“Father Guiseppi Dempsi, Vicar of Banhurst.”
“Father Guiseppi Dempsi, Vicar of Banhurst.”
“Father Guiseppi Dempsi, Vicar of Banhurst.”
“Father Guiseppi Dempsi!” she said aloud, and in another second was flying down the stairs.
She recognised him instantly, clean-shaven, dark, the old grin in his brown eyes. She would have known him even had he not been wearing his black cassock.
“Diana!” he said. “After all these years!”
“Mr. Dempsi,” she grasped, gripping the thin hand outstretched, “itisyou! You don’t know how glad I am to see you!”
Dempsi, the real Dempsi! Then who was the other? The solution of the mystery came to her in a flash, and in the realisation the whole weight of the universe was lifted from her heart.
“Father Dempsi!” she said, in a wondering way, still holding his hand. “It doesn’t seem possible!”
“I was rather a fool, wasn’t I?” he said without any trace of embarrassment. “Yes, I went into the Church. But I should have let you know.”
“The money!” she said, suddenly. “The money you gave me—you will want that?”
He laughed a little sheepishly.
“I wondered if any was left. Honestly, I need money just now. My boys’ club is insolvent and the new church hall wants an organ....”
She nodded. She was still bewildered. Almost hysterical. And then came an excited Bobbie with a rush, flinging open the door.
“Diana!” he began.
Behind him stood Gordon. A somewhat severely clad Gordon, yet different. She ran to him—before she realised what happened, she had kissed him. Gordon returned the kiss without any visible effort.
“Gordon, do you know the Reverend Guiseppi Dempsi? You’ve heard me talk about Mr. Dempsi?”
Gordon stared at the priest open-mouthed.
“The Reverend Guiseppi Dempsi?” he said. “I thought—er——” He grasped the hand ofthe smiling clergyman. “I knew it couldn’t be that little ... how do you do?”
“Diana and I are very old acquaintances—old friends, I ought to say,” said Dempsi, beaming from one to the other. “Old lovers, I nearly said, but the love was a little one-sided.” He chuckled.
“Extraordinary!” Gordon could say no more.
“But, Gordon, how is it you’re back? I had a wire this morning from Inverness. You couldn’t have got back——”
“By aeroplane,” said Gordon without a blush. “I had a feeling that all was not well with you.”
“Gordon, did you really?” Her colour came and went. “You are psychic, aren’t you? And Gordon, dear, you’ve had your whiskers shaved!”
He nodded gravely.
“I meant to tell you I intended doing that—you once said that you did not like them. No more than that was necessary. They vanished in the twinkling of an eye.”
It was Gordon’s moment. He was colossal.
Eleanor opened the front door to a gentleman who was difficult to place.
“Miss Ford at home?”
“Yes, sir, but she’s engaged.”
The stranger had no visiting-card apparently, for he announced himself.
“I am Inspector Carslake from Scotland Yard,” he said. “I should like to see the safe that was opened last night. It isn’t necessary to disturb Miss Ford.”
Eleanor, in a flutter, opened the door wider and showed him into The Study.
“...leave by the first train,” Mr. Dempsi was saying. “We’ll split later.”
“We’ll split before we part,” said Heloise firmly, “for fear an accident happens—to the money.”
The other shrugged.
“I’d hate to have a mind like yours,” he said.
And then the visitor came in. Heloise recognised him before he saw her face. There was a newspaper within reach, and she snatched it up, disappeared behind the printed page, and, reading, walked slowly from The Study into the little library.
“Don’t go,” said Dempsi.
Then he too saw the detective, and here the recognition was mutual.
“The cobwebs on your chin are strangers tome,” said Carslake, “but that noble brow and those sparkling eyes belong to an old friend of mine, Dan Throgood, yclept Double Dan.”
“I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake,” said “Dempsi” with some hauteur.
“What you’re afraid of is that I haven’t,” said Carslake, and glanced at the broken door of the safe. “Your work?”
“No. That’s not my line. You’ve nothing on me, Carslake. I’ve been staying here as a guest of Mr. Selsbury.”
“And now you’re going to be a guest of the King,” said Carslake, slipping a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “I must say, Dan, that you see life!”
It was later in the day, and from information received, that the inspector called at 61 Cheynel Gardens to arrest and detain one Sarah Chowster, British subjectaliasHeloise van Oynne. But Heloise had gone. None knew whither.
“Can I see Miss Ford,” he asked, “or Mr. Selsbury?”
Eleanor asked him to wait, and, passing into The Study, listened intently at the door.
“...I really was going back to Australia, Gordon.”
“I’ll follow you, and if necessary lose myself in the bush,” said Gordon’s voice.
There was a long silence. Eleanor opened the door an inch and looked. Then she went back to the detective.
“Mr. Selsbury and Miss Ford are engaged,” she said.
THE END