Chapter Twenty One.The Falling of the Shadow.Gwen stood before her father and her lover, a pale, wan, trembling figure, evasive in all her answers.With the seal of silence upon her lips what could she say?As Professor Griffin had entered the door with his latch-key a hansom had drawn up at the kerb, and Frank, who had come straight from Charing Cross, after dropping his kit at his rooms, sprang out and ran up the steps to the porch to meet the elder man with a merry greeting.His first inquiry had been of Gwen, but the Professor’s face told him that something was wrong, and they entered the hall together. Next moment, however, the maid rushed forward exclaiming: “Miss Gwen’s come home, sir. She’s upstairs.”“Tell her we are here,” said her father, “and we’d like to see her at once.”Then the two men walked into the dining-room, where, in a few brief sentences, the Professor explained to young Farquhar his daughter’s sudden disappearance.Frank was quick to notice that the girl he loved had scarce dared to raise her eyes to his as she entered the room. The grey gown she wore, unrelieved by any touch of colour, served to accentuate the deadly pallor of her soft countenance. A change had been wrought in her—a great astounding change.“Why, Gwen dear!” gasped her father. “What’s the matter? What has occurred?”“Nothing, dad,” faltered the girl.“That’s quite absurd, my child,” cried the elder man. “You’ve been absent from home all these days, and sent me no word! Something unusual must have occurred.”“Nothing, dad dear—at least, nothing that I can tell you.”Frank started, staring straight at her, utterly amazed at her response.“But, Gwen,” he exclaimed, “you surely can explain where you’ve been. The police, it seems, have been searching for you everywhere.”Her eyes were cast quickly around the room, as though seeking means of escape from that cross-examination. Then she answered:“I really don’t see what my business concerns any one—so long as I am at home again.”“This is scarcely like you, Gwen,” exclaimed the grey-haired man reproachfully. “You are usually so very thoughtful for me, and careful not to give me cause for a moment’s anxiety.”“It was quite inevitable, dad,” she replied. “I would not have remained silent intentionally—as you well know.”“But surely,” interrupted Frank in a voice which showed that his suspicions were already aroused, “surely you can at least allow us the satisfaction of knowing where you’ve been, dear!”“No harm has befallen me, has there? Therefore, why trouble about my absence?” she asked. To utter those words required all her self-control. She knew in what an awkward position she was now placing herself.“Well, you seem to regard very lightly all the anxiety you have caused me, my child,” protested Griffin sharply.“I am very sorry—truly sorry, dear dad,” was the pale-faced girl’s reply, “but my silence really was not my own fault.”“At least you might be frank with us now, Gwen!” declared her lover. “You surely have nothing to hide!”“Nothing whatever,” she said, smiling bitterly, “only I am, for certain reasons, compelled to regard my recent whereabouts as a secret.”“Why?”She was silent. What could she say! What indeed? The man Mullet, who had been her protector, and who had treated her with such kindness and consideration, making her confinement much the less irksome than it would have been; the man who had stood between her and her brutal, red-faced inquisitor, and who, just at the moment when a grave peril threatened her, had opened the door and allowed her to escape, and laid upon her a solemn vow of secrecy. His words rang distinctly in her ears: “Remember, Miss Griffin, if you tell your friends what has happened to you it will result in my ruin. Our enemies will avenge themselves by giving me over to the police. Therefore, I beg of you to remain silent—at all hazards—for my sake!” And she had promised.Could she break that pledge, given to the man who had saved her from shame and dishonour?By her hesitation, grave suspicions had gathered within the minds of both her father and her lover. Ignorant of the true facts, they both misjudged her.Frank’s quick jealousy had been fired by her determination not to make explanation. Yet he had tried to suppress the bitter thoughts growing within him, hoping that it was her father’s presence which prevented her from telling him in confidence what had occurred.“I cannot see why you should make such a great mystery of the affair, my dear child,” remarked the Professor, clearly annoyed.“Well,” and she laughed nervously, “perhaps I may tell you something some day, dad. But please excuse me now, dear. I—I’m tired and—and very upset.”The old man recognised from her pale, hard-drawn features that she was not herself. Her highly strung nerves were at their greatest tension. And, perhaps, after all, he thought, it was injudicious of him to submit her to that cross-examination in Frank’s presence.Indeed, both men desired to speak with her alone, both believing that they would then induce her to tell the truth.Little did they dream that the truth could never issue from her lips—that the vow she had made was to a man to whom the exposure meant loss of his liberty.Her own position was a ghastly one. She had already realised that. She shuddered at the recollection of those hideous insults of that fat, brutal tormentor—and of the fate which he had marked out for her because she would not satisfy him concerning either her father or her lover.Her sole thought was of “Charlie”—Mr Mullet, or “Red Mullet” as his friends were in the habit of calling him. She smiled at the humour of the appellation. It fitted him so well on account of his red hair and bristly red moustache.Half an hour later the subject of her absence having by mutual consent, been dropped, the Professor went to his study to write some letters, while Gwen and her lover strolled into the big drawing-room, gaunt and cheerless without a fire.When they were alone he took her white, trembling hand, and, looking steadily into her eyes, begged her to afford him the satisfaction of knowing the truth about her absence.She had been dreading that moment, and she only shook her head.“But, dearest!” he urged, “surely I have a right to know!”“I thought you said only the day before your departure for Copenhagen that you could always trust me, Frank,” she answered, in a voice full of quiet reproach.“I said so, I admit. But almost immediately I had gone it seems that you slipped out of the house without a word, and have only just returned. You will make no explanation, therefore what am I to think? What can I think!”“You must think as evil of me as you may, Frank,” was the girl’s calm reply.“No, no,” he cried. “Come darling, tell me all about it—in confidence. I won’t say a word to any living soul.”“I cannot tell you,” was her faint response, standing rigid, with her eyes fixed straight before her. “Please do not ask me again.”“Do you refuse, even me?”“Yes, Frank—even you.”He was silent. What ugly incident could she have to hide from him? He knew that before their first meeting she had, like many a young and pretty girl, been a sad flirt; that men had hovered about her continually, attracted by her sweet beauty and charming daintiness. He was not her first love. On the contrary, she had more than one little serious affair of the heart; first with a young Italian officer of infantry at Florence, where she had spent a winter with her father, and again with the son of a north country ironmaster while staying at the Empire at Buxton. She had confessed to those, and others. Indeed, hitherto she had never withheld from him any secret concerning her past. Therefore, why should she now refuse to give any account of her mysterious absence!He was puzzled—puzzled by her attitude and puzzled by her determination to evade his questions. And, as was but natural, there sprang up in his breast the burning fire of jealousy.The amazing, horrifying thought occurred to him that she, the sweet-faced girl he loved with his whole heart and soul, had, while he had been absent abroad, met some secret lover, an old “flame” most probably, believing that she could excuse herself to her indulgent father and induce him to make no mention of the affair to him upon his return. He, however, had returned to London a day too early—returned to learn the bitter and astounding truth.Time after time, still holding her tiny white hand in his, and looking into those dark timid eyes, he urged her to give him some satisfaction. But she steadily refused, declaring:“I am unable, Frank. And even if I were able, you would never believe me—never!”“Why are you unable?” he inquired, suspiciously.“Because secrecy has been imposed upon me.”“By one who is in fear of certain consequences—eh?” he asked furiously.“Yes,” was her faltering response.“Then is it not right that I, your future husband, should be acquainted with what has occurred, Gwen?” he demanded quickly. “By your silence, you are only arousing suspicions within me that may be cruel and unjust towards you.”“I regret, Frank, that it must remain so. I have given a pledge that I cannot break—even at your request.”“Ah! then your love for me is not so strong as I believed it to be!” he cried reproachfully, letting her hand drop. “How many times have you placed your arms about my neck and declared your affection for me?” he asked bitterly.“I do love you, Frank—I swear I love you as much as I have always done!” she cried wildly, stretching forth her arms to him in her despair.“Impossible. You have made a solemn pledge to another—a man. Do you deny that it is a man?”“No. I deny nothing that is the truth,” she whispered hoarsely, “I dare not tell you the truth for—for that man’s sake!”“You apparently think a great deal of him!” exclaimed Farquhar, with rising anger.“He is my friend—my best friend, as you will some day learn.”“And you actually tell me this, Gwen!” he cried, staring at her. “You—whom I’ve loved so truly!”“I am telling you the truth,” she replied, in a voice again strangely calm. “You need entertain no jealousy of him. He is my friend—my devoted friend—nothing more.”“And you stay from home for days, and on returning tell me this!” he exclaimed, his brows contracted in fierce anger. “What is this fellow’s name?” he demanded.“I am not at liberty to tell you,” she responded, “believe me if you will—if not,”—and she shrugged her shoulders without concluding her sentences.“I have a right to know,” he blurted forth.She realised the effect her words had had upon him. She saw his fierce jealousy and his dark suspicion. Yet what more could she say in the hideous circumstances. She was now the innocent victim of a silence imposed upon her by the man who had been her protector. How could she betray him into the hands of his enemies? Ah! her situation was surely one of the most difficult and maddening in which a girl had ever found herself.To tell Frank Farquhar the truth would be to rouse his mad jealousy to a great pitch. He would seek out Mr Mullet, face him, and create a scene which must inevitably bring down upon her friend and protector the vengeance of those who held him so helpless in their unscrupulous hands.Hence she foresaw the inevitable. It was as plain as it was tragic. Her refusal to give satisfactory replies to Frank’s most natural questions had aroused his darkest suspicion. He, on his part, discerned in her determination a deliberate attempt to mislead him. During his absence she had changed towards him, changed in a most curious way that held him mystified.“You appear, Gwen, to be utterly unconcerned and careless as to whether I believe you or not,” he said gravely, after a few moments’ silence. “Well, I would like now to speak quite plainly and openly.”“Speak,” she said, “I am all attention.” She was struggling valiantly with herself.Her coolness was feigned. Ah! what would she give if she were at liberty to tell Frank the whole strange and ghastly truth!“I have put to you a question which you refuse to answer,” he said in a low, hard voice. “You have admitted that, by this silence of yours, you are protecting another man. Well—in that case I can only say that I must leave you in future to your friend’s protection. I hope he loves you better—better than I!”“Leave me!” she gasped in a hoarse whisper. “You—you will leave me! Ah! no—no Frank,”—she shrieked in her despair, “you can’t mean that—you won’t let—”But her lover had already turned upon his heel, and without further words he left the room—and the house.She heard the front door slam, and then with a sudden cry of despair she flung herself upon the couch and buried her head among the silken cushions sobbing.
Gwen stood before her father and her lover, a pale, wan, trembling figure, evasive in all her answers.
With the seal of silence upon her lips what could she say?
As Professor Griffin had entered the door with his latch-key a hansom had drawn up at the kerb, and Frank, who had come straight from Charing Cross, after dropping his kit at his rooms, sprang out and ran up the steps to the porch to meet the elder man with a merry greeting.
His first inquiry had been of Gwen, but the Professor’s face told him that something was wrong, and they entered the hall together. Next moment, however, the maid rushed forward exclaiming: “Miss Gwen’s come home, sir. She’s upstairs.”
“Tell her we are here,” said her father, “and we’d like to see her at once.”
Then the two men walked into the dining-room, where, in a few brief sentences, the Professor explained to young Farquhar his daughter’s sudden disappearance.
Frank was quick to notice that the girl he loved had scarce dared to raise her eyes to his as she entered the room. The grey gown she wore, unrelieved by any touch of colour, served to accentuate the deadly pallor of her soft countenance. A change had been wrought in her—a great astounding change.
“Why, Gwen dear!” gasped her father. “What’s the matter? What has occurred?”
“Nothing, dad,” faltered the girl.
“That’s quite absurd, my child,” cried the elder man. “You’ve been absent from home all these days, and sent me no word! Something unusual must have occurred.”
“Nothing, dad dear—at least, nothing that I can tell you.”
Frank started, staring straight at her, utterly amazed at her response.
“But, Gwen,” he exclaimed, “you surely can explain where you’ve been. The police, it seems, have been searching for you everywhere.”
Her eyes were cast quickly around the room, as though seeking means of escape from that cross-examination. Then she answered:
“I really don’t see what my business concerns any one—so long as I am at home again.”
“This is scarcely like you, Gwen,” exclaimed the grey-haired man reproachfully. “You are usually so very thoughtful for me, and careful not to give me cause for a moment’s anxiety.”
“It was quite inevitable, dad,” she replied. “I would not have remained silent intentionally—as you well know.”
“But surely,” interrupted Frank in a voice which showed that his suspicions were already aroused, “surely you can at least allow us the satisfaction of knowing where you’ve been, dear!”
“No harm has befallen me, has there? Therefore, why trouble about my absence?” she asked. To utter those words required all her self-control. She knew in what an awkward position she was now placing herself.
“Well, you seem to regard very lightly all the anxiety you have caused me, my child,” protested Griffin sharply.
“I am very sorry—truly sorry, dear dad,” was the pale-faced girl’s reply, “but my silence really was not my own fault.”
“At least you might be frank with us now, Gwen!” declared her lover. “You surely have nothing to hide!”
“Nothing whatever,” she said, smiling bitterly, “only I am, for certain reasons, compelled to regard my recent whereabouts as a secret.”
“Why?”
She was silent. What could she say! What indeed? The man Mullet, who had been her protector, and who had treated her with such kindness and consideration, making her confinement much the less irksome than it would have been; the man who had stood between her and her brutal, red-faced inquisitor, and who, just at the moment when a grave peril threatened her, had opened the door and allowed her to escape, and laid upon her a solemn vow of secrecy. His words rang distinctly in her ears: “Remember, Miss Griffin, if you tell your friends what has happened to you it will result in my ruin. Our enemies will avenge themselves by giving me over to the police. Therefore, I beg of you to remain silent—at all hazards—for my sake!” And she had promised.
Could she break that pledge, given to the man who had saved her from shame and dishonour?
By her hesitation, grave suspicions had gathered within the minds of both her father and her lover. Ignorant of the true facts, they both misjudged her.
Frank’s quick jealousy had been fired by her determination not to make explanation. Yet he had tried to suppress the bitter thoughts growing within him, hoping that it was her father’s presence which prevented her from telling him in confidence what had occurred.
“I cannot see why you should make such a great mystery of the affair, my dear child,” remarked the Professor, clearly annoyed.
“Well,” and she laughed nervously, “perhaps I may tell you something some day, dad. But please excuse me now, dear. I—I’m tired and—and very upset.”
The old man recognised from her pale, hard-drawn features that she was not herself. Her highly strung nerves were at their greatest tension. And, perhaps, after all, he thought, it was injudicious of him to submit her to that cross-examination in Frank’s presence.
Indeed, both men desired to speak with her alone, both believing that they would then induce her to tell the truth.
Little did they dream that the truth could never issue from her lips—that the vow she had made was to a man to whom the exposure meant loss of his liberty.
Her own position was a ghastly one. She had already realised that. She shuddered at the recollection of those hideous insults of that fat, brutal tormentor—and of the fate which he had marked out for her because she would not satisfy him concerning either her father or her lover.
Her sole thought was of “Charlie”—Mr Mullet, or “Red Mullet” as his friends were in the habit of calling him. She smiled at the humour of the appellation. It fitted him so well on account of his red hair and bristly red moustache.
Half an hour later the subject of her absence having by mutual consent, been dropped, the Professor went to his study to write some letters, while Gwen and her lover strolled into the big drawing-room, gaunt and cheerless without a fire.
When they were alone he took her white, trembling hand, and, looking steadily into her eyes, begged her to afford him the satisfaction of knowing the truth about her absence.
She had been dreading that moment, and she only shook her head.
“But, dearest!” he urged, “surely I have a right to know!”
“I thought you said only the day before your departure for Copenhagen that you could always trust me, Frank,” she answered, in a voice full of quiet reproach.
“I said so, I admit. But almost immediately I had gone it seems that you slipped out of the house without a word, and have only just returned. You will make no explanation, therefore what am I to think? What can I think!”
“You must think as evil of me as you may, Frank,” was the girl’s calm reply.
“No, no,” he cried. “Come darling, tell me all about it—in confidence. I won’t say a word to any living soul.”
“I cannot tell you,” was her faint response, standing rigid, with her eyes fixed straight before her. “Please do not ask me again.”
“Do you refuse, even me?”
“Yes, Frank—even you.”
He was silent. What ugly incident could she have to hide from him? He knew that before their first meeting she had, like many a young and pretty girl, been a sad flirt; that men had hovered about her continually, attracted by her sweet beauty and charming daintiness. He was not her first love. On the contrary, she had more than one little serious affair of the heart; first with a young Italian officer of infantry at Florence, where she had spent a winter with her father, and again with the son of a north country ironmaster while staying at the Empire at Buxton. She had confessed to those, and others. Indeed, hitherto she had never withheld from him any secret concerning her past. Therefore, why should she now refuse to give any account of her mysterious absence!
He was puzzled—puzzled by her attitude and puzzled by her determination to evade his questions. And, as was but natural, there sprang up in his breast the burning fire of jealousy.
The amazing, horrifying thought occurred to him that she, the sweet-faced girl he loved with his whole heart and soul, had, while he had been absent abroad, met some secret lover, an old “flame” most probably, believing that she could excuse herself to her indulgent father and induce him to make no mention of the affair to him upon his return. He, however, had returned to London a day too early—returned to learn the bitter and astounding truth.
Time after time, still holding her tiny white hand in his, and looking into those dark timid eyes, he urged her to give him some satisfaction. But she steadily refused, declaring:
“I am unable, Frank. And even if I were able, you would never believe me—never!”
“Why are you unable?” he inquired, suspiciously.
“Because secrecy has been imposed upon me.”
“By one who is in fear of certain consequences—eh?” he asked furiously.
“Yes,” was her faltering response.
“Then is it not right that I, your future husband, should be acquainted with what has occurred, Gwen?” he demanded quickly. “By your silence, you are only arousing suspicions within me that may be cruel and unjust towards you.”
“I regret, Frank, that it must remain so. I have given a pledge that I cannot break—even at your request.”
“Ah! then your love for me is not so strong as I believed it to be!” he cried reproachfully, letting her hand drop. “How many times have you placed your arms about my neck and declared your affection for me?” he asked bitterly.
“I do love you, Frank—I swear I love you as much as I have always done!” she cried wildly, stretching forth her arms to him in her despair.
“Impossible. You have made a solemn pledge to another—a man. Do you deny that it is a man?”
“No. I deny nothing that is the truth,” she whispered hoarsely, “I dare not tell you the truth for—for that man’s sake!”
“You apparently think a great deal of him!” exclaimed Farquhar, with rising anger.
“He is my friend—my best friend, as you will some day learn.”
“And you actually tell me this, Gwen!” he cried, staring at her. “You—whom I’ve loved so truly!”
“I am telling you the truth,” she replied, in a voice again strangely calm. “You need entertain no jealousy of him. He is my friend—my devoted friend—nothing more.”
“And you stay from home for days, and on returning tell me this!” he exclaimed, his brows contracted in fierce anger. “What is this fellow’s name?” he demanded.
“I am not at liberty to tell you,” she responded, “believe me if you will—if not,”—and she shrugged her shoulders without concluding her sentences.
“I have a right to know,” he blurted forth.
She realised the effect her words had had upon him. She saw his fierce jealousy and his dark suspicion. Yet what more could she say in the hideous circumstances. She was now the innocent victim of a silence imposed upon her by the man who had been her protector. How could she betray him into the hands of his enemies? Ah! her situation was surely one of the most difficult and maddening in which a girl had ever found herself.
To tell Frank Farquhar the truth would be to rouse his mad jealousy to a great pitch. He would seek out Mr Mullet, face him, and create a scene which must inevitably bring down upon her friend and protector the vengeance of those who held him so helpless in their unscrupulous hands.
Hence she foresaw the inevitable. It was as plain as it was tragic. Her refusal to give satisfactory replies to Frank’s most natural questions had aroused his darkest suspicion. He, on his part, discerned in her determination a deliberate attempt to mislead him. During his absence she had changed towards him, changed in a most curious way that held him mystified.
“You appear, Gwen, to be utterly unconcerned and careless as to whether I believe you or not,” he said gravely, after a few moments’ silence. “Well, I would like now to speak quite plainly and openly.”
“Speak,” she said, “I am all attention.” She was struggling valiantly with herself.
Her coolness was feigned. Ah! what would she give if she were at liberty to tell Frank the whole strange and ghastly truth!
“I have put to you a question which you refuse to answer,” he said in a low, hard voice. “You have admitted that, by this silence of yours, you are protecting another man. Well—in that case I can only say that I must leave you in future to your friend’s protection. I hope he loves you better—better than I!”
“Leave me!” she gasped in a hoarse whisper. “You—you will leave me! Ah! no—no Frank,”—she shrieked in her despair, “you can’t mean that—you won’t let—”
But her lover had already turned upon his heel, and without further words he left the room—and the house.
She heard the front door slam, and then with a sudden cry of despair she flung herself upon the couch and buried her head among the silken cushions sobbing.
Chapter Twenty Two.Increases the Mystery.The morning was foggy, damp and dark in London, one of those to which dwellers in the Metropolis are so accustomed in the short December days.In “Red Mullet’s” sitting-room off Oxford Street—that same room in which Gwen Griffin had endured her imprisonment—he and Doctor Diamond were seated.A fortnight had passed since the red-haired man’s visit to Horsford, but in accordance with a promise made he had, late the previous evening, telegraphed to the hunchback, and in response to the message the latter had left Peterborough by the up-express at nine o’clock that morning.“Well, Doc,” the tall man was saying as he lay stretched lazily in his chair smoking a cigarette. “I’m giving away my friend in order to oblige you, and I’ve had a lot of difficulty, as you may imagine. My friends are a pretty tough crowd, as you know. But I’ve fulfilled the promise I made to you, and all will be well providing that young lady, Miss Griffin, only holds her tongue.”“Then you’ve really obtained a copy of the document for me—eh!” interrupted the ugly little man, his face brightening quickly.“Yes. I was very nearly caught in the act of taking it. It was kept in a safe, and I had to get hold of thekeyby a ruse. I kept it a day, and got a typed copy made. Then I retained it to its place.”“By Jove, Mr Mullet, you’re a real friend!” cried the Doctor, starting up. “As you know, we’ve been handicapped hitherto by not knowing the context of the document. Ours has been all guesswork.”“Well, it needn’t be any more,” remarked the red-haired man with a light laugh, “for here’s a complete copy. You’d better read it out. It’s a very remarkable statement.” And he produced a typewritten manuscript which the Doctor, after clearing his throat, eagerly read as follows:“THE TREASURE OF ISRAEL.“Revealed by a Hebrew Cipher in the Old Testament.“I, Peter Holmboe, graduate of Helsingfors University, in Finland, late Professor of Hebrew at St. Petersburg University, and now resident at Langenfelder Strasse, 17, Altona, Germany, make oath and declare as follows:“Curious, and perhaps improbable as it may at first appear, I claim to have discovered the actual whereabouts of the hidden treasure of the Jewish Temple, which includes among other things the Ark of the Covenant, the Tablets of moses, and the enormous treasure of gold and silver known to exist before the capture of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.“The Secret.“The secret of the place of concealment is contained in a cipher which runs through certain chapters of the Book of Ezekiel, and which clearly relates the whole story and gives absolute and most complete directions with measurements by which the spot is indicated. And not only this. The same story, in a much more abbreviated form, is, curiously enough, also repeated in the same cipher in certain chapters of Deuteronomy.“It is a historical fact that when Nebuchadnezzar seized Jerusalem nearly the whole of the treasure of the Temple had disappeared, and it would seem that into the Book of Ezekiel the secret was incorporated, so that the treasure, which formed the war-chest of the Jews, could be recovered at the coming of the Messiah.“Many points are, of course, highly interesting and curious. Perhaps my discovery—which, by the way, was by pure accident—will create much controversy and arouse great excitement among scholars and archaeologists. Nevertheless the cipher exists, as I am ready, under certain conditions and on certain financial considerations, to indicate its existence to any competent Hebrew scholar who may be appointed to investigate my discovery.“The Cipher.“For many years I had been greatly interested in the various astronomical, astrological and cabalistical signs and cycles so apparent in the chronology of the ancient peoples. In the Bible, and more especially during the five hundred or so years before Christ, I found evidences of the astrology that was used in the division of time, and therefore set to work, using the comparing method in order to obtain an insight into the different ciphers most universally used, and also into the methods of concealing secret messages and statements. Many of the ciphers used were highly ingenious and most difficult to decipher. The Jews in Jerusalem used them, so did the Jewish Greeks in Alexandria and the Buddhists in India, as well as the Gnostics, etc.“I had been studying certain curious expressions in the ‘Mischna,’ which seemed to me to contain certain hidden meanings, when one day, in studying the Book of Ezekiel in the original, I was amazed to come across an expression which, habituated as I was to the presence of ciphers, told me at once that a hidden message was contained there.“After countless failures through several years, I one day applied one of the earlier known cabalistic ciphers—which, by the way, is so complicated and ingenious that the whole message must be deciphered before the first word becomes apparent—and, to my intense astonishment, on making the complete decipher I found myself able to read a clean declaration (extending through nine chapters) of the secret hiding-place of the Great Treasure of Israel!“The cipher declaration opens with an intimation of 490 years before the arrival of the Messiah, and continues as follows:“‘The lapse of years are nearing its filling. The relief of the Doom will come in spite of all. The people’s right is nearing. The Period of the Blood-Debts and that of the Suppression will lose its power.’“It is then stated that Moses’ tablets, the archives of the Temple, the Ark of the Covenant and ‘the Chair of Grace between two cherubims of fine gold,’ ‘the insignias Urim and Thummim with two rubies of extraordinary size surrounded by a multitude of other precious stones,’ the ‘written archives of the earliest period of the Jews’ till about B.C. 600, ‘the great treasures of the Temple, gold and silver vessels, coined gold, and precious stones of every description’ were all ‘concealed beneath the earth in a dry-room in connection with which is a series of water-tunnels.’“The secret declaration goes on to give the most complete details of how the treasure may be reached. It is stated that there are three entrances, one of which is impossible as it is inaccessible, being closed up by masonry in a labyrinth of caves; the second is also too difficult. But the third is accessible by draining the water and will not present much difficulty.“The cipher continuing, declares:“‘The tablets shall remain in their hiding-place till the arrival of the Messiah, who alone may open their place of concealment, in order that He may furnish proof of the faith, and if necessary the treasure shall provide a war fund when the Messiah conquers the world and establishes his residence in Jerusalem.’“The cipher concludes by declaring:“‘Six curses, yea! sixty times six curses, shall be upon the head of any one who dare to attempt to violate the treasure-house.’“That the messages, each identical, run through both Ezekiel and Deuteronomy is indisputable, and I am quite ready to explain them, provided my secret is properly protected.“Among the many curious and interesting features which go far to prove that the treasure is still lying undisturbed, I may perhaps indicate the Biblical fact that, after the Babylonian imprisonment, the tablets of Moses were never again exhibited in the Temple. Yet did not Nehemiah convince himself that they were intact and in good condition?“We know that Nebuchadnezzar received certain vessels from the Temple at Jerusalem (Ezra, i, 7-11) but no mention is made of the tablets, of the Ark, or of any other of the things mentioned in the cipher!“Again, when Titus destroyed Jerusalem he did not obtain the Ark. On the Arch of Triumph still existing in Rome are representations of the candlesticks, but there is no representation of the Ark.“Through the whole prophecy of Ezekiel I can point out many evidences of the existence of the treasure.“And, finally, it is extremely curious that the Crusaders searched actively for it, but mostly in the neighbourhood of Engeddin.“Whether the treasure of Israel still exists or not, the cipher declaration stands out in black and white, one of the best known and most difficult of all the various modes used by the ancients for concealing messages.“I claim that it is a most amazing discovery which must be of deepest interest to the whole civilised world, and should be at once investigated. I have not, of course, space to give complete Biblical references, etc. These I will supply later on, if necessary.“Any Jew who may be consulted will no doubt scorn the idea of the existence of the treasure. He will do so because he will argue that no cipher can exist in a book inspired. Again, he may declare that all the treasure was all carried off to Babylon. This is, I maintain, disproved by historical facts.“Again, there may be considerable argument as to whether the Books of Ezekiel and of Deuteronomy were written about the same period. According to the latest theory, Deuteronomy was written before Ezekiel, nevertheless this discovery of the same cipher record in both now conclusively proves that they were written at very nearly the same time.“Further, I am aware of the Talmudic tradition which states that the treasures I have enumerated, with the addition of Aaron’s staff, the pot of manna and the flask of anointing oil, are hidden beneath the Temple Mount. But the cipher in question shows plainly that they are not concealed upon the site of the Temple, which is now occupied by the Mosque of Omar, but at some considerable distance away.“The Key.“As regards the key to the cipher and the manner in which to decipher it, I have, believing my existence to be now short-lived—for alas! I am suffering from a disease that I am told is incurable—placed the key, with such directions as are necessary to read it, in a place where it will remain hidden until such time as I have arranged with a capitalist or syndicate of financiers to despatch an expedition to secretly purchase the land in question and excavate for the holy relics. To them alone it will be revealed.“The key, which will disclose a statement that must cause the whole world to be surprised and thrilled, is divided into two parts, the one useless without the other. One part now lies in one city and another in a second. Therefore, for any person to attempt to discover the truth without first entering into business relations with me will be utterly impossible. And even if both keys were illegally obtained, the requisite knowledge could not then be ascertained without a third direction, that can be supplied by myself alone.“If I live, then I hope to search and recover the sacred objects. If, however, Providence wills my death ere my task is done, none shall complete it; for none shall ever profit by the secret which the Unseen Power has revealed unto us, a statement of which I have herein written and signed by my own hand.“(Signed) Peter Holmboe,Professor of Hebrew.”The following note, with the impression of a rubber stamp, was appended in German:“Sworn before me, Karl Weizel, notary public at 38, Neuer Junugferustieg, in the Free City of Hamburg, on the eighth of July, One thousand Nine hundred and Seven.”
The morning was foggy, damp and dark in London, one of those to which dwellers in the Metropolis are so accustomed in the short December days.
In “Red Mullet’s” sitting-room off Oxford Street—that same room in which Gwen Griffin had endured her imprisonment—he and Doctor Diamond were seated.
A fortnight had passed since the red-haired man’s visit to Horsford, but in accordance with a promise made he had, late the previous evening, telegraphed to the hunchback, and in response to the message the latter had left Peterborough by the up-express at nine o’clock that morning.
“Well, Doc,” the tall man was saying as he lay stretched lazily in his chair smoking a cigarette. “I’m giving away my friend in order to oblige you, and I’ve had a lot of difficulty, as you may imagine. My friends are a pretty tough crowd, as you know. But I’ve fulfilled the promise I made to you, and all will be well providing that young lady, Miss Griffin, only holds her tongue.”
“Then you’ve really obtained a copy of the document for me—eh!” interrupted the ugly little man, his face brightening quickly.
“Yes. I was very nearly caught in the act of taking it. It was kept in a safe, and I had to get hold of thekeyby a ruse. I kept it a day, and got a typed copy made. Then I retained it to its place.”
“By Jove, Mr Mullet, you’re a real friend!” cried the Doctor, starting up. “As you know, we’ve been handicapped hitherto by not knowing the context of the document. Ours has been all guesswork.”
“Well, it needn’t be any more,” remarked the red-haired man with a light laugh, “for here’s a complete copy. You’d better read it out. It’s a very remarkable statement.” And he produced a typewritten manuscript which the Doctor, after clearing his throat, eagerly read as follows:
“THE TREASURE OF ISRAEL.“Revealed by a Hebrew Cipher in the Old Testament.“I, Peter Holmboe, graduate of Helsingfors University, in Finland, late Professor of Hebrew at St. Petersburg University, and now resident at Langenfelder Strasse, 17, Altona, Germany, make oath and declare as follows:“Curious, and perhaps improbable as it may at first appear, I claim to have discovered the actual whereabouts of the hidden treasure of the Jewish Temple, which includes among other things the Ark of the Covenant, the Tablets of moses, and the enormous treasure of gold and silver known to exist before the capture of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.“The Secret.“The secret of the place of concealment is contained in a cipher which runs through certain chapters of the Book of Ezekiel, and which clearly relates the whole story and gives absolute and most complete directions with measurements by which the spot is indicated. And not only this. The same story, in a much more abbreviated form, is, curiously enough, also repeated in the same cipher in certain chapters of Deuteronomy.“It is a historical fact that when Nebuchadnezzar seized Jerusalem nearly the whole of the treasure of the Temple had disappeared, and it would seem that into the Book of Ezekiel the secret was incorporated, so that the treasure, which formed the war-chest of the Jews, could be recovered at the coming of the Messiah.“Many points are, of course, highly interesting and curious. Perhaps my discovery—which, by the way, was by pure accident—will create much controversy and arouse great excitement among scholars and archaeologists. Nevertheless the cipher exists, as I am ready, under certain conditions and on certain financial considerations, to indicate its existence to any competent Hebrew scholar who may be appointed to investigate my discovery.“The Cipher.“For many years I had been greatly interested in the various astronomical, astrological and cabalistical signs and cycles so apparent in the chronology of the ancient peoples. In the Bible, and more especially during the five hundred or so years before Christ, I found evidences of the astrology that was used in the division of time, and therefore set to work, using the comparing method in order to obtain an insight into the different ciphers most universally used, and also into the methods of concealing secret messages and statements. Many of the ciphers used were highly ingenious and most difficult to decipher. The Jews in Jerusalem used them, so did the Jewish Greeks in Alexandria and the Buddhists in India, as well as the Gnostics, etc.“I had been studying certain curious expressions in the ‘Mischna,’ which seemed to me to contain certain hidden meanings, when one day, in studying the Book of Ezekiel in the original, I was amazed to come across an expression which, habituated as I was to the presence of ciphers, told me at once that a hidden message was contained there.“After countless failures through several years, I one day applied one of the earlier known cabalistic ciphers—which, by the way, is so complicated and ingenious that the whole message must be deciphered before the first word becomes apparent—and, to my intense astonishment, on making the complete decipher I found myself able to read a clean declaration (extending through nine chapters) of the secret hiding-place of the Great Treasure of Israel!“The cipher declaration opens with an intimation of 490 years before the arrival of the Messiah, and continues as follows:“‘The lapse of years are nearing its filling. The relief of the Doom will come in spite of all. The people’s right is nearing. The Period of the Blood-Debts and that of the Suppression will lose its power.’“It is then stated that Moses’ tablets, the archives of the Temple, the Ark of the Covenant and ‘the Chair of Grace between two cherubims of fine gold,’ ‘the insignias Urim and Thummim with two rubies of extraordinary size surrounded by a multitude of other precious stones,’ the ‘written archives of the earliest period of the Jews’ till about B.C. 600, ‘the great treasures of the Temple, gold and silver vessels, coined gold, and precious stones of every description’ were all ‘concealed beneath the earth in a dry-room in connection with which is a series of water-tunnels.’“The secret declaration goes on to give the most complete details of how the treasure may be reached. It is stated that there are three entrances, one of which is impossible as it is inaccessible, being closed up by masonry in a labyrinth of caves; the second is also too difficult. But the third is accessible by draining the water and will not present much difficulty.“The cipher continuing, declares:“‘The tablets shall remain in their hiding-place till the arrival of the Messiah, who alone may open their place of concealment, in order that He may furnish proof of the faith, and if necessary the treasure shall provide a war fund when the Messiah conquers the world and establishes his residence in Jerusalem.’“The cipher concludes by declaring:“‘Six curses, yea! sixty times six curses, shall be upon the head of any one who dare to attempt to violate the treasure-house.’“That the messages, each identical, run through both Ezekiel and Deuteronomy is indisputable, and I am quite ready to explain them, provided my secret is properly protected.“Among the many curious and interesting features which go far to prove that the treasure is still lying undisturbed, I may perhaps indicate the Biblical fact that, after the Babylonian imprisonment, the tablets of Moses were never again exhibited in the Temple. Yet did not Nehemiah convince himself that they were intact and in good condition?“We know that Nebuchadnezzar received certain vessels from the Temple at Jerusalem (Ezra, i, 7-11) but no mention is made of the tablets, of the Ark, or of any other of the things mentioned in the cipher!“Again, when Titus destroyed Jerusalem he did not obtain the Ark. On the Arch of Triumph still existing in Rome are representations of the candlesticks, but there is no representation of the Ark.“Through the whole prophecy of Ezekiel I can point out many evidences of the existence of the treasure.“And, finally, it is extremely curious that the Crusaders searched actively for it, but mostly in the neighbourhood of Engeddin.“Whether the treasure of Israel still exists or not, the cipher declaration stands out in black and white, one of the best known and most difficult of all the various modes used by the ancients for concealing messages.“I claim that it is a most amazing discovery which must be of deepest interest to the whole civilised world, and should be at once investigated. I have not, of course, space to give complete Biblical references, etc. These I will supply later on, if necessary.“Any Jew who may be consulted will no doubt scorn the idea of the existence of the treasure. He will do so because he will argue that no cipher can exist in a book inspired. Again, he may declare that all the treasure was all carried off to Babylon. This is, I maintain, disproved by historical facts.“Again, there may be considerable argument as to whether the Books of Ezekiel and of Deuteronomy were written about the same period. According to the latest theory, Deuteronomy was written before Ezekiel, nevertheless this discovery of the same cipher record in both now conclusively proves that they were written at very nearly the same time.“Further, I am aware of the Talmudic tradition which states that the treasures I have enumerated, with the addition of Aaron’s staff, the pot of manna and the flask of anointing oil, are hidden beneath the Temple Mount. But the cipher in question shows plainly that they are not concealed upon the site of the Temple, which is now occupied by the Mosque of Omar, but at some considerable distance away.“The Key.“As regards the key to the cipher and the manner in which to decipher it, I have, believing my existence to be now short-lived—for alas! I am suffering from a disease that I am told is incurable—placed the key, with such directions as are necessary to read it, in a place where it will remain hidden until such time as I have arranged with a capitalist or syndicate of financiers to despatch an expedition to secretly purchase the land in question and excavate for the holy relics. To them alone it will be revealed.“The key, which will disclose a statement that must cause the whole world to be surprised and thrilled, is divided into two parts, the one useless without the other. One part now lies in one city and another in a second. Therefore, for any person to attempt to discover the truth without first entering into business relations with me will be utterly impossible. And even if both keys were illegally obtained, the requisite knowledge could not then be ascertained without a third direction, that can be supplied by myself alone.“If I live, then I hope to search and recover the sacred objects. If, however, Providence wills my death ere my task is done, none shall complete it; for none shall ever profit by the secret which the Unseen Power has revealed unto us, a statement of which I have herein written and signed by my own hand.“(Signed) Peter Holmboe,Professor of Hebrew.”
“THE TREASURE OF ISRAEL.
“Revealed by a Hebrew Cipher in the Old Testament.
“I, Peter Holmboe, graduate of Helsingfors University, in Finland, late Professor of Hebrew at St. Petersburg University, and now resident at Langenfelder Strasse, 17, Altona, Germany, make oath and declare as follows:
“Curious, and perhaps improbable as it may at first appear, I claim to have discovered the actual whereabouts of the hidden treasure of the Jewish Temple, which includes among other things the Ark of the Covenant, the Tablets of moses, and the enormous treasure of gold and silver known to exist before the capture of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.
“The Secret.
“The secret of the place of concealment is contained in a cipher which runs through certain chapters of the Book of Ezekiel, and which clearly relates the whole story and gives absolute and most complete directions with measurements by which the spot is indicated. And not only this. The same story, in a much more abbreviated form, is, curiously enough, also repeated in the same cipher in certain chapters of Deuteronomy.
“It is a historical fact that when Nebuchadnezzar seized Jerusalem nearly the whole of the treasure of the Temple had disappeared, and it would seem that into the Book of Ezekiel the secret was incorporated, so that the treasure, which formed the war-chest of the Jews, could be recovered at the coming of the Messiah.
“Many points are, of course, highly interesting and curious. Perhaps my discovery—which, by the way, was by pure accident—will create much controversy and arouse great excitement among scholars and archaeologists. Nevertheless the cipher exists, as I am ready, under certain conditions and on certain financial considerations, to indicate its existence to any competent Hebrew scholar who may be appointed to investigate my discovery.
“The Cipher.
“For many years I had been greatly interested in the various astronomical, astrological and cabalistical signs and cycles so apparent in the chronology of the ancient peoples. In the Bible, and more especially during the five hundred or so years before Christ, I found evidences of the astrology that was used in the division of time, and therefore set to work, using the comparing method in order to obtain an insight into the different ciphers most universally used, and also into the methods of concealing secret messages and statements. Many of the ciphers used were highly ingenious and most difficult to decipher. The Jews in Jerusalem used them, so did the Jewish Greeks in Alexandria and the Buddhists in India, as well as the Gnostics, etc.
“I had been studying certain curious expressions in the ‘Mischna,’ which seemed to me to contain certain hidden meanings, when one day, in studying the Book of Ezekiel in the original, I was amazed to come across an expression which, habituated as I was to the presence of ciphers, told me at once that a hidden message was contained there.
“After countless failures through several years, I one day applied one of the earlier known cabalistic ciphers—which, by the way, is so complicated and ingenious that the whole message must be deciphered before the first word becomes apparent—and, to my intense astonishment, on making the complete decipher I found myself able to read a clean declaration (extending through nine chapters) of the secret hiding-place of the Great Treasure of Israel!
“The cipher declaration opens with an intimation of 490 years before the arrival of the Messiah, and continues as follows:
“‘The lapse of years are nearing its filling. The relief of the Doom will come in spite of all. The people’s right is nearing. The Period of the Blood-Debts and that of the Suppression will lose its power.’
“It is then stated that Moses’ tablets, the archives of the Temple, the Ark of the Covenant and ‘the Chair of Grace between two cherubims of fine gold,’ ‘the insignias Urim and Thummim with two rubies of extraordinary size surrounded by a multitude of other precious stones,’ the ‘written archives of the earliest period of the Jews’ till about B.C. 600, ‘the great treasures of the Temple, gold and silver vessels, coined gold, and precious stones of every description’ were all ‘concealed beneath the earth in a dry-room in connection with which is a series of water-tunnels.’
“The secret declaration goes on to give the most complete details of how the treasure may be reached. It is stated that there are three entrances, one of which is impossible as it is inaccessible, being closed up by masonry in a labyrinth of caves; the second is also too difficult. But the third is accessible by draining the water and will not present much difficulty.
“The cipher continuing, declares:
“‘The tablets shall remain in their hiding-place till the arrival of the Messiah, who alone may open their place of concealment, in order that He may furnish proof of the faith, and if necessary the treasure shall provide a war fund when the Messiah conquers the world and establishes his residence in Jerusalem.’
“The cipher concludes by declaring:
“‘Six curses, yea! sixty times six curses, shall be upon the head of any one who dare to attempt to violate the treasure-house.’
“That the messages, each identical, run through both Ezekiel and Deuteronomy is indisputable, and I am quite ready to explain them, provided my secret is properly protected.
“Among the many curious and interesting features which go far to prove that the treasure is still lying undisturbed, I may perhaps indicate the Biblical fact that, after the Babylonian imprisonment, the tablets of Moses were never again exhibited in the Temple. Yet did not Nehemiah convince himself that they were intact and in good condition?
“We know that Nebuchadnezzar received certain vessels from the Temple at Jerusalem (Ezra, i, 7-11) but no mention is made of the tablets, of the Ark, or of any other of the things mentioned in the cipher!
“Again, when Titus destroyed Jerusalem he did not obtain the Ark. On the Arch of Triumph still existing in Rome are representations of the candlesticks, but there is no representation of the Ark.
“Through the whole prophecy of Ezekiel I can point out many evidences of the existence of the treasure.
“And, finally, it is extremely curious that the Crusaders searched actively for it, but mostly in the neighbourhood of Engeddin.
“Whether the treasure of Israel still exists or not, the cipher declaration stands out in black and white, one of the best known and most difficult of all the various modes used by the ancients for concealing messages.
“I claim that it is a most amazing discovery which must be of deepest interest to the whole civilised world, and should be at once investigated. I have not, of course, space to give complete Biblical references, etc. These I will supply later on, if necessary.
“Any Jew who may be consulted will no doubt scorn the idea of the existence of the treasure. He will do so because he will argue that no cipher can exist in a book inspired. Again, he may declare that all the treasure was all carried off to Babylon. This is, I maintain, disproved by historical facts.
“Again, there may be considerable argument as to whether the Books of Ezekiel and of Deuteronomy were written about the same period. According to the latest theory, Deuteronomy was written before Ezekiel, nevertheless this discovery of the same cipher record in both now conclusively proves that they were written at very nearly the same time.
“Further, I am aware of the Talmudic tradition which states that the treasures I have enumerated, with the addition of Aaron’s staff, the pot of manna and the flask of anointing oil, are hidden beneath the Temple Mount. But the cipher in question shows plainly that they are not concealed upon the site of the Temple, which is now occupied by the Mosque of Omar, but at some considerable distance away.
“The Key.
“As regards the key to the cipher and the manner in which to decipher it, I have, believing my existence to be now short-lived—for alas! I am suffering from a disease that I am told is incurable—placed the key, with such directions as are necessary to read it, in a place where it will remain hidden until such time as I have arranged with a capitalist or syndicate of financiers to despatch an expedition to secretly purchase the land in question and excavate for the holy relics. To them alone it will be revealed.
“The key, which will disclose a statement that must cause the whole world to be surprised and thrilled, is divided into two parts, the one useless without the other. One part now lies in one city and another in a second. Therefore, for any person to attempt to discover the truth without first entering into business relations with me will be utterly impossible. And even if both keys were illegally obtained, the requisite knowledge could not then be ascertained without a third direction, that can be supplied by myself alone.
“If I live, then I hope to search and recover the sacred objects. If, however, Providence wills my death ere my task is done, none shall complete it; for none shall ever profit by the secret which the Unseen Power has revealed unto us, a statement of which I have herein written and signed by my own hand.
“(Signed) Peter Holmboe,Professor of Hebrew.”
The following note, with the impression of a rubber stamp, was appended in German:
“Sworn before me, Karl Weizel, notary public at 38, Neuer Junugferustieg, in the Free City of Hamburg, on the eighth of July, One thousand Nine hundred and Seven.”
Chapter Twenty Three.His Ugliness at Pembridge Gardens.An hour later the Doctor called upon Frank Farquhar in Half Moon Street, and excitedly showed him the precious copy of the document which “Red Mullet” had secured for him.Frank was highly interested, of course, but refused to accompany the hunchback to Pembridge Gardens. As his reason, he gave that he had a directors’ meeting down in Fleet Street which he was bound to attend. Sir George was absent and he was therefore compelled to be in his place. The truth was that he had no desire to meet Gwen.The girl had written him several pitiful and reproachful letters during the past fortnight, but to these he had made no response, except by one brief note in which he had repeated his very pointed question.“No, Doctor,” he said, “go yourself to Pembridge Gardens. The Professor will, I’m sure, be delighted to meet you, and you can discuss the matter thoroughly with him. I’ll see him this evening.”Therefore Diamond had taken a cab out to Notting Hill Gate, and on inquiring for Griffin and giving his name, was shown at once upstairs to the study.The Professor, with his usual courtesy, expressed his pleasure at the meeting, though if the truth were told he had not expected to see a man of the little Doctor’s extreme ugliness. Then, when his visitor produced the precious copy of the dead man’s manuscript, the great scholar sat down and breathlessly read it through from end to end.“This is exactly what I surmised from the burnt fragments,” he remarked, taking off his glasses as he turned to where the Doctor was sitting. “But the great and fascinating problem we have to solve is the whereabouts of the two keys to the cipher. One thing seems clear from the document, namely, that the dead man was Holmboe, the discoverer of the hidden secret.”“Exactly. He knew the uncertainty of his life. Indeed he told me so when he had his first attack,” replied the little man, “the initials ‘P.H.’ were also upon his clothing.”“He told you he was a Dane. But in all probability he was a Russian or a Finn,” remarked Griffin slowly turning over the leaves of a reference book before him. “Yes—here he is—Peter Holmboe, Professor of Hebrew at St. Petersburg, University, appointed four years ago. He apparently occupied a very high post for so young a man. He made the declaration in Hamburg, I see, therefore he had, no doubt, resigned his professorship in order to devote his time to finding capital to exploit the remarkable secret he had discovered.”“Yes. But what’s the use of the secret without the key to the cipher?” queried the Doctor.“None whatever. We must work to discover the key,” Griffin replied. “If I close study, discover the key myself.”“Farquhar’s journey to Copenhagen was utterly fruitless. We were led there upon a wild goose chase,” the Doctor said. “The unfortunate fact is that others are also in search of the secret.”“I am aware of that. But how did you discover it?”“I was told by my friend—the man who secured for me this copy—an old friend named Mullet. He knows more than he will tell me!”While the Doctor was speaking, Gwen had opened the door and entered the room.She heard the visitor utter the name of her protector, and became instantly interested.“This is Doctor Diamond, dear,” explained her father. “You have heard Mr Farquhar speak of him.”The little Doctor jumped to his feet and bowed, while the girl, in dark skirt and clean white blouse, graciously acknowledged his greeting.She was anxious to learn what connection this dwarfed man could have with her mysterious protector.“I heard you speak of a Mr Mullet, Doctor,” she remarked. “Is that a man known as ‘Red Mullet’?”“Yes, Miss Griffin. He is a friend of mine.”“Or rather you are a great friend of his, I have heard—eh?”“Then you know him!” exclaimed the Doctor, much surprised. “You met him abroad, I suppose?” The girl did not reply. She was puzzled at the curious connection between the red-haired man who had been her janitor and the ugly little Doctor who was Frank’s friend.“I know him,” she said at last. “And being a friend of yours, he is a friend of ours.”“That’s so,” declared the Doctor, laughing. “Some people say ill things of him, but I have known him for some years, and he has always acted straight and honourably towards me.”“Well,” exclaimed the Professor with some impatience. “Leave us, child. We want to get on with the examination of this paper which Doctor Diamond has just brought me.”“Does it concern the Treasure of Israel, dad?” inquired the girl, walking up to his table.“Yes, dear. It is a copy of the complete document, so you may imagine how deeply I’m interested in it.”“Has Frank seen it?” she asked quickly, to which the Doctor replied in the affirmative.Then when the girl had, with some reluctance, left them together, they resumed their discussion.“We can discover nothing tangible without a knowledge of the cipher,” remarked Griffin very gravely. “And in my belief, though it is here stated that the key is concealed in two separate cities, at the time of Holmboe’s death he had it in his possession. That was a portion of it which you rescued—the one folio in manuscript. The typewritten document was evidently prepared to place before a financier with a view to the equipment of an expedition to Palestine. But the additional manuscript was evidently a record of the cipher, together with its key. Have you a copy of it?”“Yes,” replied the Doctor, taking from his breast-pocket some papers from among which he took a copy he had made in his own handwriting. “As far as I could judge, the manuscript of which this is one folio, consisted of about seven folios. I recollect quite well noticing, as I placed it in the stove, that certain characters in Hebrew were written upon it.”“Well,” exclaimed Griffin, spreading the copy of the half-destroyed leaf before him, “that the cipher is a numerical one is quite apparent. It seems that it is based upon the wāw sign, or sixth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Six is the sign of evil. Nevertheless I have turned up the reference to Ezekiel, xli, 23, but cannot find anything unusual in the Hebrew text.”“Because we do not possess the key,” remarked the hunchback with a sigh.“Admitted. But we have the basis of the calculation—the regular occurrence of the letter ‘w’ or ‘v’ in the text. For days, nay, weeks, I have been trying to solve that problem, using each of the known cabalistic ciphers of the ancients, but without the slightest success.”“It is an unknown cipher, without a doubt—even though you recognise the basis.”“Numerical ciphers are always most difficult,” Griffin declared. “Yet was it not Edgar Allen Poe who declared that human ingenuity could not invent a cipher which human ingenuity could not solve. I have tried my calculations upon the earliest known text, that preserved in St. Petersburg—but in vain.”“What do you think of the dead man’s statement that the key is divided into two parts—one portion being concealed in each city?”“I don’t accept that as genuine,” declared the Professor. “I regard it as a mere embellishment of facts, in order to prevent any one from trying to unriddle the message. The unfortunate man ordered you to destroy the directions for reading the message, together with the statement itself.”“I rather wish I had disobeyed,” remarked the Doctor with a grin. “The fact that it was in manuscript and not in typing shows that he would not trust any one with sight of it.”“Which goes far to prove the truth of my argument. There is a key number, depend upon it. When once you have that, and we ascertain at what point to start, then the secret record will soon be revealed.”“But how can we obtain it—that’s the question,” the Doctor said. “I would like to know how far the inquiries of our enemies have advanced. This copy was obtained from the complete copy in their possession.”“Who are our enemies? Do you know them?” asked the Professor, starting forward quickly.“No. My friend, though he had supplied me with this, refuses all information concerning them, except to say that they are both powerful and wealthy.”“What do they know concerning the key?”“Not so much as ourselves. They do not possess even the few words concerning it that we do.”“But will not your friend divulge the identity of our enemies?” asked Griffin, “not if we take him into partnership with us, and allow him to share in the huge profits which must accrue if anything is actually recovered?”“I thought that your opinion upon the whole story was a negative one,” remarked the Doctor with a strangely wily look.The Professor, bent upon writing a learned article in theContemporary, giving a story that should startle the world, held his breath for a moment. But only for a single instant.“Well,” he answered without hesitation, “at first I was, it is true, inclined to regard it as an amazing piece of fiction, but after certain researches and study I have now come to the conclusion that there may be more truth in it than would at first appear. I, of course, regard it from a scholar’s point of view, and not from that of a financier.”“I believe in money,” declared the ugly little man frankly. “It should be put forward, when ripe, as a sound financial proposition—just as, no doubt, its discoverer, Peter Holmboe, intended to put it forward.”“Then if so, why will not your friend Mullet join forces with us? It would surely be to his advantage!”“Because he’s tied to the other side.”“If it has not prevented him from supplying us in secret with this copy of the document, it surely would not prevent him assisting us further, and placing us upon our guard regarding the actions of our enemies. Have you no idea, Doctor, how these other people obtained a copy of Holmboe’s statement? It surely could not have been kicking about the streets, having in view the fact that he was so careful to destroy it before his death.”“I haven’t any idea how they obtained it, or even their names. My friend will tell me nothing.”“Who is this man Mullet? Have you any objection to telling me?”“The man whom your daughter was discussing—the man known to his friends as ‘Red Mullet’—is a cosmopolitan who lives mostly on the Continent, and, between ourselves, has the reputation of being an adventurer.”“And a friend of my daughter!” the elder man exclaimed in surprise. “She seems to meet very undesirable people sometimes. The latitude allowed to girls nowadays, Doctor, is very different from that of thirty years ago—eh?”“What can we expect in this age of the ‘New Woman’ and the Suffragette?” laughed the other, holding up his hands.“But could we not induce this Mr Mullet to help us—or at least to reveal to us in what direction our enemies are working? They have with them a very clever and ingenious scholar, of that I have already satisfied myself.”“Ah!” sighed Diamond. “If we only could get ‘Red Mullet’ with us. But I fear that there are certain circumstances which entirely preclude such an arrangement. At least, that is what I suspect.”“I wonder what my daughter can know of the man?” remarked Griffin, ignorant of the fact that Gwen’s curiosity had got the better of her, or that the door being ajar she had heard the Doctor’s statement.“It certainly does seem a rather curious fact that they are acquainted,” remarked the Doctor. “But, Professor,” he went on eagerly, “I suppose you now have no doubt that there is more in the remarkable story than mere surmise.”Griffin was again silent for a few moments.“Providing that the sacred relics remain still hidden—and there certainly seems nothing against that belief, even though some have declared that Solomon’s golden vessels were afterwards used in Persia—then we have, of course, precise knowledge of certain of them,” he said with great deliberation. Opening the Hebrew-English Bible at 2 Chronicles, iv, 19, he said: “Listen to this as an example,” and he read as follows:“‘And Solomon made all the vessels thatwere forthe house of God, the golden altar also, and the tables whereon the shew-breadwas set;“‘Moreover the candlesticks with their lamps, that they should burn after the manner before the oracle, of pure gold;“‘And the flowers, and the lamps, and the tongs,made he ofgold,andthat perfect gold;“‘And the snuffers, and the basons, and the spoons, and the censers,ofpure gold; and the entry of the house, the inner doors thereof for the most holyplace, and the doors of the house of the temple,wereof gold.’“Concerning the Ark of the Covenant, which the cipher says still lies hidden, we have in the next chapter, commencing at verse 7:“‘And the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of the Lord unto his place, to the oracle of the house, into the most holyplace, evenunder the wings of the cherubim:“‘For the cherubim spread forththeirwings over the place of the ark, and the cherubim covered the ark and the staves thereof above.“‘And they drew out the stavesof the arkthat the end of the staves were seen from the ark before the oracle, but they were not seen without. And there it is unto this day.“‘There wasnothing in the ark save the two tables which Moses putthereinat Horeb, when the Lord madea covenantwith the children of Israel, when they came out of Egypt.’“The gold, of course, came from the ancient Ophir,” remarked the Doctor, “and curiously enough the site of this El Dorado has only recently been established by Dr Carl Peters as having been at Zimbabwe, and the surrounding region in south-eastern Mashonaland.”“Yes,” remarked the Professor. “There is, I think, no question that Solomon obtained his gold from that district. The old workings are said by Hall and Neal to number seventy-five thousand, and hundreds of thousands of tons of gold ore must have been dug out during the Himyaritic era. The Kaffirs still call the place ‘Fur.’ and the Arabs ‘Afur.’ It was from there that Solomon’s ships brought the four hundred and twenty talents of gold mentioned in 1 Kings, ix, 26-28, and in 2 Chronicles, viii, 17-18. Again, we are told that in one year Solomon obtained six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold—each talent being worth eleven thousand pounds of our money—from the same region, most of which was used in the manufacture of the vessels for the temple.”“Some of which we hope to recover, Professor,” laughed the ugly little man.“We certainly might,” sighed the other, “if only we could discover the solution of this most fascinating yet tantalising problem.”
An hour later the Doctor called upon Frank Farquhar in Half Moon Street, and excitedly showed him the precious copy of the document which “Red Mullet” had secured for him.
Frank was highly interested, of course, but refused to accompany the hunchback to Pembridge Gardens. As his reason, he gave that he had a directors’ meeting down in Fleet Street which he was bound to attend. Sir George was absent and he was therefore compelled to be in his place. The truth was that he had no desire to meet Gwen.
The girl had written him several pitiful and reproachful letters during the past fortnight, but to these he had made no response, except by one brief note in which he had repeated his very pointed question.
“No, Doctor,” he said, “go yourself to Pembridge Gardens. The Professor will, I’m sure, be delighted to meet you, and you can discuss the matter thoroughly with him. I’ll see him this evening.”
Therefore Diamond had taken a cab out to Notting Hill Gate, and on inquiring for Griffin and giving his name, was shown at once upstairs to the study.
The Professor, with his usual courtesy, expressed his pleasure at the meeting, though if the truth were told he had not expected to see a man of the little Doctor’s extreme ugliness. Then, when his visitor produced the precious copy of the dead man’s manuscript, the great scholar sat down and breathlessly read it through from end to end.
“This is exactly what I surmised from the burnt fragments,” he remarked, taking off his glasses as he turned to where the Doctor was sitting. “But the great and fascinating problem we have to solve is the whereabouts of the two keys to the cipher. One thing seems clear from the document, namely, that the dead man was Holmboe, the discoverer of the hidden secret.”
“Exactly. He knew the uncertainty of his life. Indeed he told me so when he had his first attack,” replied the little man, “the initials ‘P.H.’ were also upon his clothing.”
“He told you he was a Dane. But in all probability he was a Russian or a Finn,” remarked Griffin slowly turning over the leaves of a reference book before him. “Yes—here he is—Peter Holmboe, Professor of Hebrew at St. Petersburg, University, appointed four years ago. He apparently occupied a very high post for so young a man. He made the declaration in Hamburg, I see, therefore he had, no doubt, resigned his professorship in order to devote his time to finding capital to exploit the remarkable secret he had discovered.”
“Yes. But what’s the use of the secret without the key to the cipher?” queried the Doctor.
“None whatever. We must work to discover the key,” Griffin replied. “If I close study, discover the key myself.”
“Farquhar’s journey to Copenhagen was utterly fruitless. We were led there upon a wild goose chase,” the Doctor said. “The unfortunate fact is that others are also in search of the secret.”
“I am aware of that. But how did you discover it?”
“I was told by my friend—the man who secured for me this copy—an old friend named Mullet. He knows more than he will tell me!”
While the Doctor was speaking, Gwen had opened the door and entered the room.
She heard the visitor utter the name of her protector, and became instantly interested.
“This is Doctor Diamond, dear,” explained her father. “You have heard Mr Farquhar speak of him.”
The little Doctor jumped to his feet and bowed, while the girl, in dark skirt and clean white blouse, graciously acknowledged his greeting.
She was anxious to learn what connection this dwarfed man could have with her mysterious protector.
“I heard you speak of a Mr Mullet, Doctor,” she remarked. “Is that a man known as ‘Red Mullet’?”
“Yes, Miss Griffin. He is a friend of mine.”
“Or rather you are a great friend of his, I have heard—eh?”
“Then you know him!” exclaimed the Doctor, much surprised. “You met him abroad, I suppose?” The girl did not reply. She was puzzled at the curious connection between the red-haired man who had been her janitor and the ugly little Doctor who was Frank’s friend.
“I know him,” she said at last. “And being a friend of yours, he is a friend of ours.”
“That’s so,” declared the Doctor, laughing. “Some people say ill things of him, but I have known him for some years, and he has always acted straight and honourably towards me.”
“Well,” exclaimed the Professor with some impatience. “Leave us, child. We want to get on with the examination of this paper which Doctor Diamond has just brought me.”
“Does it concern the Treasure of Israel, dad?” inquired the girl, walking up to his table.
“Yes, dear. It is a copy of the complete document, so you may imagine how deeply I’m interested in it.”
“Has Frank seen it?” she asked quickly, to which the Doctor replied in the affirmative.
Then when the girl had, with some reluctance, left them together, they resumed their discussion.
“We can discover nothing tangible without a knowledge of the cipher,” remarked Griffin very gravely. “And in my belief, though it is here stated that the key is concealed in two separate cities, at the time of Holmboe’s death he had it in his possession. That was a portion of it which you rescued—the one folio in manuscript. The typewritten document was evidently prepared to place before a financier with a view to the equipment of an expedition to Palestine. But the additional manuscript was evidently a record of the cipher, together with its key. Have you a copy of it?”
“Yes,” replied the Doctor, taking from his breast-pocket some papers from among which he took a copy he had made in his own handwriting. “As far as I could judge, the manuscript of which this is one folio, consisted of about seven folios. I recollect quite well noticing, as I placed it in the stove, that certain characters in Hebrew were written upon it.”
“Well,” exclaimed Griffin, spreading the copy of the half-destroyed leaf before him, “that the cipher is a numerical one is quite apparent. It seems that it is based upon the wāw sign, or sixth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Six is the sign of evil. Nevertheless I have turned up the reference to Ezekiel, xli, 23, but cannot find anything unusual in the Hebrew text.”
“Because we do not possess the key,” remarked the hunchback with a sigh.
“Admitted. But we have the basis of the calculation—the regular occurrence of the letter ‘w’ or ‘v’ in the text. For days, nay, weeks, I have been trying to solve that problem, using each of the known cabalistic ciphers of the ancients, but without the slightest success.”
“It is an unknown cipher, without a doubt—even though you recognise the basis.”
“Numerical ciphers are always most difficult,” Griffin declared. “Yet was it not Edgar Allen Poe who declared that human ingenuity could not invent a cipher which human ingenuity could not solve. I have tried my calculations upon the earliest known text, that preserved in St. Petersburg—but in vain.”
“What do you think of the dead man’s statement that the key is divided into two parts—one portion being concealed in each city?”
“I don’t accept that as genuine,” declared the Professor. “I regard it as a mere embellishment of facts, in order to prevent any one from trying to unriddle the message. The unfortunate man ordered you to destroy the directions for reading the message, together with the statement itself.”
“I rather wish I had disobeyed,” remarked the Doctor with a grin. “The fact that it was in manuscript and not in typing shows that he would not trust any one with sight of it.”
“Which goes far to prove the truth of my argument. There is a key number, depend upon it. When once you have that, and we ascertain at what point to start, then the secret record will soon be revealed.”
“But how can we obtain it—that’s the question,” the Doctor said. “I would like to know how far the inquiries of our enemies have advanced. This copy was obtained from the complete copy in their possession.”
“Who are our enemies? Do you know them?” asked the Professor, starting forward quickly.
“No. My friend, though he had supplied me with this, refuses all information concerning them, except to say that they are both powerful and wealthy.”
“What do they know concerning the key?”
“Not so much as ourselves. They do not possess even the few words concerning it that we do.”
“But will not your friend divulge the identity of our enemies?” asked Griffin, “not if we take him into partnership with us, and allow him to share in the huge profits which must accrue if anything is actually recovered?”
“I thought that your opinion upon the whole story was a negative one,” remarked the Doctor with a strangely wily look.
The Professor, bent upon writing a learned article in theContemporary, giving a story that should startle the world, held his breath for a moment. But only for a single instant.
“Well,” he answered without hesitation, “at first I was, it is true, inclined to regard it as an amazing piece of fiction, but after certain researches and study I have now come to the conclusion that there may be more truth in it than would at first appear. I, of course, regard it from a scholar’s point of view, and not from that of a financier.”
“I believe in money,” declared the ugly little man frankly. “It should be put forward, when ripe, as a sound financial proposition—just as, no doubt, its discoverer, Peter Holmboe, intended to put it forward.”
“Then if so, why will not your friend Mullet join forces with us? It would surely be to his advantage!”
“Because he’s tied to the other side.”
“If it has not prevented him from supplying us in secret with this copy of the document, it surely would not prevent him assisting us further, and placing us upon our guard regarding the actions of our enemies. Have you no idea, Doctor, how these other people obtained a copy of Holmboe’s statement? It surely could not have been kicking about the streets, having in view the fact that he was so careful to destroy it before his death.”
“I haven’t any idea how they obtained it, or even their names. My friend will tell me nothing.”
“Who is this man Mullet? Have you any objection to telling me?”
“The man whom your daughter was discussing—the man known to his friends as ‘Red Mullet’—is a cosmopolitan who lives mostly on the Continent, and, between ourselves, has the reputation of being an adventurer.”
“And a friend of my daughter!” the elder man exclaimed in surprise. “She seems to meet very undesirable people sometimes. The latitude allowed to girls nowadays, Doctor, is very different from that of thirty years ago—eh?”
“What can we expect in this age of the ‘New Woman’ and the Suffragette?” laughed the other, holding up his hands.
“But could we not induce this Mr Mullet to help us—or at least to reveal to us in what direction our enemies are working? They have with them a very clever and ingenious scholar, of that I have already satisfied myself.”
“Ah!” sighed Diamond. “If we only could get ‘Red Mullet’ with us. But I fear that there are certain circumstances which entirely preclude such an arrangement. At least, that is what I suspect.”
“I wonder what my daughter can know of the man?” remarked Griffin, ignorant of the fact that Gwen’s curiosity had got the better of her, or that the door being ajar she had heard the Doctor’s statement.
“It certainly does seem a rather curious fact that they are acquainted,” remarked the Doctor. “But, Professor,” he went on eagerly, “I suppose you now have no doubt that there is more in the remarkable story than mere surmise.”
Griffin was again silent for a few moments.
“Providing that the sacred relics remain still hidden—and there certainly seems nothing against that belief, even though some have declared that Solomon’s golden vessels were afterwards used in Persia—then we have, of course, precise knowledge of certain of them,” he said with great deliberation. Opening the Hebrew-English Bible at 2 Chronicles, iv, 19, he said: “Listen to this as an example,” and he read as follows:
“‘And Solomon made all the vessels thatwere forthe house of God, the golden altar also, and the tables whereon the shew-breadwas set;
“‘Moreover the candlesticks with their lamps, that they should burn after the manner before the oracle, of pure gold;
“‘And the flowers, and the lamps, and the tongs,made he ofgold,andthat perfect gold;
“‘And the snuffers, and the basons, and the spoons, and the censers,ofpure gold; and the entry of the house, the inner doors thereof for the most holyplace, and the doors of the house of the temple,wereof gold.’
“Concerning the Ark of the Covenant, which the cipher says still lies hidden, we have in the next chapter, commencing at verse 7:
“‘And the priests brought in the ark of the covenant of the Lord unto his place, to the oracle of the house, into the most holyplace, evenunder the wings of the cherubim:
“‘For the cherubim spread forththeirwings over the place of the ark, and the cherubim covered the ark and the staves thereof above.
“‘And they drew out the stavesof the arkthat the end of the staves were seen from the ark before the oracle, but they were not seen without. And there it is unto this day.
“‘There wasnothing in the ark save the two tables which Moses putthereinat Horeb, when the Lord madea covenantwith the children of Israel, when they came out of Egypt.’
“The gold, of course, came from the ancient Ophir,” remarked the Doctor, “and curiously enough the site of this El Dorado has only recently been established by Dr Carl Peters as having been at Zimbabwe, and the surrounding region in south-eastern Mashonaland.”
“Yes,” remarked the Professor. “There is, I think, no question that Solomon obtained his gold from that district. The old workings are said by Hall and Neal to number seventy-five thousand, and hundreds of thousands of tons of gold ore must have been dug out during the Himyaritic era. The Kaffirs still call the place ‘Fur.’ and the Arabs ‘Afur.’ It was from there that Solomon’s ships brought the four hundred and twenty talents of gold mentioned in 1 Kings, ix, 26-28, and in 2 Chronicles, viii, 17-18. Again, we are told that in one year Solomon obtained six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold—each talent being worth eleven thousand pounds of our money—from the same region, most of which was used in the manufacture of the vessels for the temple.”
“Some of which we hope to recover, Professor,” laughed the ugly little man.
“We certainly might,” sighed the other, “if only we could discover the solution of this most fascinating yet tantalising problem.”
Chapter Twenty Four.A Page in Piccadilly.A long, grey, hundred-horse-power racing motor-car with its two glaring head-lamps drew suddenly up in the falling darkness before the big house in Berkeley Square, and from it stepped Sir Felix Challas in his heavy fur coat, cap and goggles. He was a motor enthusiast, and declared that his runs on his high-power racer cleared the cobwebs from his brain, and braced up his nerves.He had started forth soon after breakfast, lunched at the Mermaid at Wansford, eighty miles away up the Great North Road, and was now home again, just as darkness had set in.He had sat beside his chauffeur in silence while being whirled along the great northern highway, for he always thought out the most ingenious of his schemes while travelling thus.Ere he had ascended the steps of the house, the splendid car, which only a few weeks before had made a record on the Brooklands track, moved off to the well-appointed garage, where he kept his three other cars.On entering his own luxurious little den on the left of the hall, he found Jim Jannaway comfortably ensconced before the fire, smoking one of his choicest cigars and with a whisky and soda at his elbow.“Hulloa!” exclaimed Sir Felix surprised. “I thought you were on your way out to the East? You were to have left this morning, weren’t you?” And he threw off his heavy coat and stood with his back to the fire.“Yes. But I’ve remained, because I’ve discovered something,” replied the other. “I’ve found out the reason why that girl Griffin got away.”“Oh! Why?” asked Challas quickly. “It was a great misfortune for us. She’s evidently discovered who we are, and why we wanted the information.”“Well—he played us false.”“Who—Mullet?”“Yes. The girl appealed to his honour, and all that, and he found out that she was a friend of that Doctor Diamond, the fellow who attended Holmboe before he died and got hold of a portion of his papers. This man, it appears, had befriended Mullet in some way—so he, like a fool, let her go.”“Fool—idiot!” cried Challas. “Then the brute’s betrayed us!”“Absolutely!”“By letting the girl go, he’s exposed us. Griffin now knows that we are working against him. And he is, according to old Erich, the only man we have to fear.”“Except that man Farquhar, partner with Sir George Gavin, the newspaper owner.”“Ah! I forgot him. But surely he doesn’t count?”“Yes, he does,” protested Jannaway. “He’s in love with the girl. Hence we must see that he turns his back upon her, or there may be further trouble. I foresee pretty awkward complications in that direction.”“Very well, my dear boy, all that I leave to you,” answered Sir Felix, with a heavy, thoughtful look.“But it does not lessen our danger. If we’re not careful we’ll lose the thing altogether,” Jannaway pointed out. “I’ve been a full fortnight making careful investigations. The Doctor called on Griffin the day before yesterday, and what’s more, the girl has written to Charlie, asking him to meet her.”“How have you found that out?”Jim Jannaway smiled.“No matter,” he laughed. “Except that Laura, the parlour-maid at Pembridge, is a friend of mine. I took her to the Tivoli last Thursday. Told her I was a lawyer’s clerk.”“By Jove, Jim,” exclaimed the Baronet, “you’re always ingenious when you’ve set your mind on worming out a secret.”“A little love costs nothing,” laughed the nonchalant adventurer, “and very often does a lot.”“Well, we must know what’s going on between them, that’s quite plain,” remarked Challas. “I never expected Charlie to give us away.”“Bah! he always was chicken-hearted where women were concerned. He must have been in love once, I fancy, and hasn’t got over the attack yet.”“We must be very watchful, Jim.”“That’s why I didn’t leave for Constantinople, as you suggested,” was the other’s reply, as he tossed the end of his cigar into the fire and lazily rose from his comfortable chair. “My own idea, Felix, is that Charlie is growing far too scrupulous. One day we shall have him in a fit of remorse making some nasty confession or other, taking the consequences, and putting us both into a confounded hole. Think what it would mean for you!”“By Jove, yes!” gasped the other, turning pale at the very suggestion of exposure. “We can’t afford to risk that.”“I maintain that if Charlie lets the girl escape us and give us away, as he has done, then he’ll do something worse before long,” exclaimed the crafty man with a curious glance at the Baronet, whose back was at that moment turned to him.Challas was silent. He clearly saw the drift of the man’s argument.“Well?” he asked at last, lowering his voice. “What do you suggest?”“Suggest? Why there’s only one course open, my dear fellow,” replied the other, glancing apprehensively at the door. “Get rid of him while there’s yet time.”“He might retaliate.”“Not if he’s arrested over in France,” Jannaway exclaimed. “The French police won’t bother over any information that he may give concerning us. Your reputation stands too high. They’ll only regard him as a type of gentlemanly blackmailer such as every wealthy man has to contend with. If we don’t do that, then good-bye to all our hopes concerning Holmboe’s secret,” he added.“I fear I must agree with you, Jim,” said the other, very slowly. “He was a fool for not allowing you to force the truth from the girl. I had intended that she should assist us, and—”“And by Heaven! she shall do so, even now, if you will only leave matters to me,” interrupted the clever, good-looking adventurer, leaning his back easily against the table.“I leave them entirely to you,” the Baronet answered quickly. “Act just as you think fit, only remember there must be no exposure. I can’t afford that!”“The secret discovered by that fellow Holmboe shall be ours,” declared Jim Jannaway, slowly and determinedly.“It might be, if only Erich could discover the key to that infernal cipher. He told me yesterday that he suspected Professor Griffin had already solved the problem.”“If he has, then I’ll compel the girl to obtain it for us. You understand!” he exclaimed quickly.“Even though Charlie has become a weak fool, moved to penitence by some tub-thumping revivalist perhaps, I intend to carry through the scheme I devised. The secret of the treasure of Israel shall be ours, my dear Felix. You shall be the great benefactor to the Jewish race, and discover the sacred relics so long concealed.”“Benefactor!” echoed the red-faced man with a short dry laugh. “Oh yes, I’ll show the Jews how I can repay them in their own coin. Only be careful—do, I beg of you. Charlie is not the man to take a blow lying down, you know.”“You ought to know me well enough to be fully aware that I never act without consideration,” the younger man protested. “Jim Jannaway is no fool at a game of checkmate, I think.”“There was that affair in Bordeaux,” remarked the Baronet in a rather hard voice.“You believe that Red Mullet knows something of that!” laughed Jim, admiring the fine diamond ring upon his finger. “Bah, he is in entire ignorance. It was an unfortunate incident, I admit. But under the circumstances couldn’t be helped. But there—why need we recall it? You’re so fond of dwelling upon unpleasant themes,” he laughed. “You gave an extra five thousand to the Hospital Saturday Fund as a conscience-soother, didn’t you?”The Baronet turned upon his heel, and walked to his writing-table, whereon stood an electric lamp shaded with green silk. Then, after turning over some letters, he asked suddenly:“When does that girl meet Charlie?”“To-night.”“At her request?”“Yes.”“Very well. I leave everything to you,” Sir Felix said with a mysterious smile. “It would not be against our interests—if—well, if we had her in our hands again.”Jim Jannaway nodded. He understood the suggestion perfectly.“Charlie ought, I think, to be sent back to the Continent, don’t you agree?” he asked. “A timely warning that the police had learned of his return here, and he’d skip across by the next Channel service. Once over there, matters would be quite easy. The Leleu affair has never been cleared up, you know!” he added in a lower voice.“I leave it entirely in your hands,” declared the plutocrat whom the public believed to be a high-minded philanthropist. “Whatever you do must be on your own responsibility, recollect.”“But with your money. I want a couple of hundred.”“Ah! hard up again, Jim,” sighed the other. But unlocking the safe opposite, the safe that contained the typed copy of the dead man’s document, the Baronet took out some banknotes and handed them to his cat’s-paw.They were French notes. They were safer than English to give to persons like Jannaway, for the numbers could not be traced in cases of inquiries, while they could always be at once exchanged at any of the tourist offices. Sir Felix Challas, though compelled to employ men of the racing-tout stamp like Jim Jannaway, and unscrupulous concession-hunters like “Red Mullet,” was ever upon his guard.He trusted his men, but in “Red Mullet” he had confessed himself sadly disappointed.“Revivalists and missionaries have a lot to answer for,” was one of his pet phrases.Jim Jannaway, slipping the notes into his pocket-book without troubling to count them, put on his smart overcoat and well-brushed silk hat, and wishing his employer an airy “good-evening,” strolled out into the damp chilliness of Berkeley Square, where he hailed a hansom and drove away.He had given the man an address in Knightsbridge, but as the cab was turning from the misty gloom of Berkeley Street into the brightness of Piccadilly several persons were waiting at the left-hand kerb in order to cross the road.Among them he apparently recognised somebody, for in an instant he drew back and turned his head the other way.Next second the cab had rounded the corner and was on its way along Piccadilly. Yet he knew that he had sat there for several moments in the full glare of the electric lights in front of the Ritz Hotel, and he felt convinced that he had been recognised by the very last person in the world that he desired to encounter.Jannaway sat there breathless, staring straight before him into the yellow mist, his eyes glaring as though an apparition had arisen before him.He tried to laugh away his fears. After all, it must be only fancy, he reflected. Somebody bearing a strange resemblance. It could not be she! Impossible. Utterly impossible.But if it had been she in the flesh—if she had in that instant actually recognised him! What then!He huddled himself in the corner of the cab, coward that he was, and shuddered at the recollections that crowded through his mind.Would he ever have entered that hansom if he had known that it would carry him into such exposure—and worse?But from Jim Jannaway’s lips there fell a short bitter laugh. Was not his life made up by narrow “shaves?” Had not he been in hundreds of tight corners before, and with his wonderful tact and almost devilish cunning wriggled out of what would have meant ruin and imprisonment to any other man.He had been a born adventurer, ever since his day as a stable-lad down at Newmarket, and he had the habit of laughing lightly at his own adventures, just as he was laughing now.Would he have laughed, however, if he had but known how that chance encounter was to result?
A long, grey, hundred-horse-power racing motor-car with its two glaring head-lamps drew suddenly up in the falling darkness before the big house in Berkeley Square, and from it stepped Sir Felix Challas in his heavy fur coat, cap and goggles. He was a motor enthusiast, and declared that his runs on his high-power racer cleared the cobwebs from his brain, and braced up his nerves.
He had started forth soon after breakfast, lunched at the Mermaid at Wansford, eighty miles away up the Great North Road, and was now home again, just as darkness had set in.
He had sat beside his chauffeur in silence while being whirled along the great northern highway, for he always thought out the most ingenious of his schemes while travelling thus.
Ere he had ascended the steps of the house, the splendid car, which only a few weeks before had made a record on the Brooklands track, moved off to the well-appointed garage, where he kept his three other cars.
On entering his own luxurious little den on the left of the hall, he found Jim Jannaway comfortably ensconced before the fire, smoking one of his choicest cigars and with a whisky and soda at his elbow.
“Hulloa!” exclaimed Sir Felix surprised. “I thought you were on your way out to the East? You were to have left this morning, weren’t you?” And he threw off his heavy coat and stood with his back to the fire.
“Yes. But I’ve remained, because I’ve discovered something,” replied the other. “I’ve found out the reason why that girl Griffin got away.”
“Oh! Why?” asked Challas quickly. “It was a great misfortune for us. She’s evidently discovered who we are, and why we wanted the information.”
“Well—he played us false.”
“Who—Mullet?”
“Yes. The girl appealed to his honour, and all that, and he found out that she was a friend of that Doctor Diamond, the fellow who attended Holmboe before he died and got hold of a portion of his papers. This man, it appears, had befriended Mullet in some way—so he, like a fool, let her go.”
“Fool—idiot!” cried Challas. “Then the brute’s betrayed us!”
“Absolutely!”
“By letting the girl go, he’s exposed us. Griffin now knows that we are working against him. And he is, according to old Erich, the only man we have to fear.”
“Except that man Farquhar, partner with Sir George Gavin, the newspaper owner.”
“Ah! I forgot him. But surely he doesn’t count?”
“Yes, he does,” protested Jannaway. “He’s in love with the girl. Hence we must see that he turns his back upon her, or there may be further trouble. I foresee pretty awkward complications in that direction.”
“Very well, my dear boy, all that I leave to you,” answered Sir Felix, with a heavy, thoughtful look.
“But it does not lessen our danger. If we’re not careful we’ll lose the thing altogether,” Jannaway pointed out. “I’ve been a full fortnight making careful investigations. The Doctor called on Griffin the day before yesterday, and what’s more, the girl has written to Charlie, asking him to meet her.”
“How have you found that out?”
Jim Jannaway smiled.
“No matter,” he laughed. “Except that Laura, the parlour-maid at Pembridge, is a friend of mine. I took her to the Tivoli last Thursday. Told her I was a lawyer’s clerk.”
“By Jove, Jim,” exclaimed the Baronet, “you’re always ingenious when you’ve set your mind on worming out a secret.”
“A little love costs nothing,” laughed the nonchalant adventurer, “and very often does a lot.”
“Well, we must know what’s going on between them, that’s quite plain,” remarked Challas. “I never expected Charlie to give us away.”
“Bah! he always was chicken-hearted where women were concerned. He must have been in love once, I fancy, and hasn’t got over the attack yet.”
“We must be very watchful, Jim.”
“That’s why I didn’t leave for Constantinople, as you suggested,” was the other’s reply, as he tossed the end of his cigar into the fire and lazily rose from his comfortable chair. “My own idea, Felix, is that Charlie is growing far too scrupulous. One day we shall have him in a fit of remorse making some nasty confession or other, taking the consequences, and putting us both into a confounded hole. Think what it would mean for you!”
“By Jove, yes!” gasped the other, turning pale at the very suggestion of exposure. “We can’t afford to risk that.”
“I maintain that if Charlie lets the girl escape us and give us away, as he has done, then he’ll do something worse before long,” exclaimed the crafty man with a curious glance at the Baronet, whose back was at that moment turned to him.
Challas was silent. He clearly saw the drift of the man’s argument.
“Well?” he asked at last, lowering his voice. “What do you suggest?”
“Suggest? Why there’s only one course open, my dear fellow,” replied the other, glancing apprehensively at the door. “Get rid of him while there’s yet time.”
“He might retaliate.”
“Not if he’s arrested over in France,” Jannaway exclaimed. “The French police won’t bother over any information that he may give concerning us. Your reputation stands too high. They’ll only regard him as a type of gentlemanly blackmailer such as every wealthy man has to contend with. If we don’t do that, then good-bye to all our hopes concerning Holmboe’s secret,” he added.
“I fear I must agree with you, Jim,” said the other, very slowly. “He was a fool for not allowing you to force the truth from the girl. I had intended that she should assist us, and—”
“And by Heaven! she shall do so, even now, if you will only leave matters to me,” interrupted the clever, good-looking adventurer, leaning his back easily against the table.
“I leave them entirely to you,” the Baronet answered quickly. “Act just as you think fit, only remember there must be no exposure. I can’t afford that!”
“The secret discovered by that fellow Holmboe shall be ours,” declared Jim Jannaway, slowly and determinedly.
“It might be, if only Erich could discover the key to that infernal cipher. He told me yesterday that he suspected Professor Griffin had already solved the problem.”
“If he has, then I’ll compel the girl to obtain it for us. You understand!” he exclaimed quickly.
“Even though Charlie has become a weak fool, moved to penitence by some tub-thumping revivalist perhaps, I intend to carry through the scheme I devised. The secret of the treasure of Israel shall be ours, my dear Felix. You shall be the great benefactor to the Jewish race, and discover the sacred relics so long concealed.”
“Benefactor!” echoed the red-faced man with a short dry laugh. “Oh yes, I’ll show the Jews how I can repay them in their own coin. Only be careful—do, I beg of you. Charlie is not the man to take a blow lying down, you know.”
“You ought to know me well enough to be fully aware that I never act without consideration,” the younger man protested. “Jim Jannaway is no fool at a game of checkmate, I think.”
“There was that affair in Bordeaux,” remarked the Baronet in a rather hard voice.
“You believe that Red Mullet knows something of that!” laughed Jim, admiring the fine diamond ring upon his finger. “Bah, he is in entire ignorance. It was an unfortunate incident, I admit. But under the circumstances couldn’t be helped. But there—why need we recall it? You’re so fond of dwelling upon unpleasant themes,” he laughed. “You gave an extra five thousand to the Hospital Saturday Fund as a conscience-soother, didn’t you?”
The Baronet turned upon his heel, and walked to his writing-table, whereon stood an electric lamp shaded with green silk. Then, after turning over some letters, he asked suddenly:
“When does that girl meet Charlie?”
“To-night.”
“At her request?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I leave everything to you,” Sir Felix said with a mysterious smile. “It would not be against our interests—if—well, if we had her in our hands again.”
Jim Jannaway nodded. He understood the suggestion perfectly.
“Charlie ought, I think, to be sent back to the Continent, don’t you agree?” he asked. “A timely warning that the police had learned of his return here, and he’d skip across by the next Channel service. Once over there, matters would be quite easy. The Leleu affair has never been cleared up, you know!” he added in a lower voice.
“I leave it entirely in your hands,” declared the plutocrat whom the public believed to be a high-minded philanthropist. “Whatever you do must be on your own responsibility, recollect.”
“But with your money. I want a couple of hundred.”
“Ah! hard up again, Jim,” sighed the other. But unlocking the safe opposite, the safe that contained the typed copy of the dead man’s document, the Baronet took out some banknotes and handed them to his cat’s-paw.
They were French notes. They were safer than English to give to persons like Jannaway, for the numbers could not be traced in cases of inquiries, while they could always be at once exchanged at any of the tourist offices. Sir Felix Challas, though compelled to employ men of the racing-tout stamp like Jim Jannaway, and unscrupulous concession-hunters like “Red Mullet,” was ever upon his guard.
He trusted his men, but in “Red Mullet” he had confessed himself sadly disappointed.
“Revivalists and missionaries have a lot to answer for,” was one of his pet phrases.
Jim Jannaway, slipping the notes into his pocket-book without troubling to count them, put on his smart overcoat and well-brushed silk hat, and wishing his employer an airy “good-evening,” strolled out into the damp chilliness of Berkeley Square, where he hailed a hansom and drove away.
He had given the man an address in Knightsbridge, but as the cab was turning from the misty gloom of Berkeley Street into the brightness of Piccadilly several persons were waiting at the left-hand kerb in order to cross the road.
Among them he apparently recognised somebody, for in an instant he drew back and turned his head the other way.
Next second the cab had rounded the corner and was on its way along Piccadilly. Yet he knew that he had sat there for several moments in the full glare of the electric lights in front of the Ritz Hotel, and he felt convinced that he had been recognised by the very last person in the world that he desired to encounter.
Jannaway sat there breathless, staring straight before him into the yellow mist, his eyes glaring as though an apparition had arisen before him.
He tried to laugh away his fears. After all, it must be only fancy, he reflected. Somebody bearing a strange resemblance. It could not be she! Impossible. Utterly impossible.
But if it had been she in the flesh—if she had in that instant actually recognised him! What then!
He huddled himself in the corner of the cab, coward that he was, and shuddered at the recollections that crowded through his mind.
Would he ever have entered that hansom if he had known that it would carry him into such exposure—and worse?
But from Jim Jannaway’s lips there fell a short bitter laugh. Was not his life made up by narrow “shaves?” Had not he been in hundreds of tight corners before, and with his wonderful tact and almost devilish cunning wriggled out of what would have meant ruin and imprisonment to any other man.
He had been a born adventurer, ever since his day as a stable-lad down at Newmarket, and he had the habit of laughing lightly at his own adventures, just as he was laughing now.
Would he have laughed, however, if he had but known how that chance encounter was to result?