right—she’s Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ house-keeper; Italian same -as him, and a good old sort. I thought perhaps you were Mr. Carling -come after it.”</p> - -<p>Austin saw and interpreted aright a slight and significant crook of the -little man’s fingers and produced a coin.</p> - -<p>“So you found the case?” he remarked pleasantly. “Mr. Carling will be -glad to know it. I guess he hadn’t a notion where he dropped it. He’s -left town to-day—on his honeymoon.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir, though I’m sure I didn’t expect anything,” responded -the little man, promptly pocketing the tip. “Gone on his honeymoon, -has he? Why, he’s never the gentleman that was married at St. Paul’s -to-day—the wedding that poor lady was on her way to when she was -murdered? They didn’t give his name in the paper, I saw. Terrible -thing, isn’t it, sir? And will you believe me, I never heard a word -about it till nigh on teatime! It must have ’appened just after I went -to my dinner: I was a bit late to-day; had to take a parcel up to No. -20—that’s when I found the cigarette case; and if only I’d been about -I might ’ave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> seen it all. And to think of young Charlie Sadler doing -such an awful thing. He must ’ave gone clean off his nut!”</p> - -<p>“You know him?” asked Starr quickly, thankful that the garrulous little -man had strayed from the subject of Roger Carling’s presence so near -the scene of the tragedy, though at the moment he was unable to analyse -his thought sufficiently to know why he should feel thankful.</p> - -<p>“Know Charlie Sadler? Why, I’ve known him ever since he was a little -nipper so high. Lives with his mother—a decent old soul—down in -Milsom Cottages, and he’s courting little Jessie Jackson over at the -post office, on the sly, for her aunt, Mrs. Cave, don’t think him good -enough for her; and it seems she’s right after all. But whoever would -’ave thought of ’im going and doing a murder like that?”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know yet that he did it,” said Starr.</p> - -<p>“Well, of course it’ll ’ave to be proved against him; but if he didn’t, -then who did? That’s the question. And he was there right enough. -Slipped in by the side door to see Jessie while her aunt was safe in -the shop, and when the girl was called down he must ’ave seen the lady -and been taken with one of these ’ere sudden temptations; and then -when he found what he’d done he ’ooked it, and smashed up the cab -and himself in his ’urry. There it is in a nutshell, sir!” Withers -concluded triumphantly. Evidently he had been gossiping pretty freely -during the evening, but as evidently he as yet knew nothing of Lady -Rawson’s visit to Cacciola’s flat—if, indeed, she had been there—and -attached no <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>significance to Roger Carling’s visit. How should he?</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’re right,” Starr conceded. “We’ll all have just to ‘wait -and see’ anyhow. Well, I’ll go up——”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure Mr. ‘Catch-’old-o’-you’s’ not in yet, sir; but I’ll give him -any message for you in the morning,” suggested Withers officiously.</p> - -<p>“No, thanks, I’ll leave it with Julia if necessary. Good night.”</p> - -<p>“Good night, sir, and thank you. I’ll keep the lights on till you’ve -got to the top.”</p> - -<p>Starr thanked him again and went upstairs—eight flights of -them—outwardly composed, inwardly more perturbed than he had ever been -in his life before. His mind was in a dark tumult of suspicion and -perplexity, which would have been increased if he could have known the -news George Winston had just learnt from Dover—that Roger and Grace -were not at the “Lord Warden.”</p> - -<p>“It’s impossible! He can’t have had anything to do with it!” he told -himself impatiently, refusing even to formulate the suspicion that had -arisen in his mind. Yet the suspicion was there.</p> - -<p>The lights below went out as he pressed the bell button at No. 19, but -an instant later one flashed up within the hall of the flat and he -heard a soft shuffle of slippered feet. But the door was not opened to -him. The letter slit moved and through the aperture a woman’s voice -demanded, in good enough English, though with a strong foreign accent:</p> - -<p>“Who is zere?”</p> - -<p>He responded with a counter-question:</p> - -<p>“Is Mr. Cacciola at home?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He is not. He vill perhaps not return to-night. Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon you won’t know my name. You’re Julia, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am Giulia. Vat ees it?”</p> - -<p>“Open the door, there’s a good soul, and I’ll tell you. I can’t shout -it through. It’s important.”</p> - -<p>“I do not know you,” she protested nervously after a pause. “You are -from the police again?”</p> - -<p>So, as he guessed, Snell had already been here. He wondered that the -loquacious porter had not seen him and scented the errand.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he lied boldly. “So you’d better open the door right now. You’ve -nothing to fear from me, and I shan’t keep you many minutes.”</p> - -<p>She muttered something that he could not catch, but a chain clanked, -and a moment later she opened the door a few inches and peered out—a -short, plump old woman, whose comely brown face and lustrous black eyes -wore a strained, anxious expression, that relaxed a little as she eyed -her visitor.</p> - -<p>His appearance seemed to reassure her, for she drew back and motioned -him to enter the little square hall.</p> - -<p>He smiled at her, and there were few women, young or old, who could -resist Austin Starr’s smile. He had what some folk term “a way with -him,” all the more effective since it was exerted unconsciously.</p> - -<p>“It’s real good of you, signora, to admit me at this unholy hour, and -I’ll not keep you any time,” he began diplomatically. “First, I want -that cigarette case that Mr. Roger Carling lost on your lobby this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -morning. The porter says he gave it to you.”</p> - -<p>“The leetle case? But I have it not! I gave it to the officer of -police—he who came to-day, saying he was of the police, though he wore -no uniform; he was like yourself, signor,” she stammered.</p> - -<p>Starr’s heart sank. The moment he had heard of that cigarette case -he determined to get possession of it, and if possible prevent any -knowledge of it reaching the police, though again he did not attempt to -analyse his motive.</p> - -<p>“I have done wrong in giving it him?” Giulia continued uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it, signora—that’s all right,” Starr answered, with a -cheerfulness he was very far from feeling. “I haven’t seen Mr. Snell -since or he’d have told me you had it. I guess you’ve told him about -everything else too, but I’ll have to trouble you to tell me also. The -<i>maestro</i> left home as usual to go to his class at Blackheath. What -time did he go out?”</p> - -<p>“At a leetle after nine, signor.”</p> - -<p>“You’re sure he was going to Blackheath?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, signor. Vere else would he go?”</p> - -<p>“When did Lady Rawson come?”</p> - -<p>“In a ver’ leetle time after the <i>maestro</i> go. He could scarce have -reach the stazione.”</p> - -<p>“So early! Then she knew he would not be back. Why did she return?”</p> - -<p>Giulia hesitated.</p> - -<p>“I do not comprehend,” she muttered.</p> - -<p>“When did she go away?”</p> - -<p>“I do not remember.”</p> - -<p>“Come, that’s nonsense, signora. You must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> know; try to think. She was -here after one o’clock, we know that; in fact, she went straight from -here to the post office where she was murdered.”</p> - -<p>Giulia stood speechless, plucking nervously at her white apron, and as -he saw her embarrassment an idea flashed to his mind.</p> - -<p>“Great Scot! She was here the whole morning: she came in and waited. -That’s so?”</p> - -<p>She nodded a reluctant assent.</p> - -<p>“She was here when Mr. Carling called just after one. Did he ask for -her?”</p> - -<p>Again Giulia nodded.</p> - -<p>“Did he see her?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“She did not vish it. I said she vas not here. It vas a lie, and I do -not like lies; but she vould have it so; and he go away. She look from -the vindow, and vatch till he pass the corner, and then she go away -also.”</p> - -<p>Starr stood musing for a space, and, master of his emotions though he -was, Giulia’s keen old eyes detected a certain expression of relief on -his face.</p> - -<p>He was inwardly reproaching himself also for part at least of the -suspicion that had assailed him the instant he learnt that Carling had -been there. He thought he knew Roger Carling as thoroughly as one man -can know another, believed him to be the soul of honour and rectitude. -But he also knew that in every human being there are depths that none -other can plumb; and, remembering the circumstances, the thought had -occurred involuntarily that some shameful secret might be the cause and -explanation of the mysterious tragedy. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was such an obvious solution. Lady Rawson, young, beautiful, -extraordinarily attractive, married to a man almost old enough to be -her grandfather and meeting every day one of her own age, handsome -and debonair as was Carling. Dangerous conditions enough, human -nature being what it is! And Carling would not be the first man to be -fascinated and entangled by an unscrupulous woman, even while he loved -another woman—as Roger loved Grace—with all the strength of his -better nature.</p> - -<p>But that idea might be dismissed, so far as Carling was concerned as a -principal in the matter anyhow. Lady Rawson had not come here to meet -him, had not expected or wished to see him when he followed her there.</p> - -<p>Yet if Lady Rawson did not come here to meet Carling, whom did she -come to see—whom did she wait for all those hours? Not old Cacciola, -certainly, for she learnt at once that he was out for the day. He -turned to Giulia and put the question point blank.</p> - -<p>“Who was here this morning with you and Lady Rawson?”</p> - -<p>“No one; nevare any person at all!” she cried emphatically.</p> - -<p>“But you expected someone; that was why Lady Rawson waited.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, but her eyes did not meet his, and her hands were -trembling as she still fidgeted with her apron.</p> - -<p>“Zere vas no one, zere nevare has been no one; I have told all, -signor.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<p>He found it was useless to question her further, and decided that he -would not wait on the chance of learning anything from Cacciola. He -gathered that the old man seldom returned till long after midnight.</p> - -<p>Groping his way down the dark staircase, he reached the high road just -in time to board a tram going eastwards, which set him down at the -terminus within a few hundred yards from the hospital to which Sadler -had been taken. He might as well call and inquire as to the man’s -condition. If there was anything to report there was still time to -telephone to the office.</p> - -<p>A minute later he pushed back the swing-door and entered the lobby of -the hospital, to find himself face to face with Snell.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">AT CACCIOLA’S</span></h2> - -<p>Snell greeted Austin with a smile and a significant cock of his left -eyebrow.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t lost any time, Mr. Starr. But there’s nothing fresh here. -Sadler’s just the same, and the doctor says it will be impossible for -him to attend the inquest to-morrow, so we shall ask for a week’s -adjournment. And he won’t be allowed to be ‘interviewed’ by anyone,” he -added pointedly.</p> - -<p>“I guessed that, of course. I only meant to inquire how he was. I take -it he’s practically under arrest?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all. Under surveillance perhaps, which is a very different -matter. And the less said about that or <i>anything else</i> the better for -the present, Mr. Starr. No ‘stunts’ in this case, please. Well, did you -find Cacciola at home? Or old Julia amiable?”</p> - -<p>“How did you know I’d been there?”</p> - -<p>“Guessed it, knowing you. That’s meant as a compliment.”</p> - -<p>“Cacciola hadn’t returned. I know him fairly well, having seen him a -good few times at Miss Winston’s. And Giulia was civil enough, though -she seemed a bit scared. She told me some yarn about a cigarette case -she had found.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>As they spoke in guarded tones, they had reissued from the hospital and -now stood on the steps, where the lamp-light fell full on Snell’s face. -Starr’s keen eyes were fixed on it, but it revealed nothing.</p> - -<p>“A cigarette case? Whose was it?” asked Snell.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know? You’ve got it, haven’t you?”</p> - -<p>Starr strove to speak in a casual tone, but it was difficult to control -his voice. Of all the many sensational cases he had come across this -was the first that had touched him personally, and the horrible fear -that Roger Carling might in some way be mixed up in it, and that Snell -knew it, was still strong upon him.</p> - -<p>“Are you trying to cross-examine me?” asked the detective dryly.</p> - -<p>Possibly for the first time in his life under such circumstances Austin -lost his self-possession.</p> - -<p>“See here, Snell, what’s the use of fencing?” he asked hotly. “You’ve -got that case right enough. It’s Rog——”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” interrupted Snell imperatively, though without raising his -voice. “I’ve mentioned no name. Take my advice, Mr. Starr, and don’t -you mention one either. I’ve told you already that the less said the -better, and if you can’t take the hint—well, that’s your affair.”</p> - -<p>Austin bit his lip, inwardly cursing himself for his indiscretion. -If he had held his tongue about his knowledge of Roger Carling’s -movements he might, sooner or later, have got some hint of what was in -the detective’s mind. Now, in all probability he would get no further -information at all. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sorry,” he muttered somewhat ungraciously. “You’re right, of course. -But——”</p> - -<p>“But there’s nothing to add to your story to-night. Take my word for -it,” said Snell, with restored good humour. “Which way are you going? -Tube? I’m for the tram. What a beastly night! I shan’t be sorry to get -indoors.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I,” Austin confessed with a shiver.</p> - -<p>Almost in silence they walked side by side through the chill drizzle to -the station, and there parted, Snell crossing to the tram terminus.</p> - -<p>But he was not yet bound for home, as he had allowed and wished Starr -to infer. Tireless and relentless as a sleuth-hound, he believed he was -already fairly on the track of Lady Rawson’s murderer, but there were -certain preliminary points he wished to clear up, and till he succeeded -in that there would be no rest for him.</p> - -<p>The tram was crowded with returning theatre-goers, most of whom were -discussing the grim crime and the reports in the late editions of the -evening papers. None guessed how intimately the wiry little man in the -drenched Burberry, meekly strap-hanging among them, was concerned with -it, and quite a number alighted from the tram when he did, opposite the -post office, and lingered in the rain staring at the house of tragedy, -now dark and silent as a grave, with a solitary policeman standing -guard, and in a subdued, monotonous voice requesting the whispering -crowd to “Pass along, please.”</p> - -<p>Snell did not even glance at the house or the sentinel, but disappeared -into the darkness of the square nearly opposite, three sides of which -were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> occupied by the tall blocks of flats known as “Rivercourt -Mansions,” fronted by shrubberies, and with more shrubs and trees -in the centre: a pleasant place enough in daylight, but gloomy and -mysterious on this miserable wet midnight. Treading as lightly as a -cat in his “silent-soled” shoes, Snell walked swiftly to the end of -the square, and paused, to be joined immediately by a man in a dark -mackintosh, who emerged from the shadow of the shrubs.</p> - -<p>“Anything to report, Evans?” Snell asked softly.</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t returned yet, sir. Mr. Starr went in and stayed a good few -minutes, just after ten-thirty.”</p> - -<p>“I know. Did he see you?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Good. Anything else?”</p> - -<p>“A good many have come and gone—people living in the block; but none -that I could spot as on this business.”</p> - -<p>Together they withdrew into deeper gloom again, and in dead silence -waited and watched. Not for long.</p> - -<p>Another tram clanked westward, halted, went on, and a minute later -footsteps approached—heavy, weary, dragging footsteps; and the figures -of two men passed into the radius of light from the street lamp nearest -the watchers.</p> - -<p>“That’s the Signor—the fat one,” Snell’s subordinate whispered. “The -other’s the Russian.”</p> - -<p>“Come on,” said Snell, and silently they followed the two men, -overtaking them as Cacciola was inserting a latchkey into the outer -door of the block where he lived. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<p>He turned with a start as Snell courteously accosted him.</p> - -<p>“Signor Cacciola? I have been waiting your return, and must have a few -words with you to-night concerning the late Lady Rawson. If you will -look at my card you will know who I am and that my business is urgent.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke he switched on his electric torch, handed the card to -Cacciola, and watched the old man’s face as he read it—a plump, -olive-complexioned, usually jolly face that now looked drawn and -grief-stricken.</p> - -<p>“By all means; enter, signor,” said Cacciola with grave dignity. -“I—we—will give you all the assistance possible. You are not alone?” -he added, narrowing his dark eyes in an endeavour to pierce the gloom -beyond the circle of light.</p> - -<p>“No. But perhaps you will permit my man to wait in your hall for me,” -returned Snell blandly.</p> - -<p>He did not anticipate danger, but anything might happen in that top -flat, and, though he was courageous enough he never took unnecessary -risks.</p> - -<p>“But certainly. Lead the way, Boris. Will you continue the light, -Signor? The stairs are very dark—and long.”</p> - -<p>With hushed footsteps, and no sound beyond Cacciola’s heavy breathing, -they stole in procession up the staircase, Evans bringing up the rear -just behind Snell.</p> - -<p>As they reached the top landing the door of Cacciola’s flat opened, and -Giulia appeared on the threshold, a dark figure against the lighted -hall, began to speak volubly in Italian, and then, seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> her master’s -companions, and recognizing Snell, stopped short and retreated a pace -or two, glancing nervously from one to the other.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, ma’am. No cause for alarm,” said Snell reassuringly. -“I’ve been here before to-day, sir, in your absence, as I expect she -was trying to tell you. Let her tell her story now, it will help us. -And in English, please, as I don’t understand your language.”</p> - -<p>“She shall do so. Come with us, Giulia. Take off your wet coats, my -friends.”</p> - -<p>Cacciola led the way into a large, comfortable room where a gas fire -glowed cosily—a musician’s room, with the place of honour occupied by -a magnificent grand piano.</p> - -<p>The Russian, who had not spoken a word, and moved like a man in a -dream, allowed Cacciola to remove his dripping overcoat and push him -into an easy chair. He was a delicate-looking, handsome-featured young -man, who seemed, and was, dazed with grief and horror.</p> - -<p>Rapidly, but quite coherently, Giulia poured out her story in broken -English, frequently lapsing into Italian, to be as frequently, though -gently, checked by her master. Much of it was already known to Snell, -but there were one or two fresh and illuminative points.</p> - -<p>“La Donna Paula,” the name by which the old woman designated Lady -Rawson, had come quite early, soon after the <i>maestro’s</i> departure, -demanding to see Signor Boris, who was away, Giulia did not know -where. Then she telephoned to Blackheath, in the hope of speaking -to the <i>maestro</i>, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> learnt he was not expected there to-day, and -presently she tried to telephone again, but lo! the instrument would -not serve—it was out of order!</p> - -<p>(“So that’s why she went to the call office,” Snell mentally commented, -having already noticed the telephone on a table beside the piano.)</p> - -<p>Donna Paula appeared very impatient, also agitated, and when the bell -rang bade Giulia deny that she was or had been there, if one should ask -for her, and, of a verity, the young signor who came did so, and ask -oh, very many questions.</p> - -<p>“Did he tell you his name?” interposed Snell.</p> - -<p>“But no, signor. Yet I learnt it later, for soon after Donna Paula had -gone, the <i>portaire</i> ring and give me a little silver case he find, -with a name on it that I forget, for then the signor there come, and -I give him the case, and he have it now, and he tell me Donna Paula -have been murdered, and I know not what to do or to say, but I wait and -wait for you or Signor Boris, and no one come till late, so late, when -yet another signor arrive, and say he also is of the police and ask -for the little silver case, and I tell him I have it not. That is the -truth—you have the case still, signor?”</p> - -<p>She whirled round towards Snell, who spoke soothingly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, that’s all right, signora. Nobody’s blaming you for -anything, and you’ve told your story admirably. Thank you very much. -And now, sir, if you please, we’ll have our chat.”</p> - -<p>“Go, my good Giulia,” said Cacciola, “and be not so distressed, though, -indeed, we are all cut to the heart. Now, signor?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I want you to tell everything you know about Lady Rawson—you and this -gentleman, who, I think, were on terms of intimate friendship with the -unfortunate lady.”</p> - -<p>It was no chance shot. Hours ago he had searched Lady Rawson’s rooms, -and in her boudoir, hidden in the secret drawer of a costly antique -writing-table, had found a big packet of letters, some of quite recent -date, written in Russian. They were all signed merely with the initial -“B,” and those which he had got translated at once gave him a fair -inkling of the relations between the writer and the dead woman. The -translation of the others would be in his hands to-morrow morning.</p> - -<p>If the Russian heard and understood the words he made no sign. He sat -huddled in the chair where Cacciola had placed him, with one hand over -his eyes. He might have been asleep for any movement that he made.</p> - -<p>“It is but very little I can tell,” said Cacciola. “It is true that she -came here from time to time—not to see me, to see her cousin, my dear -pupil Boris Melikoff here, who has been in the North since three days, -and returned to-night only, to hear of this deed of horror. It has -overwhelmed him, as you see. He is utterly exhausted. One moment——”</p> - -<p>Rising, he opened a corner cupboard, brought out a decanter half filled -with wine, and some glasses, placed them on a table at Snell’s elbow, -and filled one glass.</p> - -<p>“This may revive him, and I think we all need it. I pray you help -yourself and your friend, signor. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is good wine, I give you my word,” he added with a courteous -gesture.</p> - -<p>Crossing to Melikoff, he touched him, speaking caressingly as one would -speak to a sick child.</p> - -<p>“Rouse yourself, <i>caro</i>, and drink. It is I, <i>maestro</i>, who implore -you. The signor is here to learn the truth, and you must aid him.”</p> - -<p>Melikoff obeyed, and, after an instant’s hesitation, Snell accepted -Cacciola’s invitation, poured out a glass of wine for himself and -passed one to Evans with an affirmative nod.</p> - -<p>The old man was right. It was jolly good wine, and jolly well they all -needed it!</p> - -<p>“That is better, eh?” said Cacciola, emptying and setting down his own -glass, and looking with anxious affection at Boris, who sat upright and -turned his brilliant, haggard eyes on Snell.</p> - -<p>“You want to know—what?” he asked in perfect English, and in a low, -singularly musical voice, tense with repressed emotion.</p> - -<p>“Everything you can tell me concerning Lady Rawson, whom the Signor -here says was your cousin. Is that so?”</p> - -<p>“That is so. But I can tell you nothing more.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Mr. Melikoff. That won’t do!” Snell retorted, more sternly -than he had yet spoken. “I am in possession of many of your recent -letters to her, and am aware of their contents. Do you understand me?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Melikoff curtly.</p> - -<p>“Then I must try to make you.”</p> - -<p>“You think I murdered her!” cried the Russian, with more vehemence than -a moment before he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> seemed capable of. “I, who would have given my -life, my soul, to save her!”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind. I might have done so if I hadn’t happened to know -that your friend here spoke the truth when he said you were away—miles -away from here—at the time. But it’s my duty to discover who <i>did</i> -murder the unfortunate lady, and if you don’t choose to give me any -information you can that may assist me, here and now, you’ll only have -it wrung from you later in cross-examination. So please yourself!”</p> - -<p>“He is right—you must tell him all you know, my son,” interposed -Cacciola. “I myself know so little,” he added plaintively to Snell. -“They have always kept me—how do you call it?—in the dark, these two -unhappy ones.”</p> - -<p>“Well, while Mr. Melikoff makes up his mind as to whether he’s going -to say anything or nothing to-night, Signor Cacciola, perhaps you’ll -explain just what your association with them both was, and why her -ladyship came here, more or less disguised, so often?”</p> - -<p>The old man flung out his hands with a deprecating gesture.</p> - -<p>“I know so little,” he repeated distressfully. “At least of Milady -Rawson—Donna Paula as we call her. I love him—Boris—as if he were my -son. I learn to know him first, oh, many years since, in Russia, when -he was a little boy, with the voice of an angel. Though quite untrain, -Signor, he sing like the birds of the air! And I say to him then, and -to his mother, the countess, ‘He shall come to me in good time, and -I make him the greatest singer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> in the whole world.’ And at last he -came——”</p> - -<p>“When?”</p> - -<p>“But two years since, signor; and the good saints guided him to me, -for he did not mean to come. He had escaped with the bare life from -his unhappy country, having fought in the Great War, and then against -the Red Terror, till all was lost—all, all swept away. He was at the -gate of death when I find him and bring him home here so joyfully, and -Giulia and I nurse him back to health, and I begin to train him, or I -try, for the voice is there, signor, beautiful as ever, but the desire -to sing—alas!”</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders, and again threw up his hands with an -expressive gesture.</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t want to go in for singing now?” asked Snell, with a swift -glance at the Russian, who had relapsed into his former attitude. Yet -the detective believed he was listening to the colloquy.</p> - -<p>“That is so, Signor. It is my great grief. I tell him it is wrong -to waste the gift of God; I tell him music is a great and a jealous -mistress that demands all devotion—that the singer should have no -country, no other love, no other mistress than his art!”</p> - -<p>“H’m! And where does Lady Rawson come in?” asked Snell dryly, mindful -of those letters.</p> - -<p>Cacciola hesitated and glanced uneasily at Melikoff. Hitherto his -manner had been engagingly frank; now it changed, became guarded, even -furtive.</p> - -<p>“It is so—so difficult,” he said slowly. “They are cousins—yes. They -had not met for years; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> thought she had perished, like so many—so -many, until he found she was here in England, married to the great Sir -Rawson.”</p> - -<p>“When did he find that out? Before or after he came to you?”</p> - -<p>“After—many weeks after he recover. I was glad—and sorry: glad that -one whom he loved still lived, sorry——”</p> - -<p>“Go on, sir—sorry because?”</p> - -<p>“It is so difficult,” Cacciola murmured, with another appealing glance -at Boris.</p> - -<p>“Did Sir Robert know of their connection?”</p> - -<p>Cacciola shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Did he ever go to see her in her own house?”</p> - -<p>Again the mute negative.</p> - -<p>“So they used to meet here, in your flat, in secret?”</p> - -<p>“It was not my wish,” Cacciola muttered, his distress increasing under -interrogation.</p> - -<p>“And they were engaged in some Russian plot. Were there any others in -it? Who made this their meeting place?”</p> - -<p>“I do not——”</p> - -<p>Cacciola’s faltering denial was cut short, for Melikoff sprang to his -feet and confronted Snell, who also rose.</p> - -<p>“Enough!” cried the Russian. “The <i>maestro</i> is right—he does not know! -And there was—there is—no plot as you call it, save that she and I, -like many others of our race, were always waiting and watching, and -hoping for some means of serving our unhappy country. Also, we loved -each other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>—yes! But I swear to you it was love without one taint of -dishonour to her, to me, to that old man, her husband!”</p> - -<p>Was he speaking the truth in this respect? Snell, with his wide -knowledge of poor human nature, and mentally comparing this -handsome, passionate, emotional youth with Sir Robert—old, formal, -pompous!—greatly doubted it.</p> - -<p>But the point did not interest him except as it might afford some clue -to the mystery. It was not his job to make inquisition into anyone’s -morals.</p> - -<p>“Did you expect Lady Rawson to visit you to-day?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No. How could I? It is two weeks—more—since I have even seen her. I -had to go to Birmingham——”</p> - -<p>“On my affairs—there is no secret about that,” interposed Cacciola, -but neither heeded him.</p> - -<p>“I did not send word to her of my journey—you know that, if you -have—her—letters, as you say,” Boris continued. “I do not know why -she came to-day—to meet her death!”</p> - -<p>“She came to give or show you some important and secret papers which -she stole from her husband’s safe this morning,” said Snell bluntly.</p> - -<p>“So? I know nothing of that.”</p> - -<p>“But someone knew. Those papers were in her hand-bag, which was -snatched from her by the person who followed and stabbed her, and has -since been found empty. Now, do you know of anyone whatsoever, man or -woman, who would be likely to know or guess that she had those papers -in her possession?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Of our people? None! Was she not one of us—the most trusted, the -most beloved? Not one of <i>us</i> would have harmed a hair of her head! -Wait—let me think. They were her husband’s papers——”</p> - -<p>For some seconds he stood knitting his dark brows, then, very slowly:</p> - -<p>“There is one man. Her husband’s secretary——”</p> - -<p>“Do you know him?”</p> - -<p>“I have never seen him, but his name is Car—Carling!”</p> - -<p>“Were they enemies?”</p> - -<p>“No, not openly; but she feared him. She thought he—watched her. <i>Mon -Dieu!</i> The man who came here to-day, as Giulia said, and asked for her. -That was the man! I will find him! I will kill him!”</p> - -<p>His haggard young face was terrible to see in the frenzy of hatred that -distorted it; his slender hands moved convulsively as though he already -felt his fingers clutching Roger Carling’s throat. Cacciola seized one -arm, Snell the other, and he collapsed under their grasp, and fell into -the chair, sobbing like a woman or like a man who has been shot.</p> - -<p>“It is too much for him!” cried Cacciola. “Boris, Boris. Courage, my -child!”</p> - -<p>“Poor chap!” said Snell. “I won’t worry him any more, nor you either -to-night, sir. And I must ask you to keep silence for the present. -You’ll be worried by a horde of inquirers—journalists especially—for -the next few days, but you tell your old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> Julia to lock the door. Don’t -you see anyone, and take care he doesn’t.”</p> - -<p>“You may trust us, signor,” said the old man.</p> - -<p>“Then, good night, sir. Come on, Evans.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM</span></h2> - -<p>Even a short railway journey often has the effect of creating an -interval that means far longer than the actual lapse of time—a -honeymoon journey perhaps most of all, marking, as it does, the turning -point, the beginning of a new epoch in two young lives.</p> - -<p>Therefore, by the time Roger and his bride arrived at Dover he had -not only recovered his equanimity, but the extraordinary events of -the morning, and even the grim and startling news he had learned at -the moment of departure had receded far away, like the remembrance of -an evil dream. The only thing that really mattered was the great and -wonderful fact that he and Grace were together, and would be henceforth -not only, as the beautiful words in which they had so lately plighted -their solemn troth declared, “till death us do part,” but, as all true -lovers hope and believe, together in spirit for all eternity—“out -beyond into the dream to come.”</p> - -<p>The proud, tender, protective air with which he assisted Grace to -alight, the radiant happiness of their young faces, were instantly -“spotted” by the nearest porter, who bustled up in cheery anticipation -of a noble tip.</p> - -<p>“Two cabin trunks, kit-bag, and two hat-boxes in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the van—very -good, sir,” said he, taking possession of Grace’s dressing case and -travelling rugs. “What are they like? New?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! quite old. We’ll point them out,” said Grace with demure -dignity, and shot an adorable glance at Roger as they followed the man, -threading their way through the crowd on the platform.</p> - -<p>They had decided to avoid any brand-new appearance, fondly imagining -thereby that they would pass as an “old married couple”—as though any -such device could conceal their blissful state from even the least -observant of onlookers!</p> - -<p>They halted behind an opulent-looking couple, the man smoking a huge -cigar, the lady shrilly claiming a whole pile of trunks as they were -bundled out of the van, and Grace, with a little gasp of dismay, -clutched Roger’s sleeve and drew him aside.</p> - -<p>“Oh, look, Roger!” she whispered, “there are the Fosters, and they’re -putting up at the ‘Lord Warden’!”</p> - -<p>“Well, what about it, darling?”</p> - -<p>“We’re bound to meet them, and I do dislike them so and wouldn’t let -mother ask them to the wedding; we had quite a scene about it, and -Daddy backed me up. They <i>are</i> such impossible people. It <i>will</i> be so -awkward. Can’t we dodge them?”</p> - -<p>“Of course we can—nothing easier. We’ll lie low till they clear off -and then go to the Grand.”</p> - -<p>So they did, and once safe in the taxi laughed gaily over the narrow -escape, little imagining what a sinister significance would soon be -attached to their impulsive change of plan.</p> - -<p>He waited in the lounge while Grace was upstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> unpacking and dinner -was being laid in the private sitting-room he had secured. As it -happened there were very few people staying in the hotel, and for the -moment he had the place to himself.</p> - -<p>He ordered a whisky-and-soda, and with it the attendant brought an -evening paper.</p> - -<p>“Just come down, sir. There’s been a horrible murder of a lady in -London.”</p> - -<p>So it was impossible to escape from the tragedy that haunted him on -this, his wedding day.</p> - -<p>He took the paper without comment, glanced at it, and laid it aside. It -was the same edition that George Winston had thrust into his hands at -Victoria. For a minute or more he sat in painful thought, then, leaving -his glass untouched, went through to the office and gave the Grosvenor -Gardens telephone number for a long-distance call.</p> - -<p>“I’ll call you, sir; it may be some time getting through.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll be in the lounge.”</p> - -<p>But within a couple of minutes the summons came, and, hastily finishing -his drink, he hurried to the booth.</p> - -<p>Thomson’s voice sounded, civil, precise, distinct, as usual. At the -telephone as in most other respects Sir Robert’s trusted attendant was -admirable, unimpeachable.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Thomson! Carling speaking. I’ve just arrived at Dover and seen -the awful news. Where is Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>“In bed, sir, and still unconscious, though the doctors say that is all -the better under the circumstances. In fact, I believe he is under an -opiate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> He had a sort of stroke, sir, when he heard—by telephone—of -her ladyship’s death.”</p> - -<p>“How on earth did it happen—the—the murder I mean? I’ve only seen the -bare announcement.”</p> - -<p>“In a ’phone booth, sir. If I may be permitted to state an opinion” -(agitated though he was, Roger smiled at the formal phraseology, so -entirely characteristic of old Thomson), “her ladyship was followed by -someone who imagined she had valuables in her bag—a large and very -handsome one—struck her down, and then finding those papers in it, and -not knowing how to get rid of them, just put them into a post box, so -then they came back to Sir Robert——”</p> - -<p>“What! What papers?” Roger shouted into the transmitter, scarcely able -to believe he had heard aright. “Not those we were searching for this -morning?”</p> - -<p>“The same, I understand, sir. They were delivered, surcharged, by -the five o’clock post, and as Lord Warrington happened to be here, -inquiring for Sir Robert, I made bold to give them to his lordship, who -has taken charge of them.”</p> - -<p>“What wonderful, what incredible luck!” exclaimed Roger, forgetting for -the moment the grim central circumstance, and was ashamed next instant, -especially as Thomson’s voice sounded distinctly severe and shocked:</p> - -<p>“I fear it cost her ladyship her life, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Thomson. The whole thing is too terrible, and I oughn’t -to have spoken like that. But it <i>is</i> a relief to know that the papers, -at least, are safe. They are tremendously important. But,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> look -here, Thomson, is there anything I can do? I am terribly concerned -and anxious about Sir Robert. Do you think I ought to come back to -town to-morrow, or—or even to-night? I don’t <i>want</i> to, of course, -and, if possible, I shall keep the news from—Mrs. Carling—till the -morning——”</p> - -<p>There was a little pause—only a few seconds, though it seemed -longer—before Thomson replied:</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it should be at all necessary, sir. I’m sure you can do -nothing for Sir Robert at present; the doctors do not anticipate any -immediate danger.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll ring you up in the morning then.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir. I hope you will not consider it presumptuous of me -to express my deep regret that these terrible occurrences should have -marred your wedding day, and to convey my respectful wishes to you and -your good lady?”</p> - -<p>“Presumptuous! Good Lord, no! It’s very kind of you, Thomson. Many -thanks,” said Roger, again smiling involuntarily. “Well, if Sir Robert -should ask for me, tell him you’re in touch with me.”</p> - -<p>“I will, sir. Good night, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Good night.”</p> - -<p>Only after he had replaced the receiver did he remember that he had not -told Thomson where he was speaking from, but decided it wasn’t worth -while putting another call through. For to-night at least he would not -be wanted, and he would strive to dismiss the whole tragedy from his -mind. What a queer old stick Thomson was, but a good sort too!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> And -that astounding news of the recovery of the papers was very reassuring.</p> - -<p>Now for Grace—his own, his beloved! He went up in the lift, and tapped -softly at the bedroom door. It opened instantly, and there she stood, -fresh and fair, in a simple evening gown of some filmy grey stuff, a -shy smile on her dear lips.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what a tired and grubby boy!” she laughed. “He wants his dinner -very badly, he does, and I b’lieve I do too! As the king and queen are -travelling without attendants on this interesting occasion, the queen -(that’s me) has laid out your things, sir—your majesty, I mean—and -quite correctly I’m sure. I’ve done it so often for daddy. Now, don’t -be long!”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t be ten minutes, darling,” Roger assured her, and was almost -as good as his word.</p> - -<p>As charming a pair of lovers as could be found in the whole, wide -world they looked, as they sat facing each other at the daintily -appointed dinner-table, with the head waiter—a little apple-cheeked, -grey-haired, blue-eyed old man with an expansive smile—gliding in and -out and ministering to their wants with paternal solicitude. <i>He</i> knew -well enough what was due to the occasion; those travel-worn trunks -hadn’t deceived him, any more than they had deceived the railway porter -or anyone else! And the flourish with which he presented the wine list -was mere pretence, for when, after a short discussion, they decided -on champagne, he didn’t even have to go to fetch it, but instantly -produced a magnum of the best, placed there, all ready, on the -sideboard. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> - -<p>Dinner over, they moved to the big chesterfield drawn up before the -blazing fire, and sat down in discreet silence till the table was -cleared and the beneficent waiter finally departed.</p> - -<p>“At last!” said Roger, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the -fire, and drawing his wife to him. “Isn’t this cosy and jolly, darling?”</p> - -<p>“Lovely,” Grace murmured, snuggling happily in his arm. “Almost as good -as our own home’s going to be. Don’t you wish we were there already, -Roger, sitting in front of our very own fire?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t wish for anything better in the world than to have you beside -me, sweetheart,” he responded.</p> - -<p>The little silence that followed, of sheer peace and content, was -disturbed by a fierce onslaught of hail on the window-panes, and a -blast of wind that swept and shrieked round the building like a legion -of lost souls.</p> - -<p>“My word, hark at that! It’s going to be a wild night,” said Roger. “No -crossing for us to-morrow if it’s like this. Why, you’re shivering, -dearest. Cold?”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s only that dreadful wail of the wind. When I was a little girl -my nurse used to tell me it was the souls of drowned sailors shrieking, -and I believed her, for years and years.... God guard all who are on -the sea to-night!”</p> - -<p>The words, uttered in a fervent whisper, were a real and fervent -prayer. He knew that as he looked down lovingly at her sweet, -thoughtful face.</p> - -<p>“D’you know, Roger,” she resumed presently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> “I’m not sure that I want -to go to Nice, or anywhere else abroad, after all.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then, we won’t! The queen shall do exactly as she likes. I’m not -a bit keen on a smart place either, only——”</p> - -<p>Grace looked up with a little whimsical smile in which there was a -touch of pathos.</p> - -<p>“Only mother said we were to—that it was ‘the proper thing’—and it -was less trouble to agree with her than to argue the point. That’s the -real trouble, isn’t it? And, after all, we haven’t had a quiet moment -to discuss anything between ourselves for weeks and weeks, what with -mother and dressmakers on my side, and Sir Robert keeping you so hard -at work on yours, right up to the last moment too, upsetting us all so, -and nearly making you too late to be married! Tiresome old gentleman!”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t his fault,” said Roger hastily. “But don’t let us think any -more of that. We’re free to please ourselves now—go where we like and -do what we like. So what shall we do? Stay here?”</p> - -<p>“No. I’ve been thinking. Really it flashed into my mind while I was -dressing and waiting for you before dinner. There’s such a dear little -place quite close here—St. Margaret’s—where daddy and I stayed when -he was getting over influenza, just after Armistice—this very same -time of year, when you were still in France, you poor boy! We had the -loveliest time, all by ourselves. Mother wouldn’t come; she said it -would be too deadly in the winter, but it wasn’t—not for us, anyhow! -And we had the cosiest rooms imaginable in a dinky cottage on the -cliff, a regular sun-trap, with a dear old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> landlady, Miss Culpepper, -who reminded us of ‘Cranford’ and cherished us both no end. Let’s go -over and see if she’s still there and can put us up. I expect she can, -for I remember we seemed to have the whole place to ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“Topping!” Roger agreed heartily, as he would have done if she had -proposed to start on an expedition to Timbuctoo. “And, I say, darling, -I’ll try to get a car just for the time we’re down here, and we’ll have -some jolly runs.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid! But won’t that cost a lot?”</p> - -<p>“Why, bless your careful little heart, think of all the money we shall -save by scrapping that continental trip! It’s a simply ripping idea!”</p> - -<p>“I wonder what mother will say when she knows?” laughed Grace. “I -shan’t say a word to her about it when I write to her to-morrow; she’ll -think we’re travelling; so will every one else for a week or two, for -we won’t own up till they might be getting anxious, except perhaps to -daddy and Winnie, and they’ll keep counsel all right. What fun it will -be!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">GRACE LEARNS THE NEWS</span></h2> - -<p>“To think that it should have been on our wedding day—almost at the -very moment! Oh, the poor, poor soul! Who <i>can</i> have done the awful -thing?”</p> - -<p>Grace Carling’s sweet face was pale and tear-stained. At last she had -learned the grim news that Roger had successfully suppressed until now, -just after breakfast in their sitting-room at the hotel. It would have -been impossible to keep the secret from her longer; all the morning -papers were full of the murder, though the mystery appeared deeper than -ever. As he hastily scanned the columns while he waited for Grace, -Roger noted that none of the reports so much as mentioned the stolen -papers that had been returned in so extraordinary a manner and that -almost certainly were the pivot of the tragedy. The police knew of -these, for he himself had rung up Scotland Yard, and Sir Robert was -awaiting the arrival of a detective when he, Roger, had been obliged -to leave him. But evidently the information had been withheld from the -Press.</p> - -<p>The theory advanced, and considerably elaborated, was that which -Thomson had propounded over the ’phone, and much stress was laid on the -fact that the murderer had missed some at least of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> his anticipated -spoil—the gold purse—with much conjecture as to whether the bag had -contained any other valuables.</p> - -<p>Naturally, Grace was terribly distressed; also, her quick mind -instantly divined that this was the cause of Roger’s strange emotion -yesterday, that, for the moment, had so startled and alarmed her.</p> - -<p>“It was a shock,” he confessed. “Honestly, darling, when I saw that -poster, and George gave me the paper, I was more upset than I’ve ever -been in my life before; what with the horror of the thing itself, and -wanting to keep it from you. I couldn’t bear to let you know, just -then, the great day of our lives! Though even now I don’t know how I -managed it.”</p> - -<p>His voice was husky with emotion, and she looked up at him, smiling -through her tears.</p> - -<p>“It was dear of you, Roger! I never suspected—how could I?... But -what in the world can she have been doing there, so near us, and in -disguise, as they say?”</p> - -<p>“Heaven knows, dear, except that I’m pretty certain she had been to a -flat in a square nearly opposite; not for the first time, though why -she went there, I know no more than you do.”</p> - -<p>“The square opposite? Why, that must be Rivercourt Mansions. What makes -you think she had been there?”</p> - -<p>“Because I saw her, a few days ago. By George! it was only last -Tuesday, though it seems more like a year. You remember I came to -dinner——”</p> - -<p>“Of course, and turned up very early.”</p> - -<p>He nodded. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It was because I got away so much earlier than I expected that I -walked from the station, and presently I saw her walking rapidly a few -yards in front of me. I shouldn’t have known her but for her gait: you -know that curious way of hers—graceful I suppose, but——”</p> - -<p>“I know, like a snake; we always said so!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and she was very plainly dressed, in a long, dark cloak and -floating veil, almost like a nurse’s uniform; but I was quite sure -it was she; and it <i>was</i>, for she evidently wore the same get-up -yesterday,” he added, picking up one of the newspapers and pointing to -the detailed description.</p> - -<p>“What did you do?” breathed Grace.</p> - -<p>“Well, it wasn’t my business, of course, and I had no right to spy on -her, so I loitered a bit, increasing the distance between us. I saw her -turn the corner, and when I reached the square I really couldn’t resist -just glancing down, and I caught sight of her blue veil disappearing -through the entrance of the north block. That’s all; I scarcely gave -another thought to it.”</p> - -<p>“And you believe she went there again yesterday, but that’s very -important, isn’t it, Roger? Oughtn’t you to tell the police?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said slowly, and, hands in pockets, he paced up -and down the room, paused and stared out of the window, frowning -perplexedly.</p> - -<p>Grace watched him with anxious, puzzled eyes. It seemed a long time -before he turned to her again, and spoke with curious hesitation.</p> - -<p>“You see, it’s this way, darling. I’m thinking of Sir Robert, and of -him alone. I fear there is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> great deal more behind this—this crime -than appears on the surface. The Press don’t know of it yet, that’s -evident; the police may suspect, but I doubt if they <i>know</i>—in fact -they can’t know everything unless they’ve seen those papers that were -lost, and that’s unlikely, if it’s true, as Thomson said, they’ve been -returned, and are in Lord Warrington’s hands. <i>He</i> will keep them safe -enough!”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t understand,” protested Grace. “Surely, Roger, the most -important thing is to trace Lady Rawson’s murderer?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Roger decisively. “The most important thing is to keep -all knowledge of those papers secret for the present. No disclosures -can bring that poor, unhappy woman back to life; while if the secret -information contained in those papers were prematurely divulged God -knows what would happen—war, almost to a certainty, and thousands of -lives would be sacrificed.”</p> - -<p>Grace drew a little sobbing breath, her eyes still intent on his face. -She had a curious feeling that he was not speaking to her, but was -arguing with some invisible person.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe her visit to Rivercourt Mansions had any connection at -all with the murder,” he continued, “except, indeed, that it brought -her into the neighbourhood. She was robbed and killed by some loitering -ruffian who had watched her—an old hand, doubtless, who, when he found -he’d got nothing, got rid of the evidence instantly, very cleverly -too—chucked the bag through the window of the cab, and slipped the -envelope into the nearest post box.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You are sure she had those papers?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely, though I’ve no actual evidence. But I was certain of it -from the first, and so, I am convinced, was Sir Robert, though of -course he gave no hint of that. But she was the only person except -ourselves who could possibly have had access to the keys of the safe.”</p> - -<p>“But why should she steal them?”</p> - -<p>“That I don’t know; I can only conjecture. You see, I’ve suspected -her more or less vaguely for months. She was always coming in and out -of the room—the only person who was allowed to do so when I was at -work; but Sir Robert adored her, never crossed her in anything, and of -course it was impossible for me to raise any objection! She used to -come and go as softly as a cat—or a snake. Time after time I’ve been -startled to find her close beside me, looking over my shoulder. On -Wednesday night, the last time I saw her, she tried to get a look at -those very papers, and I was just in time to prevent her. It all sounds -very trivial perhaps, but there it is; and of course there was always -the feeling that she was an alien. But I really couldn’t define my -suspicions—at any rate, not till yesterday, and then not clearly.”</p> - -<p>“How did you know she had gone to that place again?”</p> - -<p>Again he hesitated, and resumed his restless pacing. Should he tell his -wife everything? Yes. She was part of himself now—the better, purer, -nobler part. He would have no secrets from her, except such secrets of -State as were entrusted to him by his chief; and this was not one of -those. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you the whole thing from first to last, darling,” he said, -seating himself beside her. “The moment I knew the papers were stolen -I thought of her instinctively, and when I learned she was out I -thought of the queer incident of Tuesday night. While Sir Robert was -questioning the servants I turned up the Directory. There’s only one -foreign name among all the list at Rivercourt Mansions: ‘G. Cacciola, -Professor of Voice-Production.’”</p> - -<p>“Cacciola! Good gracious!” gasped Grace. “Why, I know him quite well. -He’s Winnie’s <i>maestro</i>, the dearest, kindest, funniest old thing -imaginable. You must have heard me speak of him!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t remember it. But anyhow I thought I’d go there on spec. and ask -for her. It couldn’t do any harm and might be of immense service. As -it was so near the church I’d just time, if I didn’t go to Starr’s to -change, and I knew you’d forgive me for not turning up in glad rags, -darling, if I told you all about it afterwards. So I said good-bye -to Sir Robert, jumped into a taxi, and drove straight there. I saw -an old Italian woman, and asked boldly for Lady Rawson. I’d guessed -rightly—she was there, I’m convinced from the woman’s manner, though -she swore she wasn’t, but she knew the name well enough, and I’d take -my oath she was lying. I couldn’t very well force my way in and search -the place; and as time was running short there was nothing to be done -but push off. Like an ass I had paid the taxi and never told the man to -wait, and there wasn’t another in sight.”</p> - -<p>“There never is thereabouts.”</p> - -<p>“That’s why I was so late—that and the fog. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> jumped on a tram, got -down at the Avenue, and plunged right into the fog. My hat! how thick -it was—you couldn’t see your hand before your face! Pretty position -for a bridegroom, eh? I thought I never should get through in time; -I kept barging into trees and palings till—well, you know the rest, -darling.”</p> - -<p>“You poor boy! No wonder you looked half dead,” Grace commented. -Somehow his vivacious narrative had relieved the tension, diverted -her mind from the main tragedy. “But how very queer about the -<i>maestro</i>—Signor Cacciola, I mean. I wonder if Winnie knows that poor -Lady Rawson knew him? I don’t think she can, or she would certainly -have said something about it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, she was there. But you see now, don’t you, darling, why I am so -reluctant to put the police on this? If her visits were innocent, why -did she disguise herself? If they were not innocent—may I be forgiven -if I wrong her—goodness knows what might come out, to add to poor Sir -Robert’s distress. So I’m sure it’s best to do and say nothing, for the -moment anyhow, except to ring up as I said I would.”</p> - -<p>He returned in about twenty minutes, and found her at the writing-table.</p> - -<p>“Thomson again. Sir Robert is going on fairly well, but is not allowed -to see anyone but him, and the nurse, of course. He says he gave him -my message, and he seemed very touched, and begged me not to dream of -coming back, as I could do nothing; I offered to, you know——”</p> - -<p>“Of course, dear,” Grace assented. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And our plan holds? We’ll be off to St. Margaret’s?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, oh, yes! let’s get away from here,” said Grace, with a quick -little shiver, glancing round the room, where last night they had been -so happy, but that had now become distasteful to her.</p> - -<p>“All right, sweetheart. I’ll be off to see about a car.”</p> - -<p>His quest was speedily successful, and within an hour they were on -their way in a trim little two-seater.</p> - -<p>They were still grave and subdued when they set forth, as was -inevitable, but the shadow lifted from them, and their spirits rose as -they sped on their way.</p> - -<p>It was a glorious morning, more like April than November, for the gale -had blown itself out during the night: the sun shone in a cloudless -sky, the blue sea was flecked with dancing white wavelets, the keen, -clear air exhilarating as champagne, and overhead larks soared to sing -in heavenly chorus.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it a dear, quaint, up-and-down little place?” said Grace, as -they neared the village and slowed down. “Oh, there’s the church! It’s -very, very old, and so beautiful. Roger, I’d like to go in just for a -few minutes.”</p> - -<p>“Now?” he asked, in some surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes, if you don’t mind. We’ve lots of time.”</p> - -<p>Of course he didn’t mind, though he did wonder; and, after he had -lovingly watched her slender figure mount the steps and disappear -through the churchyard, he backed the car into a by-way, hailed a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>village lad and bade him keep an eye on it, and then followed her.</p> - -<p>She was kneeling, her face bowed on her hands in prayer.</p> - -<p>He stood still, there at the back of the church, his own head bowed, -his eyes fixed on that kneeling figure that was all the world to him; -and as slow minutes passed the sacred peace of the hushed and holy -place stole into his own soul.</p> - -<p>Presently she rose and joined him, and hand in hand they went out -silently into the sunshine. Her eyes were misty with tears, but her -face was serene and beautiful as that of an angel.</p> - -<p>“I felt I must go, Roger, just for the little while,” she whispered. -“It was for <i>her</i>—for poor Lady Rawson. Some people say we should not -pray for the dead, but—but if it is true, and it <i>is</i>, that souls live -for ever, they may know—I believe they do—when we who are still here, -think of them gently and lovingly, and it may comfort them! And I’m -sure God loves us all, His poor erring human children, however sinful -we are, and—and that He <i>wants</i> us to think lovingly of each other.”</p> - -<p>Too moved for words, Roger could only look down at her with an almost -adoring gaze. Dearly as he loved her, he had not realized as yet -the spiritual strength and sweetness of her nature, so simple, so -straightforward, and so steadfast.</p> - -<p>He felt strangely humble, yet strangely happy, and from his own heart -there went up a little silent prayer: “God make me worthy of her!”</p> - -<p>“And now for dear old Miss Culpepper,” she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>announced almost gaily as -they settled themselves in the car once more, and Roger dismissed the -attendant lad with a generous tip. “Oh, I do hope we shall find her at -home, and that she can put us up. Down the hill, Roger, and the first -turning. I’ll tell you where to stop.”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">HALCYON DAYS</span></h2> - -<p>It was the prettiest white cottage imaginable, approached from the road -by a flight of irregular steps and a steep little garden, now gay with -chrysanthemums.</p> - -<p>“It’s like one of those toy ‘weather houses,’” said Roger as they -mounted the steps. “Does a little lady come out on fine days and a -little man on wet ones?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about a little man, but you’ll see the little -lady directly—at least, I hope so. She’s just like the cottage; you -couldn’t imagine anyone else owning it! Oh! did I warn you that she’s -a regular Mrs. Malaprop, bless her? She loves using long words, French -for preference, and they’re invariably the wrong ones, but she does -it with an ineffable air of gentility, and is dreadfully offended if -anyone laughs, so be careful! Oh! and be <i>sure</i> you wipe your shoes as -you go in, and she’ll love you for ever. S-sh!”</p> - -<p>The green door, adorned with brilliantly polished brass handle, -knocker, and letter box, was opened by a small, spare, trim little -woman, who might have stepped out of the pages of “Punch” some forty -years ago. She wore her white hair in a closely curled “fringe,” neatly -held in place by a fine net,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> with an absurd little butterfly bow of -black lace perched on the crown of her head, presumably as a sort of -apology for a cap. The skirt of her long, skimpy gown of black merino -was trimmed with a series of tiny frills of the same stuff, and had -quillings of snowy net at the neck and wrists, and her black silk apron -was artfully adjusted to accentuate the slimness of her tiny waist. -Through a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez her mild blue eyes scanned her -visitors inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Miss Culpepper?” said Grace, extending her hand. “I -wonder if you remember me?”</p> - -<p>“I ought to do, I’m sure,” said the little old lady graciously. “But -at the moment—why, of course, it’s Miss Armitage! How often I have -thought of you and your dear father. I trust Mr. Armitage is in good -health.” She glanced at Roger, and Grace blushed and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Quite, thanks. But I’m not ‘Miss Armitage’ now. May I introduce my -husband, Mr. Roger Carling? You see, we are taking a—a little holiday, -and made up our minds all in a hurry to come over and ask whether you -could put us up for a week or two.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me—married—how romantic!” Miss Culpepper chirruped. “Permit me -to tender my congratulations, my dear, to you both. And pray step in.”</p> - -<p>She led the way into the parlour on the right—a cosy and charming -little room, spotlessly clean and bright.</p> - -<p>“I shall be delighted to accommodate you, to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> extent of my very -humble <i>menace</i>. As you may remember, my dear Miss—I mean, Mrs. -Carling—I retain no domestic during the winter months, when I so -seldom have any guests, though I am very glad when they do come, like -you and Mr. Armitage. And, do you know, I still think of that delicious -<i>jambon</i> he sent me for Christmas, just after you left. As I wrote to -him at the time, a more delicious bird was never brought to table! Now -perhaps you would like to see the sleeping apartment—the large one -over this; it is not quite ready, of course, as I did not expect you, -but can be <i>dérangered</i> in a very few minutes.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t want to put you about in the very least,” Grace explained. -“We can go and get lunch somewhere in the village—we shall have to -find a garage for the motor-car anyhow; it’s waiting there in the -road—and we can come back at any time you like. Oh, you darling! Why, -is this Cæsar?”</p> - -<p>A magnificent black Persian cat stalked into the room, and stared -gravely at Grace with its inscrutable amber eyes.</p> - -<p>The question seemed to embarrass little Miss Culpepper, who, after -a deprecating glance at Roger’s back—he was looking out of the -window—mysteriously beckoned Grace out of the room.</p> - -<p>She followed, cuddling the cat, which she had picked up, and which lay -quite quietly in her arms without evincing any emotion whatever.</p> - -<p>“It’s the same animal, my dear, whom you were so fond of as a kitten,” -Miss Culpepper explained in a discreet whisper; “but unfortunately -she proved to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> be a—a female; very embarrassing! So she is now -<i>inconnu</i> as ‘Cleopatra.’ Perhaps I should not have said unfortunate -though, for a lady near possesses a most beautiful Persian with whom -Cleopatra—er—mates; and the provender are exquisite, and provide -quite a nice little source of additional income. She has two now, -that I expect to dispose of for quite a large sum, though I <i>do</i> hate -parting with them; it seems so sordid.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do let me see them,” Grace pleaded, and was graciously invited -into the kitchen, where the two kittens, an adorable pair, pranced to -meet them. Cleopatra jumped down and crooned over her offspring, and -Grace promptly sat on the floor and gathered all three of them into her -lap.</p> - -<p>“Most extraordinary,” murmured Miss Culpepper, “Cleopatra evidently -remembers you, after all this time. As a rule she never allows anyone -but myself to caress her or the kittens; in fact, she usually swears at -and attempts to bite any stranger who has the timidity to approach her. -So unladylike!”</p> - -<p>“I feel quite honoured,” laughed Grace. “Of course you remember me and -love me, don’t you, Cleopatra, darling? And you’ll let me have one of -your babies. We must take one home with us, Miss Culpepper, if it’s old -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, quite old enough, just three months to-day; indeed one has -already gone—Cæsarion—to the clergyman who was staying here when they -were tiny, and bespoke him at once. It was he who named them. This is -the other—er—male, ‘Dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> Brutus.’ Why ‘Dear’ I really don’t know, -though naturally he is very dear to me. And his sister is Semiramis, -because she is so <i>melligerent</i>. The Rev. Smithson—such a learned man, -my dear Mrs. Carling—said she would certainly grow up into a warrior -queen. They are beautiful names, I consider—pathological, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Historical,” Grace suggested, and instantly repented. For Miss -Culpepper drew herself up and spoke, gently indeed, but in a tone that -conveyed a subtle reproof.</p> - -<p>“I consider ‘pathological’ the more correct. It is as well to be -accurate even in the smallest matters, and I believe it is very -doubtful if the originals of the names ever really lived.”</p> - -<p>“She’s priceless!” Grace declared, when she repeated this to Roger, as -she accompanied him back to the car, with a perfect imitation of the -old lady’s manner. “And the dearest, kindest old soul in the world. -Aren’t you glad we came? She’s going to give me all sorts of household -tips, as she did when I was here with daddy. She’s a wonderful cook. So -hurry back when you’ve garaged the car, and we shall have lunch ready.”</p> - -<p>“Good!” said Roger heartily. “I’m as hungry as a hunter. So long, -darling.”</p> - -<p>When he returned he found Grace, enveloped in one of Miss Culpepper’s -big cooking aprons, and with Dear Brutus perched on her shoulder, -busily putting the finishing touches to the table, while a delicious -fragrance of omelette was wafted from the kitchen.</p> - -<p>A very dainty meal the resourceful old lady <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>managed to serve at such -short notice, and how they enjoyed it!</p> - -<p>For the time the shadow had passed from them. London and the Rawsons, -all the tragedy and trouble, had receded into the far distance, and -life seemed very fair, very joyous. They were not callous—far from -it; they were only a pair of lovers, rejoicing in each other, in the -sunshine, in “the delight of simple things, and mirth that hath no -bitter stings!”</p> - -<p>It was a wonderful week-end, halcyon days of sheer, unalloyed -happiness; an abiding memory to dwell on in the time to come, when the -world was dark indeed, and even hope seemed dead.</p> - -<p>It was amazing how swiftly the hours sped. There was a shopping -expedition down the village in the afternoon to order supplies, when -the crowning glory of the purchases was a noble dish of big pink -prawns, caught that very morning, and still steaming hot from the -pot. They carried them back and had them for tea—a real square-meal -tea, and ate them all, except such as were demolished by Cleopatra, -Semiramis, and Dear Brutus, who attended the feast and exhibited an -appreciative appetite for fresh prawns nicely peeled and proffered.</p> - -<p>And how snug it was, how peaceful in the little parlour, with the lamp -lighted and the curtains drawn, when Roger lounged happily in the easy -chair beside the fire, and Grace sat at the little mellow-toned old -Broadwood piano, and sang old songs, played snatches of old melodies, -grave and gay, finishing up with Sullivan’s tender and wistful love -duet: </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>None shall part us from each other,</div> -<div>One in life and death are we,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and Roger came to her side and sang Strephon’s part, quite softly, for -her ears alone, though if he could have sung with like expression on -the stage, and to order, he would have made his fortune!</p> - -<p>After that there was such a silence that little Miss Culpepper -considered it advisable to be seized with a fit of coughing and to make -quite a business of opening the door when she brought the supper-tray.</p> - -<p>A chill breath from the world they had left behind swept over them -indeed for a few brief minutes next morning, when Roger went down to -the garage to fetch the car, and brought back three London papers—all -he could get in the village.</p> - -<p>“Very little about it at all,” he said. “And nothing fresh.... The -inquest was merely opened and adjourned for a week; and they say, ‘The -police are following up a clue’; but they always say that.”</p> - -<p>“How is Sir Robert?” asked Grace.</p> - -<p>“Improving steadily. I heard that from Thomson. I rang him up from the -hotel. He says the funeral is fixed for Tuesday, at noon, and I really -think I ought to go up for it, darling. I’m sure Sir Robert would like -to see me, if he’s allowed to see anyone by then, and I could get back -at night.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” Grace assented gravely. “It’s right that you should go. -Poor Sir Robert! My heart aches for him; and I—I feel almost ashamed -of our happiness, Roger, when I think of his crushing sorrow.”</p> - -<p>“I know. But, after all, it wouldn’t do him any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> good—or her either, -poor soul!—if we were to try to be as miserable as anything. Come -along, sweetheart, let’s get out into the sunshine. The car’s a regular -peach, isn’t she? And what weather! Perfect ‘Indian summer,’ by Jove! -Might have been made on purpose for us.”</p> - -<p>So they set forth for another glorious day in the open, over the downs -and through the weald, splendid with the gracious, wistful beauty of -late autumn; and back by the coast, to arrive as dusk was falling at -their peaceful retreat. How invitingly homelike the little room was -with its cheerful fire, and Miss Culpepper and the cats coming out to -the porch to welcome them.</p> - -<p>“And what’s the programme for to-morrow?” asked Roger after supper, as -they sat together in lazy content on the couch drawn up by the fire, -Cleopatra and Semiramis ensconced on Grace’s lap, Dear Brutus snuggling -on Roger’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I want to go to the early Celebration in the morning,” said Grace. “I -nearly always do, you know, and to-morrow——”</p> - -<p>“Me too, beloved,” he answered softly; and she slipped her hand in his.</p> - -<p>There was no need for further speech; on this great point there had -long been perfect understanding, perfect sympathy between them.</p> - -<p>And so, in the fresh, sweet dawn of an exquisite morning, they went up -the hill together to the little church, and with full hearts made their -“sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.” As they knelt before the altar, -I am sure they silently renewed those solemn vows they had made three -short days before; as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> am very sure also that Grace’s gentle soul -sent up a fervent prayer for that of Paula Rawson, the beautiful woman -whose fate had been so strange and sudden and terrible.</p> - -<p>The glory of the risen sun shone on their happy faces when they came -forth, and life was beautiful beyond words. They would have liked to -share their happiness with the whole world. As that was impossible they -shared it with little Miss Culpepper, and took her, snugly sandwiched -between them, in the car to Canterbury. It was Roger’s idea, joyfully -acclaimed by Grace.</p> - -<p>“She’d love it; she told me yesterday she had never been in a motor-car -in her life, and I thought then we must take her for some runs. She may -think Sunday excursions wicked; but we’ll ask her.”</p> - -<p>Never was an old lady more gratified by an invitation.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carling and Mr. Carling, there is nothing, I assure -you <i>nothing</i>, would give me greater pleasure!” she cried; “but”—Grace -glanced at Roger as one who would say “I told you so”—“but I am torn -between inclination and duty. The cathedral! It is so many, many years -since I visited that beautiful vane; it would indeed be a privilege to -do so once more, and in such a positively uxorious manner. But your -dinner—there will be no one to prepare it!”</p> - -<p>So that was the only objection, easily disposed of.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to dine at Canterbury, of course,” said Roger; and Grace -reminded her that the pheasant would keep till to-morrow and there was -plenty in the house for supper. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her housewifely scruples set at rest, in what a delightful flutter of -excitement she retired to “dress,” reappearing enveloped in quite an -assortment of ancient shawls and a long ostrich feather “boa,” the -floating ends of which, with those of the gauze scarf adjusted around -her “toque,” flapped across Roger’s eyes horribly when they started, -till Grace twined them snugly round the old lady’s neck and tucked the -ends in securely.</p> - -<p>Good it was to see Miss Culpepper, proudly erect, beaming with -benevolent condescension on such pedestrians as they met; good to hear -the ecstatic comments she chirped into their sympathetic ears; to note, -when they reached the cathedral just in time for the service, the -superb dignity with which she advanced up the aisle, visibly fortified -with the consciousness that she had “come in a motor-car.”</p> - -<p>Verily she had the time of her life that sunny Sunday, as she told -Grace, with tears in her kind old eyes, after dinner at the hotel, when -Roger had gone to bring round the car for the homeward run.</p> - -<p>“I’ve never had such a treat in all my long life before!” she cried. -“And nobody has ever been so good to me as you two dear young people. -I don’t know how to begin to thank you, only—God bless you both and -send you the rich happiness you deserve all your lives!” Grace hugged -her, and between smiles and tears Miss Culpepper continued: “Do you -know there’s only one little thing in this happy, happy day I’d have -wished different, and you’ll think it silly of me. But, though the -lovely music in the cathedral thrilled me, I <i>did</i> wish they had chosen -another anthem. ‘Hear my prayer, O<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> Lord, incline Thine ear, consider -my complaint,’ is most beautiful, but I couldn’t really echo it to-day, -for I hadn’t any ‘complaint’ to make to Him. I’d have liked them to -sing the Hallelujah Chorus, and I believe I should not only have stood -up, but have joined in!”</p> - -<p>Happy, happy day, with never a cloud to mar it!</p> - -<p>Next morning the storm broke.</p> - -<p>Roger went down the village to fetch the papers, and on returning saw, -with some surprise, a taxi-cab standing in the road below the cottage.</p> - -<p>In the tiny hall, almost blocking it up, stood a big, burly man, whom -he instantly discerned as a policeman in plain clothes, and who greeted -him with a civil “Good morning.”</p> - -<p>He had the impression that Miss Culpepper was fluttering nervously in -the background, by the kitchen door, with Cleopatra beside her, staring -with her big, luminous eyes at the intruder.</p> - -<p>“Do you wish to speak to me?” he asked.</p> - -<p>The man merely motioned towards the half-open parlour door, and, with a -curious sense of impending disaster upon him, Roger entered.</p> - -<p>Grace was standing there, her fair face as white as the big cooking -apron she had donned, and with her was a little, wiry man, a stranger.</p> - -<p>“This is my husband, Mr. Carling,” said Grace quietly. “Roger, this -gentleman wishes to speak to you.”</p> - -<p>“Just so—and alone, if you please, ma’am,” said Snell.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">ALONE</span></h2> - -<p>“Roger has been arrested for the murder of Lady Rawson.”</p> - -<p>The words repeated themselves over and over in Grace Carling’s brain -with maddening persistence, as she sat perfectly still and silent, her -hands grasping the arms of the chair, her lips firmly set, her eyes -gazing straight in front of her. But for those wide, tragic eyes she -might have been a stone figure.</p> - -<p>She could never afterwards clearly remember what happened in that brief -half-hour—possibly less—before Roger was taken away, and she was left -alone.</p> - -<p>She had made no scene—that at least was something for which to be -thankful; though when the detective said he wanted to speak to her -husband alone, some strong instinct had forbidden her to go, and she -had moved to Roger’s side, saying quite quietly:</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you can have anything to say to my husband that I may -not hear”; and, after a moment’s hesitation, Roger said:</p> - -<p>“My wife is quite right; I have no secrets from her. What is your -business with me?”</p> - -<p>And then—and then—the shock came, or rather was intensified, for when -she first saw these two men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> of ill-omen a strange, swift premonition -told her what their errand was.</p> - -<p>So when Snell—more embarrassed than he had ever before felt in the -execution of his duty, and most anxious to get the difficult business -over—bluntly pronounced his formula, and added the customary caution -as to any statement made by his prisoner being liable to be used as -evidence against him, she was scarcely conscious of surprise, only of -intense indignation.</p> - -<p>Roger had uttered a startled, horrified exclamation, and she -involuntarily slipped her hand through his arm, not for support—that -hand did not tremble, nor did she, but its pressure was eloquent.</p> - -<p>Her slender figure drawn to its full height, her grey eyes fixed -steadily on Snell, she spoke, coldly, deliberately, in a voice that -sounded in her own ears like that of a stranger:</p> - -<p>“How utterly preposterous. You have made a great, a terrible mistake.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, madam; I have to do my duty. I would have spared you if I -could, but you <i>would</i> stay, you know,” Snell protested, watching her -as closely and relentlessly as she watched him, for the moment leaving -Roger Carling to Evans, who had silently entered the room and taken up -his position beside him.</p> - -<p>Having had a good deal of experience with women under such -circumstances, Snell fully expected a violent hysterical outburst, -but, as he afterwards confided to his wife, he had never seen such -marvellous self-possession as Mrs. Carling displayed.</p> - -<p>“I never felt sorrier for anyone in my life, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> ever felt a greater -respect for anyone. She was simply splendid! And it was rough on her, -poor girl—on their honeymoon and all; and of course she had nothing in -the world to do with the crime. And she loves him and believes in him -utterly. Mark my words, she’ll believe in him to the very end, whatever -that may be.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he didn’t do it,” suggested Mrs. Snell.</p> - -<p>“That’s to be proved at the trial,” said Snell. Not even to the wife of -his bosom would he commit himself to any expression of opinion on the -guilt or innocence of any prisoner. That was outside his duty.</p> - -<p>And he was right. The control Grace imposed on herself, and that helped -Roger to maintain his during the ordeal, was nothing less than heroic.</p> - -<p>She announced her intention of accompanying them back to London, but -accepted Snell’s decision that that was undesirable—in fact not -permissible—and arranged to settle up and follow in the course of the -day.</p> - -<p>“When and where shall I see you, Roger?” she asked. “This—this -dreadful mistake will be put right, of course, but I suppose it will be -a few days at least—and till then?”</p> - -<p>“That will be all right,” Snell interposed. “Mr. Carling’s solicitors -will arrange everything, and you will be able to see him at any -reasonable time for the present.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Who are your solicitors, Roger?”</p> - -<p>“The only firm <i>I</i> know anything about are Twinnings—Sir Robert’s -solicitors, you know; but they’ve never done any business for me -personally. I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> never needed it. I’d better communicate with them. I -suppose I shall have facility for that?” he added, glancing at Snell. -“I don’t know anything about these things, or the procedure, myself.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll have every facility,” Snell assured him. “But though I don’t -want to hurry you, we must be getting off now—within ten minutes, in -fact—and you’ll want to take some necessaries with you. Perhaps Mrs. -Carling will put them together? I’m sorry, madam, but I must not lose -sight of Mr. Carling. Duty’s duty!”</p> - -<p>“I will fetch them,” she said, and exchanged a long, silent glance with -Roger ere she left him. Still she would not—dare not—trust herself to -think of anything but the task of the moment, and swiftly collected and -packed in his bag all he would be likely to want—“only for a few days” -she told herself, to sustain her courage—and returned to the parlour -within the stipulated time.</p> - -<p>Even when the moment of parting came, and she clung to him in a last -embrace, she did not weep.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, my darling, till to-morrow,” he said in a hoarse, broken -whisper. “It will be all right in a few days; try not to fret—to -worry. Oh, my God, how hard it is!”</p> - -<p>“I will be brave,” she whispered back—“brave as you are, my own, -my beloved. God guard you, and show your innocence before all the -world—soon!”</p> - -<p>She stood in the porch and watched him, all her soul in her eyes, -managed even to smile and waft a last kiss to him as he leaned forward -for one final glimpse. Then, as the sound of the motor died away in -the distance, she went back to the parlour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> and sat down, in dumb, -stricken, tearless misery.</p> - -<p>All the time little Miss Culpepper had fluttered about in a state of -increasing agitation, peering out of the kitchen door at intervals, -retreating swiftly when she feared she might be discovered, and keeping -Cleopatra and her kittens from intruding on the colloquy. Now she -fluttered in and out the parlour, looking wistfully and anxiously at -that still figure in the chair, but not daring to speak to her. At -last she could bear it no longer, but fell on her knees beside Grace, -putting her thin old arms round her and crying: “Oh, my dear, my dear, -don’t sit like that; you frighten me so! Say something, do something; -tell me what’s the matter; let me do something to help! Oh, you’re as -cold as ice—my poor darling!”</p> - -<p>Grace shivered; she was indeed icy cold, though she had not been -conscious of that or of anything else but those words that whirled -round and round in her brain, and that now at last she uttered aloud -with stiff, white lips.</p> - -<p>“Roger has been arrested. They say he murdered Lady Rawson.”</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper uttered a shrill little scream.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear child, how wicked, how positively supposterous. Not the -murder, of course—no, no, I don’t mean that, it <i>was</i> wicked—but -to say that dear young gentleman could have done such a thing—he to -whom Cleopatra has taken as she has never taken to any human being of -the sterner sex, not even to the Reverend Smithson, though he is such -a learned man. And I trust Cleopatra’s common sense against all the -judges and juries in the world!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> But, my darling girl, you must excuse -me—I can’t help it—for you <i>are</i> a darling and so is your dear, -handsome young husband—no wonder you are so distressed! But don’t -sit like that! Weep, my love, weep; it will ease your poor heart! As -for me, if I’d only known what those meridians of the law were after -I’d—I’d let them have a piece of my mind! I’ll let them have it yet, -that I will!”</p> - -<p>She actually shook her small fists, in imagination threatening Snell -and his fellow-“meridian” with physical violence; and so irresistibly -comic did the staunch little creature appear that the tension in -Grace’s overwrought brain snapped, and she laughed aloud—laughter that -brought blessed tears—and for a time they just clung together and -sobbed, till gradually she regained a measure of real composure, quite -different from that frozen, unnatural calm she had forced herself to -maintain.</p> - -<p>She told Miss Culpepper as much of the circumstances as seemed -necessary. It was a relief to do so now, and the old lady punctuated -the recital with exclamations and comments.</p> - -<p>“I saw something about a murder in those newspapers you lent me on -Saturday,” she confessed; “but I really did not read it. I very seldom -do read newspapers; they are so full of <i>cunards</i> in these days that -one really does not know what to believe. And of course I never -associated it with you two—how could I? And on your wedding day! Of -course, I <i>knew</i> you were only just married; though I pretended I -didn’t, as you didn’t tell me in so many words. And to think of the -honeymoon ending like this!”</p> - -<p>“It hasn’t ended,” said Grace. “Roger will be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> he must be, -released—soon; to-day, perhaps. But I must be up and doing—I must get -back to Town by the next train; and I must go to the garage and see -about having the car sent back to Dover.”</p> - -<p>There were, indeed, many things to see to, and eagerly the old lady -helped. Lovingly, while Grace had gone on her errand, she prepared a -dainty meal, and stood over her, coaxing and insisting till she made a -pretence at least of eating.</p> - -<p>“I can’t bear to think of you travelling alone,” she declared. “I wish -I could go with you, though it is many years since I went to London. -But if I can be of any help, of any comfort, my dear, be sure to let -me know and I will shut up the cottage and come to you at once. And -there’s ‘Dear Brutus’—you won’t want to take him with you, of course, -but the very moment you are ready for him I will send him up—a little -present with my love, for I couldn’t think of selling him to you. He -may be a little <i>consommé</i>, and bring you luck! Who knows?”</p> - -<p>She wished she could have taken the old lady with her, but that -was impossible. It was far more of a wrench to leave her and the -cottage—that tiny abode of peace and love and goodwill where she and -her beloved had had those three days of unalloyed happiness—than -it had been to leave the home of her girlhood, whither she must now -return, for to-day at least.</p> - -<p>A horror of great loneliness came over her as she drove to the station, -and she strove against it valiantly. She must put aside all selfish -considerations, and be brave and calm—for Roger’s sake.</p> - -<p>From the station she sent a wire to her mother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> and one to Winnie -Winston, giving the time of her arrival at Charing Cross.</p> - -<p>There was no one to meet her, but she was not surprised; Winnie would -probably be out when the wire was delivered; it was very unlikely that -her mother would trouble to come to the station, and her father she -knew was lecturing at Edinburgh this week.</p> - -<p>The sight of the contents bills of the evening papers, all flaunting -the news of Roger’s arrest, hurt her like a physical blow; but she -could not obtain a copy of any paper; the next edition was due, and was -evidently being eagerly awaited.</p> - -<p>After a moment’s thought she decided to drive first to the solicitor -Roger had mentioned, whose offices were in Westminster. There a fresh -shock awaited her.</p> - -<p>She was shown at once into the private room of the senior partner, Mr. -Twining, who received her very kindly, with a grave attitude of pity -that was somehow disconcerting, and her heart sank as she listened to -what he had to say.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Carling rang us up from—er—when he arrived in Town, and we -immediately furnished him with the address of a most reliable firm, -Messrs. Spedding and Straight, who, as we have since ascertained, have -undertaken to arrange for his defence. It is, of course, absolutely -impossible for us to do so, under the circumstances, as we are acting -for Sir Robert Rawson.”</p> - -<p>It flashed to her mind instantly what this meant, and she spoke -impulsively.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Twining, surely Sir Robert does not for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> moment believe my -husband is guilty of this—this awful thing?” He did not answer, and -his eyes avoided her steady, searching gaze. “No one who really knows -Roger could believe it for a moment,” she continued; “and Sir Robert -knows and loves him: they have been almost like father and son!”</p> - -<p>“Quite so; but this is a most painful and complicated matter. I cannot -explain more fully, but you will realize in time that we could not -come to any other decision. And I assure you, Mrs. Carling, that with -Messrs. Spedding your husband’s defence will be in the best hands.”</p> - -<p>“Will you give me their address? I will go to them now.”</p> - -<p>“With pleasure. I will write it for you.”</p> - -<p>He took a sheet of paper, wrote the address, and handed it to her, -saying:</p> - -<p>“But if you will be advised by me you will not go to them till -to-morrow. It’s getting late now, and you cannot possibly learn -anything or do anything to-night. In fact, their office will be closed. -Good-bye, and please believe that I sympathize with you most deeply, -and would gladly do anything in my power to help you,” he added, and -himself escorted her through the clerks’ office and to the waiting cab.</p> - -<p>He was sorry for <i>her</i>—would help <i>her</i> if he could, but not Roger! -He, too, like Sir Robert, believed him guilty. She knew it as if he had -said so openly.</p> - -<p>“When you see anyone selling evening papers, stop, I want one,” she -instructed the cab-driver, and at the next corner he pulled up for the -purpose.</p> - -<p>It was the final edition with half the front page occupied by the -latest news of the “Rawson Murder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Mystery,” which included a brief -account of Roger’s arrest, and also the full story of the secret -service papers that had been stolen and restored, very much as Roger -had narrated it to her, with no hint as to the actual contents of -the papers, merely stating that they were of great international -importance; but with the account of Lady Rawson’s visit to Rivercourt -Mansions, and some picturesque notes on Cacciola and his Russian -protégé.</p> - -<p>What was it Roger had said the other day when he broke the news to her? -That it was far more important that all information about those papers -should be suppressed than that the murderer of Lady Rawson should be -traced. Then who could have divulged the secret, given it to the Press?</p> - -<p>She could scarcely believe her eyes as she saw a subheading—“Interview -with Sir Robert Rawson”—over a few brief paragraphs revealing the -astounding fact that Sir Robert himself had authorized and endorsed the -publication!</p> - -<p>She was still brooding painfully over this revelation when she reached -her destination—the big, comfortable suburban house she had left as a -bride such a few days before, that now seemed like a lifetime.</p> - -<p>The trim maid who opened the door uttered a little compassionate -exclamation.</p> - -<p>“Oh, miss—I mean, ma’am—isn’t it dreadful? And how ill you look! -Madam’s in the drawing-room. Shall I pay the cab?”</p> - -<p>“No. Ask him to wait,” said Grace, though why she said so she did not -know.</p> - -<p>She went swiftly through the hall, entered the drawing-room, and closed -the door behind her. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her mother was seated by the fire—a remarkably pretty woman, with fair -hair and turquoise-blue eyes, who looked younger than her daughter -to-day, for Grace, white checked and hollow eyed, had aged visibly -during these terrible hours.</p> - -<p>“Mother!” she said piteously.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Armitage rose, throwing down the newspaper she had been absorbed -in—an earlier edition of the one Grace still clutched—and came -towards her daughter.</p> - -<p>Her pretty, pink-and-white face wore a most peevish, disagreeable -expression, and there was no trace of sympathy in her hard, blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“So you’ve got here, Grace. I had your wire, but I simply couldn’t come -to meet you. I was too terribly upset, and your father’s away. What an -awful disgrace for us all. Roger must have been mad—raving mad!”</p> - -<p>Grace threw up her hand, as if to ward off a blow.</p> - -<p>“Mother!” she cried, “what do you mean? You don’t—you can’t think that -my Roger is a——”</p> - -<p>She could not bring herself to utter the word. But Mrs. Armitage could.</p> - -<p>“A murderer! Of course he is. There’s not a shadow of doubt about it. -He knew poor Lady Rawson had those wretched papers, and followed and -stabbed her as he couldn’t get them any other way; and then had the -nerve to come on and be married to you—to <i>my</i> daughter! No wonder he -was so late, and looked so disreputable. I never liked him, I never -trusted him—you know I didn’t; but I never dreamed that he was capable -of such a horrible thing. As I say, he must have been mad, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> that -doesn’t make it any better for us; and what on earth we are to do I -don’t know! If only——”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” cried Grace, so imperatively that Mrs. Armitage recoiled. “If -you or anyone else say my husband committed this murder you lie!”</p> - -<p>The elder woman’s blue eyes flashed, her voice rang out shrilly.</p> - -<p>“How dare you speak to me like that! I say he did do it; and he’ll hang -for it—and serve him right for disgracing you and your family. Where -are you going?”</p> - -<p>“Out of this house,” said Grace, and stumbled into the hall, where the -maid lingered by the open outer door, stumbled blindly forward and -almost fell into the arms of Winnie Winston, who arrived, breathless, -on the doorstep.</p> - -<p>“Grace! Oh, my darling girl! I got the wire too late to meet you, so -rushed on here!”</p> - -<p>Grace clutched her, searched her face with anguished eyes.</p> - -<p>“Winnie, tell me the truth. You don’t believe my Roger did—it?”</p> - -<p>“Believe it? I should think not, indeed! Who could believe it who knows -him?” said Winnie staunchly.</p> - -<p>“God bless you for that, Winnie,” cried Grace brokenly. “Oh, my dear, -take me out of this—anywhere, anywhere!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">AUSTIN’S THEORY</span></h2> - -<p>“If I hadn’t turned up just at that very moment, I believe Grace would -have died on the doorstep. I hope there’s not another woman in the -world would have behaved so abominably as Mrs. Armitage; but it is just -like her. I never could imagine how she came to have such a daughter -as Grace! But of course she takes after her father—the professor’s a -dear. But what a life the pair of them have had with that horrid little -creature!”</p> - -<p>Winnie Winston spoke in an emphatic undertone, for the walls of the -Chelsea flat were thin, and in the adjoining room Grace was in bed, -worn out and fast asleep.</p> - -<p>Winnie had insisted on administering hot soup and a full dose of -aspirin, and sat beside the exhausted girl, holding her hand, stroking -her aching forehead, cherishing her with all womanly endearments, till, -between them, she and Mother Nature, and the beneficent drug brought -blessed sleep and oblivion to the tortured brain and heart.</p> - -<p>Then Winnie stole away, and presently, as he so often did, Austin Starr -turned up, to whom she poured out her indignation at Mrs. Armitage’s -callous conduct.</p> - -<p>“I always guessed she could be a holy terror if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> she chose. Though she -has always been mighty civil to me,” said Austin.</p> - -<p>“Of course. She always is to men, and most of them think she’s an -angel. Why, she made a dead set at Roger when they first knew him, and -was furious when she found he wasn’t taking any, and that it was Grace -he was in love with. She’s been sniffy with them both ever since—mean -little cat! What <i>do</i> you suppose she said to Grace at the very last -moment before she went to the church the other day?”</p> - -<p>“Something sweet and maternal,” suggested Austin sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think! She came into Grace’s room, preening herself like a -canary—the first time she’d been near her to my knowledge, and I got -there pretty early to help Grace dress. Mrs. Armitage just looked her -up and down and said, ‘Really, Grace, you look like a corpse; white -never did suit you. Hadn’t you better make up a bit?’ I could have -shaken her! And when there was that dreadful delay at the church she -never even came through to the vestry with us, but was only fussing -and fuming because the Rawsons hadn’t come. While now, if you please, -she’s made up her nasty little mind that Roger is guilty and is going -to be hanged, and had the fiendish cruelty to blurt it out to Grace the -moment she arrived. It was enough to kill her!”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” conceded Austin gravely. “I’m not making any excuse for Mrs. -Armitage—her conduct was just abominable—but we’ve got to face facts, -Miss Winnie; and the great fact is that I’m afraid a good few people -are of the same opinion.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<p>Winnie sprang up, a passionate figure, and pointed an accusing -forefinger at him.</p> - -<p>“Austin Starr, you don’t dare to sit there and tell me that you believe -your friend Roger Carling is a murderer!”</p> - -<p>His clever, good-tempered face—a face that inspired confidence in -most people—betrayed embarrassment, distress, perplexity; his silence -infuriated Winnie.</p> - -<p>“Answer me!” she ejaculated in an imperative whisper, emphasized by a -stamp of her foot.</p> - -<p>“No, I do not,” he said slowly. “I never will. But the case is very -black against him, and there’s a lot of excuse for the people who do -think it.”</p> - -<p>She gave a little sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad <i>you</i> don’t, anyhow; for if you did I’d never willingly speak -to you again.”</p> - -<p>Austin rose, and stood beside her, looking down earnestly at her -charming, animated face.</p> - -<p>“I’d give my right hand, I’d give ten years of my life at its -best—Winnie, I’d give everything dearest to me in the world except -the hope of winning you—to be able to clear Roger Carling from this -charge,” he said slowly.</p> - -<p>For weeks, for months she had known in her heart that Austin Starr -loved her, had known too that she loved him, but never before had he -spoken like this, never had there been any sentimental passages between -them, only a beautiful frank friendship, that after all is the very -best foundation on which a man and a woman can build the love that -lasts!</p> - -<p>And now—though how it came about neither of them could have said—her -hands were in his, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> drew her, unresisting to his arms, and their -lips met for the first time.</p> - -<p>A wonderful moment for them both, when, without another word, he knew -his hope was fulfilled—that he had already won her. It was excusable -that, for a few moments, they almost forgot those other hapless -lovers, their nearest friends, now so tragically parted. Yet they soon -remembered and resumed counsel, with just one little difference that -meant a lot to them—that whereas before they had sat facing each -other, one each side the fire-place, they were now side by side.</p> - -<p>“Can’t <i>you</i> do anything to bring light on it all, Austin?” she asked.</p> - -<p>He passed his hand perplexedly over his sleek hair.</p> - -<p>“I mean to do everything I can, dear, but——”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you any theory?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve had quite a lot, and tried to follow them up, but they won’t -wash—not one. I felt mighty uneasy when I found Lady Rawson had been -to your old <i>maestro’s</i> flat and that Roger had followed her there.”</p> - -<p>“Did he! When did you find that out?”</p> - -<p>“The same night, just after Snell, the detective, came here, and asked -so many questions. I went straight to the flat.”</p> - -<p>“You never told me!”</p> - -<p>“I never told anyone; but I soon found that Snell knew all about it -too, and as he kept silence so did I. Though what I couldn’t make out -was <i>why</i> Roger went on her track like that, when he had so little time -to spare. It was an utter mystery till I got the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> clue when the news -came through about those secret papers, and I went straight to Sir -Robert and saw him. It was he who sent it; Snell must have known it all -the time and suppressed it—never gave even me a hint.”</p> - -<p>“Then you wrote the ‘interview’? I thought so. Did Sir Robert say -anything else? What does he think?”</p> - -<p>“That’s the worst of it. He is absolutely convinced that his wife was -murdered by Roger, and is implacable against him. That’s not to be -wondered at, with the poor thing still lying dead in that great, silent -house. The funeral is to-morrow, and as I can’t go to both, I shall go -there instead of to the court to hear the case opened against Roger.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Austin, why? It would be a comfort to him and to Grace too, to -have you there!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I’ve a queer sort of feeling that at the funeral I may get -some clue that would be of value. I can’t explain it, but there it is. -And anyhow the case will surely be adjourned to-morrow. They can’t do -anything else. It was terrible to see Sir Robert to-day. He is making -a wonderful recovery physically, and was sitting up in a wheel-chair, -though he’s paralysed in the lower limbs, and I doubt if he’ll ever -walk again. But his brain is clear enough, and his animus against Roger -is simply awful. The queer thing is that he acknowledges that those -papers were of such supreme importance that—well honestly, I gathered -the impression that if anyone but his own wife had been murdered in -order to recover them he’d have considered the crime justifiable and -tried to hush it up. The things we’re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> most up against are that Roger -undoubtedly was there on the scene, and that he was the one person -concerned who knew the contents of the papers and was most interested -in getting them back to Sir Robert. You and I, and poor Mrs. Carling -herself, are certain he did not commit the murder—just because we know -him. But the question is—Who did?”</p> - -<p>“It’s curious that the <i>maestro</i> should be mixed up in it,” mused -Winnie.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen him since?”</p> - -<p>“No, there was no reason why I should.”</p> - -<p>“I have, and Boris Melikoff too—this afternoon. I remembered -him—Melikoff—when I saw him again. I met him here some months back, -in the summer.”</p> - -<p>She nodded.</p> - -<p>“That Sunday night, when he sang so divinely. It’s the only time I’ve -seen him. A handsome boy, but there’s something queer and unbalanced -about him, though I believe the <i>maestro</i> cares for him more than for -anyone else alive. Grace was here that night, too—not Roger; it was -when he was abroad with the Rawsons. Why, Austin, could it have been -him, Melikoff—in jealousy? I could imagine him doing anything!”</p> - -<p>Starr shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No. He’s ruled out personally. He was down at Birmingham. But I’m -going to cultivate him assiduously, and, if possible, his compatriots -who forgather with him at Cacciola’s and elsewhere. I believe that’s -the direction in which the truth will be found. Snell doesn’t. <i>He</i> -is sure he’s got a clear, straightforward case, and that his duty’s -finished!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>Winnie frowned thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“You think Lady Rawson and Boris were members of a secret society?”</p> - -<p>“Sure!”</p> - -<p>“And that one of them watched, and followed, and killed her?”</p> - -<p>“Possibly.”</p> - -<p>“Then why didn’t he keep the papers?”</p> - -<p>“That’s the snag. But suppose he or she—it might have been a -woman—didn’t want the papers, that it was a personal vendetta? That’s -the line I mean to follow now.”</p> - -<p>“It sounds quite likely,” she agreed. “How clever of you, Austin. But -how are you going to set about it?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say yet, dear. I must feel my way somehow.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps something fresh and helpful will come out in court to-morrow,” -said Winnie hopefully.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE GIRL AT THE GRAVE</span></h2> - -<p>The beautiful little Russian church was filled to the very doors for -the solemn and stately ceremonial of Paula Rawson’s funeral service. -Many representatives of royalty were there, Lord Warrington and several -of his staff, cabinet ministers, ambassadors, peers—everyone who -was “anyone” in the innermost circle of London society seemed to be -present, except Sir Robert Rawson himself.</p> - -<p>And yet to Austin Starr’s acutely sympathetic and impressionable -mind it seemed that there were no mourners there; that all these -distinguished people had assembled as a mere conventional duty, an -expression of conventional respect and sympathy for the bereaved -husband; that they cared nothing for the dead woman lying there in her -coffin, under the magnificent purple pall. She was even lonelier in -death than she had been in life.</p> - -<p>The impression was confirmed when at last the service was over, and the -congregation emerged into the gloom and mud of the streets, for it was -a damp, dark, dreary morning.</p> - -<p>Crowds of sightseers thronged the pavements outside, waiting and -watching, palpably animated by their curiosity to witness one of the -acts in this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>sensational drama of real life that had already proved so -thrilling, and that had yet to be played out.</p> - -<p>There were more crowds outside the cemetery gates, through which only -members of the funeral party were admitted; and open expressions of -surprise and disappointment were exchanged at the smallness of the -cortège: only a couple of motor-cars and some half-dozen taxicabs -followed the flower-laden hearse.</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t seem to have had any personal friends,” remarked Bowden, -one of the reporters who had shared Austin’s taxi. “I should have -thought some of the big pots—or of Sir Robert’s relatives—would have -had the decency to come on. There’s Twining, the lawyer—who’s the old -man beside him?”</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert’s valet—sort of confidential attendant. His name’s -Thomson,” said Austin.</p> - -<p>Thomson, decorous and unperturbed as usual, appeared in fact to be -acting as a sort of major-domo, and was giving low-voiced instructions -to the undertaker’s men as they deftly removed the masses of flowers -that covered the coffin. One of them handed him a large heart fashioned -of purple blossoms, which he carried carefully in both hands, as he -moved to a position close to the open grave, and to the priests in -their imposing vestments.</p> - -<p>“Who are the others?” whispered Starr’s companion. “Servants too? They -look like foreigners. Didn’t see ’em at the church.”</p> - -<p>He indicated two groups that had assembled each side the grave, from -which the reporters stood a little apart. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t know,” Austin returned curtly, with a gesture imposing silence.</p> - -<p>That was not entirely true; for with the group on the right, some eight -or nine poorly clad men and women, with white, earnest, grief-stricken -faces, was Boris Melikoff, holding in his right hand a single branch of -beautiful crimson lilies.</p> - -<p>“Russian refugees, and they are the real mourners,” Austin said to -himself, and scanned each face in turn searchingly. Did any one of them -know the grim secret he was determined to discover? Could any one of -them, man or woman, be the actual murderer? It seemed unlikely—even -impossible—as he noted their sorrow, restrained, indeed, with touching -dignity, and therefore apparently the more deep and sincere.</p> - -<p>He turned his gaze on the other group—three persons only, a man and -two women. The man was Cacciola, a stately, impressive figure, his fine -head bared, his long, grey locks stirred by the chill, damp breeze. His -dark eyes were fixed anxiously on his beloved Boris, but he showed no -other sign of emotion.</p> - -<p>The short woman who clung weeping to his arm, her face concealed by an -enormous black-bordered handkerchief, was undoubtedly his housekeeper, -old Giulia.</p> - -<p>And the third? Austin caught his breath quickly as he looked at her, -just managing to check the involuntary exclamation that rose to his -lips.</p> - -<p>She was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, quite -young, probably not more than seventeen, Italian certainly; no other -country could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> produce that vivid, passionate type, that exquisite -contour of cheek and throat, that delicate olive skin, birthright of -daughters of the sun, those wonderful, tawny eyes shadowed by the long, -black lashes.</p> - -<p>She was dressed in deep mourning, with a voluminous black veil flung -back from her face and falling nearly to the hem of her skirt, but that -sombre garb was the only sign of grief about her; it seemed to enhance -rather than dim her radiant youth.</p> - -<p>There was something triumphant, almost insolent, about her, on such a -scene. She stood erect, her graceful head thrown back a little, her -full, curved lips slightly parted, her eyes, like those of Cacciola, -fixed on Boris Melikoff with an ardent, passionate, self-revealing -gaze. She seemed utterly oblivious of every one and everything else, -and as he watched her Austin Starr was momentarily oblivious of every -one but her.</p> - -<p>He was only vaguely aware that the priest’s sonorous voice ceased; -but a moment later he was startled by a swift change in the girl’s -face. It darkened, as a summer sky sometimes darkens at the advent of -a thunder-cloud; her black eyebrows contracted, so did her red lips, -the love-light vanished from her eyes; he could have sworn that they -flashed red. For a moment the face was transformed to that of a fiend -incarnate, obsessed by anger, hatred, jealousy.</p> - -<p>Instinctively he looked around to see what had caused this -extraordinary emotion, and saw that something had happened by the -grave. The Russian group had closed up around Melikoff, towards whom -the priests and Mr. Twining had turned as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> in shocked remonstrance, -while the men who were in the very act of lowering the coffin had -paused, and the great purple heart of flowers lay, face downwards, -right on the margin of the moss-lined grave.</p> - -<p>“What’s up?” he asked the man next him—he whom he had silenced a few -minutes before.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you see? The old man laid the heart on the coffin just at the -last moment, and that tall, dark, foreign chap stepped forward, chucked -it aside, and put those red lilies he had on it. The others pulled him -back, and—look—he’s crying or fainting or something. Queer, eh?”</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke Thomson, who alone seemed to have retained his -composure, lifted the heart and replaced it, but below the lilies, and -signed to the men to proceed with their task.</p> - -<p>The whole thing passed in a few seconds, the priest proceeded with the -last sentences, and pronounced the benediction, and Starr, his brain -awhirl with wild conjectures, looked once more at the girl.</p> - -<p>She was standing with bowed head and downcast eyes, in an attitude of -reverence, her hands clasped on her breast, and he wondered if his -eyes had deceived him just now. Then he noticed that one of her black -gloves was split right across—plain to see even at that distance, -for her white hand gleamed through the rent—and knew he had not been -mistaken. She had clenched her hands in that spasm of fury. The glove -was evidence!</p> - -<p>She loved Boris Melikoff; she hated that dead woman with a hatred that -even the grave could not mitigate.</p> - -<p>Was this the clue he sought? Who was she?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> What was her connection with -Cacciola—with Melikoff? He must learn that without delay.</p> - -<p>Cacciola was already hastening towards Boris and his friends, while -the girl remained with Giulia, and Austin would have followed, but was -intercepted by Mr. Twining, the lawyer, who had held a brief colloquy -with Thomson, and now hurried up to the little group of journalists.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Starr? I believe you and these gentlemen are representatives of -the Press? I represent Sir Robert Rawson on this solemn occasion, and, -speaking in his name, I beg of you not to give any publicity to the -painful little incident you have just witnessed—I mean the incident -with the flowers. It cannot be of any public interest whatever, and its -publication would add to the distress of Sir Robert and—er—possibly -of others. Can I rely upon you not to mention it?”</p> - -<p>The undertaking was given, of course, and the journalists hurried off, -with the exception of Austin, detained this time by Thomson.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, sir, but I should like a few minutes’ conversation, -and as I know you are pressed for time, would you accept the use of -the car, one of Sir Robert’s that I am to return in, and permit me to -accompany you? We can drive straight to your destination.”</p> - -<p>Austin accepted with alacrity, and they entered a closed car, which -had come laden with flowers, whose heavy, sickly fragrance still clung -about it.</p> - -<p>“I am sure you will excuse the liberty, sir,” said Thomson, in his -precise, respectful way. “I would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> have liked to have a word with you -yesterday when you called on Sir Robert, but it was impossible.”</p> - -<p>Austin nodded, wondering what was coming. Somewhat to his surprise, -Thomson had been present at the interview yesterday, at Sir Robert’s -own request, standing silently behind his master’s chair.</p> - -<p>“It’s about Mr. Carling, sir. I can’t think why the police should have -arrested him of all people in the world—such a nice young gentleman as -he is. He had no more to do with my lady’s death than you had!”</p> - -<p>“Of course he hadn’t. But, see here, Thomson, do you know anything of -his movements that morning?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all, sir, beyond what every one else knows, or will know -soon. But how anybody acquainted with him can believe it for a minute -beats me—my master most of all. I have presumed to speak to him about -it—I’ve been with Sir Robert many years, sir—but he wouldn’t hear a -word, even from me. He says Mr. Carling followed and murdered my lady -so as to get those papers back; he told the police so!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe the papers had anything to do with it.”</p> - -<p>Thomson, who was sitting forward on the edge of the seat, his -black-gloved hands resting on his knees, turned his head slowly and -looked at Austin sideways, for the first time during the colloquy.</p> - -<p>“Nor I, sir. I hold that it was a thief, who got rid of the papers as -soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>“It might have been a vendetta!”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, sir, a what?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Someone who had a grudge against Lady Rawson and watched for the -chance of killing her?”</p> - -<p>“That hadn’t struck me, sir,” said Thomson after a reflective pause.</p> - -<p>“It struck me. Do you know anything about Mr. Melikoff and his -associates?”</p> - -<p>“The young gentleman who was so upset just now? Only that he was -related to my lady and they used to meet, as Sir Robert was aware,” -Thomson replied, and Austin had the impression that he was lying, -though why he could not imagine. “I fear there’s no light in that -direction, sir. And Mr. Melikoff was not even in London at the time.”</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t thinking of him, but whether there might be someone, who knew -them both,” said Austin, with that girl’s beautiful, passionate face -still vividly in remembrance. But he could not question the old man -about her. Some instinct, which at the moment he did not attempt to -analyse, forbade him.</p> - -<p>“What did you want to tell me?” he asked bluntly, as the swift car was -nearing Fleet Street and Thomson had relapsed into silence.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, sir. I was forgetting. I took the liberty, knowing -that you are a friend of Mr. Carling’s, merely to ask if you could -possibly convey my respects to him, and to the poor young lady his -wife, and my best wishes that they will soon be restored to each other.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it with pleasure. Thank you, Thomson. Good day.”</p> - -<p>“Queer old coon,” he thought, as he dashed up to his room. “So that was -all he wanted. Very decent of him though.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he concentrated on his work. He was just through when Winnie rang -him up, to say that Grace and her father had returned to the flat and -were anxious to see him that evening, if possible.</p> - -<p>“I’ll come round about nine, dear—perhaps earlier; but I’ve to see -someone first.”</p> - -<p>After a minute’s cogitation he rang up Cacciola. A woman’s voice -answered—a delightful voice, rich and soft—in fluent English, with -a mere intonation (it was slighter than an accent) that betrayed the -speaker’s nationality.</p> - -<p>“Signor Cacciola is away from home. Will you give a message?”</p> - -<p>A dull flush rose to Austin’s face, a queer thrill passed through him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sorry! Who is speaking? Is it Signora Giulia?”</p> - -<p>“No. She also is not present. I am Maddelena Cacciola. What is the -message?”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather tell it to the <i>maestro</i> himself. When will he be home?”</p> - -<p>“Not till—oh, very late.”</p> - -<p>“Then is Mr. Melikoff home?”</p> - -<p>“No. He also is out with my uncle.”</p> - -<p>“I see. I’m sorry to have troubled you, signorina. I’ll ring up again -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Will you not tell me your name?”</p> - -<p>“Austin Starr. But he may not remember it.”</p> - -<p>“I will tell him, Mr. Starr. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>He replaced the receiver, and again sat in thought, drumming softly -with his fingers on the table. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>So she was Cacciola’s niece, and was living, or at least staying, with -him, under the same roof as Boris Melikoff.</p> - -<p>What a voice! Worthy of her face, her eyes. And a beautiful name too; -he found himself repeating it in a whisper: “Maddelena!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">AUSTIN’S SILENCE</span></h2> - -<p>“I can’t understand it, Winnie. It seems almost as if every one—like -mother—had already made up their minds that—that Roger——”</p> - -<p>Grace broke off. She could not bring herself to utter the words “that -Roger is guilty.” But Winnie understood.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, dear. There are you and I and George and your father and -Austin on his side to begin with, and Mr. Spedding of course——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about Mr. Spedding,” said Grace slowly, her hands clasped -round her knees, her troubled eyes fixed on the fire. “I was with -him all the afternoon, you know—there is so much to discuss and to -arrange—and I thought his manner very reserved, very strange, and—and -uneasy.”</p> - -<p>“That’s only because he’s a lawyer. They’re always mysterious. What did -he say?”</p> - -<p>“Well, when I told him the simple truth as Roger told it me—as to why -he followed Lady Rawson, and how it was he was so late at the church, -he said, in quite an offhand way, that he knew all about that, and -Roger would of course embody it in his statement at the proper time; -but that his—Roger’s—unsupported account of his own movements was -no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> use as evidence! You can’t think what a shock it gave me, Winnie; -it was the way he said it. And then he explained that ‘fortunately the -onus of proof rests with the prosecution, and not with the defence: it -is for them to prove him guilty, not for us to prove him innocent.’ -‘<i>Fortunately</i>,’ mind you; and in tone that implied that it would be -quite impossible to prove my darling’s innocence! Now what do you think -of that?”</p> - -<p>“That it was his silly, pompous old legal way of talking and nothing to -be upset about,” said Winnie, with a fine assumption of confidence.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps—but it hurt! He hopes to secure Cummings-Browne for the -defence.”</p> - -<p>“Of course. Austin says there’s no one to touch him.”</p> - -<p>“For the defence,” Grace repeated drearily. “Oh, Winnie! I suppose it -was foolish, but I felt quite sure when I went out this morning that -it was only a matter of a few hours and Roger would be free; and now, -nothing done; just adjourned till after the inquest; and then—and -then—— Mr. Spedding takes it for granted that he will be committed -for trial—kept in prison for weeks, months, till after Christmas, for -the trial cannot come on till January. My Roger!”</p> - -<p>She hid her face in her hands and for the moment Winnie was dumb, -unable to find words of comfort.</p> - -<p>All that long day Grace had borne herself bravely. Betimes in the -morning she had gone to Spedding’s office, and thence, with the -lawyer, to the police court, where, in a private room, she had a brief -half-hour with Roger—only five minutes or so alone with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> him, for they -had to consult with Mr. Spedding; but those five minutes were precious -indeed.</p> - -<p>Roger was pale, but cheery and confident; and she managed to appear the -same for his sake.</p> - -<p>“I’m staying with Winnie for the present, dearest,” she told him. -“Mother was—well, a little difficult yesterday, so I thought it best. -But I’m going to take possession of the flat—our flat—as soon as -possible, and get it ready for you to come home to, or we’ll get it -ready together if you come to-day—to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Not so soon I fear, darling. The law moves cumbrously. But you can’t -go to the flat alone. Why not stay with Winnie?”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather be in—our own home,” she whispered, “getting it straight -for us both, beloved. I shall be happier, and you will seem nearer. -Winnie will come in and out, of course; and you’ll come soon—very -soon—and all will be well again, and all this will have passed like a -bad dream!”</p> - -<p>She smiled at him and he at her, and none but themselves knew how hard -it was to summon those brave smiles to their lips when their hearts -were almost breaking.</p> - -<p>Then her father arrived, the gentle, careworn, grey-haired professor, -who had travelled all night to be with her; and she smiled at him, -too, and sat with her hand in his, and Winnie Winston on the other -side, through the ordeal of the police court; sat with her eyes fixed -on Roger most of the time, utterly unconscious of the scrutiny and -whispered comments of the fashionably dressed women who had literally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> -fought their way into the court in ghoulish anticipation of sensation.</p> - -<p>The ordeal to-day was not prolonged, for, to the manifest -disappointment of the assemblage of female ghouls, only a brief -statement of the charge and formal evidence of arrest were given, and -an adjournment asked for and granted.</p> - -<p>The remainder of that dark, wet day was passed in a series of -conferences with her father, and with the lawyers, all more or less -painful, all important; but throughout she managed to maintain an -appearance of cheerfulness and confidence, telling herself the while -that she must be brave and strong and clear-headed, “for Roger’s sake.”</p> - -<p>But now, alone with Winnie in the cosy drawing-room at Chelsea, came -reaction. She felt and looked utterly exhausted, unutterably anxious -and sorrow-stricken.</p> - -<p>Her father had gone home, but was to return after dinner to discuss -a vital matter—how, among them, they were to raise money for the -defence. Mr. Spedding had named five thousand pounds as the least -amount necessary. It must be raised, but how none of them knew at -present. Roger’s salary had been a generous one, but he had no private -means, no near or wealthy relatives, and only a very few hundred -pounds at call—which had seemed an ample reserve wherewith to start -housekeeping, as they had already furnished the charming little flat in -Buckingham Gate which was to be their first home.</p> - -<p>Grace herself had a tiny income, only just over a hundred a year, a -legacy from an aunt, but it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> strictly tied up under a trustee, and -she could not touch the principal.</p> - -<p>Therefore this question of money was a new and terrible difficulty that -must be surmounted somehow.</p> - -<p>In any other conceivable emergency they would have had Sir Robert -Rawson to back them, with his enormous wealth and influence; but now he -was their enemy, able to bring all his resources against them.</p> - -<p>“I can’t understand it all,” Grace resumed presently. “It seems as -if we had become entangled, in a moment, in a great web of evil. But -<i>why</i>? What have we done or left undone to deserve it? Roger <i>did</i> -distrust that poor thing—disliked her in a way, simply because of the -distrust. But he would never have harmed her, or any living creature. -And yet they fix on him of all people, just because he happened to be -near at hand, and to be concerned with those papers!”</p> - -<p>“That’s only because, as Austin says, they’re just a lot of guys who -can’t see as far as their own silly noses. And he’s on the trail -anyhow, so cheer up, darling. Everything’s going to come right soon -perhaps. You trust Austin!”</p> - -<p>Grace sighed and glanced restlessly at the clock.</p> - -<p>“I wish he’d come.”</p> - -<p>“Here he is—that’s his ring,” said Winnie, and hurried out to answer -the front door bell.</p> - -<p>Austin it was, and she questioned him in an eager undertone as he took -off his coat in the little hall.</p> - -<p>“Any news?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. I’ve been on duty all day, dear. Only just free. I rang up -Cacciola, but he wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> in, or I’d have gone around to his place -instead of coming here. How’s Grace?”</p> - -<p>“Terribly down, though she’s been so plucky all day. Come along. She’s -dying to see you!”</p> - -<p>He was shocked at the change these few days had wrought in Grace. As -he had been prevented from attending the wedding he had not seen her -for nearly a fortnight. Her radiant girlhood had vanished; she looked -ten years older, a woman scathed by sorrow; and yet it struck him that -in some subtle way she had become more beautiful, or rather that her -beauty was spiritualized.</p> - -<p>In the brief interval before he entered she had pulled herself -together—only with Winnie, her closest girl-friend, would she betray -any sign of weakness—and greeted him with a smile that belied the -tragic intensity of her grey eyes.</p> - -<p>They had exchanged but a few sentences when there were other -arrivals—her father, and Mr. Iverson the vicar, who somehow brought -with him a breezy breath of comfort. Grace gave him both her hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <i>padre</i>, how good to see you.”</p> - -<p>“You’d have seen me before if I’d known where to find you; but Mrs. -Armitage was out when I called this afternoon, and I was just going -round again when I met your father, and here we are. We’ve been talking -hard all the way from the bus, and I know all about everything so far. -Roger’s keeping his heart up and so are you? Good!”</p> - -<p>“Trying to, <i>padre</i>.”</p> - -<p>“You’re going to, both of you, all the time, however long or short it -is. It’s a black streak, child,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> but the help and guidance will come -day by day till you’re through it and out into the sunshine again.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been telling the vicar about this money trouble, darling,” -interposed Mr. Armitage, “and——”</p> - -<p>“Just so; and we shall soon get over that. The house will go into -committee on ways and means, so come along. What’s the state of the -exchequer?”</p> - -<p>“Roger has just over six hundred in the bank.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid, and your father can find another six fifty.”</p> - -<p>“Two hundred and fifty of that’s from himself, Grace,” said her father. -“He insists.”</p> - -<p>“Now, look here, Armitage, that’s sheer breach of confidence, and -you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Let’s be thankful I have it to -spare—which wouldn’t have been the case a year or two ago.”</p> - -<p>Then Austin after a rapid mental calculation, chimed in:</p> - -<p>“Bully for you, <i>padre</i>! Put me down for the same to start, and I’ll be -able to raise as much again, or more in a week or two. I’d give every -dollar, every red cent I have to help clear old Roger.”</p> - -<p>He exchanged a swift glance with Winnie, who nodded delighted approval. -She knew perfectly well that his impulsive offer meant that their own -wedding might have to be delayed perhaps for years, but that weighed as -nothing with Roger’s life and liberty in the opposite scale.</p> - -<p>“George and I too,” she said. “I’ve told Grace so already. I don’t know -how much yet, Mr. Iverson, but I’ve lots of engagements for Christmas -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> after—good ones, too—so I shall be quite rich.”</p> - -<p>The vicar beamed round at them all and rubbed the shining little bald -circle on his crown in a way he had when he was pleased. That bald -patch, set round with curly, iron-grey hair, was one of his innocent -little vanities. It was perfectly natural, but it did look so like a -real tonsure!</p> - -<p>“Now isn’t that capital! Nearly two thousand pounds in less than five -minutes. Lots to go on with; and we shall get the rest long before -it’s wanted. ‘Hope for the best and prepare to meet the worst,’ is an -excellent maxim.”</p> - -<p>His incorrigible optimism was infectious; it cheered them all as no -amount of conventional and lugubrious sympathy could have done; and -his acceptance of Roger’s innocence as a fact that need not even be -discussed, and would assuredly be established, was an unspeakable -comfort to Grace, whose loyal and sensitive soul had been so cruelly -tortured by the doubt of others, and by her own mother’s attitude above -all.</p> - -<p>He declared his conviction that the first theory advanced and then -abandoned was the right one: that the deed had been committed by some -casual miscreant, who would yet be discovered.</p> - -<p>Austin said nothing of his own newer theory, to the secret surprise of -both Winnie and Grace, who, however, followed his example, supposing he -thought it best to keep silence for the present, even among themselves.</p> - -<p>“How curious that Mr. Cacciola should be mixed up with it all, in a -way,” remarked the vicar.</p> - -<p>“Do you know him, sir?” asked Austin quickly. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Only slightly, but I like him immensely. He’s a Catholic, of -course—and a good one, I should say. I often encounter him on Sunday -mornings, on his way from Mass; and we walk along and yarn in all amity -so far as our road lies together. That’s as things should be, to my -mind! And he’s really most generous—often comes to play and brings his -pupils to our little parish concerts, as <i>you</i> know, Miss Winston.”</p> - -<p>Winnie nodded.</p> - -<p>“Yes, the <i>maestro</i> is the kindest old thing imaginable, and so -simple—not a bit of side.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a genius,” said the vicar. “And I think true genius always is -simple. I met him this afternoon, of all places in the world in the -post office itself.”</p> - -<p>“<i>The</i> post office?” cried Grace. “Not where—not Mrs. Cave’s?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It was when I was on my way from your house, Armitage. I looked -in for a chat with Mrs. Cave, and little Jessie, who really haven’t got -over the shock yet. It will be a long time before they do, and they -talk of giving up the shop as soon as they can find another. No wonder.”</p> - -<p>“The telephone booth is partitioned off now, by order of the police,” -said Austin.</p> - -<p>“Yes, very necessary, of course; but awkward for the Caves, for it -means that they have to go out at the shop door and in at the side one -before they can get to their own rooms. I was just consoling the good -lady—with the suggestion that now she would have more walks abroad and -fresh air than she’s had for years; no use condoling, you know, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> -would only make things seem worse than they are—when in comes Mr. -Cacciola and his niece, one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen in my -life.”</p> - -<p>“His niece! I didn’t know he had one—not in England!” exclaimed Winnie.</p> - -<p>“Nor I till now. But I think she must have been educated here, she -speaks English so well; though possibly she has not been with him -all the time. I should certainly have remembered her if I’d seen her -before—such a remarkably beautiful girl. She’s to make her début -soon—as a violinist. And what do you suppose was their errand to-day? -That young girl actually wanted to see the place where poor Lady Rawson -was murdered, and worried her uncle till he brought her across and -asked Mrs. Cave to show it them!”</p> - -<p>“Morbid curiosity isn’t confined to young people,” Mr. Armitage -remarked.</p> - -<p>“Quite so, but it’s unhealthy in anyone, and very distressing in a -girl like that. As a matter of fact, I went round with them myself. -I offered to as Mrs. Cave was alone in the shop—Jessie was out; and -I was glad of the opportunity, not from ‘morbid curiosity,’ I assure -you, but simply so that I could see the place for myself. It seems so -incredible that anyone could be murdered like that in a shop actually -full of people, and the murderer get clean away, unless you’ve seen the -place. It might have been made on purpose—a regular death-trap—for -the booth is really in a narrow passage that at some time has been -thrown into the shop, and the door of it opens outwards, towards the -shop. Just beyond is the scullery-place, and <i>I</i> think it probable the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>murderer was lurking there when Jessie Jackson came down to help her -aunt. And close at hand, on the right, is the street door, through -which he simply walked out.”</p> - -<p>“The police think he went out through the garden door,” said Austin.</p> - -<p>“Just like ’em. But they’re wrong. Why? Because Sadler’s cab was -standing outside the <i>street</i> door, where it was the work of an instant -to throw the bag through the window. If the criminal had gone down the -garden and out at that door he’d have had to come all the way back to -pass the cab. And he’d never have done that; he’d have bolted <i>down</i> -the street.”</p> - -<p>“I guess you’re right, vicar. And then he tried to steal the cab. Some -nerve!”</p> - -<p>“Wrong again. That was a bit of boyish mischief.”</p> - -<p>“What in thunder makes you say that?”</p> - -<p>“Because I happen to know. It will all come out at the next -hearing—inquest or police court, or both. However that’s only a -detail.”</p> - -<p>“What did the girl—the <i>maestro’s</i> niece—say?” asked Winnie.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Of course, I was speaking of them. She <i>said</i> very little, but, -do you know, her manner rather shocked me. It takes a lot to do that! -She seemed positively to gloat over that horrible, tragic, dark corner. -Cacciola was quite distressed, and remonstrated with her—at least I’m -sure he did, though he spoke in Italian, which I don’t understand, -and she answered him very briefly, in a passionate <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>whisper, and then -simply walked off, and Cacciola made a sort of incoherent apology -and hurried after her. I couldn’t help thinking there was something -mentally wrong—a most grievous thing, especially in one so young and -beautiful and talented.”</p> - -<p>Austin Starr sat listening intently, but neither then nor later, when -the elder men had gone, did he say that he knew aught of Maddelena -Cacciola, though why he kept silence he really did not know.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">MADDELENA</span></h2> - -<p>“Giulia, thou art a foolish old cow! I tell thee no harm will come to -thee. It is but to make oath and tell the truth; that the young signor -came here inquiring for Donna Paula, and went away, and that Withers -brought thee later the little silver case, and thou gave it to the -police. What is there in all that?”</p> - -<p>In the beautifully appointed kitchen where usually Giulia reigned -supreme Maddelena, attired in a morning wrapper of brilliant hues, -was dividing her attention between preparing the breakfast coffee and -alternately coaxing and scolding Giulia, who sat huddled in a chair, -weeping and muttering prayers and protestations to every saint in the -calendar.</p> - -<p>She was to give evidence in the police court again that day—as she had -already done at the inquest which had terminated in a verdict of wilful -murder against Roger Carling—and nothing would induce the poor old -woman to believe that the object of these interrogations was any other -than to prove her guilty of stealing that silver cigarette case! That, -she was convinced, was what “they of the police” were after, and the -murder of “Donna Paula” was quite a secondary consideration.</p> - -<p>Maddelena shrugged her pretty shoulders and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> went on with her task, -setting a dainty breakfast-tray with a little silver service. For all -her sharp words to Giulia, there was a smile on her lips, and her fine, -capable white hands touched the inanimate things caressingly; for she -was preparing that tray for Boris, who had not been out the other -evening—as she told Austin Starr on the telephone—but ill in bed. He -had collapsed after that scene at the cemetery, and they had brought -him home more dead than alive. As Giulia was so foolishly upset, -Maddelena and her uncle had nursed the invalid, and already he was much -better.</p> - -<p>She turned brightly to Cacciola as he came into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“On the instant, for behold all is ready. Tell him he is to eat every -morsel, on pain of my royal displeasure! How is he?”</p> - -<p>“Very weak still, though he says he slept well,” said Cacciola, taking -up the tray. “And he insists on coming with us to-day.”</p> - -<p>Maddelena’s expressive face darkened.</p> - -<p>“To the court? But what folly; there is no need, and he will make -himself ill again,” she cried.</p> - -<p>“I think not. Let him have his way, <i>carissima</i>, and he will get over -it the sooner,” said Cacciola pacifically, and retreated with the tray -down the long passage that led to Melikoff’s room.</p> - -<p>The flat was a large one—two thrown into one in fact—for the -<i>maestro</i> liked plenty of room. That was why he had settled in a suburb.</p> - -<p>Maddelena stood frowning for a minute or more, then shrugged her -shoulders again, administered a petulant shake to the sobbing Giulia, -poured out a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> big cup of coffee, and handed it to the old woman, -sternly bidding her drink it and cease her fuss, and finally sat down -to her own breakfast, breaking her roll and dabbing on butter with -angry, jerky movements, and scolding Giulia between mouthfuls.</p> - -<p>But she showed no sign of ill-humour an hour later when she greeted -Boris. Her manner now was of charming, protective, almost maternal, -solicitude.</p> - -<p>She looked very beautiful too, not in the mourning garb she had worn at -the funeral, but in a handsome furred coat of tawny cloth, almost the -colour of her eyes, and a bewitching little hat to match.</p> - -<p>Even Boris, worn, haggard, brooding resentfully on his tragic sorrow, -summoned up a smile for her, as Cacciola, watching the pair of them, -noticed with secret satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“I ought to scold you Boris, my friend,” she said. “You are not fit to -go out at all, and it will be such a trial for you. But, <i>altro</i>, you -must have your way as usual! Give him your arm, uncle. Come, Giulia.”</p> - -<p>Outside the court they parted from the reluctant and trembling Giulia, -leaving her in charge of the kindly postmistress, Mrs. Cave, who was -also to give evidence, and promised to take charge of her in the -witnesses’ room.</p> - -<p>A big crowd had assembled waiting for the public doors to open, -but Cacciola and his companions were admitted through the official -entrance, and given seats in the front row, just above and behind the -solicitors’ table.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later such spectators as could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> accommodated swarmed -in, pushing for places; and presently the body of the little court -began to fill up, as solicitors, clerks, and reporters drifted in and -took their places.</p> - -<p>Boris Melikoff, on one side of Cacciola, sat with his hands in his -pockets, his chin sunk on his breast, giving no heed to anyone at -present; but Maddelena, on the other side, watched with lively though -decorous interest, whispering many questions and comments to her uncle.</p> - -<p>“That is Mr. Starr, a journalist,” said Cacciola as Austin appeared and -betook himself to the Press table.</p> - -<p>“He who spoke with me on the telephone? He is very good-looking. I -think I like him! Ah, he sees us!”</p> - -<p>For Austin, surveying the eager, curious faces of the crowd, again -mainly composed of smart women, saw the group in front, and exchanged -a nod of greeting with Cacciola. Then his eyes met Maddelena’s frank, -inquiring gaze. For several seconds—that seemed longer to Austin—they -looked full at each other, till she drooped her long, black lashes -demurely, her lips relaxing in a faint smile. The startled admiration -she thought she discerned in his glance amused and did not surprise -her. She was used to creating such an impression, for, though not in -the least vain, she was fully conscious of her beauty. She did not -imagine that he had ever seen her before, and that his interest in her -was deeper and more complex than that which an exceptionally pretty -girl inspires in most men, young or old.</p> - -<p>When she stole another glance at him he was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> longer looking in her -direction, but was listening with frigid courtesy to a fair-haired -woman in a seal coat and expensive hat, who had just come in with a -tall, thin, grey-haired man, and was looking up coquettishly into -Austin’s glum face, as she spoke in a rapid undertone.</p> - -<p>“Who is that?” demanded Maddelena.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Armitage and her husband—Mrs. Carling’s mother and father,” said -Cacciola.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Armitage it was, who, having realized that as a close connection -of the two central figures in this poignant drama of life, she was a -person of importance in the eyes of the public, had decided that it was -her duty to attend the court; and already, with much complacence, had -permitted herself to be “snapped” by several Press photographers lying -in wait outside, and had assumed a most pathetic expression in the hope -that it would “come out well.”</p> - -<p>Maddelena noted every detail of her attire and manner, and with keen -feminine intuition summed her up accurately on the instant. “So. If the -daughter is like the mother then I, for one, will spare no sympathy for -her,” she decided.</p> - -<p>Cacciola touched her arm.</p> - -<p>“Behold, here is Mrs. Carling. The poor girl, my heart bleeds for her. -Miss Winston is with her. That is good.”</p> - -<p>There was a buzz and flutter, as necks were craned in the endeavour -to see Grace Carling’s face, but she kept her heavy veil down, and -appeared absolutely unconscious of the presence of those inquisitive -onlookers, as she gravely accepted her mother’s effusive greeting, and -then seated herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> with her back to the crowd, where she would have -an uninterrupted view of her husband when he should be brought into the -dock.</p> - -<p>Winnie Winston became the centre of attention for the moment, as, -seeing Cacciola, she made her way across to speak to him, and -unashamedly every one in the vicinity tried to overhear. Only Melikoff -maintained his sullen, brooding attitude. He had come there to-day to -see but one person, Roger Carling, the enemy whom he hated.</p> - -<p>“How is Mrs. Carling?” asked Cacciola.</p> - -<p>“Very well, and wonderfully brave,” said Winnie. “They both are, as -they should be, for he is innocent, <i>maestro</i>. But it is terrible for -us all. Is this your niece? I have heard of her, but we haven’t met -before.”</p> - -<p>He introduced the girls, and Maddelena leant down over the barrier and -spoke with charming courtesy.</p> - -<p>“My uncle talks so much of you, Miss Winston. You are—oh, one of his -great favourites. I wish we had met more happily. I have just returned -from Milan, into all this sorrow. It is too sad!”</p> - -<p>“Ought Mr. Melikoff to be here? He looks very ill,” said Winnie, with a -glance at Boris; and Maddelena looked at him, too, her eyes softening, -as they always did when they regarded him.</p> - -<p>“Alas! he would come, though I and my uncle sought to dissuade him; but -he is very obstinate, our poor Boris, and distracted with grief. But he -will—he must—recover in time.”</p> - -<p>Winnie nodded sympathetically and retreated, much to the relief -of Austin Starr, who from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> distance had watched the incident -uneasily, though why he should be disturbed he could not have said. But -thenceforth, for the greater part of that grim day, he concentrated -his attention chiefly on those three, feeling more and more convinced -that they presented a psychological problem which, if it could be -solved, would elucidate the mystery of Paula Rawson’s murder. When -Roger Carling was brought into the dock Starr saw Boris Melikoff sit -up, as if galvanized into life, his white face set like a fine, stern -mask, his dark eyes, feverishly brilliant, fixed relentlessly on the -prisoner’s face.</p> - -<p>So far as Austin’s observation went, Roger was quite unaware of that -fierce, fanatical stare, and of all the other eyes focused upon him. -With head erect he listened with grave attention as the case against -him was stated by the prosecution, and later supported in nearly every -detail by the many witnesses. Usually he watched each speaker in turn, -and in the intervals his eyes always sought those of Grace, in silent -and spiritual communion that gave strength and courage to them both. -At those moments husband and wife were as unconscious of the crowded -court, of the whispered glances of the spectators, as if they had been -transported to another world which held none but themselves.</p> - -<p>Maddelena could not see Grace Carling’s face, but she watched Roger as -intently as Austin Starr watched her.</p> - -<p>As he watched, Austin’s perplexity increased. At first her expressive -face revealed a most curious emotion, in which there was no trace of -the hatred and resentment betrayed so plainly by Boris <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>Melikoff, or -of the fury that had distorted it by Paula Rawson’s grave. On the -contrary, she looked at Roger admiringly, exultantly, as women look at -a hero who has done some great deed. Austin felt that he really would -not have been surprised if she had clapped and cheered!</p> - -<p>Now, why on earth should she look at Roger Carling like that?</p> - -<p>But presently her face changed and softened, became gravely thoughtful. -She sat very still, leaning forward, her elbows on the rail in front of -her, her chin resting on her clasped hands, her dark brows contracted, -and Austin thought he read in her wonderful eloquent eyes doubt, -dismay, increasing anxiety, and a great compassion.</p> - -<p>What was in her mind? What did she know—or conjecture?</p> - -<p>That was what he must endeavour to discover.</p> - -<p>Dispassionately, inexorably, the case was stated by the prosecution, -based, as nearly every murder charge must be, on circumstantial -evidence.</p> - -<p>There were the undisputed facts that the prisoner had followed and -endeavoured to see Lady Rawson, with the intention of recovering the -stolen papers which he believed to have been—and were now known to -have been—in her possession; that he had been close at hand at the -moment the murder must have been committed, though none of the people -who were in and out of the shop at the time, and who had all been -traced and summoned as witnesses, could swear to having seen him. There -was the agreement of time and place; even allowing for the delay caused -by the fog, there was ample time for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> him to reach the church, “late -and agitated” as he undoubtedly was, after committing the crime.</p> - -<p>Above all, there, on the table, was the possible—nay, almost certainly -the actual—weapon employed; one of the two pocket knives found on -the prisoner at the time of his arrest. It was a flat, tortoiseshell -penknife, of which the larger blade, of finely tempered steel, keen -as a razor, constituted, in the opinion of the surgical experts, -precisely the sort of instrument with which the wound was inflicted. -The other knife—a thick blunt blade—was out of the question, part of -a “motorists’s compendium,” fitted with several other small tools, none -of which could inflict just such a wound.</p> - -<p>Sadler, the taxi-driver, who had a bandage round his head and still -looked shaky as a result of his smash up, identified the prisoner -as the gentleman he had driven from Grosvenor Gardens to Rivercourt -Mansions, having already picked him out unhesitatingly from among a -number of other men.</p> - -<p>Sadler’s further story was perfectly straightforward.</p> - -<p>Having deposited his fare, and finding himself so close to the house -of his sweetheart, Jessie Jackson, he drove slowly across to the post -office, saw, through the window, Jessie in the shop with her aunt, -guessed that in a few minutes she would be going up to dinner, and they -would have the chance of a few words together, so pulled up in a side -street, just by the house door, and out of sight from the shop, and -smoked a “gasper” while he waited.</p> - -<p>Presently he got down, had another squint into the shop, saw Mrs. Cave -was now alone, so sounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> his horn, “in a sort of signal we have,” and -Jessie immediately came down and let him in at the side door. How long -he was up in the kitchen with her he couldn’t say—not exactly—till -her aunt called her down.</p> - -<p>Then he waited for another few minutes, till he thought he heard -someone “cranking up” his cab; ran downstairs, and sure enough the cab -was disappearing down the street.</p> - -<p>He went after it, and round the corner, just by the waterworks, found -it standing, the engine still going, and saw a “nipper” running away.</p> - -<p>He jumped to his seat, followed the boy, and, turning the corner, -crashed right into a lorry, and that was all he knew till he came to -himself in hospital.</p> - -<p>Story corroborated by Jessie Jackson, Jim Trent—a bright faced -mischievous schoolboy, who had himself owned up to the police that, -seeing the cab unattended, he couldn’t resist the temptation of trying -to start and drive it, but soon pulled up and “hooked it,” exactly -as Sadler had said—and several people who had seen the chauffeur in -wrathful pursuit of the cab.</p> - -<p>At this stage the court rose for lunch, and Austin Starr went across -for a word with Cacciola.</p> - -<p>Already Maddelena had changed places with her uncle, and was speaking -softly to Boris, who, the moment Roger Carling disappeared from sight, -had sunk down in his former attitude, looking utterly exhausted.</p> - -<p>Starr could not hear what she said, but she seemed to be remonstrating -with him, tenderly and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>anxiously, while from her big brocaded bag she -produced a thermos flask, poured out a cup of fragrant Russian tea—it -smelt as if it was laced with brandy as well as lemon!—and coaxed him -to drink, just as a mother might coax a sick and fretful child.</p> - -<p>She was far too absorbed to spare a glance or a thought for anyone else -at the moment, and Austin took himself off, having no time to waste, -and having achieved his immediate purpose—an appointment with Cacciola -at Rivercourt Mansions that evening. He was most anxious to begin a -near study of that “psychological problem” of which Maddelena Cacciola -was the most perplexing—yes, and the most attractive element!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEM</span></h2> - -<p>It was fairly late that evening when Austin Starr arrived at -Cacciola’s, having had a hasty meal at a restaurant when he was through -with his day’s work.</p> - -<p>He had been obliged to decline the <i>maestro’s</i> hospitable invitation to -dinner, and had been assured by the old man that it did not matter how -late he turned up: “I am not what the English call an early bird!”</p> - -<p>Cacciola himself, arrayed in dressing-gown and slippers and carrying -a big curved meerschaum pipe in his hand, admitted and welcomed him -cordially.</p> - -<p>There was no one else in the spacious sitting-room, but Austin’s quick -sense of disappointment was speedily banished by his host.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, my friend. You will find that chair comfortable. Now, will -you have wine—it is here ready? Or wait for the coffee which my -Maddelena will bring soon? She is now preparing it.”</p> - -<p>“Coffee for me, thank you, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And none makes it better than Maddelena,” said the old man, settling -himself in his own great chair, and resuming his pipe. “It is well -indeed for us all that she is at home at this time, for, alas! we are a -sick household, with Boris and my poor old Giulia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> so much distressed -by this terrible event, which touched us so nearly through our poor -Boris.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a great and awful mystery that I’d give my right hand to solve,” -said Austin bluntly.</p> - -<p>Cacciola looked at him with grave surprise.</p> - -<p>“Say a tragedy, yes. But where is the mystery? There is no doubt of the -guilt of that unhappy young man.”</p> - -<p>“Doubt! Man alive, Roger Carling is as innocent as I am; I’d stake -my life on that! He’s been committed for trial, I know—one couldn’t -expect anything else at present—but——”</p> - -<p>He checked himself. After all, he had come here in search of a clue, -and must say nothing that might put Cacciola on his guard.</p> - -<p>“Now that is strange,” mused Cacciola. “Maddelena has been saying the -same ever since we returned from the court, simply because she has -decided that he does not look like a murderer—a woman’s reason!”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your niece yet. Does she live -with you, sir?”</p> - -<p>“It is her home, and has been these many years, since my brother died -and left her in my charge. She and my poor Boris are to me as children. -But she has not been at home except for holidays since she went to -school; she has been educated here in England, and since two years has -been studying in Milan. She should be there now, the naughty one, but -the moment she heard the news of this terrible thing she came back, -travelling night and day. I was vexed, yes; with a musician, music -should always come first, and her impulse will retard her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> career; but -I do not know what we should have done without her. None can manage -Boris and our old Giulia as Maddelena does,” he added with an indulgent -smile.</p> - -<p>“Is that so? She’s evidently a very capable as well as a very charming -young lady. Is she a singer, sir?” said Austin, conscious of a curious -sense of relief. What dark suspicions had been in his mind ever since -he saw that fury of hatred in the girl’s face as she stood by Paula -Rawson’s grave he had not dared to formulate, even in thought, but they -had been there, and now Cacciola’s words had dispersed them so far as -Maddelena was concerned. However much she hated the dead woman, she -could have had no hand in her death.</p> - -<p>Yet he was still convinced that here, in this quaint Bohemian -household, the heart of the mystery was hidden. How was he to discover -it? At present all he could do was to cultivate his friendship with -the genial, simple-minded old <i>maestro</i>, whom he was learning to like -immensely. At the back of his mind he was secretly ashamed of employing -this plan. It was a low-down trick, yet the only course that seemed -possible at present. And Roger Carling’s life was in the balance: that -grim fact overshadowed all other considerations!</p> - -<p>Cacciola shook his head and shrugged his shoulders with a whimsical air -of resignation.</p> - -<p>“Alas! no. She has a voice indeed which, compared with most English -voices for instance, would pass as good. But a Cacciola who sings must -excel, and my Maddelena will never excel——”</p> - -<p>“As a singer! My uncle is on his old grievance,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> said Maddelena -herself, as she entered carrying the coffee-tray, and flashed an amused -glance from one to the other.</p> - -<p>“Aha! What is the proverb about listeners never hearing any good of -themselves?” chuckled Cacciola. “This is my little girl, Mr. Starr; and -if she had come an instant later she would have heard something nicer, -for one of these days she is going to be a great violinist.”</p> - -<p>“So my uncle says; but we shall see,” laughed Maddelena, setting the -tray on a low, carved stand, and giving Austin her hand, and continuing -more seriously: “I am so glad you have come to-night, Mr. Starr, for I -have heard so much of you, and there are, oh, so many things I want to -ask you about. You are a great friend of that poor Mr. Carling and his -bride, are you not? The poor young lovers, how my heart is grieved for -them! But we must have our coffee first and then we will talk.”</p> - -<p>There was something so frank and charming in her manner, so like her -uncle’s, in its easy, gracious simplicity, that again Austin marvelled, -remembering her in that unguarded moment the other day. Was she merely -a creature of passionate impulse or a consummate actress?</p> - -<p>“I am very much the maid-of-all-work these days,” she explained, -seating herself between them on a big “humpty.” “For Giulia—you know -her?”</p> - -<p>“Your old servant, yes, I have seen her.”</p> - -<p>“She is still in such a state of nerves that she is no use at all. It -is very foolish of her.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Have patience, <i>carissima</i>; she will get over it in time. We all -shall,” said Cacciola soothingly.</p> - -<p>“I suppose Mrs. Giulia was very fond of Lady Rawson?” hazarded Austin.</p> - -<p>Maddelena turned towards him, raising her dark brows.</p> - -<p>“Fond of her? No, indeed. Why should she be?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. But I thought, as she seemed to be fairly intimate with -you all——”</p> - -<p>“Paula Rawson intimate with <i>us</i>!”</p> - -<p>There was a note of indignant protest in her rich voice, and her eyes -flashed stormily. Austin metaphorically “sat up,” and Cacciola cast a -deprecating glance at the girl.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry if I’ve said anything wrong, Miss Maddelena; but it seems -she did come here very frequently, so I naturally thought——”</p> - -<p>“Come here, yes, indeed, and far too often,” said Maddelena with -emphasis. “But not to see <i>us</i>. She came to see Boris, her cousin; -not because she loved him—Paula Rawson was not capable of loving -anyone—but because she wanted him as a tool for her ambitions, for her -intrigues. She was ruining him, body and soul!”</p> - -<p>Cacciola interposed, almost sternly: “Peace, Maddelena. We must speak -with charity of the dead!”</p> - -<p>“That is my uncle all over. Oh, yes, ‘speak with charity, think with -charity!’ For me, I cannot, I will not, when I think of Paula Rawson. -I am glad she is dead. If I made any other pretence I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> be a -hypocrite. This is the truth, Mr. Starr—my uncle knows it, though he -will not say so now. We were so happy together, he and I and Boris, a -year ago, when I came home from Milan for the winter vacation. You, -who have only seen Boris as he is now, cannot imagine what he was -then—what he was to us both. And his voice!”</p> - -<p>“Ah! she is right,” sighed Cacciola. “It was divine, but the voice is -there still, my child, the saints be praised, and when he recovers he -will sing once more, better than ever perhaps, and be his old self once -again.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps. Because Paula Rawson is dead and can trouble him no more,” -cried Maddelena. “He met her, she whom he had thought dead, as would to -heaven she had been—and, lo, we became as nothing to him: his voice, -his career became as nothing! He lived only for her, to do her bidding, -to see her from time to time; plotting for their country, they said. -Pouff! He had forgotten his country until he met her—Paula—again, and -fluttered round her like a moth round a candle, singeing his wings. -Well, that candle has been put out, just in time to save him being -burnt up!”</p> - -<p>Cacciola shifted uneasily in his chair, but did not venture on further -expostulation.</p> - -<p>“Do you know any of their Russian friends, Miss Cacciola?” asked Austin.</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“They used to come and go like shadows, seeing only Boris, and whoever -might chance to admit them when he did not—Giulia or my uncle usually. -She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>—Paula—actually had a key, and could let herself into this, <i>our</i> -home, if you please, whenever she liked. I was always furious about it, -as was Giulia, and my uncle did not like it. He should have forbidden -it, as I told him a hundred times.”</p> - -<p>“She had a key!” exclaimed Austin. “Did she use it that last time she -was here?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know. Why do you ask?”</p> - -<p>“Because if she did it ought to have been found either in her purse or -her bag, and certainly it was not there.”</p> - -<p>“That is curious,” said Maddelena reflectively. “I will find out from -Giulia to-morrow; she is in bed now. You think that is of importance?”</p> - -<p>“Every little thing is of importance. See, here, Miss Cacciola——”</p> - -<p>“Well?” she asked, her bright eyes fixed inquiringly upon him, as -he hesitated, wondering if, and how far, he should confide in her. -Cacciola still remained silent but was listening intently.</p> - -<p>“It’s this way,” Austin resumed slowly, weighing each word before -he spoke. “Roger Carling is innocent. A good few of us—every one -who really knows him, in fact, except Sir Robert Rawson himself—are -convinced of that, although appearances are so terribly against him.”</p> - -<p>“I too, since I watched him in the court to-day,” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“I know. The <i>maestro</i> told me so just before you came in. Now we’ve -got to find out the truth, to trace the murderer, before the trial -comes on, and we’ve only a very few weeks to do it in. It’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> no use -going to the police, unless and until we’ve got something definite to -put them on. They think the case is clear and their duty done.”</p> - -<p>“But you—there is something in your mind?”</p> - -<p>“There is, but I don’t quite know how to explain it. I believe this -Russian business may provide the clue, and that you can help to find -it. Just suppose there was one of them who had a personal grudge -against her—or even a spy in their councils, for there always is a -spy, sure, in these intrigues.”</p> - -<p>“Or someone who wanted to separate her from Boris,” said Maddelena -dryly, and he was thankful that she was now gazing at the fire and -not at him. “Well, I and my uncle wanted to do that. He is sorry the -separation has been brought about with such tragedy, but I—I care not -how it came about so that it did come. I wonder you did not suspect me, -Mr. Starr!”</p> - -<p>She turned and looked at him again, a sort of challenge in her eyes, -which he met squarely.</p> - -<p>“Maddelena!” exclaimed Cacciola, glancing from one to the other, but -neither heeded him at the moment.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I did till I met you,” Austin answered. “I don’t now, or I -shouldn’t have asked your help.”</p> - -<p>“Good! I like an honest man, and that is very honest, Mr. Starr. I also -will be honest. I did not murder Paula Rawson, though there have been -many times when I would have done so if I could. And I tell you that if -I knew who did I would do all in my power to shield him.”</p> - -<p>“But not if an innocent man should suffer in his place,” he urged. -“Miss Cacciola, I implore you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> if you know anything—even if you -suspect anything or anyone——”</p> - -<p>“I neither know nor suspect anything,” she interrupted decisively. -“I had not thought till to-day that there was any doubt. But you -are right, the innocent must not suffer. I—we”—she glanced at her -uncle—“will do all we can to help you.”</p> - -<p>“What can we do?” asked Cacciola perplexedly. “I have heard you with -much surprise, with much distress. I am grieved that Maddelena here is -so hard; she knows it. It is not like her, signor, for she is truly a -loving child.”</p> - -<p>He looked so thoroughly upset and miserable that with one of her swift -impulses Maddelena sprang up, and bent over the back of his chair, -putting her arms caressingly round him.</p> - -<p>“Never mind me, dear uncle. I love when I love and I hate when I hate; -I am made like that, and it cannot be helped. But Mr. Starr is right: -we must do what we can to bring the truth to light.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so, Miss Cacciola. Now do either of you know the names of any -of these Russians or where they live?”</p> - -<p>“I do not, nor you, uncle? As I said, they came and went as they -liked, and my uncle should have forbidden it; but he is so weak where -Boris is concerned. And he is so sorry for them, as for all who -are unfortunate.” She gave him another hug, and resumed her seat, -continuing: “Do you know he used to give them food if he was at home -and knew they were there with Boris, slinking in by one and two -after dark? Well, he would bid Giulia make a good meal; and she did, -grumbling. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> she was never permitted to take in the dishes—no, nor -even to peep into the room. Boris always came and took them from her!”</p> - -<p>“What is a little food?” protested Cacciola. “I do not believe there is -any harm in these poor souls; they are not Communists, but aristocrats -who have escaped with their bare lives—whose lives are still perhaps -in danger; and of one thing I am certain: not one of them would have -lifted his hand against Paula—she was their best friend.”</p> - -<p>“There may have been a spy among them for all that, as Mr. Starr -suggested,” said Maddelena. “And I promise you that I will find out all -I can about them. Boris will tell me, if I go to work in the right way.”</p> - -<p>“I’m infinitely obliged to you, Miss Maddelena,” said Austin earnestly.</p> - -<p>“And now let us talk of something pleasanter. Will you have some more -coffee? Ah, it is cold! Some wine, then. That will make my uncle more -cheerful. Will you move the coffee-tray, Mr. Starr? Set it on the -piano—anywhere.”</p> - -<p>He jumped up to do her bidding, while she crossed to the corner -cupboard. Taking the tray from the little carved stand, he glanced -round the room, and noting a small table near the door moved towards it.</p> - -<p>As he did so he saw the door, on which hung a heavy embroidered -<i>portière</i>, gently closing. Next instant he remembered that Maddelena -had certainly shut the door after her when she entered; he had noticed -the clever little backward kick with which she did so, and had heard -the click of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> latch. None of them had been anywhere near the door -since. Who then was outside?</p> - -<p>Striding swiftly across the room he dropped rather than set the tray on -the table, sprang to the door and threw it wide open. The outer hall -was dark and silent.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?” he demanded, and at the same moment Maddelena called -from the other side the room:</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, Mr. Starr?”</p> - -<p>“The door has been opened—someone has been listening,” he said, -stepping warily into the darkness and feeling for the electric switch. -“Where is that switch?”</p> - -<p>“By the hall door, on the right,” said Maddelena, hurrying to him, -while Cacciola followed more slowly, shuffling in his big slippers.</p> - -<p>He switched the light on. The small, square hall was empty but for -themselves. Maddelena passed swiftly along and switched on another -light that illuminated the two passages at the end that ran right and -left. No one there either.</p> - -<p>“I shut the door when I came in,” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“I know. I saw you,” he answered as softly.</p> - -<p>“And I left the light on in the hall—I had both my hands full. It must -have been either Boris or Giulia. Uncle, go and see if Boris is up. I -will go to Giulia,” she said, motioning Austin to stay where he was.</p> - -<p>He watched her go softly along the right-hand passage, open a door at -the end, and switch on a light. From within the room, even at that -distance, he could hear a sonorous snore. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> - -<p>Maddelena put out the light, closed Giulia’s door, and beckoned to -Austin to join her.</p> - -<p>“She is fast asleep; it could not have been she. I—I am frightened. -Let us look in the other rooms.”</p> - -<p>They did so; dining-room, kitchen, her own room—a charming one, next -to Giulia’s. No one lurking there.</p> - -<p>They went back and found Cacciola doing the same in the other wing, -which once was a separate flat. He too looked very disturbed.</p> - -<p>“Boris sleeps soundly, as he should do; he is under the doctor and -had a sleeping draught to-night, and there is none other here but -ourselves. Who can have been here?”</p> - -<p>“I guess whoever it was has just walked out,” said Austin, striding -back to the front door. “Why didn’t I think of that first?”</p> - -<p>“Wait, the lights will be out there. Take my torch,” counselled -Cacciola, fumbling for it in his overcoat pocket.</p> - -<p>Softly all three of them went down all those flights of stone stairs. -Still no sign of anyone, no sound. They themselves were evidently, and -as usual, the only occupants of the block who were up so late; but the -street door was open.</p> - -<p>“That is proof,” whispered Maddelena. “It is always closed at eleven; -after that we have to admit ourselves with our pass-key.”</p> - -<p>“How many keys to this door have you?” asked Austin, after looking out -into the night and closing the door, latching it this time. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Only one—my uncle has it; and if others are late they must rouse the -porter.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder who has that missing key—the key you told me just now that -Lady Rawson had, and lost,” said Austin, when they had returned to the -drawing-room. “Take my advice, Mr. Cacciola, and have a new lock to -your front door to-morrow. And don’t leave any spare keys around!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">HARMONY—AND DISCORD</span></h2> - -<p>“Is that all, Mr. Starr?”</p> - -<p>“It’s something to go on, isn’t it?” Austin countered. He had decided -to take counsel with Snell upon that problem he was endeavouring to -solve, and the detective had listened in silence to his account of the -interview with Cacciola and Maddelena, and the curious incident that -had terminated it.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you want my opinion,” said Snell dryly, “it is that you’ve -discovered—or created—quite a nice little mare’s nest.”</p> - -<p>“Now see here, Snell, you’re simply prejudiced!”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, Mr. Starr. If there’s one thing I pride myself on more -than another it is on never being prejudiced. And if you think I -did not, at the very outset, satisfy myself—yes, and my superiors -too—that neither Melikoff and his associates nor the old Signor and -his household had anything at all to do with the murder of Lady Rawson, -I can only assure you that you’re jolly well mistaken!”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got it fixed up in your mind that Roger Carling is guilty, and -you won’t look any further,” Austin said bitterly.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t. It’s for a jury to decide whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> he’s guilty or innocent. -And if you or anyone else can point to any clue in any other direction -that I haven’t followed up and sifted I’ll go to work again instantly. -As for the Russians——” He touched an electric button on his table, -scribbled a few words on a card, and handed it to the clerk who -entered. “As you aren’t inclined to believe me, and as I know you’re -to be trusted, I’m going to let you look through the dossiers for -yourself. You mustn’t make any notes, of course.”</p> - -<p>“That’s very good of you. But what about the person who was in the -flat?”</p> - -<p>“Old Madam Giulia—queer old girl too; <i>what</i> a fuss she made in the -witness-box, even for a foreigner!—or perhaps even Melikoff himself, -who thought he’d like to hear what you were all yarning about, and -scooted as soon as you moved.”</p> - -<p>“Impossible! Neither of them could have got down the long passage and -into bed, apparently asleep, in the time. If I’d only thought of the -hall door first we should have caught whoever it was. But I didn’t, and -we never heard a sound. The tray clattered some as I set it down or I’d -have heard the click of the lock. And what about that key that Melikoff -gave Lady Rawson and she lost, or gave away?”</p> - -<p>“That’s really the only point worth anything at all, and I doubt if -it’s worth much. What a fool Melikoff was to give her that key, and -the old signor to allow it. That the lot?”—as the clerk re-entered -bringing several neatly arranged sets of papers. “All right, leave them -for the present. Now, Mr. Starr, here you are. Take your time.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<p>He pushed the papers across the table to Austin, and resumed his own -work.</p> - -<p>Rapidly but methodically Austin ran through the dossiers one after -another, his heart sinking as he did so. For Snell was right. They -provided, with much other information, a complete record of the -movements, on the day of the murder, of presumably every one of the -group of refugees with whom Boris Melikoff was associated, compiled -from personal interrogation of each and verified by further searching -investigation. In the face of this no shadow of suspicion could fall -on any one of them. Almost mechanically he memorized the names and -addresses—one never knew when such information might come in useful.</p> - -<p>“Well?” asked Snell laconically as he finished.</p> - -<p>“You’re right, of course. I must say you’ve done the thing pretty -thoroughly.”</p> - -<p>“As usual. Though the public, and some people who might be expected to -know better, don’t give us credit for it,” said Snell dryly. “It was -easy enough in this case, as they’re all aliens and registered as such. -We keep an eye on them all, as a matter of course, and we’ve known -all there is to know about this lot ever since they landed. Quite a -harmless lot, in my opinion.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you didn’t know at the time that Lady Rawson was one of them,” -suggested Austin. “You told me so yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so; but then she wasn’t registered—not necessary as she became -‘British’ on her marriage.”</p> - -<p>“If their meetings were so harmless why did she steal those papers from -her husband?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, that’s quite another question, Mr. Starr. Her motive doesn’t -matter in the least, so far as tracking her murderer is concerned; and -if you hark back to the papers as a clue, why they lead straight to the -one person—Mr. Roger Carling. And there you are!”</p> - -<p>Austin leant his head on his hand in deep dejection.</p> - -<p>“I’ll never believe it was Roger Carling!”</p> - -<p>Snell glanced at him kindly enough.</p> - -<p>“Take my advice, Mr. Starr, don’t go wearing yourself out trying to -find fresh trails. They’ll all turn out as false as this one. The only -thing to be done is to leave it to the jury—or to chance. I’ve known a -lot of mysteries cleared up by what seemed to be pure chance.”</p> - -<p>“There’s still the notion of a casual thief,” mused Austin.</p> - -<p>“There is. And we’re keeping that in sight I assure you. But I don’t -believe it was done by a wrong ’un down on his luck. Whoever it was -wore gloves.”</p> - -<p>“How in thunder do you know that?” demanded Austin, genuinely surprised.</p> - -<p>“Because there were smears on the bag caused by gloved fingers. If -they’d been finger prints they’d have been hanging evidence! There were -no such smears on the envelope, though.”</p> - -<p>“Any finger prints on it?” asked Austin quickly.</p> - -<p>“Lots—from Carling’s own to Lord Warrington’s; it had been handled -by half a dozen people at least—quite legitimately. Carling’s -prints, of course—though they’re the clearest of the lot under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -microscope—won’t be regarded as evidence against him, as he was the -first to handle and seal the envelope the night before. All that will -be threshed out at the trial.”</p> - -<p>“I guess so. Well, I’m infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Snell,” said -Austin despondently.</p> - -<p>“Wish I’d been able to help you,” Snell responded as they shook hands.</p> - -<p>Austin walked slowly along the Embankment in deep and distressed -thought. This interview with Snell was a bitter disappointment; and now -again he seemed up against a blank wall. There was still the mysterious -visitant to the flat to be considered, but if he or she was traced that -might prove nothing.</p> - -<p>Outside Charing Cross Station he paused indecisively. He had an hour or -two to spare. Should he go to Chelsea? He hadn’t seen Winnie for over a -week—not since that day at the police court when Roger was committed -for trial—as she had been singing at Bristol and only returned -yesterday. Or should he go to Cacciola’s on the chance of finding -anyone at home?</p> - -<p>He would not acknowledge even in his own mind that by “anyone” he -meant Maddelena. The girl attracted him most strongly, and in a manner -that he did not choose to analyse. He did not love her—of that he was -quite sure. He had never been of a susceptible nature where women were -concerned; had always held to the high ideals of love and marriage -derived from a long line of Puritan ancestors, for he came of a sound -New English stock. He loved Winnie Winston; he meant to marry her; -would have been profoundly indignant at any <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>suggestion that he could -waver in his allegiance to her.</p> - -<p>And yet at intervals ever since he first saw Maddelena Cacciola beside -Paula Rawson’s grave, and almost continuously since that evening when -he had met and talked with her, that beautiful, vivid face, with its -swift, passionate changes of expression, had haunted him, sleeping and -waking, in a most perplexing and disturbing way!</p> - -<p>He had not seen or spoken to her since, for though he had rung up -several times, only Giulia had answered, to the effect that the signor -and signorina were out.</p> - -<p>As he turned into the station he tried to convince himself that he was -going to Rivercourt Mansions merely to ascertain if the girl had been -able to get any information from Boris, as she had undertaken to do, -and not that he had any desire to meet her again; and all the time, at -the back of his honest mind he was quite aware—and ashamed—of the -subterfuge.</p> - -<p>As he mounted the last of the long flights of stone stairs that led to -Cacciola’s eyrie he heard music from within—a glorious tenor voice, -pure, passionate, thrilling—singing to a masterly accompaniment of -piano and violin.</p> - -<p>Outside the door he waited, listening intently and in sheer delight, -wishing, indeed, that he had been within; but it was unthinkable to -intrude the strident impertinence of an electric bell on that feast of -harmony.</p> - -<p>The voice ceased. There followed a beautiful little ascending passage -on the violin, which he strained his ears to hear, a final grand -chord on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> piano. Then silence. He touched the bell at last, and -instantly the door was opened by Giulia, who beamed a welcome to him -and whispered:</p> - -<p>“They make music once more. Go in, signor.”</p> - -<p>Thus informally, and unannounced, he entered the big room. Cacciola, -seated at the piano, had swung round and was talking with eager -animation to Boris and Maddelena, the girl still holding her violin.</p> - -<p>As Austin entered she laid down the instrument and ran towards him, -giving him both her hands in greeting.</p> - -<p>“You! Oh, I am glad! But why did you not come before, so that you could -have heard Boris sing? The very first time for so very many weeks—and -superbly!”</p> - -<p>“I did hear quite a lot from outside—the violin too, Miss Maddelena,” -he said, smiling down at her. “You’re right, superb is the only word.”</p> - -<p>He exchanged greetings with the <i>maestro</i> and Melikoff, who, flushed, -smiling, excited, looked an altogether different being from the -stricken, morose creature Austin had known hitherto.</p> - -<p>“All is coming right, as I told you it would,” said Cacciola -delightedly. “The voice is fine as ever. You heard? It is but a matter -of time now and our Boris will be known as the world’s greatest tenor, -and you, signor, will be able to boast that you are one of the few who -has had the privilege of hearing him in private, for he will sing again -presently. But come, you have not yet seen an old friend of yours, who -happily is also here: my dear young pupil, Miss Winston.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<p>Why he should have experienced an extraordinary sensation of -embarrassment and dismay Austin really did not know, but he certainly -did so, as from a big chair in the dusk beyond the grand piano Winnie -rose and came towards him.</p> - -<p>“Winnie! I didn’t think to meet you here,” he murmured confusedly.</p> - -<p>“Nor I you,” said Winnie. “I returned yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“I know. I was coming around to see you to-morrow. Did you have a good -time, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Quite good—thanks. But I must be off now. Good-bye, <i>maestro</i>, -and——”</p> - -<p>“But no, no, you must not go!” protested Cacciola. “Giulia will bring -in tea in one moment now—Maddelena will hasten her—real Russian tea -that Boris has taught us to like, and it is so good for the voice too! -Also you must sing again presently. We have not got that new song right -yet.”</p> - -<p>“I’m so tired, <i>maestro</i>, and I couldn’t sing after Mr. Melikoff. How -splendid he is!”</p> - -<p>“Pouff! Not sing again indeed; you must not talk like an amateur. -You are an <i>artiste</i>, and among ourselves we never make comparisons. -Though there can never be any comparison with Boris: he is unique! How -thankful I am—and so is my Maddelena—that he is recovering himself. -Now sit down again, my child, and here is a chair for Mr. Starr.”</p> - -<p>Maddelena had taken her uncle’s hint and gone to hurry up Giulia with -the tea, and Boris followed her. Austin heard her laugh as they went -along the passage. Truly the atmosphere here had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> changed marvellously -in these few days. He sat down in the chair Cacciola had pulled up -close to Winnie’s, but for once in his life could find nothing to say -to her; while she virtually ignored him, and chatted with the <i>maestro</i> -till the tea appeared, brought in procession by Giulia and the two -young people.</p> - -<p>Maddelena, in the highest spirits, was a charming hostess, and, like -her uncle, treated Austin with the easy familiarity of old friendship. -It was merely their unconventional, hospitable way, as Winnie at least -knew perfectly well, from her long acquaintance with the <i>maestro</i>, -though she had never happened to meet Maddelena till now; yet she -wondered how often he had been there of late, and why he had said -nothing about it.</p> - -<p>There was more music after tea. Winnie sang without further demur, -at the <i>maestro’s</i> bidding, and was painfully conscious, as were her -auditors, that, for her, she sang very badly. She had a beautiful, -mezzo-soprano voice, sweet, true and fresh as a song-bird’s, and -perfectly trained—Cacciola had seen to that—but to-night it was -toneless, lifeless, devoid of expression.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, <i>maestro</i>,” she murmured apologetically at the end, meeting -his gaze of consternation.</p> - -<p>“We shall do better to-morrow,” he said consolingly. “Will you come to -me at three? Good! It is strange, for it went so well before; but, as -you say, you are tired, I should not have insisted. Now, Boris, once -more?”</p> - -<p>Melikoff, sprawling on the hearthrug and looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> through a pile of -music, selected a book of Russian songs, and began to rise.</p> - -<p>“Not those!” said Maddelena imperatively, snatching the book from -him and picking up another. “Mr. Starr wants to hear the Neapolitan -ones—with the guitar. I will get it!” As she passed Austin she bent -and whispered significantly, “He shall sing no Russian here if I can -prevent it,” and he nodded as one who understood.</p> - -<p>Winnie could not hear the words, but she saw the incident, and found in -it fresh food for thought.</p> - -<p>“With a guitar—good; that gives me a rest,” said Cacciola, quitting -the piano and settling himself comfortably in his big chair. “They are -trifles, these songs, but not unworthy even of Boris. There is the soul -of the people in them. Now, my children.”</p> - -<p>He was right. Those songs—sung by generations of humble folk for -centuries, and famous throughout the world to-day—were a revelation -as Boris Melikoff sang them, albeit he was the son of a sterner and -sadder race: songs of life, and love, and death, of sunshine and -storm, with the sound of the sea as an undertone through all, heard -in the thrilling throb of the guitar, which Maddelena played like the -<i>artiste</i> she was.</p> - -<p>Austin listened in sheer delight, forgetful of everything else in the -world for the moment.</p> - -<p>When the last exquisite note died away there was a little interval of -silence more eloquent than any words. Maddelena, the guitar on her lap, -looked up at Boris with a tremulous smile, her eyes shining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> through -tears, murmuring something in Italian, and impulsively he stooped and -kissed her on the lips, just as Cacciola cried, also in Italian:</p> - -<p>“<i>Brava! brava!</i> dear children. There can be nothing better in its way!”</p> - -<p>Austin joined wholeheartedly in the applause and congratulations.</p> - -<p>“How splendidly you accompany him, Miss Maddelena.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, does she not?” said Boris. “I do not think I could sing those -songs so with anyone but Maddelena. And you would not think it was so -long since we practised them together—nearly a year?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a long year!” said Maddelena.</p> - -<p>“I must be going,” Winnie announced. “Good-bye, Miss Cacciola; you’ve -given me a most tremendous treat, both of you. Now keep up the singing, -Mr. Melikoff. We’re all so proud of you, and want you to have the world -at your feet, as you will soon! Good-bye, <i>maestro</i>. Three o’clock -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>She turned to Austin, with a curious enigmatic little smile, an -inquiring lift of her eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“I’m coming with you,” he said, and proceeded to make his own adieux.</p> - -<p>Cacciola came to the door with them, but scarcely had they descended -the first flight of stairs when Maddelena came running after them.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Starr!”</p> - -<p>Austin turned and came up a few steps to meet her.</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry,” she whispered hurriedly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>bending her charming face -confidentially towards him. “I have not been able to question him about -those others, or, more truthfully, I would not do so, for, as you see, -he is beginning to forget, and I feared to bring the black shadow upon -him again.”</p> - -<p>“I understand, Miss Cacciola, and I’ve got some information already, -from another source; but what about that key, and——”</p> - -<p>“And the person who entered? We do not know. My uncle spoke to Boris -next morning. He knew nothing, and says he is sure it was none of his -friends. But that key which—<i>she</i>—had has never been found, and we -have had the lock changed, as you said. Good-bye. Come again soon.”</p> - -<p>She retreated, and he ran down the stairs, overtaking Winnie just -outside.</p> - -<p>“Great luck to find you, dear,” he said, falling into step beside her.</p> - -<p>“Yes? I didn’t know you were so intimate with the Cacciolas.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not, except that they’re so friendly and easy to get on with. -I’ve only met Miss Maddelena once before—when I went around there one -evening.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how interesting!”</p> - -<p>She spoke quite gently, but in a tone and manner so cold and dignified -that he might have been an utter stranger. He felt hurt, indignant; but -his tone was as aloof as her own as he responded:</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was interesting—very. I went, as I told you I should, to try -and get hold of a clue.”</p> - -<p>She turned to him quickly:</p> - -<p>“Oh! Did you find out anything?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Very little so far. I’ll tell you all about it when we get in. I -should have told you before, of course, if you hadn’t been away.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a tram stopping,” she said inconsequently, and made for it. -“Which way are you going?”</p> - -<p>“To take you home, of course.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going home, but to Grace at Buckingham Gate. She’s there now.”</p> - -<p>He nodded; it was impossible to talk in the noisy and crowded tram.</p> - -<p>“We’ll take a taxi from here,” he suggested meekly when they alighted -at the terminus opposite the station.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not! I’m going to St. James’s Park,” said Winnie decisively, -and hurried recklessly across the road, in imminent danger of being run -over.</p> - -<p>“Now what in thunder’s wrong?” Austin asked himself, but there was no -opportunity of asking her, until at length they reached the quietude of -Buckingham Gate, and then he found it difficult to begin.</p> - -<p>“I’ve such lots to tell you, but it will have to keep till to-morrow -night, for I’ve to go around to the ‘Courier’ now,” he said awkwardly. -“Give my love to Grace. And—see here, Winnie—what’s wrong, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Wrong? What do you mean? Nothing—or—oh, everything, I think! Never -mind. Here we are. Good night, Austin.”</p> - -<p>She did give him her hand, but withdrew it quickly, and stepped into -the waiting lift, which bore her swiftly out of sight. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<p>Austin stood for a few seconds, frowning; then lighted a cigarette, -striking the match with an angry jerk, and went on his way feeling -exceedingly ill-used!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">DARK HOURS</span></h2> - -<p>There are very few, if any, prisoners, be they innocent or guilty, -who, accused of murder, or of any other crime considered too serious -to admit of release on bail, do not endure agonies of mind during that -terrible interval between their committal and trial.</p> - -<p>Possibly the innocent suffer the most; for to all the restraints and -humiliations of prison life—less severe, indeed, than those imposed -on convicted criminals, but still irksome and wearing to a degree—are -added a bitter sense of injustice and often almost intolerable anxiety -on account of those, their nearest and dearest, who, innocent as -themselves, are yet inevitably involved in the disaster, subjected -to all the agonies of separation, of suspense, sometimes of piteous -privation. Even the fortitude induced by the inner consciousness of -innocence is seldom strong enough to overcome this mental and physical -distress.</p> - -<p>So Roger Carling suffered—all the more because he strove to show -no sign, endeavoured always to appear cheerful and confident in his -interviews with his solicitors and counsel, and above all with Grace, -whose visits, albeit under the strict regulations as to time, and under -more or less official surveillance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> were the great events of this grim -and dreary period.</p> - -<p>Like the blessed sunshine she came into that bare, formal room, always -beautifully dressed, with a smile on her dear lips, the lovelight in -her eyes; and they would sit hand in hand and chat almost gaily for the -prescribed time, which sped all too swiftly, while the dark intervals -between dragged on leaden feet.</p> - -<p>Only God, Who knows the secret of all hearts, knew what effort that -courage required, or how nearly their hearts were breaking!</p> - -<p>For the days and weeks were drifting by, and no fresh light whatever -had been shed on the mystery of Paula Rawson’s death. The trial was -to take place early in the New Year, the first on the list for the -session, and Cummings-Browne, K.C., had been secured for the defence. -If anyone could secure acquittal on such slight grounds of defence as -were at present available it was he. But although the faithful few -never wavered in their belief of Roger Carling’s innocence, they knew -it would be a stern fight—in fact, almost a forlorn hope.</p> - -<p>Only Grace herself would never acknowledge that. How his deliverance -would be brought about, his innocence established before all the -world, she did not know; but not even in those long nights when she -lay awake, thinking of and praying for her beloved in anguish of soul, -did she allow herself to doubt that he would be delivered, he would be -vindicated.</p> - -<p>That sublime faith alone enabled her to endure these dark winter days -of loneliness and sorrow.</p> - -<p>Always she kept before her the one thought:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> “When Roger comes home.” -On that she shaped her whole life.</p> - -<p>That was why she insisted on living alone in the little flat that was -to have been their first home, which she told herself should yet be -their home together.</p> - -<p>Day after day she laboured, putting it in beautiful order, arranging -Roger’s writing-table, their chair that was to be his special one, his -favourite books, just where she felt sure he would like them to be; and -while she was so employed she was almost happy. It seemed as though any -moment he might come in.</p> - -<p>Only when each day’s task was over, and she strove to concentrate her -mind on reading or sewing, the thought of him in his bare prison room -was almost more than she could endure, and slow, quiet tears would fall -on the work or the page, while in her ears and in her aching heart -echoed that haunting strain, last heard in Canterbury Cathedral on that -never-to-be-forgotten Sunday after their marriage:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Hear my prayer, O Lord, incline thine ear:</div> -<div>Consider, O consider the voice of my complaint.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It seemed now to have been prophetic!</p> - -<p>She never spoke to Roger of these her dark hours, nor he to her of his -own; but they both knew. There was no need of words.</p> - -<p>Rather, in those precious minutes when they were together, they -recalled that brief interlude at St. Margaret’s, those “immortal hours” -when little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Miss Culpepper had hovered around them like a quaint, -tutelary goddess.</p> - -<p>“I’ve had another letter from Miss Culpepper,” Grace told him one day. -“Full of flourishes as usual, dear old thing. She’s so upset at the -idea that I haven’t even one maid that if I said half a word I believe -she would come up herself and take charge of me!”</p> - -<p>“I wish you would say the half word, darling,” Roger urged, not for the -first time.</p> - -<p>“I know; but I really can’t. Think of her here in London; it would -be like pulling up a little old silver birch from a forest glade and -sticking it in Shaftesbury Avenue!”</p> - -<p>“I hate to think of your being alone,” he said wistfully.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t think of it! I’m a great deal better by myself than I -should be with anyone else in the world just now. And I have lots of -visitors: daddy pretty often, of course, and Winnie when she is at -home, though she’s been away so much lately—more engagements than ever -this winter, and most of them in the country, worse luck!”</p> - -<p>“So Austin’s left at a loose end, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so. I haven’t seen him for some days. Winnie will be back -for Christmas.”</p> - -<p>“You’re going to her then?” he asked quickly.</p> - -<p>“I’m going about with her. As usual, we shall have quite a big -day—a midday dinner in Bermondsey, high tea and a Christmas tree -at Battersea, and a beano for the <i>padre’s</i> poorest, and possibly -blackest, sheep in the evening. Winnie will be a bright particular -star, of course—they’d keep her singing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> for hours if they could! -While I shall be just an all-round helper, in my old canteen get-up.”</p> - -<p>“Good! I shall be thinking of you all the time. But don’t wear yourself -out, darling,” he said tenderly.</p> - -<p>It was no new thing for her to devote herself through most of -the season of conventional “festivity” to the poorest of her -fellow-creatures, bringing a few hours of mirth and warmth and good -fare to the starving and the squalid, giving to many of them fresh hope -and strength that perhaps might help them to struggle out of the abyss -of misery and destitution into which they had fallen.</p> - -<p>Last year he had been with her, and a wonderful experience it was—an -utter revelation to him of the grim underworld of humanity here in the -greatest city of the world, the very heart of “Christian” civilization! -Very many of the guests they had then helped to entertain had passed -most of their lives in prison: now the prison walls had closed around -himself. He indeed was innocent; he had not sunk into the grim -underworld—had not as yet endured the lot of a common convict; but -already he could sympathize, as never before, with the prisoners and -captives, with all who suffered, whether for their own sins or for the -sins of others.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shan’t wear myself out,” Grace assured him. “I shall be happier -on duty. Mother is going down to Hove, as usual, and insists on father -going too. He doesn’t want to, but it’s less trouble to give way than -to argue the point; and the change may do him good. He’s not very fit, -poor daddy!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<p>In fact that poor professor was having a very trying time at home, -for Mrs. Armitage furiously resented the fact that he had contributed -the utmost amount he could raise to the fund for Roger’s defence, and -on the rare occasions when she saw her daughter made Grace writhe -under the sense of obligation, that was far more distressing than any -consideration of her mother’s utter lack of sympathy; she had been -accustomed to that from her early childhood, and it had long ceased to -hurt her.</p> - -<p>It did seem hard that she should feel more humiliation in accepting -this loan from her own people than in accepting those from -friends—Austin Starr and the Winstons and the dear jolly <i>padre</i>, -Mr. Iverson, who had all been as good as their word. But she never -let Roger have a hint of this; kept from him, so far as she could, -everything disquieting, even the fact that there was still a lot of -money needed, and had begged Mr. Spedding, the lawyer, not to reveal -this to him.</p> - -<p>“We shall have quite sufficient in good time, by the New Year,” she -assured Spedding, on such occasions as the point was raised in the -course of their many conferences.</p> - -<p>She had already made arrangements to raise the utmost possible on their -wedding presents, and everything else of value that they possessed; -also, if necessary, to sell up the furniture they had bought so gaily -and lovingly in the months before their marriage, and so break up the -home which, to “get ready for Roger” had been her great solace in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -awful interval; and where she was now living frugally as any nun, -denying herself everything beyond the barest necessaries of life, in -order that she might save.</p> - -<p>And with all this there would not be enough. Where the balance was to -come from she did not know, racked her poor brains to discover, sought -to buoy her mind with the faith that her prayers would be answered, -that help and guidance would come in time.</p> - -<p>She brooded anxiously over it again to-day as she made her way back to -Westminster. As usual, after parting with Roger reaction followed the -joy of the meeting, and a sense of utter desolation was upon her. If -Winnie had been at home she would have gone along to Chelsea before -returning to the loneliness of the little flat at the very top of a big -block. As it was, she lingered aimlessly outside the station, staring -with sad, unseeing eyes into the nearest shop window, then made her way -through to St. James’s Park, and sat down on the seat inside the gates -by the bridge.</p> - -<p>It was a chilly, wistful winter afternoon, the westering sun showing -like a dim red ball through the haze. Very few people were about; near -at hand there were but two strolling towards her—a young couple in -earnest conversation.</p> - -<p>She looked at them dully, then with quickened interest, as she -recognized the man as Austin Starr, bending from his great height to -listen attentively to his companion—a very attractive-looking girl, -even in the distance, who was talking with animation. Any casual -observer would have imagined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> them a pair of young lovers, and Grace -felt an instant and curious sense of dismay.</p> - -<p>It flashed to her mind that she had not seen Austin once at the -Winstons’ flat during the few days’ interval when Winnie had been at -home, though for months before their engagement, which had come about -so suddenly in the midst of her own trouble, there was seldom a day -that he did not turn up early or late, for a few minutes at least. Also -that Winnie had been strangely reticent about him, though, absorbed in -her own anxieties, she had not given a second thought to that.</p> - -<p>As they drew near she half rose from her seat, but resumed it. They -passed, evidently too intent on each other to spare a glance for anyone -else, and as they did so she heard the girl say, in a rich, vibrant -voice, peculiarly distinct in the quietude:</p> - -<p>“It may be as you say, but what does Sir Robert want with him?”</p> - -<p>Sir Robert! Of whom were they speaking? Could it be Sir Robert Rawson?</p> - -<p>She could not hear Austin’s reply, and though she started up -impulsively she did not follow them—merely watched them cross the -bridge and disappear from view.</p> - -<p>She guessed that the girl was Cacciola’s niece, whom Austin certainly -had mentioned when he told her of his visit, and of the disappointing -result of his inquiries up to the present, but only in a casual manner. -He must have developed the acquaintance swiftly in these few weeks!</p> - -<p>She walked slowly back, turning the matter over in her mind -perplexedly. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There’s a lady waiting to see you, ma’am,” said the lift-man, a -cheery, grizzled old veteran, and one of her staunch admirers.</p> - -<p>“Waiting—where?”</p> - -<p>“Why on the landing outside your door, ma’am. Sitting on a box she came -with. I wanted her to come down to my missus, knowing you were out, but -she wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>He swung open the lift-gates and Grace stepped out.</p> - -<p>There, outside her door, as he had said, sitting on a small tin box, -with an open basket beside her and something that looked like a little -black fur muff cuddled in her arms—cold, tired, travel-stained but -quite cheerful—was little Miss Culpepper!</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">AN OLD ROMANCE</span></h2> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carling, don’t be vexed with me!” cried Miss -Culpepper, rising and fluttering towards Grace. “I’ve been fretting so -about you being here all alone, and now I’ve had the good fortune to -let the cottage for three months, and all the money paid in advance, I -felt I must come straight up, without asking your permission. And—and -I’ve brought Dear Brutus too. He’s been so good through the journey.”</p> - -<p>“You darling!” cried Grace, and just hugged her, kitten and all. “Come -in. How cold and tired you must be! And, oh, how glad I am to see you!”</p> - -<p>Indeed, there was no one in the world, save Roger himself, whom she -would have welcomed more gladly at this moment than the quaint little -woman. It was extraordinary how her very presence dispelled that -tragic, unutterable loneliness which had always hitherto assailed her -when she returned to this her solitary nest, so lovingly prepared for -the mate who might never come home to it.</p> - -<p>As she flitted about, preparing tea for her unexpected guest, despite -Miss Culpepper’s protests that she “hadn’t come to be waited on,” -caressing Dear Brutus and laughing at his antics, listening to the -old lady’s vivacious account of her journey, of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> new tenants, and -of the arrangements made for Cleopatra, whom Miss Culpepper had left -as a “paying guest” with her friend at St. Margaret’s, she felt more -cheerful than she had done since the day when the black shadow fell on -her and Roger, eclipsing their honeymoon, severing them perhaps for -ever.</p> - -<p>If Miss Culpepper had had her own way she would immediately have taken -possession of the diminutive kitchen, and remained there, but that -Grace would not hear of for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, I want you to treat me just as an ordinary servant, except -that I don’t want any pay or to be a burden on you in any way,” the old -lady declared. “You see, I was in service all my life, with very good -families, too, till I saved enough money to buy the cottage and set up -for myself. So I do know my place, dear Mrs. Carling, and I shouldn’t -have assumed to come to you, uninvited, under any other circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“You’re going to stay as my dear and honoured and most welcome guest,” -Grace assured her. “And I promise you that in every other respect you -shall have all your own way, and cherish me as much as ever you like, -when you are rested.”</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper’s anxious, loving old eyes had already noted the changes -which these weeks of sorrow and anxiety had wrought in the girl since -those few days of radiant happiness at the cottage. She looked, indeed, -more beautiful than ever, but with a pathetic, etherealized beauty, -fragile to a degree.</p> - -<p>“It’s high time somebody came to take care of her; she’s on the -very verge of a breakdown,” Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> Culpepper inwardly decided, and -unobtrusively entered on her self-imposed labour of love. Within -twenty-four hours she and Dear Brutus were as much at home in the -little flat as if they had lived there all their lives—and the -cheerful confidence with which she regarded the future, as it concerned -Roger and Grace, was an unspeakable comfort to her young hostess, while -her amazing phraseology was entertaining as ever, and provided Grace -with a new occupation—that of committing to memory the quaintest of -the old lady’s expressions in order to retail them to Roger when next -she visited him.</p> - -<p>“Never fear that everything will be made clear in the long run, and -your dear husband triumphantly vitiated,” she declared. “It’s terribly -hard for you both now, but keep your courage up, <i>mettez votre -suspirance in Dieu</i>: that means ‘put your hope in God,’ as I dare say -you know. You’ll wonder where I picked up such a lot of French,” she -continued complacently. “It was when I was a girl living in Paris with -one of my ladies, and I’ve never forgotten it in all these years.”</p> - -<p>She sighed, and lapsed into silence, gazing meditatively into the fire. -Grace, lying on the sofa, with Dear Brutus curled up in her arms, -watched the wistful, gentle old face, and wondered what the little -woman was pondering over.</p> - -<p>“How long were you in Paris?” she asked presently.</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper started, and resumed her knitting with a slightly -flurried action.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I was <i>relevée</i> in the past,” she confessed. “I was only -there for about two years—the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>very happiest in all my life: at least -the last year was. Then my lady’s husband died suddenly—he was Sir -Henry Robinson, who had a post at the Embassy, a very nice gentleman -though a little pomptious sometimes—and the establishment had to be -broken up. I came back to England, and soon got another place, a very -good one—again with a lady of title, where I stayed for many years. -And—and that’s all!”</p> - -<p>Again she was silent, apparently absorbed in her knitting, but Grace -saw two tears roll down her withered cheeks, and wondered more than -ever what train of remembrance had roused the old lady’s emotion, -though she did not like to question her further.</p> - -<p>They both started as the front door bell sounded.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go,” said Grace, rising, “I expect it is my father.”</p> - -<p>It was not the professor, but a small, spare, very neatly dressed old -man, whom at first she did not recognize.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Carling?” he asked. “I must introduce myself, madam. My name is -Thomson.”</p> - -<p>She knew him then, though she had only seen him once previously, when -he had given evidence at the police court on the return of the stolen -papers to his master, Sir Robert Rawson.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Thomson!” she exclaimed. “You—you have come from Sir Robert -Rawson?”</p> - -<p>“Not precisely, madam; though I am in Sir Robert’s service. I came on -my own account to beg the favour of a few minutes’ conversation.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. Do come in,” she said, her pulses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> fluttered with the wild -hope that this old servant, whom Roger so liked and trusted, might have -something of importance to communicate.</p> - -<p>As he followed her through the little hall he glanced with an -expression of surprise at a hat and coat hanging there, which he -recognized as Roger’s; at several walking-sticks in a rack, at a sling -of golf clubs in the corner, and, as he entered the dining-room, looked -across at once at the writing-table by the window, and the little table -with pipe-rack, tobacco jar, and match stand beside it.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, madam,” he said quickly, “but is Mr. Carling at home—has -he been released?”</p> - -<p>Grace turned in surprise.</p> - -<p>“No. What makes you ask that, Mr. Thomson?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure I beg your pardon, madam; but I saw Mr. Carling’s things in -the hall and his table there, just as he liked to have it when he was -with Sir Robert, and I thought—I hoped——”</p> - -<p>“They are ready for his home-coming,” said Grace. “Won’t you sit down, -Mr. Thomson? This is my friend, Miss Culpepper. Why, do you know each -other?”</p> - -<p>For Miss Culpepper, who had risen hastily at their entrance, was -staring at Thomson in a most curious and agitated manner. “It can’t -be—yes, it is!” she gasped. “James—James Thomson—don’t you know me?”</p> - -<p>He looked at her inquiringly and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, madam, you have the advantage of me. What name did you say?”</p> - -<p>“Maria Culpepper, that was maid to Lady <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>Robinson when you were Sir -Henry’s valet. I was thinking of you, and of those old days not five -minutes ago. You’ve forgotten me years ago, I can see that, but I’ve -never forgotten you, James, though you never wrote as you said you -would!”</p> - -<p>He put up his gloved hand and rubbed his chin meditatively, then -removed the glove and extended the hand with conventional politeness.</p> - -<p>“To be sure, Miss Maria. I remember you now, though it’s a good many -years ago. I’ve been with Sir Robert near forty years. Strange to meet -you again like this—very strange; and with Mrs. Carling’s permission -I might call some night and have a chat over old times, but I’m a bit -pressed for time just now, and have something urgent and private to say -to Mrs. Carling.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll go at once,” murmured poor little Miss -Culpepper, hastily gathering up her knitting which had fallen to the -floor, and making a courageous attempt to recover her wonted dignity. -“Good night, James. I—I shall be very glad to see you again, as you -say, one of these days.”</p> - -<p>Grace accompanied her to the door, dismissed her with a kiss, and -whispered a word of sympathy, then returned to Thomson, feeling more -bewildered than ever.</p> - -<p>“How very extraordinary that you and Miss Culpepper should be old -friends,” she said, motioning him to a chair.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, madam. Quite so,” he responded, seating himself bolt -upright on the extreme edge of the chair, and holding his bowler hat -on his knees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> “I am sorry I did not remember the old lady at first. -She was quite young then, as I was—a very nice young woman, now I come -to think of it. Indeed, if I remember rightly, I had the intention at -one time of asking her to be Mrs. Thomson, but fate intervened and we -drifted apart.”</p> - -<p>His manner, formal, precise, irreproachably respectful, yet seemed -somehow curiously callous, and exasperated Grace, on behalf of her poor -little friend.</p> - -<p>“Evidently she has never forgotten you, Mr. Thomson,” she said, with -some warmth. “And she is the kindest and most loyal little creature in -the world. She would have made a good and most loving wife.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so, madam. But even at the time I doubted if I was cut out for -matrimony, and I have never seriously contemplated it since.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you come to see me?” she asked point blank, as he paused, and -sat gazing, not at her, but at the crown of his hat.</p> - -<p>“It’s a little difficult to explain, madam,” he said, raising his eyes -for a moment, but without meeting her direct gaze. “And first I beg of -you not to consider it an impertinence. Then—may I ask if Mr. Carling -has ever spoken of me to you?”</p> - -<p>“Often—and always in the very highest terms.”</p> - -<p>“That was like him,” said Thomson, with more feeling in his dry voice -than he had yet exhibited. “Except my master, Sir Robert, there’s no -gentleman in the world I respect so much, or who I’d sooner serve than -Mr. Carling. He was always the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> same, always treated me like a human -being and not a servant, or a stock or stone. Madam, I’d do anything in -the world that I could to serve him!”</p> - -<p>“I believe you, Mr. Thomson. Thank you,” said Grace softly, telling -herself that she had misjudged the man.</p> - -<p>“This terrible charge that has been brought against Mr. Carling has -upset me more than anything has done for years, madam,” he resumed: -“that and the fact that my master believes him to be guilty and has -turned against him altogether. I can’t understand it. Sir Robert ought -to have known him better. I have presumed several times to try to -remonstrate with my master, but he won’t hear a word even from me. -It’s—well, really, madam, it’s been a great grief to me, for it’s the -only serious difference Sir Robert and I have ever had in all the years -that I have served him.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a great comfort to me—and it will be to my husband—to know that -you are so loyal to him, Mr. Thomson,” Grace said earnestly, greatly -touched, but wondering more and more what had prompted the old man to -come to her now.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, madam. Though that is not actually what I took the liberty -of coming here to say,” he responded, as if in some uncanny manner he -had read her unuttered thought. “It was to ask if you have arranged for -Mr. Carling’s defence?”</p> - -<p>A wild hope flashed to her mind.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Thomson! Is it possible that you know of anything—that you have -any information that would help to clear him?”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Unfortunately, I know nothing whatever of Mr. Carling’s movements on -that fatal day, madam, beyond what I have heard and read as stated in -evidence. That was not what I meant. He must have the best defence that -money can obtain.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And I hope—I think—we have arranged that Mr. Cummings-Browne, -the famous K.C., will undertake the defence.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, madam. But I understand that these big legal gentlemen come -very costly; and—I’m sure you will pardon me, and take the question -as it is meant, as confidential and most respectful I do assure you, -but—have you got the money in hand?”</p> - -<p>“The greater part of it; and I shall get the rest by the time it is -needed.”</p> - -<p>“Might I make bold to ask how much is still wanted?”</p> - -<p>“About five hundred pounds,” she replied, watching him perplexedly, -while he continued to gaze down at his hat.</p> - -<p>There was a little pause. Then:</p> - -<p>“That’s what I was afraid of, madam, knowing that Mr. Carling couldn’t -be by any means wealthy,” he said slowly, and putting his hat on the -table, unbuttoned his overcoat and from an inner pocket fetched out a -worn and bulky leather case. “That’s just why I came here to-night, -madam. I’ve thought about it constant for weeks past, but it was a bit -difficult to know how to do it without giving offence—though, in a -matter of life and death, which is what this is, a lady like you and -a gentleman like Mr. Carling wouldn’t take offence where none was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> -meant. I’ve got five hundred and fifty pounds in Bank of England notes; -they’re all my own, they’re not a quarter of my savings—for I’ve had -good wages these many years and never any expenses to speak of, and -I’ve invested well and regular. And now I beg you and Mr. Carling to do -me the honour of accepting this as a loan—and as much again and more -if it should be wanted—to be repaid any time, it doesn’t matter how -many years hence.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke he opened the case, extracted a sheaf of crisp white -bank-notes, opened, smoothed them, laid them on the table, and rose, -adding, “I think you’ll find there are twenty-eight—twenty-seven -twenties and one ten.”</p> - -<p>Grace had listened, too utterly amazed for speech; and now she, too, -rose, in tearful, trembling agitation.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Mr. Thomson, what can I say? It is too noble, too generous! -But—I—we—can’t really——” she cried incoherently.</p> - -<p>“Please, madam, please!” he said, more hurriedly than he had yet -spoken, and edging his way towards the door. “I’m not going to take -them up nor touch them any more. The—the honour and the privilege is -mine, and I’d take it kindly if you wouldn’t mention the matter to Mr. -Carling or to anyone; it’s just between you and me, if you don’t mind, -madam. My respectful duty to Mr. Carling when you’re able to see him, -madam.”</p> - -<p>He was now in full retreat across the little hall, his hand actually on -the latch of the door.</p> - -<p>“Wait one minute,” she pleaded distractedly. “At least let me try to -thank you—try to say what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> I feel and think; or do come back to see -your old friend, Miss Culpepper——”</p> - -<p>But he had the door open and was already outside.</p> - -<p>“Thank you kindly, madam. I would be very glad to call one evening -and have a chat with Maria over old times. And please don’t be so -distressed, madam.”</p> - -<p>With that he was gone, passing like a grey shadow down the staircase, -leaving Grace staring after him through her tears.</p> - -<p>“And he didn’t even let me shake hands with him!” she thought, as she -went in and shut the door.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">THE CHINESE ROOM</span></h2> - -<p>When he reached the street Thomson discovered that he had left his -right-hand glove in Mrs. Carling’s flat. Not worth returning for it, he -decided, thrusting his hand into his overcoat pocket. He would go round -as he had suggested some evening and renew his acquaintance with Maria -Culpepper—little Maria, whose very existence he had forgotten for so -many years. The glove would provide an excuse.</p> - -<p>Strange, indeed, to meet her again in their old age, like a ghost of -the past. As he walked slowly along Buckingham Gate he deliberately -and more or less successfully tried to recall recollections of -those youthful days in Paris, and found it quite an interesting -experiment—as interesting as turning out some old cupboard full of -forgotten relics and rubbish.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she was a pretty little creature,” he concluded. “Cheerful as -a bird, and a nice hand at cribbage she could play too—very nice. -P’r’aps she can still. I wonder where we’d have been now if we hadn’t -drifted apart? It was her fault though; for, now I come to think of it, -I’m pretty sure I did write, and she never answered. Well, well.”</p> - -<p>Still musing, he made his way back to Grosvenor Gardens. It was -nominally his “evening out,” an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> institution Sir Robert had recently -insisted on reviving. Thomson himself wanted no evening out—wanted -nothing but to continue to tend the stricken master whom he served with -such silent, dogged, and dog-like devotion. It was still early, only -just after eight o’clock, and he meant to spend the remainder of this -his leisure evening in his own room, within call if he should be needed.</p> - -<p>As he neared the great house, so silent and dark in these days, with -the shadow of tragedy still heavy upon it, he saw a motor car before -the door, and quickened his pace, fearing that Sir Robert might have -had a relapse and that this was the doctor’s car. He was reassured as -he recognized the car as Lord Warrington’s Rolls-Royce, but at the same -instant experienced a minor shock; for a tall, slender man, wearing -a furred overcoat, approaching from the opposite direction, paused, -looked up at the house, and then knocked and rang. That man was Boris -Melikoff.</p> - -<p>Earl Warrington and Melikoff both visiting Sir Robert together! What -was in the wind now, he asked himself perplexedly, as, unobserved, -he went down the area steps and let himself in at the basement door. -Much-privileged servant that he was, he had for years possessed his own -latchkey, and came and went as he chose, accountable to none but his -master.</p> - -<p>By the back staircase he made his way to the first floor and entered -his own room—a fair sized, comfortable apartment at the end of the -suite occupied by his master, and with a door that led direct into Sir -Robert’s bedroom. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before the fire, in the one easy chair, reading an evening paper, was -a nice-looking fresh-complexioned young man, Perkins, the male nurse, -who, with Thomson himself, took charge of the invalid.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t expect you back so soon, Mr. Thomson,” he said, rising -deferentially. “Sir Robert’s had his dinner all right, and there’s a -gentleman with him now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—Lord Warrington,” said Thomson, removing his overcoat and hanging -it in a cupboard.</p> - -<p>“Really, sir? I didn’t know, of course. I gather that he came -unexpected. But Sir Robert’s expecting another gentleman directly. I -was going to have my supper sent up here as you were out, but now——”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Perkins, you go and have it downstairs, it’s -livelier for you,” said Thomson, kindly enough. “And don’t hurry -yourself. I shall be at hand now if anything’s wanted. Tell them to -send mine up as usual about half-past nine.”</p> - -<p>Seating himself, he picked up the paper, and Perkins promptly -retreated. The servants’ quarters were indeed by far the most cheerful -in that grim house!</p> - -<p>Thomson waited for two or three minutes, then rose, and with his usual -noiseless tread passed through into Sir Robert’s bedroom, illuminated -only by a cheerful fire, and stood, listening intently.</p> - -<p>No sound could be heard from the further room—the “Chinese -Drawing-room,” which did not communicate directly with this—where Sir -Robert and his visitor were; and Thomson moved to the door, opened it -very slightly and stood, again listening. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>Soon he heard far off the tinkle of an electric bell, and rightly -guessed it a summons to Jenkins, the butler, whose soft footsteps -and pursy breathing thereupon sounded ascending the staircase. Then -a murmur of voices from the Chinese Room: Lord Warrington’s cheery -tones, “Well, good-bye, old man! I’m glad indeed to see you so well on -the way to recovery. I’ll look in again soon if I may”; and retreating -footsteps on the thick carpet.</p> - -<p>Swiftly, Thomson emerged from his retreat, crossed the spacious -landing, and entered a door to the left, closing it silently behind -him. This room was in darkness, except for the faint greenish, ghostly -light from a street lamp that penetrated the jade-green silk curtains, -and the air was oppressive with the fragrance of flowers, roses, -violets, narcissi.</p> - -<p>It was Lady Rawson’s boudoir, kept, by Sir Robert’s orders, exactly -as it had been in her lifetime, the flowers frequently renewed, books -and magazines placed there daily, as if ready for their mistress. A -strange, uncanny atmosphere pervaded the luxurious room. The servants -dreaded it, the housemaids whose duty it was to tend it worked in -pairs, and scurried away the moment their task was finished. The -only exception was Thomson himself, who usually arranged the flowers -and periodicals before wheeling his master in for his daily visit, -remaining beside him in imperturbable, unobtrusive attendance.</p> - -<p>Unerringly, stepping as lightly as a cat on the soft carpet, he made -his way across to the opposite wall, where a dark patch showed against -the whiteness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> <i>portières</i> of jade-green velvet that masked folding -doors leading into the Chinese Room. On the other side the doorway was -concealed by magnificent curtains of black and gold embroidery in a -dragon design, that had a very curious feature—one that Thomson had -discovered by pure accident. The eyes of the dragons were pierced with -large eyelet holes, invisible from even a short distance, but through -which a perfect bird’s-eye view could be obtained of the room beyond.</p> - -<p>The doors were closed but not latched, and it was the work of an -instant cautiously to swing them open sufficiently to clear the two -nearest peep-holes, just at a convenient level to Thomson’s eyes.</p> - -<p>Sir Robert was lying on his wheeled couch before the fire, with his -back towards the screened portal and the hidden watcher, who, however, -could see his master’s face reflected in a great lacquered mirror on -the opposite wall. A remarkable face, aged, drawn, but also refined by -these long weeks of suffering and sorrow. Under the short, carefully -trimmed white beard which had been allowed to grow during his illness -his square jaw was firm and relentless, as his steel-grey eyes were -keen as ever beneath their grey penthouse brows.</p> - -<p>He turned his head slightly as the door opened and Jenkins announced</p> - -<p>“Mr. Boris Melikoff.”</p> - -<p>“It is very good of you to come, Mr. Melikoff,” Sir Robert said, with -grave courtesy, extending his hand, over which the young man bowed -respectfully. “I cannot rise to receive you. I am quite helpless as you -see. Will you sit in that chair?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<p>Boris complied. The chair, as Thomson had already noted, was placed so -that the lamplight would fall full on the face of the visitor, leaving -that of his host in shadow, an invariable device of the old diplomatist -at important interviews.</p> - -<p>For a few seconds the old man and the young one looked at each other -warily, like a couple of fencers preparing for a bout, then Rawson’s -stern gaze softened.</p> - -<p>“You are very like my dear wife,” he said quietly, “so like her that -you might almost have been brother and sister rather than cousins.”</p> - -<p>The Russian’s handsome, sensitive face relaxed responsively.</p> - -<p>“Many people have said so, sir, who knew us both,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“You wonder why I sent for you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir—naturally.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally. And yet I myself scarcely know why I did so, except——”</p> - -<p>He paused, and Boris waited. Not for long.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you two trust me?”</p> - -<p>Sir Robert’s deep voice quivered with poignant emotion, and, though -he controlled his features, his eyes betrayed an agony of regret and -reproach.</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know, sir,” stammered Boris. “I think—we—believed—feared -that you were the enemy of our unhappy country; that—in your -position——”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> the enemy of Russia—of the real Russia? Paula could never have -thought that.”</p> - -<p>“She did indeed, sir,” said Boris earnestly. “Or perhaps it would be -more truthful to say that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> believed you set your duty to your -Government above all personal sympathy.”</p> - -<p>“She was right there,” Sir Robert rejoined sternly. “To a man in the -position I once held duty must always come first, if he is to be worthy -of that position. But if she had trusted me—as I never doubted she did -till it was too late—if she had told me what was in her heart, in her -mind, and that she was meeting—wishing to aid—her compatriots, her -kinsfolk, how gladly, how greatly I could have helped her and them! But -she told me nothing—not even of your existence. Yet surely she did -not, she could not, have feared me?”</p> - -<p>“Not personally, sir,” Boris answered slowly. “Paula was absolutely -fearless; also she honoured and—yes, and loved you, though more as a -daughter than——”</p> - -<p>“Than as a wife. I know that. You are very honest, Mr. Melikoff! Well?”</p> - -<p>“But I think—or rather I know—that she wanted to—to play her own -hand herself in a way. To take all risks, and not to involve you——”</p> - -<p>“Not involve me! Do you realize that by her action—her fatal action -in taking those papers—she might have involved the whole of Europe in -catastrophe?”</p> - -<p>“I knew nothing of that, sir,” said Boris dejectedly.</p> - -<p>“Quite so. I have satisfied myself on that point, through sources -quite unknown to you; otherwise you would not be here now but in all -probability would have been deported weeks ago, to meet whatever fate -might be in store for you in your own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> country,” said Sir Robert -grimly. “However, let that pass. Tell me this, Mr. Melikoff—I have a -right to know: you loved each other, you two foolish and headstrong -children?”</p> - -<p>Boris met his searching gaze sadly but steadily.</p> - -<p>“I loved <i>her</i>, Sir Robert; and I have loved her ever since we were -little children together. But she never loved me. I do not think Paula -ever loved any man—not in the sense most of us mean by the word.”</p> - -<p>“Again I believe you, and not without evidence.” He drew towards him -a carved sandalwood casket that stood on a small table beside him, -opened it, and took out a thin packet of letters which Boris recognized -as his own. “I have here a number of your letters to her. I have read -them all. They are not ‘love letters,’ but I know from them that you -loved her, without hope and without reward. Would you like to have them -again? In some ways they are dangerous documents to be in any custody -but your own.”</p> - -<p>He passed the packet to Boris, who took it with a trembling hand.</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert, you are too good—too generous! What can I say?”</p> - -<p>“Say nothing. And if you will take my advice put them in the fire. It -is the safest place for them.”</p> - -<p>Simply as a child Boris obeyed on the instant, and in silence they -watched the packet consumed to a little mass of black ashes.</p> - -<p>“I have but one letter of hers, sir,” said Boris presently. “The last -she ever wrote me, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>therefore most precious. It is very brief. -Would you—care to read it?”</p> - -<p>He unfolded the letter—it was but a half-sheet—with a lingering, -reverent touch, and held it towards Sir Robert.</p> - -<p>“No, no, keep it, lad. It is yours and sacred,” the old man said after -a moment’s hesitation. “As I have said, I believe you and trust you. -That was the only one she wrote?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, sir! There were several others. Mere formal notes like this, -in Russian or sometimes in French. I ought to have destroyed them at -once—she told me to; and they are lost, or they have been stolen from -me.”</p> - -<p>“Stolen!”</p> - -<p>“I fear so, sir, though when or how I cannot say. I was ill, very ill, -for a time after Paula’s—death. They were in an escritoire in my -bedroom, and after I recovered I found they were gone.”</p> - -<p>“Do you suspect anyone?”</p> - -<p>Boris shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Impossible to suspect the good friend with whom I live, or any of -my visitors. I have wondered sometimes whether, in my delirium, I -might not myself have destroyed them, on some subconscious impulse, -remembering that she had told me to burn them. They could not possibly -be of any value, or of any danger, to anyone. Except to myself, they -were quite meaningless, and with nothing but the hand-writing itself to -show by whom they were written.”</p> - -<p>“Strange,” mused Sir Robert. “You are sure they were as harmless, as -meaningless, as you say?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Quite sure. And may I say this, Sir Robert? I am certain that when -Paula took those papers from your safe—as I fear there is no doubt she -did—that it was the very first time she had done or attempted to do -such a thing: that she yielded to a sudden and overwhelming temptation.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could believe that,” said Sir Robert with stern sadness.</p> - -<p>“You may believe it, sir, for it is the truth. She would have told -me of any such attempt, and I give you my word—believe it or not -as you choose—that I should have attempted to dissuade her. I am a -fighter—or I was one, when I could fight and could see my enemy—but -I am no intriguer, nor was she really. She bewildered me often by her -romantic schemes—they were so wild, so vague—but I humoured her in -them, because I loved her, because it brought her nearer to me. It—oh, -how can I put it?—it was like child’s play, though she herself was so -much in earnest.”</p> - -<p>“Child’s play!” echoed Sir Robert bitterly. “Child’s play that cost her -life, and that will cost the life of the one whom, next to her, I cared -for most in this world! I tell you, Melikoff——”</p> - -<p>He broke off, and Boris looked at him in surprise and apprehension. -But Sir Robert was not looking at him; he was staring into the big, -lacquered mirror, and his face had become absolutely expressionless.</p> - -<p>“One moment,” he said quietly, and touched a button of an electric -bell-stand on the table beside him, without removing his gaze from the -mirror.</p> - -<p>“Can I do anything?” Boris began, and paused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> as Sir Robert lifted his -hand warningly. He appeared to be listening intently.</p> - -<p>In about a couple of minutes Thomson entered the room.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s you, Thomson,” said Sir Robert quietly. “I thought you were -out?”</p> - -<p>“I returned some time ago, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Where is Perkins?”</p> - -<p>“Downstairs at supper, Sir Robert.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Will you put on the lights in Lady Rawson’s boudoir? Go through -this way, please,” Sir Robert added as Thomson moved towards the door -by which he had entered.</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” he answered, and imperturbably drew back the dragon -curtains, pushed back the partly opened doors, switched on the lights -in the inner room, and returned for further orders.</p> - -<p>“I should like you to see that room, Mr. Melikoff,” said Sir Robert. -“It is my dear wife’s boudoir. Will you come with me? Wheel me in, -Thomson.”</p> - -<p>As Thomson obeyed, his master’s keen glance swept over the beautiful -room.</p> - -<p>“The outer door is open. Close and lock it and give me the key,” he -commanded, and, when Thomson had complied, added, “thank you. That will -do for the present. I will ring when I need you again.”</p> - -<p>Thomson retreated through the Chinese Room, went to the bedroom and -mechanically tended the fire, then to his own room, where he sat down -and waited.</p> - -<p>It was half an hour or more before he was again summoned, and then he -found Sir Robert alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> The dragon curtains were still pulled apart, -but the folding doors of the boudoir were closed and locked.</p> - -<p>Master and man looked steadily at each other for a good half-minute, -then Sir Robert said:</p> - -<p>“For how long have you been in the habit of spying on me, Thomson?”</p> - -<p>“I have never done such a thing before, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! I wonder if that is true? It is something at least that you do -not attempt to deny that you were spying on me to-night. Why did you do -it?”</p> - -<p>“Need you ask that, Sir Robert? It was by chance that I discovered that -Russian gentleman was coming to see you. I thought it a very dangerous -thing for you to see him alone.”</p> - -<p>“When I pay you to ‘think’ I’ll tell you so,” Sir Robert replied icily. -“I am still able to think for myself, Thomson.”</p> - -<p>A quiver of emotion passed over Thomson’s usually passive face.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Sir Robert; it was an error of judgment on my part. It -shall not occur again. I—I have served you faithfully these many -years.”</p> - -<p>“I never said you hadn’t. But remember in future, please, that excess -of zeal is sometimes more dangerous than a deficiency of that otherwise -excellent commodity. And now you had better call Perkins to help you -put me to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” said Thomson.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">A PEACEMAKER</span></h2> - -<p>On Christmas morning Grace Carling knelt before the altar in -Westminster Abbey, where, as usual at this early service, there were -but a few worshippers.</p> - -<p>Through the vast, dim spaces above, beyond the radiance of the lighted -chancel, the soft coo of the pigeons outside was distinctly audible -above the low tones of the ministrant priest. Of other sounds there -were none; the very spirit of peace seemed to brood over the glorious -old place, the spiritual heart of England to-day as through so many -long, long centuries.</p> - -<p>There was peace in Grace Carling’s heart for the moment, renewed -strength and courage for the long ordeal through which she and her -beloved were painfully passing. She knew that at this hour, yonder -in the prison chapel, such a little distance away in reality, Roger -himself would likewise be kneeling; and, as always at these times, they -were very near to each other, in that spiritual communion which, to -those who have experienced it, is a sublime and eternal fact, albeit a -fact that even they can neither explain nor understand.</p> - -<p>When she went out presently with the words of the benediction still -lingering in her ears, her pale face was serene and beautiful as that -of an angel. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> - -<p>There were very few people about at this early hour—a mild, grey -morning, with the great towers of Westminster looming through the -haze like those of some dim, rich city of dreams. She walked swiftly, -absorbed in thought, and as she reached Buckingham Gate came face to -face with Austin Starr.</p> - -<p>“Why, what an early bird!” she said, smiling up at him.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been around to your place with some flowers—spring flowers, that -mean hope! I guessed you would be at church, and wanted you to find -them to greet you,” he explained.</p> - -<p>“That was dear of you, Austin; just like you. Have you breakfasted? No? -Then come back to breakfast with me, do. You haven’t met my dear little -Miss Culpepper yet.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, I’d like to. Is that the old lady I saw right now? She looks a -real peach.”</p> - -<p>“She’s priceless, and such a comfort to me. What a long time since I’ve -seen you, Austin. I began to think you were forgetting me.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t do that,” he assured her earnestly. “But I’ve been very -busy and very worried. I’ll tell you all about it directly, if I may.”</p> - -<p>He did look worried—she had noticed it at once—but there was no -opportunity to say more at the moment, as they had reached the lift.</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper came running out at the sound of Grace’s key in the lock.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear, a gentleman has been with a mass of such beautiful -flowers and a great basket of fruit!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I know. Here he is, come back to breakfast. Miss Culpepper—Mr. Austin -Starr. Now go in to the fire, Austin, and make yourself at home—you’ll -find Dear Brutus on the hearthrug, I expect—while I take my hat off.”</p> - -<p>“Pleased to meet you, Miss Culpepper,” said Austin. “Mrs. Carling has -just been telling me what a great comfort you are to her, and I can -well believe it. We all hated her to be living here all alone. Why, did -you expect me or is someone else coming?”</p> - -<p>His quick eyes had noted that the table was laid for three persons, and -already adorned with his own gifts.</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper paused in the act of laying another place, and put her -finger to her lip mysteriously, with a significant glance towards the -door.</p> - -<p>“That’s Mr. Carling’s place,” she whispered. “It’s always laid ready -for him at every meal. It pleases her, and I think it’s a beautiful -idea really.”</p> - -<p>Austin nodded sympathetically, but felt troubled nevertheless. The -thought occurred to him that “if things went wrong with Roger”—the -only way in which at present, even to himself, he would acknowledge the -probability of Carling being convicted of the crime with which he was -charged—Grace would surely die, or lose her reason.</p> - -<p>He felt somewhat reassured, as to her mental state anyhow, when -she re-entered, looking so cheerful, so self-possessed, yet, alas! -physically so fragile.</p> - -<p>She seemed perfectly normal, and yet he noticed how often she glanced -at that vacant place with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> chair drawn up before it, with such a -curious expression in her eyes, as if she indeed saw Roger sitting -there in the flesh. It was absolutely uncanny.</p> - -<p>“Now what’s the trouble, Austin?” she asked, when the simple meal was -at an end, and Miss Culpepper retreated with the breakfast things, -leaving them together. She had drawn up a chair for him in front of the -fire, and he knew that the vacant easy one was reserved for Roger, that -“shadowy third.”</p> - -<p>“First it’s about Roger. I’ve been following up every trail I could -think of, Grace, and every one of them has led just nowhere. I seem to -get up against a blank wall every time. I’ve even been to Snell again, -but he can’t or won’t help; and sometimes I feel just about in despair!”</p> - -<p>She met his troubled gaze serenely.</p> - -<p>“I know you are leaving no stone unturned, Austin, and that the reason -why you have not been to see me was because you had discovered nothing -at present. But don’t let it trouble you. We must just go on keeping -our hearts up, trusting and waiting. That’s sometimes the hardest -thing in life, but it’s got to be done. And Roger will be cleared, how -or when I do not know—yet: only that he will be saved, freed, his -innocence established before the whole world!”</p> - -<p>“You’re wonderful, Grace! I wish to heaven I had such faith.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t live without it,” she said simply. “We all seem to be -moving in a terrible fog, or, rather, to be so enveloped in it that -we can’t move,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> we don’t know which way to turn! But the fog’s going -to lift, the sun’s going to shine—in time! Have you seen much of the -Cacciolas lately?”</p> - -<p>“Not for the last few days. I’ve been in and out a good deal, have got -to know them pretty well, and the more I know them the better I like -them—even young Melikoff—and the more I’m convinced that none of -them had any more to do with that unhappy woman’s death than you or -I had, and know no more about it. They seldom speak of it now—never -when Boris is there. Lady Rawson seems to have had a sort of malign -influence over him, which Maddelena resented bitterly; so did the -<i>maestro</i>, for all he’s so gentle and tolerant, dear old man!”</p> - -<p>“Was that Miss Maddelena I saw you with last week?” asked Grace quietly.</p> - -<p>“Saw me with her—where?”</p> - -<p>“In St. James’s Park. I was sitting down. You passed quite close to me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes! I did meet her one day, by pure chance. I never saw you. -Curious too, she was very upset because Boris had had a letter from Sir -Robert Rawson asking him to go and see him, and she didn’t want him to -do so.”</p> - -<p>“Did he go?” asked Grace quickly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know—I haven’t seen or heard from any of them since. But if -he did, and anything transpired that would give us any light, Maddelena -would have got it out of him and sent word to me—sure.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder why Sir Robert wanted to see him,” mused Grace, “and why Miss -Maddelena didn’t want him to go?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<p>He smiled.</p> - -<p>“She was afraid it would upset him. She’s very fond of Boris, and -that’s why she was so jealous of Lady Rawson’s influence over him. As a -matter of fact, she’s made up her mind to marry him, and I guess she’ll -have her way! She’ll be a charming and a jolly good wife too, though it -will be a case of ‘one who loves and one who graciously permits himself -to be loved.’ They’re going to the States in the spring; Cacciola’s -just fixed up a season in New York, where Boris will make his début, -and then they’ll go on tour. I bet Maddelena comes back as Mrs. -Melikoff. She’s just about the most masterful young woman I’ve ever -met, though a real good sort too.”</p> - -<p>He smiled again, indulgently and reminiscently, then sighed.</p> - -<p>“Cacciola wanted Winnie to go with them,” he continued slowly, staring -fixedly at the fire; “but I gather she’s refused. It would have been -a big chance for her; and besides, I’ll have to go over myself in the -early spring. We could all have gone together, and she’d have met my -mother and sisters, and—— But now of course——”</p> - -<p>He turned to Grace with startling suddenness. “Grace, do you know that -Winnie’s giving me the frozen mitten?”</p> - -<p>“Giving you the—what?” she echoed in sheer surprise.</p> - -<p>“That she’s turned me down. I haven’t even seen her since the day after -she came back from Bristol.”</p> - -<p>“Nor have I, or only for a few minutes between whiles. She’s been away -most of the time, with all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> these provincial engagements—only got back -late last night; she rang me up.”</p> - -<p>“Did she say anything about me?”</p> - -<p>“No, only that she hadn’t seen you. I’m going to help down at -Bermondsey. Aren’t you coming too?”</p> - -<p>“No—I don’t know. She hasn’t asked me. Fact is, she hasn’t answered my -letters—she’s simply ignored me. I went around yesterday, and her maid -said she wasn’t at home, though I’m plumb certain she was all the time. -Then I rang up, and again the maid answered and said Winnie had gone to -bed, and again I didn’t believe her. Why is she treating me like this? -I can’t understand it. It’s worrying me no end. I’d have tried to find -out from George, but he’s in Paris, as you know.”</p> - -<p>Grace nodded.</p> - -<p>“When did you see her last?”</p> - -<p>“I told you—the day after she returned from Bristol. It was at -Cacciola’s, as it happened, and she came on here to you afterwards. -I came with her as far as the lift, but she’d scarcely speak to me, -though <i>why</i> I don’t know to this moment.”</p> - -<p>He looked so utterly forlorn and lugubrious that Grace had to smile, -while she rapidly reviewed the situation and recalled her own vague -suspicions.</p> - -<p>“You say you last saw her at Cacciola’s,” she mused. “What happened -there?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing that I know of,” he asserted earnestly. “They were singing—or -Boris was—when I got there, and I didn’t see Winnie at first; she was -sitting in a dark corner.”</p> - -<p>“H’m! And Miss Maddelena was there?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?”</p> - -<p>“Does Winnie know what you’ve just told me—about Mr. Melikoff and -Maddelena?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know—how should I? I’ve told you I haven’t seen her since. -What’s that got to do with it, anyhow?”</p> - -<p>“Quite a lot, perhaps. Look here, Austin, I’ll be quite frank with -you. When I saw you and Miss Maddelena—if it was she—last week, -until I recognized you I really thought you were—well, just a pair of -sweethearts. You really appeared to be on such very confidential terms!”</p> - -<p>“Great Scott! Why I—she—it’s only her way! She’s impulsive, -affectionate with people she likes, even when they’re only casual -acquaintances like myself. The old man’s the same. See here, Grace, you -don’t mean that you think Winnie’s jealous—jealous of Maddelena?”</p> - -<p>She laughed outright. She couldn’t help it. His consternation and his -air of injured innocence were so comical.</p> - -<p>“I think it highly probable, my dear Austin.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s absurd!” he protested. “And it’s not a bit like Winnie.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it? I’m afraid you don’t know much about women, Austin, even -though you <i>are</i> a novelist, and psychologist, and all the rest of it.”</p> - -<p>He laughed too, then, somewhat ruefully:</p> - -<p>“I guess you’re about right. You generally are. Question is—what’s to -be done?”</p> - -<p>“What did you send her for Christmas?”</p> - -<p>“Only some flowers and candies. I took them around myself last night -and left them. But I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> got this.” From his waistcoat pocket he -extracted a dainty little morocco case, opened it and passed it to -Grace, adding sheepishly, “You see, I wanted to give her this myself, -if she’ll only see me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how beautiful!” Grace cried, as she examined the ring—a superb -sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.</p> - -<p>“Sapphire’s her favourite stone, and just the colour of her eyes, that -wonderful deep blue,” he said. “I bought it weeks back, and have been -carrying it around ever since, waiting the opportunity to give it her.”</p> - -<p>“You are a dear, Austin, and you won’t have to wait much longer. Take -my advice and go straight along to Chelsea now; you’ll catch her before -she starts out for church, and you can go with her. I’m coming along -later. She’ll see you right enough this time.”</p> - -<p>He obeyed with alacrity, and when she had started him off she rang up -Winnie. Martha answered, and asked her to “hold the line” while she -fetched her mistress. A minute later came Winnie’s fresh young voice.</p> - -<p>“That you, Grace, darling? How are you? You’re coming along directly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, in an hour or so, I’ve just had an early visitor—Austin. The -poor boy’s awfully upset.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Why?” Winnie’s tone had become frigid.</p> - -<p>“I think you know well enough, old thing. He’s confided to me that you -seem to have given him the frozen mitten!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<p>A pause. Then, icily:</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand the expression; it sounds exceedingly vulgar!”</p> - -<p>“Win, darling, don’t fence, or pretend not to understand. It’s serious. -I saw something was wrong; I’ve suspected it for some time, and had -no end of trouble to get it out of him. But he says you’ve cut him -systematically ever since you got back from Bristol, that you won’t see -him or answer his letters, and he’s frightfully unhappy about it.”</p> - -<p>“Is he?” Another pause, and what sounded like an angry sob. “It’s all -very well for him to talk, but if you’d seen him as I did, with that -Maddelena Cacciola, when he didn’t know I was there—why I thought he -was going to kiss her in front of everybody! And—and—oh, I can’t -explain, but I—I saw and heard quite enough that day to—to realize -that—I’d made a mistake—or he had.”</p> - -<p>“Winnie, you’re quite wrong! I know all about that, and there’s -nothing in it. Surely you know the Cacciolas well enough by this -time to know how unconventional and—well—effusive they are. Austin -admires the girl in a way, but he says she’s ‘the most masterful young -woman he’s ever met,’ and—he loves you, Win; you know that in your -heart. It—it’s not worthy of you, dear, to mistrust him so—not to -give him a chance to explain. Darling, are you going to let the rift -widen—perhaps to spoil both your lives for nothing—when there’s so -much real sorrow in the world?”</p> - -<p>“I know. I’ve been pretty miserable too, and—I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>don’t know when I -shall see him again,” said Winnie tremulously, and Grace smiled.</p> - -<p>“You’ll see him in about ten minutes, if he’s been able to find a taxi. -He’s on his way to you now. Bye-bye till lunch time.”</p> - -<p>She put up the receiver.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">WHAT GIULIA SAW</span></h2> - -<p>Mr. Iverson’s Christmas party for his poorest, and some of his -“blackest,” sheep was in full swing when Grace arrived there that -evening.</p> - -<p>Outside the Parish Hall a taxicab was standing, unattended, and she -wondered for whom it might be waiting. She entered and stood for a -time, unobserved, among the throng inside the door, for the place was -crowded.</p> - -<p>On the tiny stage was Maddelena Cacciola, a bewitching figure in a gay -<i>contadina</i> costume, singing a merry, rollicking song to her own guitar -accompaniment.</p> - -<p>A roar of applause followed, the rough audience stamping, shrilling, -whistling their delight, till the girl reappeared, beaming at them, and -waved her hands to enjoin silence.</p> - -<p>“Just a little dance now, my friends, and that must be the very last, -please,” she announced; and forthwith Cacciola’s master touch brought -forth real music, even from the old tinpotty piano. And Maddelena -danced.</p> - -<p>Grace watched her, fascinated. How charming, how versatile, how utterly -unaffected she was; and what a consummate <i>artiste</i>! No wonder Austin -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> been attracted by her. Who could resist her? She was glad she -had persuaded Winnie and him not to come on here with her to-night, -but to get into “glad rags” and go to dine and dance at the Savoy. -Her peacemaking effort had been entirely successful, and all was -well with those two whom she loved. Winnie, the sapphire and diamond -ring gleaming on her hand, had been radiant all through that tiring -afternoon, had sung delightfully, had been her most lovable self; but -it was just as well that she should not enter into rivalry with this -irresistible Italian girl!</p> - -<p>The end of the dance evoked another tumult of appreciation, but -Maddelena had vanished, not to return, and the vicar’s jolly voice -boomed out.</p> - -<p>“We’d like to listen all night to the signorina, but we mustn’t be -greedy and work her too hard. Now I vote we have some more tea and -cakes—they’re all ready in the next room—and then we’ll clear for a -dance.”</p> - -<p>In the movement that followed he caught sight of Grace, and made his -way towards her.</p> - -<p>“My dear child, how long have you been here?”</p> - -<p>“Only a few minutes, just in time to help, <i>padre</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the sort; you look tired out. Come along; we’ll find a -chair in a comparatively quiet corner.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not tired, really; I’m happier at work.”</p> - -<p>“I know that,” he said in his fatherly way. “But you mustn’t overdo it, -you know. Where’s Miss Winston?”</p> - -<p>“I persuaded her not to come. She’s been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>singing all the afternoon at -one place and another; we’ve had quite a big day of it, <i>padre</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Just so. And it’s all right here, as it happens. We’ve got the -Cacciolas, as you see, and they’re a host in themselves—dear folk! -Isn’t Miss Maddelena wonderful? Why didn’t you bring your little Miss -Culpepper along?”</p> - -<p>“She’s keeping house with Dear Brutus, and expected an old sweetheart -to tea.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say so! Well, well. Now sit you down, child, and I’ll bring -you some coffee.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got some here; and please, Mr. Iverson, do introduce me to Mrs. -Carling.”</p> - -<p>It was Maddelena herself who joined them, a dark wrap thrown over her -picturesque dress, a big steaming cup of coffee in her hand.</p> - -<p>He complied, and Maddelena smiled down at her, and tendered the coffee.</p> - -<p>“It is for you; I saw how tired you were looking, and brought it -on purpose. Now you must drink it,” she said in her charming, -authoritative way. “And, oh, I am so glad to meet you at last, Mrs. -Carling! I think of you so often.” She drew up another chair for -herself, and the vicar slipped away to resume his duties as host. “You -are so brave, so good—you set aside your so great sorrow and anxiety -and think always of others; and <i>padre</i> has told me. It is wonderful,” -Maddelena continued. “And, oh, I do so wish I could help you! I have so -wanted to come and see you, but I did not like to, as we had never met.”</p> - -<p>“Well, now we have met I hope you will come and see me some day soon, -Miss Cacciola,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> Grace. “I have heard of you too, from my old -friend Austin Starr.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes—that nice Mr. Starr! He is seeking still for fresh evidence -that might help your husband. Has he any success yet?” Grace shook her -head sadly. “Alas! it is a terrible mystery. We sought to help him, my -uncle and I, yes, and even Boris, as perhaps he told you, but we could -discover nothing—nothing at all!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he did tell me, and indeed I am very grateful, Miss Cacciola. It -<i>is</i> strange—terrible—that we can get no fresh light at all. But I -am quite sure that the truth will be revealed. But for that faith I—I -don’t think I could bear the suspense.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know, at the first, Mrs. Carling, I thought—as Boris also -and doubtless very many others did—that your husband must have been -guilty, until I saw him in the police court that day, and then I -knew—though how I knew I cannot tell you—that he was innocent; and I -would do anything in the world that I could to help to prove it. But -what can we do?”</p> - -<p>Grace pressed her hand, keenly touched by the girl’s earnest, impulsive -sympathy, but could find no words to reply. What, indeed could be said?</p> - -<p>“I have wondered often of late,” Maddelena resumed, her dark brows -contracted in thought, “whether our old Giulia would be able to tell -you anything.”</p> - -<p>“Your Giulia? Why, who is she?” asked Grace.</p> - -<p>“My uncle’s housekeeper—in fact our only servant. She has been with -him for many years and is devoted to us all. She is Italian, of course, -a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> peasant, and quite uneducated, but she has—what do you call -it?—clairvoyance, the ‘second sight,’ sometimes, and can see, oh, the -most extraordinary things—for some people!”</p> - -<p>“Really!” Grace exclaimed, almost in a whisper, her heart beginning to -flutter, her eyes searching the girl’s vivid, thoughtful face.</p> - -<p>“Yes. She can see nothing for herself—it is often so—only for others, -and she tells me things that do come true. Many times of late, as I -begged her to, she has tried to see what happened that day, but she has -failed so far. She says she knew, when Paula Rawson left, that there -was tragedy round her; she saw her depart as in a red cloud, and was -half minded to follow her at the time. If only she had done so! But -she disliked and feared her always. And she has never been able to -see anything clearly about it—for me. She says it is because Paula -really does not come into my life at all, except indirectly. It might -be different with Boris, though she has never tried to ‘see’ for him. -He does not know of her powers, and I do not want him to let her try -with him—it might upset, unbalance him again, restore the terrible -influence Paula had over him. You understand that, don’t you? Or you -would if you knew him, and how terribly he has suffered! But I do -believe she might be able to see something for you.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Grace murmured perplexedly. “I don’t know anything about -such things, Miss Cacciola; of course I have heard of clairvoyants.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, fortune tellers and charlatans most of them; but our Giulia is -not like that. It is a real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> gift with her. Oh, if you would come to -see her! Why not come now? She is all alone, and it will be quite -quiet. Or are you too tired?”</p> - -<p>“Tired? Oh, no, indeed,” Grace declared eagerly. “But I should be -taking you away from here.”</p> - -<p>“I’m quite ready to go. They’ll have to do without me for the rest of -the evening,” said Maddelena rising. “We’ve a cab waiting outside, Mrs. -Carling, so I will just find the chauffeur and tell my uncle we are -going. Will you stay here till I return?”</p> - -<p>She flitted away and disappeared among the noisy, merry crowd that -was beginning to drift back from the refreshment-room, to return in a -minute or two accompanied by the taxi-driver.</p> - -<p>“Here we are. I have told the <i>padre</i> that I am going to start you off -home, as I will after you have seen Giulia. Come along.”</p> - -<p>They drove along the Mall, almost deserted on this Christmas night, -a peaceful and beautiful scene with the river at full tide under the -moonlight. The last time Grace had driven along here was on her way -from church on that wedding day that seemed a lifetime ago. Now she -felt as if she were bound on some strange, vague adventure in the world -of dreams!</p> - -<p>The cab turned up a narrow street on the left, and paused at the high -road, held up by a couple of passing trams—paused just outside that -fatal post office. The house was dark, the shop windows plastered with -big posters announcing that the premises had been sold by private -treaty.</p> - -<p>“The horrible place is to be pulled down,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> Maddelena. “That is -well. Mrs. Cave has got another shop about a quarter of a mile away, -nearer the station. She moved there, post office and all, a few days -ago. She is very glad. No wonder.”</p> - -<p>As they crossed the road and drove down the quiet square, Grace, -staring out of the window, could almost imagine that she saw the -ghost-like figure of Paula Rawson gliding along in the shadow—gliding -to her doom—and shivered involuntarily.</p> - -<p>“You are cold!” exclaimed Maddelena solicitously.</p> - -<p>“No. I was only—remembering,” she answered, and Maddelena pressed her -arm with an impulsive gesture of sympathy.</p> - -<p>“You can wait,” she told the chauffeur. “Go down and tell Mr. Withers -you are to sit by his fire till I call you. Take my arm, Mrs. Carling. -We will go slowly up these many stairs. They are trying to a stranger.”</p> - -<p>Grace, indeed, was breathless when they reached the top, and Maddelena -led her straight into the big drawing-room, where the cosy gas fire was -aglow as usual—the Cacciolas loved warmth—switched on the lights, and -pushed her guest into the easiest chair.</p> - -<p>“Now you must have a glass of my uncle’s famous wine and a biscuit. -Yes, yes, I insist, it is here—everybody has to do as I say; Mr. Starr -calls me ‘she who must be obeyed.’ Has he told you that? He is very -funny sometimes, that Mr. Starr, but he is right there. So, drink it up -while I go and prepare Giulia.”</p> - -<p>She found the old woman sitting in her old <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>armchair in the spotless -kitchen—placidly enjoying her Christmas evening playing “patience,” in -company with a flask of Chianti and a dish of salted almonds—bestowed -a hearty kiss upon her, and explained why she had returned so early.</p> - -<p>“But who is it?” protested Giulia. “I do not know that I shall be able -to see for her.”</p> - -<p>“Thou wilt try, dear good Giulia,” coaxed Maddelena. “It will be kind -indeed, for she is in deep distress over the fate of one whom she loves -most dearly. Yes, she is a stranger. I will not even tell thee her -name; it is not necessary: at least thou hast often said so. Let the -light come if it will.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, thou wilt have thy way as usual, <i>carissima</i>,” said Giulia -resignedly, pushing aside her cards. “But she must come to me here.”</p> - -<p>“I will bring her on the instant,” said Maddelena, and returned to -Grace.</p> - -<p>“She is ready. Do you mind coming into the kitchen? She is always at -her best in her own domain. Do you understand Italian? No? Then I must -be with you to translate, for when she ‘sees’ she always speaks in her -own tongue. I will write it down—that will be best. Ah, you have drunk -the wine—that is good. You look just a little bit less like a ghost -now, dear lady. This way.”</p> - -<p>Giulia rose as they entered the kitchen, dropped a quaint little -curtsey, and fixed her dark eyes earnestly on the visitor.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I zink it vill be that I vill see. Zere is light all around -you—ze great protecting light! Vill you sit here at my feet; take off -your gloves and hold my hands—so! Vait now; do not speak!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> - -<p>She pulled out a hassock, on which Grace obediently seated herself. -Giulia took her hands, holding them lightly and moving her own wrinkled -brown ones over them with a curious massage-like movement for a minute -or more, while she continued to gaze searchingly at her. Maddelena, -pencil and notebook in hand, leaned on the back of Giulia’s chair.</p> - -<p>In the silence the slow tick of the clock sounded unnaturally loud; in -Grace’s ears her own heartbeats sounded even louder.</p> - -<p>Then Giulia ceased moving her hands and grasped those of her visitor -closely and firmly, in a grip that occasionally, during the minutes -that followed, became almost painful. Grace saw the light fade from -the old woman’s eyes, leaving them fixed and glassy, like those of -a corpse, till the lids drooped over them and she seemed to sleep, -breathing deeply and heavily. Soon she began to speak, in Italian, -slowly and with difficulty at first, then more fluently.</p> - -<p>Grace, watching and listening with strained attention, could only -understand a word here and there, but Maddelena later gave her the -written translation.</p> - -<p>“There is light all around you—a beautiful light; it is the great -protection; but beyond there is gloom and within it I see a man; he is -your beloved. I think he is young and handsome, but I cannot see him -clearly. I could not see him at all but for the light around you that -penetrates even to him. You stretch hands to each other, striving to -meet—you in the light, he in the darkness—and sometimes the hands -touch, just for a moment. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, the darkness passes a little. I see a large building; many people -are there: it is a Court of Justice. The beloved is apart from you, -from all, in a place by himself; there is but one beside him—I think -he is an officer of police. The light streams from you to him, it gives -him strength and courage.</p> - -<p>“Alas! the darkness gathers; it shrouds you both now—black, black! The -very Shadow of Doom—the Shadow of Death!”</p> - -<p>Maddelena, still writing rapidly, almost mechanically, drew her breath -with a little gasp of dismay, and Grace glanced at her with agonized -eyes.</p> - -<p>“What is she saying?” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“S-sh—wait, it is not the end,” Maddelena whispered back hurriedly. -It seemed a long time, though probably it was not more than a minute, -before Giulia spoke again.</p> - -<p>“The light comes once more, but it is a different light, and the air is -full of the odour of flowers. Now I can see. It is a large, a beautiful -room—larger than the <i>maestro’s</i> music-room. The hangings are green -and the chairs of gold. There are many flowers. A clock strikes—it is -the ninth hour. Hush, there are footsteps and voices, low voices; men -come in softly; I do not know them; they look like great lords. Now -two more enter—one is young and one older; I have seen them before, -but I know not where. You are not there, nor your beloved. Someone is -speaking; I cannot see him, there is a mist rising—a red mist; it -hides all....</p> - -<p>“But the end is not yet. Once more the light comes. It is another room -now—a smaller one. A woman kneels beside a bed. She is very still, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> I cannot see her face, but I think—nay, I am sure—it is thou -thyself, signora; and the light is all radiant above thee—the light -of the ‘great protection.’ There is a little table close by with a -telephone. Listen, it is the bell ringing. The woman rises—yes, she is -thou. It is news, good news. The tears come, but, ah, they are tears of -joy.</p> - -<p>“Here is thy beloved—at last I see him clearly. He is at thy side, he -is free. The shadow has passed away. See, thou art in his arms, and the -light—the glorious light is upon both!”</p> - -<p>Silence once more. Slowly her grasp relaxed—for days afterwards -Grace’s hands showed blue marks from the grip of those strong brown -fingers—she drew a long sigh, shivered, and then slowly opened her -eyes and gazed dreamily at the girl.</p> - -<p>“Vat is it? Vat have I see?” she muttered in her broken English.</p> - -<p>“Thou hast seen much that was very strange and very comforting; thou -hast done well, dear Giulia,” said Maddelena, leaning forward and -bestowing a hug and kiss on her from behind. “Rest now, thou art -exhausted. So, thou shalt sleep for a while.”</p> - -<p>Giulia leant back and closed her eyes again, and Maddelena turned to -Grace, who had risen with difficulty.</p> - -<p>“Come, Mrs. Carling, she will be all right in a few minutes. You are -faint and trembling. No wonder! It was a marvellous séance.”</p> - -<p>“What did she see? What did she say?” faltered Grace, glad of the -support of Maddelena’s strong young arm as the girl led her along the -passage. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I will tell you directly. I have it all down, or nearly all, I think, -but in Italian—there was no time to translate. I will do that and send -it to you to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“It sounded so tragic, so terrible,” said Grace piteously. “I couldn’t -understand, of course; but surely she said something about death—the -shadow of death—when you seemed so upset!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I was afraid for a moment, but the shadow passed in the end. I am -sure, quite sure, she has seen rightly, and that Mr. Carling will be -saved, though how I don’t know and she doesn’t, but listen.”</p> - -<p>Rapidly she turned over her scrawled notes, and read the last part -only, from the description of the room with the flowers and the green -hangings. She thought it kindest to suppress the earlier episodes, and -as a matter of fact did not divulge them fully to Grace until weeks -later.</p> - -<p>“Do you recognize the rooms?”</p> - -<p>“Not the large one,” said Grace perplexedly. “I cannot place it at all. -But the other must be our—my—bedroom: the telephone is there, as she -says. And you say she saw Roger there!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s the very last thing; you are to think of that, dear Mrs. -Carling, whatever may happen. No matter how dark things may be, the -light <i>will</i> come—the ‘great protection’ will be over you both all the -time. So you will never lose courage, even for a moment, will you? Oh, -I <i>am</i> so glad you came!”</p> - -<p>“You dear child!” cried Grace, and kissed her. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And now I am going to see you home—you are tired to death. Well, only -to the station then, if you will have it so. And I may come and see you -soon? We will be friends, real friends, won’t we?”</p> - -<p>When she arrived home, still musing over this strange, almost -incredible, episode, Grace found Miss Culpepper—also playing -“patience”—with a cheerful fire, a dainty little supper, and a loving -welcome.</p> - -<p>“What a long day you’ve had, my dear. You must be worn out,” she said, -fluttering round and helping her remove her wrap.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it has been long, but very interesting. And how have you got on? -Did Mr. Thomson come to tea?”</p> - -<p>“Y-e-s—oh, yes, though he didn’t stay very long. Sir Robert is not so -well, and he was anxious to return. He brought me this—a beautiful -little bit of bigotry, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“This” was an antique brooch, set with pearls, a really exquisite piece -of workmanship.</p> - -<p>“It’s lovely, and suits you perfectly in that lace fichu.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. James always had excellent taste, and I really was very pleased, -and very surprised. But do you know, dear Mrs. Carling, I see a great -difference in him—naturally perhaps after all these years; but—oh, -I don’t know what it is, something I cannot fathom! And Dear Brutus -did behave so badly, spat and swore—<i>swore</i> at Mr. Thomson, till I -actually had to take him out to the kitchen and shut him up there. It -was quite upsetting!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE SHADOW OF DOOM</span></h2> - -<p>The trial of Roger Carling for the murder of Lady Rawson was drawing to -an end. No case heard in the Central Criminal Court had ever created -greater public interest, by reason of the sensational and unique -circumstances of the crime, and the social status of the victim and of -several of the persons involved.</p> - -<p>Also, many of the callous and curious spectators, most of them -fashionably dressed women, who waited for hours in the bitter cold -of those grey winter mornings to gain admission to the court, fully -expected a series of scandalous revelations; for rumours had been -rife of some passionate intrigue between the murdered woman and Roger -Carling, or Boris Melikoff, or both men; and circumstantial lies, -invented by salacious minds, were broadcasted by malicious tongues from -Mayfair and Belgravia to the far suburbs.</p> - -<p>Those prurient anticipations were never satisfied. No fresh -evidence was forthcoming; but as the case developed so the tension -increased, the interest became cumulatively more poignant, more -painful, concentrated on the prisoner, pale and worn but perfectly -self-possessed, and his girl-wife, whose eyes never left his face, and -who seemed utterly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> oblivious of every one and everything else in the -world except during the brief interval when, in the witness-box, she -gave evidence on the important episode of the sudden change of their -honeymoon plans.</p> - -<p>The opening indictment by counsel for the Crown seemed flawless. -Inexorably, with consummate skill, and in absolutely passionless tones, -he reconstructed and related the story of the crime, from the discovery -of the theft of the secret papers to the arrest of the prisoner on the -fourth day of his honeymoon. Calmly, relentlessly he wove the threads -of circumstantial evidence and presented it as a complete web.</p> - -<p>In imagination, those who listened saw Roger Carling enter on his hasty -quest—“Bear in mind the importance that he attached, and rightly -attached, to those missing papers—an importance so tremendous that his -own wedding, the bride who was awaiting him at the very altar, became -secondary considerations!”—followed him as in the increasing gloom he -dogged the footsteps of his victim, watched him pass swiftly through -the shop, unperceived by the other persons there, a circumstance that -sounded almost incredible until its possibility was demonstrated by -the model and plans of the place, which were duly passed to the jury -for examination. Then the fatal stab in that obscure corner, a deed -premeditated, if only for a brief minute before hand, as the weapon -(counsel held up that little tortoiseshell knife) must have been ready -in his hand. It was the work of a moment; it was done not in the heat -of passion, but coolly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>deliberately; and as coolly and deliberately, -having achieved his immediate purpose and regained possession of the -papers, he thereupon not only effected his own escape for the time -being, but, with a resource amazing in its ingenuity, instantly got rid -of his incriminating booty, the recovered papers, in the one way that -might, and as a matter of fact did, effect their safe return to Sir -Robert Rawson, by posting them in the letter-box close at hand!</p> - -<p>“Is it probable—nay, is it possible or even conceivable—that any -other person than the prisoner, the one man in England who at that -moment knew the contents and the inestimable importance of those -documents, would have acted in such a manner?</p> - -<p>“The reaction came, naturally and inevitably. The prisoner’s demeanour, -the agitation he exhibited when eventually he arrived at the church -where his bride awaited him, were precisely what might be expected in a -man who had come straight from the perpetration of an appalling crime, -as they were far in excess of the physical and mental distress that any -ordinary individual would suffer through the accidental inconvenience -and delay experienced in consequence of the fog.</p> - -<p>“Finally, there was a sudden change of plans and of destination -effected after the prisoner and his bride had actually started on their -honeymoon. Why did he not take his bride to the hotel where rooms had -already been booked for them? Because he had begun to realize what the -consequence of his crime would be—feared that he would be arrested -that very night, sought to gain time, a few hours, a few days.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cummings-Browne sprang up.</p> - -<p>“I protest! There is a complete explanation of the change of plans -which will be given in evidence.”</p> - -<p>“My learned friend says the change of plans will be completely -explained in the course of evidence. It will be for you, gentlemen -of the jury, to decide on its significance when you have heard the -explanation, as it will be your duty to weigh the whole of the -evidence.”</p> - -<p>Hour after hour through that day and the next the succession of -witnesses gave their evidence, and were subjected to searching -cross-examination and re-examination by the respective counsel. Those -in court, and they were many, who were familiar with the methods of -the famous counsel for the defence discerned from the first that -Cummings-Browne was on his mettle, fighting for his client’s life -against most desperate odds; for the great mass of evidence provided -corroboration on nearly every point of the theory formulated by the -prosecution; and in refutation of that theory there was practically -nothing except Roger’s own simple, straightforward statement of his -movements, and Grace’s pathetic testimony regarding their change of -plan, for which she insisted that she alone was responsible.</p> - -<p>One point which Cummings-Browne elicited was, that while it was -practically certain that the murderer wore gloves—a fact indicated by -the smears on the bag—Sadler, the taxi-driver, swore positively that -Roger Carling was not wearing gloves when he left the taxi.</p> - -<p>“I noticed how cold his hands looked when he paid me, and wondered that -a well-dressed young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> gentleman didn’t have his gloves on on such a raw -day.”</p> - -<p>Neither old Giulia nor any of the witnesses who were questioned -concerning the time he arrived at the church, and his appearance when -he did arrive, could give any definite information on this matter, -while he himself admitted that he had gloves in his pocket, and very -probably put them on while he was on his way to the church, though -he had no recollection of doing so; but asserted that they were the -same gloves—a pair of grey antelope—that he had worn on his journey -back to Town when he was under arrest, and that were now among the -“exhibits” in court. Those gloves were soiled, but with ordinary wear, -and a microscopic examination proved that there were no incriminating -stains on them, and that they had never undergone any process of -cleaning.</p> - -<p>That circumstance—so small in itself, but of such tremendous -importance when a man’s life depended on it—was duly emphasized by -Cummings-Browne in the course of his three hours’ speech for the -defence—a speech afterwards acknowledged to be the most brilliant, the -most impassioned, the most moving that even he had ever delivered; one -that held his auditors enthralled.</p> - -<p>There was dead silence for a few seconds after he sat down, then a wave -of emotion swept over the crowded court, and a spontaneous murmur of -applause, instantly and sternly suppressed by the ushers.</p> - -<p>Austin Starr, sitting close to Grace, drew a deep breath of relief and -flashed a smile at Roger. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> believed, as many others did at that -moment, that Cummings-Browne had triumphed once more—that Roger was -saved.</p> - -<p>Then, grim and relentless as Fate, counsel for the Crown rose to reply. -Bit by bit, calmly, remorselessly he demolished that eloquent defence, -exposed the slight foundation on which it was based compared with the -mass of evidence that supported the case for the prosecution; dwelt on -the atrocious nature of the crime—“a crime far worse than ordinary -homicide, for which there was often the excuse that it was committed in -the heat of passion; but this was assassination—the cool, deliberate -assassination of a helpless, defenceless woman!”</p> - -<p>After that cold, calm, implacable denunciation came the judge’s -summing-up—grave, reasoned, meticulously impartial. Then the jury -retired.</p> - -<p>One hour, two hours dragged by, each seeming long as a lifetime. Would -they never return? At last at the little movement that heralded the -final scene, counsel and solicitors, Grace Carling and her friends -came in and resumed their places, the judge took his seat once more, -the prisoner reappeared in the dock. Roger stood with shoulders -squared, head erect, lips firmly set, pale indeed, but apparently as -self-possessed as was the judge himself.</p> - -<p>The jury filed in.</p> - -<p>“Guilty!”</p> - -<p>With that one low-voiced word the Shadow of Doom seemed to descend; and -above the subdued sound of sobbing the judge’s deep, solemn voice was -heard asking the prisoner if he had anything to say before sentence was -passed on him. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<p>Roger looked at him full and fearlessly, and answered in tones that -rang through the court:</p> - -<p>“Only this, my lord, that I am absolutely innocent—innocent in thought -as well as in deed—of this appalling crime!”</p> - -<p>As he spoke Grace rose in her place, slowly, silently, till she stood -at her full height, her hands clasped on her breast. There was a -strange, ecstatic expression on her fair face, subtle and inscrutable -as the smile of Mona Lisa, and her eyes were fixed on Roger’s, as, from -the moment he ceased speaking, his were fixed on hers.</p> - -<p>So those two lovers looked at each other while the dread sentence was -pronounced that would part them for ever in this world. They did not -even seem to hear the words of doom.</p> - -<p>Many women, and some men, were sobbing hysterically, none were unmoved; -but still Grace stood like a statue, scarcely seeming to breathe, -gazing no longer at Roger—for he, with the two warders in attendance, -had disappeared—but at the place where he had been.</p> - -<p>Austin Starr slipped his arm round her on the one side, Winnie Winston, -tearful and trembling, on the other.</p> - -<p>“We must get her away,” sobbed Winnie. “Come, darling!”</p> - -<p>She yielded to their touch, walking quite steadily, but as unconscious -of her surroundings as a somnambulist.</p> - -<p>Only when they reached the anteroom and a little crowd of friends -and counsel clustered round her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> she turned her head and looked at -Austin, that faint unearthly smile still on her lips, and said, quite -distinctly:</p> - -<p>“It is not the end. There is still the light—the great protection!”</p> - -<p>With that she swayed forward, and Austin held and lowered her gently to -the floor.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s dead!” cried Winnie, kneeling distractedly beside her. -“Grace—Grace, darling!”</p> - -<p>“She’s only fainted, thank God! It’s better for her,” said Austin -huskily.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">THE LAST HOPE</span></h2> - -<p>In the room that had once been Paula Rawson’s boudoir Sir Robert Rawson -lay on his wheeled couch, drawn up near a blazing fire. Of late he had -extended his daily visits to this room of poignant memories, spending -many hours there, with Thomson or Perkins in attendance on him—usually -Perkins, for since the evening of Boris Melikoff’s visit, when Sir -Robert had detected and rebuked that “error of judgment” in his trusted -old servant, he had not resumed the confidential relations that had -existed between them for so many years. He never again referred, in -words, to the incident, but an impalpable barrier had risen between -master and man that in all probability would never be surmounted.</p> - -<p>Over the mantelpiece hung the famous half-length portrait of Paula -which, entitled “The Jade Necklace,” had been <i>the</i> picture of its year -at the Academy, a masterpiece that showed her in all her imperious -beauty, dressed in a robe of filmy black over which fell a superb chain -of jade beads, the one startling note of vivid colour in the whole -picture.</p> - -<p>For hours Sir Robert would lie and gaze at the portrait that seemed to -gaze back at him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> proud, tragic, inscrutable dark eyes. He was -gazing at it now, and might or might not have been listening as Perkins -conscientiously read aloud column after column from “The Times.” -Perkins read remarkably well—Sir Robert occasionally complimented -him—but he often wondered whether his master really did listen!</p> - -<p>He paused when the butler entered with a visiting card, on which a -brief message was written in pencil below the name: “Entreating five -minutes’ interview on a most urgent and private matter.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Austin Starr,” Sir Robert muttered, frowning meditatively over the -card.</p> - -<p>“There’s a lady too, Sir Robert,” said Jenkins. “I asked her name, but -the gentleman said she would only give it to you.”</p> - -<p>For a full minute Sir Robert pondered, holding the card in his thin -fingers, before he answered slowly: “Very well. Bring them up, -Jenkins.... You can wait in the next room, Perkins.”</p> - -<p>In the interval he looked up again at the portrait, with a strange -expression in his haggard eyes, as if he were mutely questioning it; -but his stern old face was impassive as a mask as he turned it towards -his visitors.</p> - -<p>“I remember you, Mr. Starr; but who is this lady?”</p> - -<p>Grace, for it was she, came forward and raised her veil.</p> - -<p>“I am Roger Carling’s wife, Sir Robert.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her intently. He had seen her once or twice, when she -had been a guest at his wife’s receptions, and he never forgot a face -he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> once seen, but he could scarcely recognize in this pale, worn -woman with appealing, pathetic, grey eyes, the radiant young girl of -such a few months ago.</p> - -<p>“I thought it might be you,” he said slowly. “I am very sorry for you, -Mrs. Carling—and sorry that you have come here to-day. I fear you will -only add to your own distress—and to mine. Why have you come?”</p> - -<p>“To plead with you for my husband’s life,” she cried. “As our very -last hope, Sir Robert! You know—you must know—that the appeal -has failed, the petition to the Home Secretary has failed, and -to-morrow—to-morrow——”</p> - -<p>She faltered and Sir Robert said grimly:</p> - -<p>“To-morrow Robert Carling will pay the just penalty for his crime.”</p> - -<p>Austin clenched his hands in indignation, but dared not speak, dared -do nothing to interrupt this terrible old man, who, if he could be -prevailed upon to intervene, might yet save Roger Carling from the -scaffold. If Grace could not move him, assuredly no one else could!</p> - -<p>“No, no, Sir Robert—he is innocent; you, of all people, should have -known that from the first.”</p> - -<p>“I? I would give everything I possess in this world to be able to -believe that, but I cannot. He has been tried and found guilty. There -is no shadow of doubt that he <i>is</i> guilty, and that knowledge is the -bitterest thing in the world to me, for I loved him, I trusted him as a -son, and he murdered my dear wife!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> - -<p>She fell on her knees beside his couch, stretching out piteous hands to -him.</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert, I implore you to hear me! Roger never raised his hand -against Lady Rawson. God knows who did, but it was not he! The truth -will be discovered some day, I don’t know how or when, but it will; -and if it comes too late—and there are such a few hours, such a few -short hours in which he may still be saved—his death will be at your -door, on your conscience! For you can save him now if you will! Your -influence is so great, if you will but say one word on his behalf the -Home Secretary—the King himself—will listen to you, will respond -to you as to no other man in the world. They will grant a reprieve, -and then, whenever the truth does come out, his innocence will be -established—he will be set free. Sir Robert, I implore you.”</p> - -<p>Again he looked at the portrait, and her agonized eyes followed the -direction of his.</p> - -<p>For a few seconds there was a tense silence. The deathly fragrance -of the masses of flowers in the room seemed to increase till it was -overpowering, suffocating. Then Grace spoke softly, brokenly, not to -the stern old man, but to the woman in the picture.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if only you could speak; if you could but tell us the whole truth! -Do you know—I wonder, I think you may do—how I wept and prayed for -you when I learned of your terrible fate, that overshadowed those -sacred hours of our happiness; how my beloved grieved for you and your -stricken <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>husband, whom he so loved and honoured? If you <i>do</i> know, -then, as a woman, you will know what we suffer, in our great love and -all our sorrow, with the shadow of doom upon us—you will strive to -touch your husband’s heart, to soften it towards us!”</p> - -<p>“Enough!” Sir Robert’s voice broke in harshly. “It is useless for you -to invoke the dead, useless to ask me to intercede for your husband. I -have no power to save him, and if I had I would not exert it; the law -must take its course!”</p> - -<p>Austin stepped forward impetuously.</p> - -<p>“Sir Robert,” he began indignantly, but Grace checked him with a -gesture.</p> - -<p>In some uncanny way she seemed suddenly to regain her composure, and -rose to her feet, standing erect just as she had done in court when the -judge pronounced Roger’s doom. Slowly her glance travelled from the -portrait round the beautiful room, as if she was noting each detail, -and the two men watched her in silence.</p> - -<p>“The room with green hangings and many flowers,” she said softly; “the -room where the truth will be made known—at the ninth hour.”</p> - -<p>“Come away, Grace,” said Austin huskily, moving to her side and taking -her arm. He feared her mind had given way at last under the long strain.</p> - -<p>She looked at him with that faint, inscrutable Mona Lisa smile on her -white face.</p> - -<p>“It is all right, Austin, good friend. I am not mad. Yes, we will -go—to Roger. It was good of you to see me, Sir Robert. I will forget -what you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> have said; you will know better soon—at the ninth hour. -Good-bye. Come, Austin.”</p> - -<p>She moved towards the door, scarcely seeming to need Austin’s support, -and when it closed behind them Sir Robert covered his eyes with his -hand and sank back on his pillows.</p> - -<p>As they went down the wide staircase Thomson silently appeared on the -landing, and, after a moment’s hesitation, followed them. Jenkins met -them in the hall, ceremoniously ushered them out, and opened the door -of the waiting taxi. Austin helped Grace into the cab and was about to -follow her when Thomson crossed the pavement.</p> - -<p>“Half a minute, Mr. Jenkins. Can I have a word with you, Mr. Starr?”</p> - -<p>Jenkins retreated, imagining that Thomson had come with a message from -his master, and Austin turned.</p> - -<p>“Well, what is it?”</p> - -<p>“This way, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Thomson, drawing him a little -aside. “Am I right in thinking that you and Mrs. Carling have been to -ask my master to use his influence on behalf of Mr. Carling?”</p> - -<p>“You are, and he has refused,” said Austin curtly.</p> - -<p>“I feared as much, sir. And there’s no hope that Mr. Lorimer, the Home -Secretary, or the King himself, even now——”</p> - -<p>“None that I can see.”</p> - -<p>“I am very distressed, sir—very distressed indeed, but there’s still -time—while there’s life there’s hope! Could you manage to come round -here again to-night, sir—say at nine o’clock?” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Here! What for?” asked Austin bluntly.</p> - -<p>“I can’t explain, sir. I don’t quite know yet, but if you would -come—ask for Sir Robert—I think there might be someone here—there -might be a chance. Better not say anything to the poor lady, but -perhaps you would give her my best respects, and try to cheer her up -generally. Tell her not to despair.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll come. And you’re a good chap, Thomson,” Austin said earnestly, -though his own hopes were dead. He would have shaken hands with the -little man, but Thomson evaded the proffered grasp and slipped back -into the house.</p> - -<p>Grace asked no question, but sat upright in her corner, with that -strange, unnatural composure still possessing her.</p> - -<p>They were on their way to the prison for their last interview with -Roger, whose execution was fixed for eight o’clock on the following -morning, and Austin, who had fought valiantly in the American Army in -that last year of the Great War, had there seen death in many dreadful -forms—the death of comrades whom he loved—dreaded this interview as -he had never dreaded anything in his life before. Possibly for the -first time in his life he felt an arrant coward, and when the moment -came he was speechless. He just wrung Roger’s hands, bent and kissed -them, and hastily retreated, quite unconscious of the fact that the -tears were rolling down his face.</p> - -<p>It was quite otherwise with Grace. She spoke gently, with a gracious -smile to the watchful warders, whose guard over the prisoner must now -be ceaseless till the end, and then clung to Roger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> raising her lips -to his, her great, grey eyes shining, not with tears.</p> - -<p>“It’s not good-bye, darling,” she said softly. “It’s only till -to-morrow—such a little time—perhaps even sooner—to-night, at the -ninth hour—and we shall be at home together—at last. The light is -coming—the great protection is over us!”</p> - -<p>He thought, as Austin did, that for the time being at least she had -become insane. It was better so, for her sake; but, oh, it was hard! He -had to summon all his fortitude. The iron will that had sustained him -through all these terrible weeks must sustain him to the last.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, my own dear love. God guard you and bring you to me in His -own good time,” were his last words.</p> - -<p>She flashed a radiant smile at him.</p> - -<p>“Till to-morrow!” she said, and with that she left him, passing like -a wraith, quite oblivious of the deep interest and sympathy of the -officials, and of the prison chaplain who accompanied her and Austin to -the outer gates, but with tactful delicacy refrained from speaking to -her. He too thought, “it was better so.”</p> - -<p>Winnie and little Miss Culpepper, pale-faced and red-eyed, were waiting -anxiously for her return. She smiled on them too, as they took off her -outdoor wraps and lovingly tended her.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will have some tea—just a cup. And I’m so tired I’m going to -lie down for an hour or two. You see it won’t do for me to be a wreck -when Roger comes home. That’s nice. Thank you, darlings. You <i>are</i> good -to me. If I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> wake before nine will you wake me then?”</p> - -<p>Like a child she submitted to be wrapped in a rest-gown and tucked up -under the eiderdown on her bed. When Winnie stole in to look at her -presently she was fast asleep.</p> - -<p>“What does she mean about Roger coming home, and that we are to wake -her at nine o’clock?” Winnie asked Austin when she rejoined the others.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. She’s been like that, poor girl, ever since we were with -Sir Robert. He was brutal to her—brutal! I wish we had not gone, but -you know how she insisted on doing so. She just stood and looked around -the room, and I guess something snapped in her poor brain. She said -something then about ‘the ninth hour,’ and it’s a queer coincidence, -but directly after, old man Thomson, Sir Robert’s valet, followed us -and asked me to go back there at nine o’clock—though why, he wouldn’t -say, and I can’t surmise. But I’m going!”</p> - -<p>“Did you tell her about that?”</p> - -<p>“No. He asked me not to. And it didn’t seem any use to talk to her, -poor girl; she was just insensible, as you saw her now, like an -animated corpse.”</p> - -<p>“How is Roger?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t quite say,” Austin acknowledged. “I think he was quite -calm, but—well, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t! The <i>padre</i>—Mr. -Iverson—has permission to stay the night with him. He’ll be there now, -I guess.”</p> - -<p>They spoke in hushed tones, as people do in the presence of death, and -then lapsed into silence, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>sitting hand-in-hand, as unhappy a pair of -lovers as could be found in London that night.</p> - -<p>The evening dragged on. Time after time Winnie peeped into the bedroom, -finding Grace still asleep, until just before nine, when Austin had -departed to keep his appointment, she returned and whispered to Miss -Culpepper that Grace had risen and was kneeling beside the bed.</p> - -<p>“She is very still, but she’s breathing regularly and quietly. Look. -I’ve left the door open. What ought we to do?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t disturb her for a few minutes anyhow,” Miss Culpepper -counselled; and again they waited, outside the door, whence they could -just see the kneeling figure, watching and listening intently.</p> - -<p>The grandfather clock in the hall chimed and struck nine. At the sound -Grace raised her head, then bowed it again.</p> - -<p>Slowly the minutes passed, each, to those distressed watchers, seeming -like an hour. A quarter past nine—half-past nine!</p> - -<p>“I think we ought to rouse her now,” Winnie whispered anxiously. “She -will be quite numb and cramped—if she hasn’t fainted!”</p> - -<p>As she spoke the telephone bell sounded—a startling summons in that -hushed place.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE NINTH HOUR</span></h2> - -<p>Silently, and with his accustomed efficiency, Thomson moved about the -boudoir rearranging some of the furniture. In the centre he placed the -largest of the beautiful ormolu tables, set round it several of the -gilt Louis-Seize chairs, leaving a clear space at the side that faced -Lady Rawson’s portrait; and finally put pens, ink, and paper before -each chair. That done he made up the fire, looked round the room as if -to assure himself that all was in order, and departed, going first to -his own room. There he unlocked a drawer, took out an old cigar-box, -glanced at the contents, and, with the box under his arm, went through -to his master’s bedroom.</p> - -<p>Sir Robert was in bed and sound asleep. He had become restless and -feverish after the departure of Grace Carling and Austin Starr, and -Thomson had taken upon himself to ring up the doctor, who came round -at once, ordered the patient to bed, and administered an opiate, which -took effect immediately.</p> - -<p>Thomson stood for a minute or so looking at his master’s face, stern -even in sleep, then slightly opened the outer door so that he could -hear anyone ascending the staircase, and seated himself near, where he -could still watch the invalid.</p> - -<p>Presently he heard the sounds for which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> listened—a knock and ring -at the front door, soft footsteps outside, and glanced at the clock. -Ten minutes to nine. He did not move, but still waited and listened.</p> - -<p>Jenkins, the butler, acting on the very explicit instructions he had -received, took the visitor up to the boudoir. He was none other than -the Home Secretary, Gerald Lorimer—a tall, thin, aristocratic-looking -man, with alert, clean-cut face.</p> - -<p>He glanced round the room with an air of surprise, sniffed disapproval -of the heavy perfume-laden atmosphere, and asked quickly:</p> - -<p>“Where is Sir Robert?”</p> - -<p>“In bed, sir; he has unfortunately been taken worse. Will you take a -seat, sir; the other gentlemen will be here directly.”</p> - -<p>“Other? Why, who is coming?”</p> - -<p>“Lord Warrington, for one, sir; and, if you’ll excuse me, I think I -hear his lordship arriving.”</p> - -<p>Lord Warrington it was who entered next, and the two greeted each other -with mutual amazement.</p> - -<p>“What’s up now, Warrington? I hear Sir Robert’s ill.”</p> - -<p>“So I hear; but he rang me up, or, rather, that invaluable factotum of -his did so, and said Sir Robert begged me to come here at nine to-night -on a most urgent matter, so I came of course.”</p> - -<p>“Same here—precisely the same message. Looks as if it were to be a -sort of board meeting. Is it about Carling? Poor chap! Personally, I -wish it had been possible to save him, but that’s impossible, in the -face of the evidence, and that verdict.” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” Lord Warrington assented gravely. “It’s an awful -tragedy—a brilliant youngster like that! And you know, Lorimer, if -ever homicide was justifiable, that was—from <i>our</i> point of view. He -ought to have been rewarded rather than punished! For if <i>she</i>”—he -frowned up at the portrait—“had passed on those papers—whew!—Rawson -himself never actually saw them, doesn’t know their contents to this -day. If he did he’d think as I do, even though his own wife was the -victim—as she was the thief, confound her! I say, this room’s pretty -weird, what? Damn those flowers, they smell like death!”</p> - -<p>“Here’s Cummings-Browne. So it <i>is</i> about Carling,” said Lorimer, and -stalked towards the new-comer, his old friend since the days when they -were both briefless barristers sharing chambers in the Temple. “Look -here, old man, if you arranged this conference, or whatever it is, in -the hope of getting a reprieve for Carling, you must know as well as I -do that it’s absolutely useless.”</p> - -<p>“I know nothing about any conference, and never expected to meet you -here, Lorimer, or you, Lord Warrington. I had an urgent message from -Rawson.”</p> - -<p>“As we did; but why on earth he sent for us we can’t imagine, unless -there is something fresh about Carling.”</p> - -<p>“I hope there may be. If he’s hanged to-morrow you’ll be responsible -for a frightful miscarriage of justice, Lorimer!” said Cummings-Browne.</p> - -<p>“Oh, come now! You put up a magnificent fight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> for him at the trial and -since, but you don’t—you can’t—personally believe he is innocent?”</p> - -<p>“You are wrong for once. I am absolutely convinced in my own mind that -he is innocent—was convinced almost from the first. It’s the most -difficult, the most baffling case I’ve ever had!”</p> - -<p>Lorimer looked at him perplexedly, but made no further comment, for -Jenkins announced, “Mr. Austin Starr and Mr. Snell,” and the two -entered. They had arrived together, and exchanged murmured questions as -they came up.</p> - -<p>Cummings-Browne greeted Austin, Lorimer nodded to Snell with the -question:</p> - -<p>“Anything fresh, Mr. Snell?”</p> - -<p>“Not that I know of, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But what are we all supposed to be here for?” Lord Warrington demanded.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, my lord. If you and the other gentlemen will kindly -be seated I will explain,” said a quiet voice.</p> - -<p>Lord Warrington turned sharply, so did the others, and stared at -Thomson, who had entered silently, through the inner doors that led -to the Chinese Room. He was carrying the cigar-box carefully in both -hands, and looked pale, but otherwise self-possessed as usual.</p> - -<p>“What is the meaning of all this? Why has Sir Robert sent for us?” -asked Warrington imperatively.</p> - -<p>“If you and the gentlemen will be seated, my lord, I will explain at -once,” Thomson repeated, advancing to the table and depositing the box -on it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> There was something so curiously compelling in his formal, -respectful manner that they actually complied—Lord Warrington taking -the head of the table, the Home Secretary facing him, Cummings-Browne -opposite Thomson. Snell slipped round and took the chair beside -Thomson, on his right hand, and, sitting sideways, watched him closely. -Austin was on his left.</p> - -<p>Thomson stood erect, looking down at the cigar-box, on which his right -hand rested lightly. They all looked at him expectantly, a scrutiny -which he seemed to disregard entirely.</p> - -<p>“It was I who took the liberty in my master’s name of asking you, my -lord, and the other gentlemen to come here to-night,” he said slowly, -as if weighing every word before he spoke. “And when you have heard my -explanation you will know that the matter was urgent—a matter of life -and death; and also the importance that what I have to say should be -written down. The materials are before you.</p> - -<p>“<i>It was I who killed my lady!</i>”</p> - -<p>If a bomb had exploded in their midst it could scarcely have created a -greater mental sensation than those seven quietly uttered words. There -was a low-voiced chorus of exclamation from his astounded listeners, -which he heard unmoved, never raising his eyes from the cigar-box: then -Cummings-Browne’s stern voice,</p> - -<p>“Go on. Tell us everything.”</p> - -<p>Thomson looked up then, met Cummings-Browne’s eyes full and steadily, -and thenceforth addressed himself to him direct. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I will, sir—from the beginning. On that morning when the papers were -missing from Sir Robert’s safe I was awake very early—I often am. At -that time I slept in the basement: it is only since that date and Sir -Robert’s illness that I have occupied a room on this floor. I thought I -heard a sound in the library just above. Later I had reason to believe -it was the sliding of the panel that concealed the safe——”</p> - -<p>“What time was this?”</p> - -<p>“Just after five, sir. I had heard the clock strike. I went out and -along to the foot of the stairs in the dark and then saw there was a -light in the hall. Thinking there might be burglars, I felt in a stand -that is there in the lower hall, took a thick stick, and went softly -up the stairs. Just as I got to the top I saw my lady, in a green -dressing-robe, pass up the stairs, and a moment later the light went -out—there is a control switch on the first floor. I went back to bed, -thinking my lady had been down for a book.</p> - -<p>“It was not till the middle of the morning, nearly noon, that Sir -Robert sent for me to the library and told me some papers were missing. -Mr. Carling was there and they were both very upset—very upset indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Did you tell Sir Robert what you had seen?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. I realize now that I ought to have done so, but at the moment -I didn’t like to. Sir Robert told me not to say anything to anyone, and -I did not. I went down and thought it over. I felt sure in my mind that -my lady had the papers, whatever they were. I knew she was out—she -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> gone out about ten o’clock—so was her maid, Mam’selle Périer, -who had been given the day out. I wondered if my lady had gone to -Rivercourt Mansions.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know she was in the habit of going there?”</p> - -<p>“I had known it a long time, sir. I discovered the address almost by -chance, from a letter.”</p> - -<p>“Blotting paper?” asked Cummings-Browne dryly.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, sir. My lady was careless once or twice that way, though it -was only the address I could make out. I believe she was always very -careful to post those private letters herself.”</p> - -<p>“And you had tracked her to the place?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, a good many times—usually at night. I nearly always knew -when she was going; it would be on Mam’selle Périer’s evening out, or -when my lady sent her to a theatre, as she often did.”</p> - -<p>“Well, go on.”</p> - -<p>“I found out quite a lot one way and another about Mr. Melikoff and the -Russians who used to go there, and the old Italian gentleman. It wasn’t -my business, of course, and I don’t quite know why I did it, for I had -no real grudge against my lady, except that I knew how my master doted -on her, so to speak, and I felt she was not doing the right thing by -him.</p> - -<p>“And now I made up my mind all in a moment to go there and see if I -could find out anything. I didn’t ask Sir Robert. I thought I would -risk him missing me, as I’d often done before, and it wasn’t necessary -for me to tell Mr. Jenkins or anyone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> else. I took the train, and -just got to the corner of the square when, sure enough, I saw my lady -herself cross the road to go into that post office. I knew it quite -well, having been in and out several times when I’d happened to be in -the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>“I followed her sharp, and peeped in. My lady was standing at the -counter, and there was no one else in the shop but the person behind -it, who had her back turned getting a telephone call. I went straight -through—neither of them saw or heard me—passed the telephone-booth -and turned to the right by the foot of some stairs and the side door. -There was another door farther on half open, leading into a scullery.”</p> - -<p>Cummings-Browne nodded. He knew—so did Snell—how accurate the -description was to the last detail.</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite know what I meant to do. I think it was to snatch her -bag as she went into the booth and make a run for it. But—I had this -in my pocket.”</p> - -<p>He opened the cigar-box, took out an article that looked like the -haft of a small dagger, of some dull metal elaborately chased, and -held it up to view. There was a click, and out of the haft sprang a -slender, vicious-looking little blade, some four inches long. Snell -involuntarily put out his hand as if to seize Thomson’s arm, but the -latter, having exhibited the weapon, pressed the spring again, causing -the blade to disappear, and laid the thing on the table.</p> - -<p>“I bought it off a sailor years ago in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>Constantinople, when I was -there with my master, and he used to go about so reckless by himself -in places that weren’t safe for an English gentleman that often I -followed him, with this as a sort of protection, but I never had to use -it—never did use it but the once!</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what came over me all in a moment. When my lady had gone -into the telephone-booth I found I’d got the dagger in my hand. I -opened the door, struck at her, and snatched the bag that was resting -on the little sloping shelf under the instrument. She only made a -little gurgling sound and dropped forward. I shut the door on her and -went through to the scullery and pushed to the door. The whole thing -couldn’t have taken half a minute, and I was just in time, for I heard -someone come along to the stairs and call ‘Jessie!’ There was a wet -rag on the scullery table—the place didn’t seem to be used much for -anything but rubbish: there was a heap of waste paper and boxes in the -corner. While I waited I wiped my glove on the rag and took it off; -here they both are. I’ve never cleaned them.”</p> - -<p>He took a neatly folded pair of tan gloves out of the cigar-box and -laid them on the table.</p> - -<p>“I opened the bag, found the big envelope addressed to Sir Robert just -as Mr. Carling had said, and knew the papers must be inside, but didn’t -try to look at them. I also found this key and this little box, and put -them in my pocket.”</p> - -<p>He took out a Yale latchkey and a small ornate powder box of gold set -with jewels, and placed these beside the other articles.</p> - -<p>“I saw through the window a taxicab standing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> before the side door. -There was no one at all in sight, so I listened for a minute—by the -sound there were several people in the shop—then went out at the side -door, put the bag through the cab window, walked away, slipping the -envelope into the post box at the corner. Then I walked to the station, -got a train at once—I had taken a return ticket—and was back here -soon after two. I had only been away just over an hour, and so far as I -know I had never been missed.</p> - -<p>“I found my dinner on a tray in my room—I have always had my meals in -my own room—and I sat down and ate it.”</p> - -<p>“Ate his dinner! Good heavens!” muttered Lord Warrington. The others -were silent, Austin Starr, an expert stenographer, was taking down the -confession verbatim; the Home Secretary and Cummings-Browne making -occasional notes; Snell maintained his ceaseless vigilance.</p> - -<p>“I had just finished when Sir Robert’s bell rang for me. I went up -to the library and found him and Mr. Snell there. Sir Robert again -questioned me about the papers, and while he was speaking the news came -by telephone that my lady had been murdered, and my master fell down in -a fit.</p> - -<p>“That’s about all it’s necessary to tell, I think, though if I might -be permitted to say a few words more—about this key, and something -else——”</p> - -<p>“Go on; say all you have to say,” Cummings-Browne responded.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir. I knew this key wasn’t one of ours—of this house—and -I thought it just possible it might be the key to Mr. Melikoff’s flat. -I knew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> too, that my lady had written him a lot of letters first -and last, and that if they should ever be found they might raise a -scandal that would add to Sir Robert’s trouble, and I made up my -mind to try and get hold of these. It was some time before I got the -opportunity—it was a risky thing to do, of course. But the day that -Mr. Carling was committed for trial I managed it. I knew the whole -household was in the police court—I saw them there when I was in the -witness-box in the morning—and in the late afternoon I went to the -flat, and sure enough the key fitted. I had a look round just to take -my bearings, found Mr. Melikoff’s room—there was a photo of my lady -on his writing-table—and found the letters in a drawer of it. I was -just about to go when they all came back; I’d run it a bit too close! -I slipped into a room opposite Mr. Melikoff’s—a bare room, that -looked like a schoolroom with very little in it except a piano and -music-stands—and bolted the door. I thought, and so it turned out, -that it wouldn’t be used at night. Hours and hours I waited there in -the dark and cold before it seemed safe to try and get out.</p> - -<p>“At last I ventured, and when I got into the hall, where the light was -on, I saw the drawing-room door was ajar; there was a curtain inside, -so I couldn’t see in.”</p> - -<p>“But the door had been closed!” ejaculated Austin Starr.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Starr, I assure you it was open then, just an -inch or two, and I heard voices inside—your voice, sir, and a lady’s, -and you were talking about Lady Rawson. Dangerous as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> it was I couldn’t -help listening for a minute; then I turned off the hall light and -slipped off, closing the front door quietly with the key, and got away -all right. Here are the letters.</p> - -<p>“One word more, my lord and gentlemen. It was a terrible shock to me -when Mr. Carling was accused, and I never believed they’d find him -guilty, and right up to to-day I hoped he would be reprieved, so that -it mightn’t be necessary for me to own up just yet. If my master had -died I would have owned up at once; but I did hope I should be able to -tend him as long as he needed me—and he needs me more now than he ever -did before.”</p> - -<p>For the first time his voice faltered, and he leaned with both hands on -the table, as if for support. Snell half rose, but sat down again as -Thomson recovered himself and resumed:</p> - -<p>“It would be very kind if you could keep the truth from Sir Robert, for -a bit anyhow—if you could tell him I’d been taken ill. And Mr. Carling -will be safe—he’ll soon be released now, won’t he, sir?” He looked at -the Home Secretary, and from him to Lord Warrington. “And you’ll excuse -the liberty I took in sending for you all. I wouldn’t leave nothing to -chance, so to speak. And now, Mr. Snell, I’m quite ready for you, and -I’ll go quiet, of course, though I suppose you’ll want to put on the -handcuffs, if you’ve got them with you?”</p> - -<p>They all rose, and Thomson, respectful to the last, stepped back and -stood, with Snell close beside him, as if the buzz of low-toned, -agitated conversation among the others did not concern him in the -least. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<p>Austin Starr unceremoniously clutched Lorimer’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Say, Mr. Home Secretary, this does it! Roger Carling’s saved? You’ll -put the order for his release through right now?”</p> - -<p>“It will have to be ‘the King’s pardon,’ of course, and it will be -put through at the earliest possible moment. Thank God that—that -extraordinary old villain confessed to-night!”</p> - -<p>“When will Roger be home?”</p> - -<p>“That I cannot say at the moment—possibly to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“I may ’phone right now to his poor young wife?”</p> - -<p>“Assuredly; and I will telephone to her myself later.”</p> - -<p>Austin glanced round the room. A telephone was there, but concealed -under a tall Sèvres china doll gorgeously arrayed in Louis-Seize court -costume, and he couldn’t see it. Downstairs he dashed, and seized the -instrument in the hall.</p> - -<p>“Victoria ten-four-double-three, quick please! That you, Grace? Austin -speaking. Oh, my dear girl, it’s all right! Roger’s saved—cleared! -He’ll be home as soon as ever the Home Secretary can fix it. Old -Thomson’s confessed everything right now. It was he who murdered Lady -Rawson!”</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">INTO THE LIGHT</span></h2> - -<p>At Argeles in the Pyrenées—where already the sheltered valleys were -glorious with spring blossoms, where the snow mountains shone dazzling -under the strong sunshine against the deep blue of the sky, and the air -was exhilarating as champagne—Roger and Grace Carling finished and -prolonged the honeymoon that had been so tragically interrupted.</p> - -<p>They left England as soon as possible after Roger’s release, which -created even more sensation than his trial and condemnation had done, -and here in this idyllic retreat, where they were quite unknown, these -two lovers, who had gone together through the very valley of the -shadow of death, in which all seemed lost, save love, rejoiced in the -sunshine, and in each other, restored as if by a miracle to life and -hope and youth.</p> - -<p>Miss Culpepper, at her own desire, remained in charge of the little -flat until they should return. The staunch little woman’s joy at -Roger’s vindication—“vitiation” was her word for it—was very little -affected by the knowledge that Thomson was the criminal; in fact, she -accepted it quite philosophically.</p> - -<p>“It’s terrible to think James should have done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> such a deed, but I -don’t think I am really surprised after all. I saw a great change -in him when he came here on Christmas day, as I think I told you, -my dear. It was something—oh, I don’t know how to describe it in -English—something <i>mécompte</i>—that means sinister, you know—that I -didn’t like at all. I shall never again wear that brooch he gave me!”</p> - -<p>The day before they left England Roger had a message from Sir Robert, -begging him to go to see him. He did so and found the old man still in -bed, very frail and broken.</p> - -<p>“Can you ever forgive me, Roger?” he asked piteously, clinging to -Roger’s hands and searching his worn face with anxious, haggard eyes.</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing to forgive, sir. Things looked so very black against -me, it was only natural that you should have thought as you did; and I -know how that belief must have added to your grief and distress.”</p> - -<p>“I shall never forgive myself. I ought to have known you better, my -boy. And to think that it should have been Thomson, of all people in -the world—after all these years I have trusted him! Well, well, it’s a -strange and terrible world; but I shall soon be done with it. I shall -never see you again, Roger; but while I do last—I hope it won’t be -many weeks—you’ll never be out of my mind. You’ll come back, with your -dear young wife—ask her to forgive me too—and take up your career. It -will be a brilliant one. I think I’ve been able to ensure that you will -have your chance, and <i>I</i> know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> how great your abilities are! Have you -seen Warrington yet?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ve just come from him. He was kindness itself, and has offered -me an excellent post; I am to take up my duties after Easter. He told -me what you said about me, Sir Robert. It was very good of you!”</p> - -<p>“Good! It was the bare truth, and the very least I could do to make -some amends. I shall make more amends, as you’ll know in time, Roger. -Good-bye, my dear boy, good-bye. In time perhaps—Time is always the -great healer—you will be able to forget as well as to forgive!”</p> - -<p>Roger never saw him again. Next week news of his death reached them -at Argeles, and later tidings that he had bequeathed to them both ten -thousand pounds, and to Roger the greater part of his superb library.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of Easter week, Austin and Winnie unexpectedly turned -up at Argeles, also on their honeymoon, having been quietly married -on the previous Tuesday. “Nobody there but George, and a dear fat old -pew-opener,” Winnie announced gleefully. “And we decided we must come -and have a peep at you two. Can’t we all go back together next week as -far as Paris? Then we’re off to the States, via Havre.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so, but only for a few months. We shall come back to London in -the fall,” said Austin. “Say, Roger, have you seen any New York papers?”</p> - -<p>“Not I, and very few others. We’ve almost forgotten, here, that the -Press exists!” </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I guess so. But you may be interested to hear that Cacciola’s first -concert—Melikoff’s début—was an immense success. Melikoff got right -there—a regular furore; the critics are just about raving over him and -Miss Maddelena—or Mrs. Melikoff as I suppose she is by this time, for -they’re to be married this week. Won’t she mother him—some; keep a -tight hand over him, too, I guess.”</p> - -<p>Later, when Austin and he were alone together, Roger asked for news of -Thomson.</p> - -<p>“I meant to tell you, though not while Grace was here. You know he -was certified as insane and unable to plead, and so was consigned to -Broadmoor?”</p> - -<p>Roger nodded.</p> - -<p>“Well, I got permission to go and see him last week. He’s mad, right -enough, but only on the one point, that he seems to have forgotten -everything about the murder, and thinks he is still in Sir Robert’s -service; but on every other point he appears as sane as you or me. -He’s a model prisoner, gives no trouble, and devotes himself to a -fellow-criminal—patient I suppose one might say—whom he believes to -be Sir Robert, an old man who really does resemble him, white beard -and all. He waits on him hand and foot, and they tell me he’s always -miserable when he’s out of his sight! He knew me well enough and seemed -glad to see me.</p> - -<p>“‘I take it very kind of you to come, Mr. Starr,’ he said. ‘We’re -fairly comfortable here, though it’s not what Sir Robert has been used -to, of course; but he’s much better—very much better. May I ask if -you’ve seen Mr. Carling lately?’</p> - -<p>“I said I hadn’t—that you and Mrs. Carling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> were abroad, but I should -probably be seeing you soon, and he answered:</p> - -<p>“‘If you do, sir, perhaps you’ll give them my best respects and good -wishes. A very nice gentleman is Mr. Carling. My master misses him -greatly and will be glad to see him back.’</p> - -<p>“Then he said something that I couldn’t make sense of; perhaps you can? -Would I ask Mrs. Carling to tell little Maria that he did write to her -more than once, and she never answered, so that it really wasn’t his -fault. Do you know what he meant?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Grace told me. Maria’s our little Miss Culpepper. They were in -service together, and more or less in love with each other years ago, -but somehow drifted apart and only met the day old Thomson came round -and insisted on lending five hundred pounds of his savings for my -defence. Oh, of course that’s news to you; I forgot he enjoined Grace -to secrecy.”</p> - -<p>“He did that! Well, he’s the most extraordinary case I’ve ever struck! -I wonder whether he really is mad, or only consummately clever? Anyhow, -I’m convinced that when he killed Lady Rawson he did it with no more -animus—and no more compunction—than I’d kill a ’squito!”</p> - -<p>Roger made a warning gesture.</p> - -<p>“Hush, here are the girls. Don’t speak of him before Grace!”</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * *</p> - -<p>Later from the balcony he and Grace watched these two loyal friends go -down the road to their hotel, and stood there long after the sound of -their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> footsteps had died away. Roger’s arm was round his wife, her -dear head rested on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful evening, with a full moon flooding the valley and -the towering snow mountains beyond with almost unearthly radiance, and -no sound but the murmur of the river and the light breeze stirring the -young leaves and white “candles” of the chestnuts.</p> - -<p>London and the great busy world—all the tragedies and the shadows of -the past—seemed very far away!</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ’PHONE BOOTH MYSTERY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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