Miss Fitzgerald's disclosures to the Marchioness, as it turned out, rather helped than hindered those principally concerned, for Mr. Lambert met her Ladyship at the church, and his explanations took the keen edge off the wrath which she vented on her daughter a little later, and in the midst of which Lieutenant Kingsland arrived, with ample assurances of worldly prosperity, which overcame her strongest objections, and went far to reconcile her to the inevitable. Her disappointment, however, was keen, and her temper suffered in consequence, so that dinner, at which the Secretary's unaccountable absence formed the chief topic of conversation, was distinctly not a success, and the ladies retired early, leaving the gentlemen to their own devices.
Miss Fitzgerald claimed to join in the general hegira, but her actions belied her words, for shortly after she was supposed to have gone to her room, her figure, its white dinner dress concealed by a long grey cloak, might have been seen gliding across the lawn in the direction of the inn.
The night was pregnant with great events, though outwardly calm and beautiful, and the great hall in which Mr. Riddle, Kent-Lauriston, and the Lieutenant stood smoking, after having been dismissed from the drawing-room, was flooded with moonlight.
"I say," remarked Kingsland irrelevantly, after a long interval broken only by the conscientious puffing of cigarettes, "how that mediæval prize puzzle shows up in the moonlight."
"The secret door?" asked Kent-Lauriston. "Yes, it does. I heard the butler making his plaint about it yesterday. It appears it's no joke to keep those nails polished."
"I shouldn't think it would be, and I dare say the bulk of the servants wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. I wonder what's behind it, anyway."
Nobody said anything.
"I wonder if Darcy'll ever get his letter?" asked Kent-Lauriston, glancing at Mr. Riddle. "Anyway, it's as safe behind that portal as if it was in the Bank of England. Safer, in fact, for he can't get it out if he wants to."
"I don't think there's much chance of anyone's opening it," said Mr. Riddle. "Cleverer men than Colonel Darcy have tried to solve that problem in the last two centuries, and failed. I imagine, however, if it ever does come to be opened, that a certain theory will be proved correct."
"What is it?" asked Kingsland.
"That the prophecy tells only half the story.To press the nails they must be flexible, but they're firm and immovable."
"Well?"
"Well, it's evident that there is some catch or spring to be worked first."
"How do you make that out?"
"These five nails we hear so much about are really the key to the lock, but until the movable impediments—or, to give them their technical name, the 'tumblers'—are so arranged as to release the key, the lock cannot be opened."
"It's a rum sort of key, with no keyhole," said Kingsland.
"The key to open this lock is a mental one, rather than one of steel and iron. In other words, a puzzle lock like this always has certain movable parts, the movement of which constitutes the enigma."
"Ever heard of any locks like this one?"
"Not exactly, but the Russians, Hindoos and the Chinese have their puzzle locks in the shape of birds or animals, and they're locked or unlocked by pressing certain parts of their bodies. You can depend on it, some spring must be worked first, which relieves the nails from their tension and permits one to work the combination."
"But no such catch or spring is visible."
"Of course not. It would be the most carefully concealed of all the mechanism; but some lucky fellow will stumble on it eventually, and if he has presence of mind enough to press the nails also— Presto! your door will fly open."
"And what will he find?" asked Kent-Lauriston.
"From present appearances," replied Mr. Riddle, "a little pile of dust, which some centuries before was a letter——"
"I shouldn't be satisfied with anything less than a mouldering skeleton in chains," said Kingsland.
"Or a complicated astrological machine, such as one hears about in Bulwer's grewsome ghost story," added Kent-Lauriston.
"The inhabitants of this house are too unfeignedly easy-going and comfortable to admit of such a supposition," replied Kingsland, and turning to Kent-Lauriston, added: "What do you think is inside the Tower?"
"I don't know, and if I did, I shouldn't tell anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because if its contents are so unpleasant, that they had to shut it up for ever, it certainly wouldn't prove a fit subject for conversation."
"Well, anyhow," said the Lieutenant, "I trust the discoverer will be a short man, or he'll hit his head a nasty crack, when he tries to go in."
"Wrong again," said Mr. Riddle. "I think you'll admit that I'm medium height for a man; but if I stood with my back to the door, my head wouldn't hit the top of the arch."
"Nonsense. Let's see."
Riddle took up the position indicated, facing them.
"You're right!" ejaculated the young officer.
"I'm amazed! I supposed it was much lower. What do you measure?"
"Five feet eight inches. But it is the extreme width of the portal which makes it deceptive; it lowers it. I think, if I stretched out my arms, straight from the shoulder, I should no more than touch the side—see——" and he made a great cross of himself, against the black oak.
"What are you fumbling at?" asked Kingsland sharply.
"My fingers hardly touch—it's a stretch. Ah! now they do."
"You look ghastly in the moonlight; put your arms down and come away."
"I'm very comfortable here, barring my back; those silver nails are rather sharp," and he put his hands behind him.
"Come away," said Kingsland, nervously, seeing something in his face he did not like. "You look as if you'd been walled up a few months ago, by some inquisition, and we'd just unearthed you in your niche."
"By heavens! some of these nails are loose!" cried Riddle.
"Nonsense!" retorted Kingsland. "You've thought so much about it, you'd imagine anything. They're as firm as—well, nails. I tried them myself. That door won't be opened in our lifetime, unless——" but the Lieutenant never finished his sentence, for he had paused suddenly, in open-mouthed astonishment. Without warning, andwithout a sound, the portal, closed for centuries, swung slowly inward, carrying Riddle with it; who, catching in vain at the sides of the door in an attempt to save himself, fell heavily backwards down three steps into the secret chamber.
Seeing that he did not immediately rise, but turned over partially on his side, Kingsland recollecting himself, sprang forward to his aid, crying:
"Have you hurt yourself?"
"No, no," he replied, waving him off, and slowly rising from the floor, covered with dust.
"By Jove!" exclaimed the Lieutenant. "How did you ever do it?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Riddle, emerging from the portal, and vigorously brushing himself. "As I told you, the nails, or some of them, felt loose—I pushed them, and the next thing I knew the door revolved and I was on the floor."
"You're a genius!" exclaimed Kingsland. "But," peering down into the darkness of the tower, "where's Darcy's letter?"
"We need a little light on the subject," said Mr. Riddle. Stepping to the fireplace, he lighted an old wrought-iron sconce, full of candles, which stood on the broad mantelshelf, and approached the secret door.
In the light of the candles, all could see that, except for the little space into which he had fallen, the whole interior of the tower was filled by a narrow stone staircase, which, in its ascent, half turned upon itself. Of the missing document,however, there was not a trace. The stillness in the great hall was oppressive. Even their own footsteps on the stones seemed, to the hearers, preternaturally loud.
Mr. Riddle raised the sconce above his head, and there burst on a sudden a shimmering flash of a thousand prismatic colours from the head of the staircase. He fell back a step, as did the others, and Kingsland murmured in awe-struck tones:—
"What's that?"
Riddle again raised the sconce, and again the burst of light from the head of the stairs overwhelmed him, but this time he stood his ground.
"What is it?" asked Kent-Lauriston.
"I don't know."
"Let us examine."
"As far as I can make out, it's a flexible curtain of chain mail—hung across the staircase."
"I swear it moved," said the Lieutenant.
"No, it was the light which moved," replied the discoverer. "You see," and he swayed the sconce from side to side, making the curtain appear to be moving silently.
"If I take the light away," he continued, "there's nothing to be seen;" and he removed the sconce, leaving only the black mass of the steel curtain visible.
"Nothing to be seen—isn't there? Look there!" whispered Kingsland, and, following the direction of his eyes, the others saw a broad band of blood-redlight steal out of the blackness, across the steps at the head of the staircase.
"That room has been closed for centuries, and yet there is a light burning," he continued hoarsely. "Shut the door, my dear fellow, and let's get away."
"It merely confirms another theory of mine," said Riddle, "which is, that, as there are no windows on the outside of the tower, they must have got their light and ventilation from the roof. I think it's fair to suppose that they used red glass, and that the full moon is shining through it."
"Then you can go and prove it if you like, but if you take my advice, you'd better leave it alone."
"I don't like, my dear Kingsland, though I'm going, just the same. I daresay I shall find something very nasty at the head of the stairs, but it won't be supernatural. If I want you, I'll call you. If not, wait till I come back." Putting down the sconce, he slipped off his dress coat, and crossing the hall, picked up a stout hunting crop, the property of the Lieutenant, while his two companions stood staring at the blood-red band of light which lay across the steps, and which seemed to their excited imagination to grow broader and deeper.
"What do you think he'll find up there?" asked Kingsland.
Kent-Lauriston shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't wish to think," he replied. "But I'm certain that, to this very day, there lie hidden away in some of our old country houses the ghastliestsecrets of mediæval times, the fruit of crimes and passions, of which, happily, even the names have perished."
"What's that?" said the young officer, laying his hand on his companion's arm, and in the silence both distinctly heard the click of a latch, and facing round at the same moment, confronted the white face of Colonel Darcy, framed in the hall door.
In an instant he was at their side, drawing a quick hissing breath and exclaiming:—
"It's open. Where's my letter?"
"There is no letter," said Kingsland gruffly. "But you gave us a jolly good start, creeping in. This ghost business sets one's nerves all on edge."
"Who opened the door?"
"I did," said Mr. Riddle, coming up just at that moment.
"Ah! Then you have my letter."
"No, I haven't seen a trace of it. It may be up aloft."
"I believe there's some living object up aloft," said Kingsland. "If you take my advice, you'll shut the door, and leave it and the letter in perpetual seclusion."
"I don't care whether it's a man or a devil!" cried Darcy, who, whatever else may be said of him, did not know the meaning of fear. And as he spoke, he set one foot upon the lower step.
"Hold on!" cried Kent-Lauriston. "There's something up there, and, what's more, it's comingdown." And as he spoke, a sound was heard in the long closed chamber, and as the listeners held their breath, something slowly approached the steel curtain, which swung out noiselessly as if waving in a ghostly wind.
Stanley's first thought as he hung suspended over the gulf, when the plate had so treacherously revolved, was of self-preservation. And, indeed, he had need to think, for it seemed highly probable that within the next few minutes he might be dashed to pieces on the floor of the secret chamber, forty feet below. To pull himself up over that slippery stone was, he found, a sheer impossibility. To let go of his precarious hold and drop to the bottom of the well was certain death. Yet the sharp edges of the plate were already cutting into his hands, and it could only be a matter of a few moments when his arms would refuse to support any longer the weight of his body. Evidently he must find some means of escape from these two alternatives, and that right speedily, or for him the end of all things would be at hand. Below him the wall stretched smooth as glass. No vine grew upon it to which he might cling, no crevice in which he might put his foot. He cast his eye round in a wild search for some possible means of salvation, and, as he did so, he saw one infinitesimal chance of escape. So slight was it,that no one, in less desperate straits, would have dared to take the risk, but he had no choice.
He had noticed, when taking his precarious walk along the edge of the battlements, that an old rusty iron chain was loosely twisted round the bar which stretched across the diameter of the well, about on a level with where he hung suspended. It might be possible, springing into the air, to catch the end of this chain, which terminated in a ring. He had done that sort of thing more than once in gymnasiums, though under very much more favourable conditions. Even if he succeeded in catching the ring in his flight, he might only find himself in a worse position. The chain might refuse to unwind from the bar, or the whole contrivance, rusted by years of exposure, might snap under his weight. But even if this were so, he reflected, he could but drop to the bottom of the well, which he was bound to do in any event, if he stayed where he was, while every foot that the chain unrolled before breaking was twelve inches less for him to fall. Evidently there was not an instant to lose, for his fingers were already getting stiff and numb with the tension they were undergoing. So, setting his teeth, he sprang into the air, on this last desperate venture. For one horrid second he felt the ring which his fingers touched, slipping through his grasp. Then with one supreme effort, he crooked his hand through it, and swung suspended by one arm. A moment later, he had brought his other hand to his aid. But scarcely had he steadied himself, when thebar, round which the chain was wound, and which evidently worked in a socket, began to revolve. It was rusty and out of gear, and as it let him down, it gave him the most frightful series of jerks, which seemed to dislocate every bone in his body. It would let out three or four feet of chain at lightning speed, and then, catching in its rusty gearings, would stop with a racking jerk, remaining still perhaps a whole minute, before it moved on again, to repeat the operation. Moreover, as he got farther and farther down the well, and there was a greater length of chain above him, it began to oscillate frightfully, twirling him round in one direction till his head swam, and then reversing the operation. All tortures must come to an end, however, and when he was ten feet from the bottom of the well, a corroded link snapped, and he dropped the remaining distance like a log, bringing down thirty feet of iron chain on top of him.
The blow which he received rendered him instantly unconscious, and it was hours later before he came to himself. His first knowledge of the world and things in general was a realisation that in some mysterious way the entire firmament was divided in half by a black band, and it was only as his brain became a little clearer that he realised that he was lying on his back looking up at the rim of the well. He sat up, and examined himself critically. He had evidently cut his head slightly, for it was still bleeding. Moreover, he was black and blue from head to foot, but he wasrejoiced to find, after a careful examination, that no bones were broken, nor had he even suffered a sprain, and in a few moments he was able to stand upright.
His position, however, was none the less precarious. The breaking of the chain had ended for ever any chance of his ascending the tower, and he must either effect an entrance through the roof or depend on the very uncertain chance of attracting notice from without, to escape starvation.
Lying face down on the floor of the roof, he tried to look out of the little holes in the mouths of the gargoyles, but could see nothing, and from the appearance of the sky over his head, he judged that it must be growing dark. This reminded him of his bicycle lamp, which a hasty examination proved to be intact, and feeling that he would at least have light for his investigations, was a great source of comfort to him.
His next procedure was to examine the roof. Here, fate once more befriended him, for he very quickly found a trap-door and, moreover, was able to lift it. Looking down he could see nothing but utter darkness. However, this did not deter him, and he hastily made his arrangements for further investigation, first taking the precaution to light a match and drop it into the opening. It fell, about ten or twelve feet, evidently striking the floor and burning there a minute or two before it went out. It revealed nothing but surrounding darkness, but it apprised him of the fact he was most desirous to know, that the atmosphere wasnot mephitical. He determined, nevertheless, to take his time about descending, and left the trap-door wide open, so that as much fresh air might get in as possible.
In the interval he amused himself by taking off one of his socks and unravelling it as best he could. Weaving a cord with the thread thus obtained, he lowered his bicycle lantern, which he had lighted, into the room below, swinging it gently back and forwards. Its glancing rays told him that the apartment was entirely bare and deserted, and showed him also a narrow wooden ladder, black with age, leading up to the trap-door above which he stood. Drawing up the light, he took it in his hand, and being cautious after his recent experience, reached down and tested each round of the ladder most carefully. To his surprise it held his weight, and a moment later he was on the floor of the secret chamber.
The apartment had no secrets to reveal. It was absolutely bare, and empty of anything except a broken old sconce lying in a corner. The whole room, however, was indescribably dusty and musty, and he was very thankful to push aside a curtain of chain mail and descend the staircase.
At its foot he saw lying the coveted papers. Forgetful of everything else, he sat down upon the lowest step, and by the light of his lantern proceeded to examine them. They more than fulfilled his utmost expectations. There was a complete cipher and its key, a full list of the members of the cabinet who were to pass upon thetreaty, with comments on each, and a memorandum of the amounts to be given to certain of them, coupled with suggestions as to the attitude which Darcy should take towards others, together with precise instructions as to the carrying out of the plot; the whole signed by Riddle in the interests of the firm. The evidence was complete, and Stanley gasped as he realised the advantage of this tremendous stroke of luck. One fact which his perusal had elicited caused him to draw a long sigh of relief. Miss Fitzgerald's name was not mentioned in the incriminating document, and so much did he wish to believe her innocent, that in spite of all accumulated evidence, he felt a sense of exultation that he could still, if worst came to worst, shield her from the effects of her own folly. He told himself that he might, after all, prove to the satisfaction of his own conscience that she was innocent of criminal intent. Darcy he would have no mercy for. He must be punished for his crime, and the fact of his being the criminal would give Inez her freedom, and then—— Ah! but if Belle Fitzgerald was innocent—was he not in honour bound toher? And at that moment he realised that he had mistaken pity for love, that Darcy possessed the woman in the world most worth having, and that he was unworthy of her.
His meditations were interrupted by the sound of voices near him. Somebody laid a hand on the other side of the door. They were tampering with it again, and, for more reasons than one, hewanted the fact of his having gained entrance to the tower to remain a secret. Putting the letter in his inside pocket, he softly retraced his steps to the upper chamber.
To his consternation, he had scarcely reached there when the door below was opened. How this had been effected, he did not know. He had been so interested in the documents, that he had had no time to examine the mechanism of the portal. At first he heard only the voices of Riddle and Kingsland. Fearing that the conspirators only were present, and that, being three to one, he might be overpowered, and his precious evidence wrested from him, he endeavoured, by the agitation of the steel curtain and the red light of his lamp, to contrive such ghostly illusions, as should serve to deter them from investigating the upper portions of the tower. It can be imagined therefore what a welcome relief Kent-Lauriston's tones were to him, and the instant he knew that his friend was below, he felt perfectly safe from an attack by force. He therefore lost no time in descending, his footsteps producing, as we have seen, a most startling effect on those below.
Kent-Lauriston was the first to recognise him, and seeing at a glance that his clothes were torn and spotted with blood, he sprang forward to assist his friend and helped him into the hall.
"Where's my letter, you thief?" cried Darcy.
"You've come too late," replied the Secretary, recovering himself. "You've come too late. The treaty will go through."
Darcy growled an oath as the measure of the Secretary's knowledge became known to him.
"I know who's put you on to it," he cried. "It's that cursed Irish——!"
"Go!" cried Stanley, in a burst of wrath at this insult to a woman. "Go, before I knock you down, and as you value your safety, meet me here at eleven to-morrow morning. You've held the whip hand long enough. It's my turn now."
"I suppose it's hardly necessary to ask if you found Darcy's letter?" said Kent-Lauriston to the Secretary, as they were returning to the house about an hour later from a trip to the telegraph office, whither Stanley had gone to send a long message in cipher to his Chief.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I have it in my possession."
"Does it give you all the information you required?"
"As a bit of evidence it's overwhelmingly complete—but it gives me some additional information which is not so pleasant," replied the Secretary, who had needed no second glance at the document to assure himself that it was Mr. Riddle's letter and had been once before in his possession.
"I've no desire to pry into your affairs, either private or diplomatic, my dear fellow; but of course I'm able to infer a good deal, and if you felt inclined to assure me, that this made you master of the situation, and placed Darcy completely in your power, it would make me feel very much easier."
"Then you may be quite easy," returned the Secretary. "I hold all the trumps. I could have the Colonel arrested to-night, if I chose, and my evidence is of such a nature that it will practically banish him from his country and from mine."
"That's very satisfactory, but let me caution you to go slow. Darcy is a man of many expedients. I should keep something in reserve, if I were able."
"My instructions insist on practically that course of action."
"I'm very glad to hear it—as you grow older, you'll discover that the shrewdest policy in the game of life, as in the game of whist, is always to keep in hand a card of re-entry. And you may take my word for it, that Darcy is the pivot on which all these little conspiracies revolve. Hold him, and you can dictate terms to both Kingsland and Miss Fitzgerald. By the way, have you succeeded in receiving yourcongéyet?"
"I haven't yet received a definite answer."
"Answer!—haven't you made it clear to her what that answer is to be?"
"I hope so. In fact, I'm sure she must understand."
"Then if she doesn't refuse you, you'll be quite justified in refusing her."
"I can't be too hard on a woman, Kent-Lauriston."
"But you cannot marry her."
"Not if my suspicions are true, and that my conference with the Colonel to-morrow will prove.Now, don't say any more about it, for I want to go to bed, and try not to think."
Stanley slept little that night, and the arrival of an early telegram from his Minister was a welcome relief. It contained only a brief word of praise, and the information that John, the messenger, would arrive by the ten o'clock train with a letter of instructions, pending the receipt of which he was to take no action. This necessitated an early breakfast, as the station was some distance away. Before leaving, however, he sealed up the precious document he had found in the secret chamber, and entrusted it to his friend's care; begging him, should he not return, through any foul play of the Colonel's, to see it safely delivered to his Chief in London.
As he drove to the train he had plenty to occupy his thoughts. The letter had been more damaging to the cause of the plotters than he could have hoped. There was sufficient evidence to make out a complete case, and only the intended forbearance of the government could shield the Colonel from well-merited disgrace and condign punishment. In this forbearance Stanley saw, so to speak, his card of re-entry: but he did not see that fate was going to force him to play it in the first round of the game. It was true he was here to bring Darcy to justice for crimes committed against the State, but he must not be judged too harshly for desiring to take advantage of his position to force the Colonel to do justice in quarters not political. He had had greatprovocation, and the man could be relied on to keep his word only when the penalty for breaking it was actual rather than moral.
Filled with these thoughts and impulses, he drew up for a moment on his way to the station at Madame Darcy's cottage, but before he could get down from the high dog-cart she came running out to meet him.
"You have good news," she cried, "I can see it in your face."
"Yes," he said. "I got down, or rather fell down, inside the old tower last night, and I have the precious packet in my possession."
"Ah," she said. "I do not know whether I should be glad or sorry. If it contains what I suspect, it must mean so much to me in many ways."
"It is just for that reason that I stopped to see you," he replied. "I wanted to set your mind at rest."
"Then it does not contain incriminating evidence?" she asked.
"On the contrary, it puts everyone connected with the plot completely in my power."
"But then——" she began.
"But then," he continued, taking up her words, "I hope to be able to save your husband from the fruits of his folly."
"But is that possible?"
"I hope so. I shall tell better after I have seen him. We are to have an interview this morning, and all I can say now is, that you musttrust implicitly in me and believe that everything will come out all right in the end."
"I am so selfish that your words make me very happy," said Madame Darcy, "when my heart should be filled with sorrow at the troubles of my friend. This discovery must be a sad blow to you."
"How do you mean?" he said.
"Why, in regard to Miss Fitzgerald."
The Secretary bit his lip.
"It seems impossible," he said tersely, "for us to have a conversation without introducing her name. Surely by this time you must know——"
"I only know what you have told me," she replied.
The Secretary started to say something and then thought better of it, and contented himself by remarking:—
"My eyes have been opened a good deal in the last few days, Inez."
She reached up and took his hand in hers.
"My friend," she said, "I understand."
For a moment there was silence between them, and then pulling himself together, he explained that he was on his way to an appointment. So he left her, smiling at him through her tears, for in these few moments Inez De Costa had found great sorrow and great joy.
The station, a small rustic affair, at which few trains stopped, seemed at first glance to be bareof passengers, and on accosting a porter, the Secretary was informed that he had yet nearly fifteen minutes to wait.
"She's in a siding in the next station now, sir, waiting for the London express to pass; it goes through here in about five minutes, and as soon as the line's clear she'll be along."
Stanley thanked him for his information, and, after spending a minute or two with the station-master, negotiating for a match, he lighted a cigarette and emerged on the little platform. To his surprise he found it tenanted by a solitary figure, and that none other than Mr. Arthur Riddle. If he had any luggage it must have been in the luggage-room, for he was without sign of impedimenta, excepting a stout stick. He wore a long, black travelling cloak, and his white, drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes gave evidence of either a sleepless night or great mental anxiety, perhaps of both. He held in his mouth an unlighted cigar, which he was nervously chewing to pieces. Both men became aware of each other's presence at the same instant; both unconsciously hesitated to advance, and then both came forward. Stanley was the first to speak.
"I wasn't aware that you were leaving, Mr. Riddle."
The man looked at him, with the expression of a hunted animal driven to bay; a fear of something worse than death in his eyes.
"How could you think I should do otherwise, after your discoveries of last night?"
"I think you're making a mistake. But I shan't try to prevent you. I've no fear of losing you even in London. I could lay hands on you where I wished."
"My journey is much farther afield than London."
"There are extradition laws."
"Not where I'm going," he said.
A shrill whistle smote the air, and the porter came hurrying out on the platform, crying:—
"The express, gentlemen, the express! Stand back, please!"
Stanley noticed that unconsciously they had drawn rather near the edge.
"Look out!" he said to Mr. Riddle. "The express is coming!"
"In a moment," replied that gentleman. "I've just dropped my cigar," and indeed it was lying at his feet.
"Hurry up, then, the train is on us! You've no time to lose!"
"I've time enough," he replied, bending deliberately forward.
Some grim note in his voice awoke the Secretary to his true intentions. There was only a second's leeway, the iron monster was even then bursting out of the railway arch at the further end of the platform, with the roar and rush of tremendous speed. Mr. Riddle was bending far forward, overreaching his cigar, making no attempt to get it—was——
Stanley flung his arms about his adversary'swaist, and made a superhuman effort to drag him back.
"You meddling fool, let me alone!" shouted the other.
"No!" panted the Secretary.
"Then come too!" he cried, and rising up, he threw his arms about him, and gathered himself to spring on to the rails in front of the train. All seemed over, the cry of the porter rang in Stanley's ears, the rattle of the train deafened him, the hot breath of the engine seemed blowing in his face. Then somehow his foot caught his opponent's, and the next instant they were falling—to death or life—he could not tell.
A second later they lay prone on the platform. The express had passed them, and vanished in a cloud of dust.
In a moment the porter was assisting them to arise.
"A narrow escape for Mr. Riddle," said the Secretary to the porter, as he picked himself up and recovered his hat, which had rolled to one side. "A very narrow escape from what might have been a nasty accident."
"Accident!" exclaimed the porter, with a sarcasm which spoke louder than words.
"I said accident," replied Stanley, slipping a sovereign into the man's hand, and looking him straight in the eyes.
"Oh, quite right, sir.Accidentit was. Thank ye, sir," and the porter shuffled off, leaving them alone.
"I suppose you think you've been very clever," said Mr. Riddle, when they were by themselves, "but I'll cheat you yet, never fear," and his hand unconsciously sought a hidden pocket.
"You need be under no apprehensions," the Secretary replied calmly. "I shan't interfere to save your life again, or to prevent you from taking it. I was moved to act as I did solely for the reason that I couldn't bear to see any man throw away so priceless a possession, owing to a misapprehension."
"A misapprehension!" he said, startled.
"Yes. You were desperate enough to contemplate committing suicide, because you supposed you would inevitably be disgraced and punished."
Riddle nodded.
"Well, supposing that this were not the case?"
"What do you mean?" he cried, his face lighting up with the return of hope.
"I mean that it's in my power to let you go free."
The man's face fell.
"But there are conditions," he said.
"There are no conditions."
"How about the Company?"
"It will not be proceeded against, out of a desire to avoid publicity. Both governments will be informed confidentially of the true state of affairs, and it will be carefully watched in the future. If the Company is circumspect, it will besafe. We merely wish to ensure the passage of the Treaty. That is done already. Of course, considering the hands to which you have confided it, you will probably lose your £40,000."
"I should refuse to receive it under the circumstances."
"So I supposed. I'm expecting a messenger with important instructions from London, so must await the arrival of the down train. If you'll take a seat in the dog-cart, I'll join you presently."
Mr. Riddle bowed, took a few steps in the direction desired, and then pausing, swung round and faced the Secretary, saying:—
"What return can I make you for saving my life?"
"I've only followed my instructions," he replied. "You owe me nothing. I admit, though, that my impulse to save you arose strongly from the fact that I believed you were fitted for better things."
"I am, Mr. Stanley, I am. Believe me, with this exception, I've lived a clean life. I was swept into this thing by the force of circumstances, and in the hope of saving a rotten concern, whose downfall might have ruined hundreds of innocent persons."
"I believe you," said the Secretary. "Here comes the train. I shall expect to find you in the dog-cart."
Stanley sat in his room. Before him lay an open letter; below in the hall, John and the Colonel sat waiting his call. The faithful Legation messenger being well informed that once Darcy was closeted with his master, he was to receive the precious letter of evidence from Kent-Lauriston, and return with all speed to London.
But first the Secretary wished to read and re-read his Chief's instructions. It was a clear, concise document, occupying only two sheets of note-paper. Not a word wasted, yet all necessary information given, it ran as follows:—
"Your satisfactory message received and telegraphed to the Executive in cipher, without delay. I may inform you that it is not the intention of the government to prosecute, if the case presented is sufficiently strong to warrant submission from the recalcitrant members of the cabinet. I leave it to your discretion to arrest Darcy. Do not do so if you can obtain his confession without it. We do not wish to proceed against the agents, but against the principals.We will do so, however, if you advise. The points we must prove are as follows:—"1st. Evidence of the names of members of the cabinet who are to receive bribes."2d. Evidence of the amounts to be received."3d. Evidence relating to the Company offering the bribes."Send proofs by John, at once, and report to me as soon as possible.
"Your satisfactory message received and telegraphed to the Executive in cipher, without delay. I may inform you that it is not the intention of the government to prosecute, if the case presented is sufficiently strong to warrant submission from the recalcitrant members of the cabinet. I leave it to your discretion to arrest Darcy. Do not do so if you can obtain his confession without it. We do not wish to proceed against the agents, but against the principals.We will do so, however, if you advise. The points we must prove are as follows:—
"1st. Evidence of the names of members of the cabinet who are to receive bribes.
"2d. Evidence of the amounts to be received.
"3d. Evidence relating to the Company offering the bribes.
"Send proofs by John, at once, and report to me as soon as possible.
"As ever,"X——"
On a separate sheet of paper was the following:—
"Private and Confidential."I have, in the foregoing, written you a letter which you might show, if necessary, to any of the principals in this affair, should such a course seem advisable. If you obtain possession of the money, in round numbers, £40,000, use it as your discretion suggests. We do not care to handle it officially. You may find it useful in obtaining evidence."I have also to inform you that your most satisfactory conduct in this affair will certainly gain you immediate promotion, though it seems desirable that you should return home first, and almost at once, in the capacity of witness, if you are needed."Entre nous, I have received a cable from Señor De Costa, requesting me to send his daughter, Madame Darcy, home, as soon as suitable escortcan be provided. I have replied, nominating you for the post, an office which, I imagine, you will not find irksome. Make this known to Madame Darcy, if she is still in Sussex, and use your discretion in this matter as in all other things. Do not act hastily in anything. You have a great responsibility for one so young, but I am confident you will discharge it to my satisfaction.
"Private and Confidential.
"I have, in the foregoing, written you a letter which you might show, if necessary, to any of the principals in this affair, should such a course seem advisable. If you obtain possession of the money, in round numbers, £40,000, use it as your discretion suggests. We do not care to handle it officially. You may find it useful in obtaining evidence.
"I have also to inform you that your most satisfactory conduct in this affair will certainly gain you immediate promotion, though it seems desirable that you should return home first, and almost at once, in the capacity of witness, if you are needed.
"Entre nous, I have received a cable from Señor De Costa, requesting me to send his daughter, Madame Darcy, home, as soon as suitable escortcan be provided. I have replied, nominating you for the post, an office which, I imagine, you will not find irksome. Make this known to Madame Darcy, if she is still in Sussex, and use your discretion in this matter as in all other things. Do not act hastily in anything. You have a great responsibility for one so young, but I am confident you will discharge it to my satisfaction.
"Cordially,"X——"
Stanley sat idly for a few minutes, fingering the papers before him. He might seem to be wasting valuable time; as a matter of fact he was very hard at work.
Finally he arose, and, with an air of quick decision, as of one who had made up his mind, he stepped to the opposite wall, and touched the bell. A moment later there came a heavy step on the stairs, a knock, and without waiting for an answer, Colonel Darcy entered the room, threw himself into the most comfortable chair, and scrutinised keenly the little bundle of papers, which the Secretary was in the act of putting into an inside pocket.
Stanley noticed the glance, and replied to the unspoken question, by saying abruptly:—
"It may facilitate matters between us, if I tell you that the evidence is no longer in my possession. It has been sent to the Legation."
The Colonel nodded.
"I should prefer this to be a purely business interview," continued the young diplomat, "and to that end I will state my case and my conditions, after which you can make any answers or comments you think best."
Another nod from his companion was the only answer he received, so he accordingly proceeded.
"The Executive of my government received, some time ago, information of a plot to defeat a treaty, now pending with Great Britain. The subject of this treaty was an island and sand-bar, lying at the mouth of the —— river, on which the —— Company have erected large mills for the manufacture of a staple product of my country. As long as we held the island, they secured by government contracts a practical monopoly of the article in question; by the cession of it to Great Britain their business would be much impaired. Do I state the case clearly?"
"I've never heard it put better," replied the Colonel, with a calmness that was admirable.
"Very well—we'll now proceed to the next point. The firm considered that my government's grants were worth to them, the round sum of two hundred thousand dollars, or forty thousand pounds."
"In gold, sovereigns," acquiesced Darcy.
"Yes, I've one of them in my possession."
The Colonel nodded as usual. He evidently felt it idle to waste words in the face of such incontrovertible evidence.
"This amount was to be divided among amajority of the committee, who would pass on the treaty, thus insuring its defeat. The names of the members who would receive bribes, and the amount to be given to each, being arranged beforehand—by you."
Darcy's face was immovable.
"I said byyou."
"I heard you."
"You've nothing to say?"
"The accused," said the Colonel, "is never required to convict himself."
"You're quite within your rights; we'll let it pass. I make the statement; you neither affirm or deny it."
"Go on," said Darcy.
"You then come to Sussex to receive the funds from Mr. Riddle, the most important shareholder."
"You're mistaken. Miss Fitzgerald received the money from Mr. Riddle," remarked the Colonel.
"You say nothing of your part in the transaction," commented the Secretary, sternly.
"I thought you wanted the truth of the matter."
"I do—go on."
"When the Company found, thanks to your conversation with, and infatuation for, Miss Fitzgerald, that you had in all probability been set to spy upon us, it was deemed better that I should play a subordinate part," continued Darcy. "Accordingly she was selected to do all the dirtywork in this country—collect the money and forward it to London."
"What part did Kingsland play?"
"None whatever, except that of carrier. I sounded him some weeks ago, and found him too loose-tongued for our purposes. It was Belle's scheme to let him take the treasure to town, and he actually believed the cock-and-bull story she told him about the stereopticon slides."
"As soon as you recovered your lost letter of instructions, you intended to go to London, draw out the forty thousand pounds, embark for my country, and distribute the bribes," resumed Stanley, "but, unfortunately for you, your plans are upset entirely. I have in my possession not only your letter of instructions, but also the name of the bank in which the money now lies, and where it can be detained at my orders."
At this point the Colonel's reserve entirely broke down.
"You hold all the trumps, damn you!" he cried. "Give me your terms and conditions."
"It's not the intention of my government to prosecute the corrupt members of the cabinet for a variety of reasons, which, even with your views on the subject of honour, you'll undoubtedly approve."
Darcy flushed, but said nothing.
"In the first place," continued the Secretary, "the Executive has no desire to wash the government's dirty linen in public, and the story is not so creditable that it should be spread abroad.All that is needed is to insure the passage of the treaty; and it is thought, and thought rightly, that a warning to the opposition, if the true facts are known, and can be proved if necessary, would be quite sufficient to remove their obstruction. Of course, the more overwhelming the proof, the more potent the warning; and, while it's not necessary, understand that, I should prefer your signed confession to round out my case."
"What do you offer in return?"
"Immunity from prosecution."
"Is that all?"
"All!Colonel Darcy, I'd have you to know that it's left entirely to my discretion how to proceed against you. I have it in my power to order your arrest, with a certain term of imprisonment at hard labour."
"Would my evidence be used publicly?"
"I think I can assure against that in any case."
"What assurance have I that your government will play me fair if I turn state's evidence?"
Stanley thought a moment, and then handed him the Minister's open letter.
The Colonel perused it, nodded quietly, and said:—
"It will do. I accept the terms. Damn it, I can't do otherwise! Give me pen, ink, and paper. What do you want me to write?"
"In substance what I've said to you."
"Very well."
"Kindly leave out all reference, by name, to Lieutenant Kingsland and Miss Fitzgerald."
"Ha! I suppose you still think she's an angel."
"I know she is a woman, Colonel Darcy."
For some time there was no sound in the room but the scratching of pen to paper. At length, however, the Colonel raised his head from his work, and, pushing it towards the Secretary, said laconically:—
"Will it do?"
"Quite," replied Stanley, after perusing it. "Will you sign it, please? Thanks, I'll witness."
"There," said the Colonel, rising. "That closes our interview."
"Not quite yet, Colonel. I've still an advantageous offer to make to you, in reward for some further concessions of a different character. The case for the government is closed. Our private affairs yet remain to be settled."
"By Gad! You're right there! They do!"
"There is that little trifle of the forty thousand pounds. Suppose I was to give you that amount."
"What!!!" exclaimed his hearer, petrified with astonishment. "You mean to say that you will give it to me?"
"Never, Colonel, never! I shall go to the Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England in London, say the day after to-morrow, to warn them about the money. If you draw it out before that time, why, it's my misfortune. I'll be perfectly frank with you, Colonel Darcy. My government doesn't want the handling of thiscoin, its disposal is left to me. You see it's for everybody's interest to lose this large sum. When the cabinet knows that the truth has been discovered—they know it now, by the way—it was cabled in cipher—there's not one of them who would touch a penny of it. The company can't receive it without giving a receipt, which might prove damaging evidence; while neither government can take it without becoming a party to the transaction. I'm willing to give it to you, if you'll do two things in return. Two disagreeable things, I admit, to a conscientious man; but they're each worth twenty thousand pounds."
"I'd sell my soul for that!" said he with a laugh.
"My dear Colonel, are you sure you have it to sell?"
"What are the conditions?"
"First, that you consent to a divorce from Madame Darcy."
"Humph! That's a nice thing to ask a man. Moreover, it's not worth anything. In fact it's a clear loss. My wife's property, of which I have the use, is worth far more than that."
"But you don't have the use of it, Colonel."
"Well, I should have to pay alimony—then."
"I'll guarantee you against that. Moreover, she'd get her divorce in any event, and then you'd have nothing."
"You're quite right. A pretty woman, who knows how to have hysterics, can get anything in a court of law. My wife's an expert in the latter accomplishment, and she's good-looking enoughto corrupt any jury that was ever empanelled. I give in, it's no use playing a losing game. Now for the second."
"The second is purely confidential."
"Go on."
"I'd like to know exactly what you and Miss Fitzgerald expected to receive for this transaction, and whether these letters," producing the ones Madame Darcy had given him, "do not relate solely to it?"
Darcy laughed.
"You're paying rather a high price for that young lady's character," he said.
"A woman's character should be above any price, Colonel Darcy. We seem to have differing standards of value, which does not, however, alter the main question of whether you will accede to my conditions."
"Certainly I will, and permit me to tell you that you're paying more than either of them is worth."
"That is for me to decide."
"Quite so. Now how do you wish me to aid in my wife's divorce?"
"A statement signed by you, to the effect that you would not contest a suit for divorce—say on the grounds of incompatibility of temper, coupled by your promise of non-interference, would be sufficient. As Madame Darcy is not a Catholic, and her father is a power in his own country, she would have no trouble, legal or religious, in using such evidence."
"Oh, is that all?" said the Colonel, manifestly relieved. "I supposed you wanted statutory grounds."
"I wish to save your wife as much pain and annoyance as possible, and it would be well if you felt the same."
"Oh!" exclaimed Darcy. "So that's the way the land lies, is it? A very interesting way for a young man who is in love with one of the women, and engaged to the other."
"You'll please attend to business, and not discuss my affairs," broke in the Secretary, sharply.
"Quite right, quite right; pardon me—there, it's only a few lines, but I think it will give my wife her freedom when she requires it," and he handed him a paper, adding:—"Now let me go."
"Two things you've forgotten," said Stanley. "Your promise not to appear against your wife in her suit for divorce——"
"That's understood!"
"Do you give it?"
"Yes. I promise not to appear against my wife in her suit for divorce, or in any way to impede its progress. Does that satisfy you? You'll find I'm a man of my word, Mr. Stanley, when I'm as well paid for it, as in the present case."
"Now what did you expect to receive from this transaction?"
"Ten per cent. on the amount distributed—say four thousand pounds."
"I see. And what did you propose to give to Miss Fitzgerald?"
"I said I'd share it with her."
"That is, you'd each have two thousand pounds."
"Exactly—but she's such a mercenary, avaricious little baggage, she struck for more; said she had the most dangerous part to perform, and by Gad! they allotted her three-fourths."
"Three thousand pounds. Quite a neat little sum."
"Rather! I was only to receive one thousand pounds."
"Now about those letters?"
Darcy looked them over hurriedly, and remarked:—
"Purely commercial."
"So I supposed. But how do you explain that sentence in your letter, in which you refer to there being a happy future for both of you?"
The Colonel thrust his hands in his pockets, and looked the Secretary squarely in the face.
"See here, Stanley," he said. "I'm not altogether a cad, and I'll be damned if I explain any more."
The Secretary flushed, and there was an awkward silence, which he broke by speaking nervously.
"That's all, I think," he continued, "except—I suppose you'll have no trouble in getting the money?"
Darcy laughed.
"Give me twenty-four hours," he said.
The Secretary nodded.
"Well, I must be going," remarked the Colonel regretfully, as if he was just bringing to a close a protracted, but delightful, interview. "You've paid a high price for rather indifferent goods, young man, and to show you that I'm dealing fair, I'll throw in a bit of advice. Drop our Irish friend as soon as you know how. Take my word for it, she's a thoroughly bad lot. I don't care what you're worth, she'd run through it in five years, and then——"
"Don't say it!" commanded the Secretary.
"As you like, it's the truth. The money will be in the Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England till day after to-morrow? Yes. Thank you, Mr. Stanley. Trust you're satisfied. I am. Good day."
The door closed. He was gone.
"I can never thank you sufficiently for all you've done, old man," said Stanley to Kent-Lauriston, as the latter stood beside him, a few moments later.
"Which means," said his friend, "that you are going to ask me to do you another favour."
"How well you understand human nature," replied the Secretary, smiling sadly. "Yes, it's quite true; I want you to go to—her—you understand, for me. I meant to go myself, but after what Darcy has told me, it's impossible."
"It's infinitely better to leave the affair in my hands. It will be easier for both of you."
"I'm sure of it. You once said to me, you may remember, that it required more skill to break than to make an engagement, and I'm certain that you'd do this with great tact, and that I should blunder. You'll make it as easy for her as you can, I know—perhaps she'll save you any awkwardness by breaking it off herself. From what she said yesterday, I should think it possible."
"I trust so."
"Here are her letters to me—you'll take them back."
"I will. Do you feel sure of yourself?"
"You need have no fears on that account. I think Madame Darcy was right when she told me once that she was certain that I'd never loved."
"What reason did she give for that statement?"
"Reason—that's just it, she said I'd reasoned about my love, therefore it couldn't be real."
"Madame Darcy is a very clever woman."
"And a very charming one."
"I fully agree with you, but of course she has her drawbacks."
"You think so?"
"Her present position is, to say the least, equivocal; and as a divorcée——"
"Oh, come, Kent-Lauriston, can't you let anyone alone? I never think of those things in connection with her. She's just Madame Darcy—that's all. She forms her own environment; one is so completely dominated by her presence, that other circumstances connected with her don't occur to one."
"In other words, you do not reason."
"Kent-Lauriston!"
"There, I won't say it—only you admit that so far I've known you better than you've known yourself.— Yes?— Well, do not forget what I once told you before. You can never love a woman whom you cannot respect, and no woman who respects herself would permit even a hint of a man's affections until she was free to receive them.Any such premature attempt would be fatal to his suit."
"Thank you," said Stanley, "I won't forget;" and then, with a touch of his old humour, which the responsibilities of the last few days had nearly crushed out, he added: "You're not going to try to save me again?"
"No, thank you, one experience of that sort has been quite enough," replied Kent-Lauriston, laughing.
"Now about this present matter," continued the Secretary. "I don't want you to think me callous or shallow, because I don't appear all broken up; it has hit me very hard. I admit I was a fool, that I took for real passion a sort of sentimentalism born of pity; but, nevertheless, I was honest in my self-deception, and I assure you, even though you may laugh at me, that could I restore her to the innocent girl I believed her to be a few days ago; could I even be assured that she'd join this conspiracy to help a friend, and not as a cold-blooded speculation; I'd gladly marry her with all her faults, and give up my life to leading her into better paths."
"I do not laugh at you, my boy," said Kent-Lauriston. "I respect you for it, I believe you, too; but, as I said in our first interview on this subject, you're too good for her; and she has underrated what she is not fitted to understand."
"There, go now," said the Secretary. "If I talk of this any more, I shall be unnerved, and I've need of all my self-control to-day. Go and dothe best you can. Be gentle and tender for my sake. I suppose I ought to face the matter myself, but I can't bear to. I simply can't look her in the face—now I know——" and he bent his head, choking back a sob.
His friend pressed his hand silently, and left the room.
"Just one moment, if you please, Colonel Darcy," Kent-Lauriston had said, overtaking that officer as he was crossing the park, about an hour after his interview with Stanley.
"I can't stop just now, I'm in a hurry."
"Oh, yes, you can—you can spare me a minute—a minute for an old acquaintance, who knew you when you were only a Lieutenant, like our friend Kingsland; a Lieutenant in Derbyshire, who had aspirations for the hand of Lord ——'s daughter."
"Which you frustrated, damn you! I haven't forgotten."
"Or the evidence which led to such an unfortunate result? Affairs of that sort are not outlawed by the lapse of years; you understand?"
"What do you want of me? Speak! My time is of value."
"Yes, I know—about forty thousand pounds."
"Humph! Go on, will you. I'll tell you what you want, only be quick about it."
"I merely want to know the exact and real truth of Miss Fitzgerald's connection with this bribery and corruption business."
"I told your friend, the Secretary."
"I know what youtoldhim, he's just retailed it to me; but you will pardon me, if I state that, as an observer, of human nature, I don't believe it."
"I've said what I've said," replied the Colonel, surlily.
"Let us see if we can't arrive at a mutual understanding," continued Kent-Lauriston, suavely. "You wish to injure the girl and make her marriage with my friend impossible, because you think she's betrayed you. I wish to render the marriage impossible, because I don't care to see this young man make a fool of himself by marrying a girl who's after his money, and who has nothing to offer in return. Our ends are identical, our motives only are different. Do you follow me?"
The Colonel nodded.
"Now," resumed Kent-Lauriston, "you've told a very clever circumstantial story, which has ruined her in Stanley's eyes, and has stopped the match, as we both wished. Its only flaw lies in the fact that it is not true. If he finds this out, he'll marry her in spite of us; but he is much less likely to find it out if I know the real state of the case, and, as a corollary, the weak points of your narrative, and so am able to prevent the discovery. Do you believe me?"
"I never knew you to tell a lie—it's not in your line."
"Quite so. Therefore, will you tellmethe truth?"
"The truth, then, is that Belle didn't instigate the plot. I got her out of a scrape some years ago, and she was grateful, and lent me a hand with this, purely out of friendship. She doesn't expect to get a penny in reward. It was her idea, however, of using Kingsland to forward the stuff."
"Kingsland knew nothing about it?"
"Nothing at all. He thought the chests contained stereopticon slides."
"That's the real truth then?"
"Yes, but if you blow it to Stanley, I'll tell him your share in this little arrangement."
Kent-Lauriston looked at him, coldly. "You said you were in a hurry, Colonel Darcy," he remarked. "Don't let me detain you."
"I consider it providential," said the Marchioness.
Mrs. Roberts said nothing. It was this trait that rendered her so admirable as a hostess and a friend.
"Of course," continued her Ladyship, "I had long known that there was some sentiment between my dear Isabelle and Lieutenant Kingsland, and if I had supposed there was anything serious, they would at once have had my blessing, and—er—a wedding in St. George's, and—everything that religion requires. Their secret marriage was childish and ridiculous—because it was not opposed."
Mrs. Roberts still held her peace.
"I say," continued the Dowager, "that it was not opposed; of course Mr. Stanley——"
"Ah," said her hostess, seeing that she was expected to intervene: "Mr. Stanley—what of him?"
"Well, you see, my dear Mrs. Roberts, he's a most excellent young man; but he comes from a Catholic country—and—er—the influence is so insidious, that, on consideration, I didn't really feel—that my duty as a mother would permit me to countenance the match further."
Mrs. Roberts said nothing, she had been ill-used in this particular, she felt, and withheld her sympathy accordingly.
The Dowager appreciated the position, and acted promptly.
"Your dear niece, Miss Fitzgerald, such a charming girl," she continued, "doubtless feels as I do. Her throwing Stanley over unreservedly was most commendable, and reflected much credit on your influence, dear Mrs. Roberts."
Her hostess was mollified, and showed it. The Dowager's position promised to turn defeat into triumph.
"You're most kind, I'm sure," she murmured. "Belle was naturally guided by me," and then changing a dangerous subject, she continued, "It is so sad that Lieutenant Kingsland's honeymoon should be darkened by his uncle's death."
Her Ladyship dried an imaginary tear, and added:—