If Count Akira was indeed anxious to visit Beckleigh, he certainly did not betray much alacrity in accepting the Squire's cordial invitation. He did write to the effect that he would be delighted to come, but postponed his arrival until the second week in January. Official business, he stated, would keep him employed during the next few weeks, and he would be unable to leave his chief. Consequently there was only a family party present at the Christmas festivities. Mr. Colpster, being of a conservative nature, always kept these up in an old-fashioned, hospitable style. Indeed, he invited several friends to join on this occasion, as his nephew was at home, but the friends, having their own families and own festivities, declined to put in an appearance. The Squire was not sorry, as he disliked the trouble of entertaining visitors.
As it was, he gave the servants a dinner, and bestowed coals and blankets and hampers of wholesome food on the inhabitants of Hendle, Boatwain, and the other hamlets, all of which had at one time belonged to dead and gone Colpsters. For this reason did the Squire act so generously, and he hoped when the emerald was recovered--for he refused to believe that it had gone back to its shrine in Japan--that the future good fortune which would come with it would enable him to buy back the lost lands. Meanwhile, by acting as the lord of a lost manor, he retained the feudal allegiance of the villagers. There was something pathetic in the way in which the old man persistently looked forward to the rehabilitation of his family. He made sure that the Mikado Jewel would come back; he felt certain that the land would be recovered, and was convinced that when he passed away, the husband of Mara would start a new dynasty of Colpsters, through the female branch, whose glories would outshine the ancient line. But who Mara was to marry did not seem quite clear.
He spoke to the girl on the subject and suggested that she should become the wife of Theodore or Basil. Mara shuddered when he mentioned the first name, and her father noted the repugnance the shudder revealed.
"I don't approve much of Theodore myself," he said apologetically, "as he is extremely selfish. But he has no bad qualities which would lead him to waste money, and, moreover, he loves this place. You might do worse, dear."
"If Theodore was the only man on earth and offered me a kingdom, I would not marry him," said Mara, speaking decisively and in a firm way, which contrasted strongly with her usual indifference, "He is a bad man."
"My dear child, he has no vices. He neither drinks, nor gambles, nor----"
"If he had all the vices of which a human being is capable," interrupted Mara loudly, "I would not mind. But his bad qualities are inhuman. He is selfish and dangerous, and all his time is given to Black Magic."
The Squire laughed incredulously. "I know that Theodore dabbles in such things," he said disbelievingly; "but it is all imagination, Mara. There is no such a thing as any power to be obtained in that way."
"Yes there is. I know," said Mara, looking at her father significantly.
"Can you prove what you say, my dear?"
"No. And I don't want to talk any more about the matter. I won't marry my cousin Theodore, even if you leave the property away from me."
"I don't want to do that. You are my heiress, and my idea was for you to marry your cousin. Then he could take your name, and----"
"I shan't marry Theodore," cried Mara for the third time, and stamped.
"Basil, then. You can have no fault to find with Basil."
"I haven't, father, but"--Mara stopped, and a strange smile spread over her small, pale face--"I shall ask Basil to marry me, if you like," she said in an abrupt way. "He can but say no."
"He won't say no, my dear. Basil loves me too well to thwart my wishes. But it is his part to woo and yours to listen. Let him ask."
"I should have to wait a long time before he did that," said Mara dryly. "I wish to know the best or worst at once," and she left the room, still smiling strangely. Mr. Colpster could not understand why she smiled. But, then, neither he nor anyone else understood the girl, who seemed to hang between two worlds, the Seen and the Unseen, without making use of either, so indifferent was her attitude towards all things.
As it happened, Patricia was busy attending to the servants, as it was her housekeeping hour. Mara was thus enabled to find Basil alone, for when Miss Carrol was available he constantly followed at her heels like a faithful and adoring dog. But Patricia would not appear for some time, so the sailor read the daily paper in the smoking-room and solaced himself for the absence of the eternal feminine with his pipe. Mara knew where to find him, and entered in her light, noiseless way, to perch on the arm of his chair like a golden butterfly. Without any preamble she plunged into the reason for her intrusion into bachelor quarters.
"Basil, will you marry me?" she asked, coldly and calmly and unexpectedly.
Looking on his cousin as a child, the young man thought that she was joking, and laughed when he answered: "Of course. Will we start now for the church on the moors where all the Colpsters have been married?"
"I am in earnest, Basil," she said seriously.
"So am I," he rejoined lightly, "only it will be the marriage of Bottom and Titania with you, my airy elf," and he slipped his arm round her waist, looking at her with a smile on his handsome face.
Mara, who disliked being touched, even by Patricia, much more by this confident male thing--as she called Basil in her mind--slipped off the arm of the chair and floated like thistledown into the centre of the room.
"Don't be silly, Basil. I have just come from my father. He wants me to marry you or Theodore. I hate Theodore, and would sooner die than become his wife, but I told father that I would ask you to become my husband."
Basil saw that she really meant what she said, and, moreover, knew of his uncle's strong desire to unite the two branches of the dwindling Colpster family. Laying aside his pipe, he grew red to the roots of his closely-cropped hair. "I--I--don't want to," he stuttered ungallantly, and feeling very much confused. "I--I hope you don't mind."
A wintry smile gleamed on the girl's white face. "I should have minded a great deal had you really wished to marry me."
"Then why ask me?" demanded Basil, much relieved, but still confused.
"To set my father's mind at rest," replied Mara quietly, and as self-possessed as her cousin was disturbed. "Now that you have declined, I can tell him!" and she flitted towards the door.
"But, Mara!" Basil rose and ran across the room to catch her arm. "How can you be certain that I mean what I say?"
She turned on him with an amazed look. "You think that I am a child, Basil, but I am not. I have eyes and ears and common-sense. You will marry Patricia, will you not?"
Young Dane grew redder than ever. "I--I--have said nothing to her," he stammered nervously. "She--she doesn't know that I--that I----"
Mara's scornful laughter stopped his further speech, and she became quite friendly for so bloodless a person. "You silly boy!" she cried, ruffling what hair the barber had left him. "Patricia knows."
"But how can she?"
"Because she is a woman," said Mara impatiently. "Women are not like men, and don't require everything to be put into words. I saw from the moment you met Patricia that you loved her. I'm glad; I'm glad," she ended, with conviction, "as I don't want to marry you or anyone else."
Basil, with lover-like selfishness, did not pay attention to the end of her speech, but to the earlier part. "If you saw, then Miss Carrol must have seen."
"Miss Carrol!" mocked Mara, with dancing eyes. "Why not Patricia?"
"Oh!" the shy sailor blushed. "I shouldn't care to call her that."
His cousin took him by the coat-lapels and shook him with frail strength.
"Silly creature! If you have not the courage to take what you can get, Patricia will have nothing to do with you. Women like a bold lover."
"I don't believe she will ever return my love," sighed Basil dolefully.
"Oh, as to that, she returns it already."
"Mara!" he flushed again, this time with sheer delight, "do you think----"
"I don't think. I know, and I'm very glad, for Patricia is a darling. I hope that father, who is as fond of her as I am, will give her Beckleigh on condition that she marries you, who can't say 'Bo' to a goose."
Basil looked serious and sighed again. "I'm sorry to upset Uncle George's plans, for he has always been kind to me. But not even for the estate could I give up Miss--that is, Patricia."
"No one wants you to give up either," said Mara impatiently. "Father will no doubt give you Beckleigh."
"No, dear. That would not be right. You are the heiress."
"And what would I do with it? Keep a boarding-house, or start a convent of nuns? I would much rather have a small income and be able to move round as I please."
"You will marry some day, Mara. Mr. Right will come along."
"Mr. Right will never come along," cried Mara, and coloured crimson, which was unusual, "unless he comes from the other world."
"What do you mean?" asked the sailor, greatly puzzled by this weird speech.
"Oh, never mind," retorted Mara, pitying his lack of comprehension. "Sit down and dream of your Patricia. I am going to tell father that my heart is broken." And shooting a whimsical glance at the amazed and startled Basil she slipped out of the room.
Five minutes later Miss Carrol arrived, with her household work completed for the day. In spite of what Mara had told him, Basil would not follow the path she had pointed out. He was rather more attentive than usual to Patricia, and gave her to understand that he would wreck continents for her sake. But the modesty of a man, which is greater than that of a woman, kept his tongue quiet and his eyes unintelligent. Patricia did not entirely approve of this restrained attitude, as she knew that he loved her, and wished to be told so in plain English. She could not understand why he did not speak. But Basil himself understood very well. He waited for Patricia to give him a sufficiently strong hint that she adored him, and then he could lay himself at her feet. It did not seem right, so Basil thought, to act on what he had learned from Mara, as that would be taking advantage of illicit intelligence. But for the sailor's rigorous views of honour, the situation could have been adjusted then and there. All the same, it was not, because she could not speak and he would not.
As for Mara, she returned to her father and demonstrated to him very plainly that her cousin wished to marry Miss Carrol, and that when the time came he would do so. Colpster felt annoyed. Mara could not marry Basil, and would not many Theodore, so his plans for the future well-being of the family were all disarranged.
"What would you say if I gave Beckleigh to Basil?" he asked pointedly. "He could marry Patricia, you know, and take my name."
"I should be very glad," replied Mara quietly.
"Well, then, I won't," said her father, greatly annoyed. "You are the last of the direct line and should have the property."
"I wouldn't know what to do with it."
"You could live here when I am gone."
Mara raised her faint eyebrows. "All alone?" she questioned. "You know I would not allow Theodore to stay, and that Patricia would go with Basil, who is always moving round the world. Oh, I couldn't."
"What's to be done, then?" asked the Squire helplessly.
Mara threw her arms round his neck, a rare demonstration of affection from so usually a self-controlled girl. "Wait," she whispered, "wait and see what is about to happen."
"What is about to happen?"
"I don't know. But something is coming along to change all our lives."
"How do you know?"
"I can't tell you. I only feel that there is something in the air to----"
"Oh!" Colpster grew angry; "more of your occult rubbish. I wish you were an ordinary girl, Mara, and not a dreaming visionary. I shall wait until the emerald comes back, and then you must make up your mind to marry Theodore, since Basil's affections are engaged."
Mara reflected and thought how very certain Theodore was that the emerald had gone back to Japan never to return. The recollection gave her a chance of pacifying her father, and of securing her freedom. "Very well, then," she said quietly. "When you get the emerald, father, I shall marry him," and in this way the affair was settled for the time being. But think as she might, Mara could not guess how her father expected the Mikado Jewel to return to the Colpster family. And even if it did, she could not understand how its possession would affect things in any way.
Meanwhile the days and weeks passed by and the time drew near for the visit of Count Akira. Mara, although she said nothing, was looking forward to his arrival. Why, she did not know, for, as a rule, she was quite indifferent to those who came to Beckleigh Hall. In her heart, however, she felt that he was coming into her life, either for good or ill, and it was this feeling which made her say to her father that a change was about to take place. But she could not have put her feeling into words, and did not attempt to do so. With the fatalism which was inherent in her character, she waited passively, certain that what was meant to be would certainly become when the hour struck. There was nothing more to be said.
Theodore had duly told his uncle of the interview with Isa Lee, although for obvious reasons he said nothing about theséancewith the grandmother. The Squire was, therefore, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Harry Pentreddle, as he then hoped to learn how and why the young man had stolen the emerald. Also, he might be able to guess who had snatched it from the hand of Patricia, and, if so, could then tell in whose possession it now was. A great deal depended upon what Pentreddle had to say, and Colpster watched daily for his coming. But Count Akira was the first to arrive, and in attending to a new and fascinating guest, the Squire almost forgot his anxiety to hear the evidence of young Pentreddle.
The Japanese came late in the evening, having arrived at Hendle by the express, to be driven to Beckleigh by Basil. The young man went to meet his friend, and brought him to the Hall in time to dress for dinner. It was not until the meal was in progress that Mara set eyes on him, and then she was so excited by his presence, although she did not show her feelings, that she could scarcely eat. What she had expected--vague as it was--had come true. This man from the Far East was the man who would change her life. Into what he would change it, and down what new path he would lead her, she could not say. All she knew was that with the hour had come the man.
Count Akira was a small, neat person, with a bronze-coloured skin, a clean-shaven face, black hair and black eyes, and a very dignified manner. At the first sight he did not look particularly impressive, as the European evening-dress did not entirely suit his aggressively Oriental appearance. But when those gathered in the drawing-room came to notice his keen, dark eyes, so observant and piercing, to listen to his carefully-worded speech, and to look at his nobly-formed head, they became aware that he was no ordinary man. Race was apparent in his gestures and glances and dominating manner, so quiet yet imperious. He came of a noble line accustomed to rule, and his personality made itself felt more and more as something strong and dangerous, while the hours passed. He was the past, the present, the future of the island empire, the epitome of Japan, the representative of the highest type of the Yellow Race, filled with far-reaching ambitions.
"Is it true that you worship the sun in Japan?" asked Theodore tactlessly.
Akira turned his shrewd eyes on the speaker, and smilingly displayed a set of snowy teeth. "Some do and some don't," he replied evasively; "but I assure you, Mr. Dane, that if you ever saw the sun in England you would worship him also, and with very good reason."
"Oh, we get the sun here," said the Squire patriotically.
"You get a name, but not the real central planet," said Akira, with a shrug. "Clouds and mist obscure his rays. Only in the East does the true sun exist. Is that not so, Dane?" he spoke to Basil, whom he always addressed in this way, although he was more ceremonious with Theodore.
"It is," assented the sailor, with a laugh. "And yet, Akira, when under your painfully blue skies and in your blazing sunshine, I have often longed for the cooling mists of England you so despise."
"That is quite poetical," smiled Patricia.
"Sailors are always poetical, although they don't show that side to landsmen. The solitary spaces of sea and sky, when one is driven back on one's self to think out high things, is enough to make any man poetical."
"Well," said Mara shrewdly, "if sailors don't show that side to landsmen, they probably show it to landswomen. Is that not so, Basil?" and she mischievously glanced from him to Patricia and back again.
"To some women," replied Basil briefly, and colouring through his tan.
"What! When a sailor has a wife in every port!" sneered Theodore; then aware that he had said more than he ought to in the presence of ladies, he quickly turned to Akira. "Perhaps, Count, you will tell us about Japan."
The little man blinked his keen eyes and politely assented. He made himself comfortable, and in many coloured words placed fairy-land before their eyes. With great charm of manner, he told of cool Buddhist temples, wherein weird ceremonies take place; he related the delightful legend of Jizo-Sama, that kindly god who protects dead children; he pictured the vivid life of toy cities, all colour and movement, and drew the attention of his fascinated hearers to the charm of Japanese and Chinese lettering, which lend themselves to fantastic and odd decoration. After a time he gave a description of a pilgrimage he had made to Fuji, that sacred mountain, which appears in a thousand and one pictures of Dai Nippon. "My country with Fuji-Yama left out is likeHamletwithout the Prince," he said, smiling. "That mountain is the guardian genius of the land."
Then he told about the rice-fields, with their delicate springing green, of the cherry-orchards in blossom, of the pine forest where fox-women lurked, and sketched out many charming legends. His talk was like a page of Lafcadio Hearn, and Mara hung breathlessly on his words. As he proceeded, her breath became quick and short and her eyes grew larger. She looked at the narrator, through him, past him, as though all he described were passing before her like a panorama of byegone centuries. Suddenly she clapped her hands.
"I remember; I remember," she cried, rising unsteadily to her feet. "Your land is my land. I remember at last," and stopping suddenly, she sank unconscious at the feet of the astonished Japanese.
Next day Mara was quite her old indifferent self. With feminine craft, she denied what she had said, even though five witnesses were ready to repeat the words. "I didn't know what I was saying," said Mara impatiently. "Of course, the heat was too much for me."
"The heat?" repeated her father; "in January?"
"Beckleigh isn't England. My nerves are out of order.--Count Akira had some funny Japanese scent on his handkerchief.--Theodore was looking at me, and that always upsets me." And in this way she made idle excuses, none of which would hold water. "I wish you would leave me alone," she ended, angrily.
As there was nothing else for it, she was left alone, and the queer episode was passed over. Mara was polite to the Japanese and nothing more; but her eyes were constantly following him about, and she came upon him by design in unexpected places. Akira was too shrewd not to notice that he was an object of interest to this pale, golden-haired English maid, and inwardly was puzzled to think why she should pursue him in this secretive fashion. Mara everlastingly inquired about Japan, and about its people. She wished to know the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and entreated the Count to draw word-pictures of Far-Eastern landscapes. But he observed that she never asked him questions when anyone else was present. With a delicate sense of chivalry, he kept silent about this secret understanding which her odd conduct had brought about between them. For there was an understanding without doubt. Akira found himself wondering at times if she was really English, for towards him, at all events, she did not display the world-wide reserve for which the island race of the West is famous.
Of course, Squire Colpster seized the first opportunity to question his guest about the emerald. But Akira professed that he knew little more than the facts that there was such a stone and that it had been stolen some months before from the temple. "I have been to Kitzuki," said the Count, "as my religion is Shinto, and in Izumo is the oldest of our shrines. A very wonderful building it is, and was built in legendary ages by order of the Sun-goddess."
"But the same temple surely does not exist now?"
"Oh, no. It has been rebuilt twenty-eight times, and----"
The Squire interrupted him with an exclamation. "I remember! Lafcadio Hearn says that in one of his books."
"He was a very clever man, and loved our people," replied Akira quietly.
"Yes! yes!" Colpster nodded absently. "It is strange that he did not say anything about the Mikado Jewel."
"It is not generally shown to strangers," explained the Japanese. "I have seen it myself, of course."
"What is it like?"
"Like a chrysanthemum blossom of green jade with an emerald in the centre, Mr. Colpster. I believe it was given to the shrine by one of our Emperors, called Go Yojo."
"It was; and he received it from Shogun Ieyasu."
Akira fixed his sharp black eyes on the tired face of his host. "You seem--pardon me--to know a great deal about this jewel," he observed inquiringly.
"I ought to. The emerald belonged to our family centuries ago."
"You astonish me."
"I thought I would!" cried the Squire triumphantly. "Yes; an ancestor of mine gave the emerald to Queen Elizabeth, and she sent it, through an English pilot called Will Adams, to Akbar, the Emperor of India. Adams, however, was wrecked on your coasts, Count, and presented the jewel to Ieyasu."
"How very interesting," said Akira, his usually passive Oriental face betraying his wonder. "Thank you for telling me all this, Mr. Colpster. I must relate it to the priests of the Kitzuki Temple, when I return to my own land. I do so in a month or two," he added courteously.
"But the Jewel is now lost!"
"So I understand. I read the report of the death of your housekeeper."
Colpster gazed in astonishment at the little man. "Did that interest you?"
"Naturally," rejoined Akira, unmoved, "seeing that her death was connected with the Mikado Jewel."
"Are you sure that it is the same?" asked Colpster breathlessly.
"Assuredly, from the description. I expect the thief, whosoever he was, brought the emerald to London."
"But who stole it from Miss Carrol?"
Akira shrugged his shoulders and spread out his small hands. "Alas! I do not know. But you should, Mr. Colpster, seeing that the thief proposed to transfer it to your housekeeper through Miss Carrol?" He looked very directly at his host as he spoke.
The Squire reflected for a few minutes. "I will be frank with you, Count," he observed earnestly. "That emerald brought good luck to our family, and since it has left our possession, we have had misfortunes and losses. I wished to get back the jewel and gave Basil a sum of money to----"
"To offer to buy it back," interrupted Akira, nodding. "Yes, I know. You sent him on a dangerous errand, Mr. Colpster. But for me he would have been murdered, as perhaps you know."
"Basil told me the story," said Colpster, drawing himself up stiffly; "but I cannot really agree with you as to the danger. I merely offered to buy back what belonged to an ancestor of mine."
"Your ancestor parted with it," said Akira, readily and rather dryly, "so, as the stone has become a sacred one, it was impossible for the priests to take money for it. I know Dane had nothing to do with its disappearance."
"Ah!" the Squire became cautious. "I don't know who had anything to do with the theft. I wish I did."
"What then?"
"I would seek out the thief and regain the jewel."
"By your own showing the thief parted with the emerald to Miss Carrol," was Akira's quiet remark. "That it was taken from her is strange."
"Oh, I don't think so, Count. Some thief saw Miss Carrol looking at it--you remember, of course, the details given at the inquest--and snatched it."
Akira was silent for a few moments. "Mr. Colpster," he said earnestly, "if you are wise, you will make no attempt to regain this stone. It brought your family good luck centuries ago, but if it comes into your possession again, it will bring bad luck."
"How do you, know?"
"I don't know for certain; I don't even know why it was snatched from Miss Carrol, or where it is now," said Akira coldly, "but I do know," he added with great emphasis, "that since the emerald has been adapted to certain uses in the Shinto Temple at Kitzuki, the powers it possesses must be entirely changed."
"Oh, I don't believe it has such powers," said the Squire roughly.
"Yet you believe that it will bring you good luck," said Akira with a dry little cough. "Isn't that rather illogical, sir?"
Mr. Colpster could find no rejoinder to this very leading question, and dropped the subject. It was very plain that Akira knew very little about the matter, and also it was dangerous to speak to him on the subject. If, indeed, the jewel was in the possession of a London thief, it might be recovered sooner or later. And if Akira knew that it had again passed into the possession of the Colpster family, he might get his ambassador to claim it for Japan. The Squire rather regretted that he had spoken of the matter at all, since his explanation might arouse his guest's curiosity. But as the days passed away, and Akira did not again refer to the abruptly terminated conversation, Colpster thought that he was mistaken. The Japanese really was indifferent to the loss of the Jewel, and no doubt had never given the subject a second thought. But the Squire determined, should he learn anything from Harry Pentreddle, to keep his knowledge to himself.
"Akira doesn't care," he meditated; "but one never knows. If I can get the emerald by some miracle, he may want it for Kitzuki again. I shall hold my tongue for the future. I was a fool to speak of the matter."
Having decided to act in this manner, he warned Theodore and Basil and Mara not to refer in any way to the Mikado Jewel. Yet, strangely enough, he did not warn the person who knew most to hold her tongue. It therefore came about that one day, while Patricia was showing the gardens to Akira, he abruptly mentioned the subject of the inquest and incidentally touched on her adventure in Hyde Park.
"Were you not afraid, Miss Carrol?"
"Yes and no. I was not afraid until the emerald was taken from me," said Patricia frankly.
"Why?" asked the Count politely, and with seeming indifference.
She hesitated. "I fear you will think me silly." Then in reply to his wave of a hand that such an idea would never enter his head, she added hastily: "When I held the emerald I felt a power radiating out from it."
"Ah!" the Japanese started in spite of his usual self-command. "Then you have occult powers and sight and feeling and hearing?"
"I have not," replied Patricia, vexed with herself that she had spoken so freely. "I am a very commonplace person indeed, Count. I felt that feeling because I was worried and hungry."
"Naturally!" muttered Akira to himself; "you get in touch with it when the physical body is weak."
"Get in touch with what?" asked Patricia crossly, for she began to think that this beady-eyed little man was making game of her.
"With what you felt; with what you saw."
"I shan't say anything more about the matter." Patricia turned away with great dignity. "I'm sorry I spoke at all."
"Your secret is safe with me, Miss Carrol."
"It isn't a secret. Mr. Colpster and his two nephews know."
"I don't suppose they understand."
"Mr. Theodore Dane does!" snapped Miss Carrol fractiously, for the persistence of the man was getting on her nerves.
"Yes," said Akira with a ghostly smile; "in a way; but he doesn't know enough. Pity for him that he doesn't."
"What are you talking about, Count?"
"Nonsense!" he replied promptly; "after all, Miss Carrol, I am here to play."
"I wonder you came here at all to such a quiet place."
"Oh, I don't care for orgies, Miss Carrol. But if you ask me, I wonder also why I am here."
Patricia felt that he was speaking truthfully and turned on him with a look of amazement. From all she had seen of the small Japanese, she judged that he was a man who knew his own mind. As she looked, by some telepathic process he guessed what was in hers. "Sometimes I do," he answered; "but on this occasion I don't--exactly"--and he drawled the last word slowly.
Patricia almost jumped. "You are a very uncomfortable man," she remarked.
"The East and the West, dear lady--they never meet without misunderstandings."
This cryptic remark closed the conversation, and they went in to afternoon tea. Akira said no more, nor did he explain his puzzling conversation in the least. However, he still remembered it, for every time he looked at Patricia he smiled so enigmatically that the mother which is in every woman made her wish to slap him and send him to bed without any supper.
That same evening in the drawing-room a strange thing took place, which made Patricia wonder more than ever. Theodore had been performing some conjuring tricks with cards at which Akira smiled politely. Basil had sung, and she had played a sonata of Beethoven. Feeling tired, no doubt, of Shakespeare and the musical glasses, Mr. Colpster had stolen to his study to look at his beloved family tree. The young people had the drawing-room to themselves. As all save Mara--who invariably declined to contribute to the gaiety of any evening--had done his or her part, it was the turn of the Japanese.
"Amuse us in some way, Count," commanded Patricia, crossing to a sofa, and throwing herself luxuriously on the silken cushions.
"Alas! I am so foolish, I know not how to amuse. I have told you so much of my own country that you must be tired."
"No! No! No!" cried Mara, with shining eyes and an alert manner. "I never grow weary of hearing about Japan."
"Why?" asked the Count, half-closing his eyes.
Mara's face became strange and cold. "I don't know," she said, in a hesitating manner. "I seem to know Japan."
"But, Mara," cried Basil, staring, "you have never been there!"
"All the same I know it, and especially I know the Temple of Kitzuki."
"Ah! but youwerethere!" put in Theodore, glancing at the Count, whose eyes were curiously intent upon the girl's pale face.
"How? When?" he asked suddenly.
"She went in her astral body in search for the Mikado Jewel, and----"
"Don't talk of these things," interrupted Mara, in an angry tone. "The Count doesn't want to hear such rubbish."
"Of course; it is all rubbish," said Akira promptly; but Patricia, mindful of his afternoon conversation, did not believe that he spoke as he felt.
"Ah!" sneered Theodore quietly, "you are one of the scoffers. Yet I thought that the East believed in such things."
"We believe in much we never talk about," replied Akira calmly. Then there was a pause, until he suddenly produced from his pocket a bamboo flute. "I can play this," he said, with his eyes on Mara, as though he addressed himself to her; "it is a simple Japanese instrument. Have you a drum?"
Basil, who was addressed, laughed. "I don't think so. There's the dinner-gong."
"That will do," said Akira serenely. "Would you mind getting it and beating it rhythmically like a tom-tom--softly, of course, so as not to drown the notes of my flute. And a hand-bell," he added, casting his looks round the room.
"You are arranging an orchestra," laughed Basil, going out to fetch the gong.
"Here is a bell!" cried Mara, taking a small silver hand-bell from a table covered with nicknacks.
"Hold it, please."
"But what am I to do with it?" asked the girl, bewildered.
"The music I play will tell you," said Akira, somewhat grimly, and then Patricia began to see that there was some meaning in all this preparation. More, that the same was in some hidden way connected with Mara. However, she said nothing, but waited events.
Presently Basil, tall and slim, returned, carrying the brazen gong and sat down to flourish the stick. "Punch and Judy," said Basil; "now for it."
Akira said nothing. He looked at Patricia and Theodore, who were staring at him with astonishment, and at Basil laughing over the gong, and finally at Mara, who held the hand-bell and appeared puzzled. Suddenly the Japanese rose from his seat, and, crossing to the fire, threw something into it. Immediately a thick white smoke poured into the room, and a strong perfume came to Patricia's nostrils, which seemed to be familiar.
"The incense of Moses," she heard Theodore mutter; "hang it, the fellow does know something of these things!"
Mara also smelt the perfumed smoke. Her eyes grew fixed, her nostrils dilated and--as Patricia had seen in Theodore's room--she began to make a shaking motion with both hands. And, as formerly, she closed them together, holding the silver bell, mouth downward. As the fragrant smoke was wafted through the room, the shrill piping of the flute was heard, and Basil, according to his instructions, began to beat a low, muffled, monotonous accompaniment on the gong. The music sounded weird and Eastern, and was unlike anything Patricia had ever heard before. The stupefying incense and the smoke and the sobbing flute, wailing above the throbbing of the gong, made her head swim.
Suddenly Mara, as if she was moving in her sleep, rose slowly and walked into the centre of the room. There she began to move with swaying motion in a circle, shaking the silver bell with closed hands. Her feet scarcely made any figures, as she only walked rapidly round and round, but the upper part of her body swung from side to side, and bent backward and forward. It was like an Indian nautch, weird and uncanny. Basil seemed to think so, for he stopped his measured beating, but the smoke still wreathed itself through the room in serpentine coils, the flute shrilled loud and piercing, and Mara danced as in a dream. All at once she reeled and the bell crashed on the floor. Basil flung down the gong and sprang forward.
"She is fainting," he cried angrily, catching Mara in his arms. "Akira, what the devil does this mean? She is ill!"
"No! No!" said Mara, as the flute stopped and the scent of the incense grew faint. "I am not ill, I am--I am--what have I been doing?" and she looked vacantly round the room.
Akira laid aside his flute and spoke with suppressed excitement. "You have been performing the Miko dance," he said, trying to control himself.
"Miko! The dance of the Miko!" cried Mara, stretching out her hand; "I know, I remember. The Dance of the Divineress! At last. At----"
"Mara, you are ill!" cried Basil roughly, and catching her by the arm he hurried her, still protesting, out of the room.
"What does it mean?" asked Patricia, who had risen.
"Don'tyouknow?" asked Akira, looking at Theodore.
"No," said Dane, puzzled and a trifle awed. "When Mara smells that scent, she always dances in that queer fashion. But I never saw her keep it up for so long as she has done to-night. Where did you get that incense!"
"It is an old Japanese incense," said Akira carelessly; then he turned to Patricia. "I now know why I have been brought here," he said.
"I don't understand," stammered the girl nervously.
"I shall explain. I did not intend to come to Beckleigh, but I was compelled to come. You, with your sixth sense, should know what I mean, Miss Carrol. I wondered why I was brought to this out-of-the-way place.NowI know. It was to meet a former Miko of the Temple of Kitzuki. Oh, yes, I am sure. I now know why Miss Colpster declared that she remembered my country and loved to hear me talk about it. She is a reincarnation of the dancing priestess who lived ages since in the province of Izumo."
"Do you believe that?" asked Patricia scornfully.
Akira nodded. "All Japanese believe in reincarnation," he said, in a decisive tone; "it is the foundation of their belief. You believe also?"
Theodore, to whom he spoke, nodded. "Yes. And I wish--I wish----" he turned pale.
Akira looked at him imperiously. "Wish nothing," he said; "she is not for you; she is not for the West; she is for Dai Nippon."
It was judged best by all concerned to keep the episode of the Miko dance from Mr. Colpster, since he undoubtedly would have been very angry had he known of the strain to which Mara's nervous system had been subjected. Not that the girl suffered any ill-effects, but she was extremely tired, and remained in bed for the greater part of the next day. Patricia attended to her tenderly, but could learn little from her as to why she had acted in so strange a way under the influence of the incense and the music. But she intimated vaguely that the dance had re-awakened her recollections of a previous life, when she was not Mara Colpster, but quite another person. Miss Carrol was quite distressed by what she regarded as an hallucination, and privately consulted Basil the next morning after breakfast.
"I am greatly annoyed myself," said Dane, frowning. "Akira should not have acted in the way he did without consulting me."
"You would not have given your consent to the experiment," said Patricia.
"Certainly not. Mara is too highly strung to be subjected to these things, and might easily lose her reason. It is just as well that we have decided not to tell my uncle. He would be furious, and then there would be trouble with Akira, who has not the best of tempers under his cool exterior. But why do you call it an experiment?"
"Can't you see?"
"No! I merely think that Akira wished to give us a specimen of Japanese music, and it influenced Mara, as you saw. Perhaps we have been too hard on Akira, and he did not know what she would do."
"If he did not intend something to happen, why did he throw that incense on the fire?" asked Patricia meaningly.
"I can't say, unless it was to heighten the dramatic effect of his silly nonsense," retorted Basil, whose temper was still hot.
"It was to revive Mara's memory."
"About what?"
"About her past life in Japan."
Basil stared at her. "Surely, Miss Carrol, you don't believe in what Akira said last night?" he observed, with some displeasure and stiffly.
"Don't you?" Patricia looked at him keenly, and the young sailor grew red.
"Well," he said, at length, "there is no doubt that much common-sense is to be found in the belief of reincarnation. I have been so long in the East that I don't scoff at it so much as Western people do. All the same, I do not go so far as to say that I entirely believe in it. But you--you who have never been east of Suez--you can't possibly credit the fact that Mara some hundreds of years ago was a priestess in Japan?"
Patricia looked straight out of the window at the azure sea, and the bright line of the distant horizon. "I dislike these weird things," she said, after a pause. "They are uncomfortable to believe, and since I have known your brother Theodore I dislike them more than ever, as he makes bad use of what he knows. I am certain of that."
"Does he really know anything?" asked Basil, sceptically.
"Yes," said Patricia decidedly. "I really believe he has certain powers, although they are not so much on the surface as mine. Everyone--according to him--has these powers latent, but they require to be developed. I don't want mine to be brought to the surface, as my own idea is to live a quiet and ordinary life."
Basil's eyes had a look in them which asked if she wished to live her ordinary life alone. All he said, however, was: "I quite agree with you."
Patricia nodded absently, being too much taken up with her own thoughts to observe his expression. "As I therefore have a belief in such things," she continued, "and a belief which has been more or less proved to my mind, by the strange feelings I experienced while holding the Mikado Jewel, I see no reason to doubt the doctrine of reincarnation. That seems to me better than anything else to answer the riddle of life. Mara is certainly, as you must admit, a strange girl."
"Very strange indeed," assented Basil readily; "unlike other girls."
"She has always--so she told me," went on Patricia steadily, "been trying to remember her dreams, by which, I think, she means her previous lives. She could never grasp them until last night. Then the music and the incense brought back her memories. They opened the doors, in fact, which, to most people--you and I, for instance--are closed."
"Then you really believe she lived in Japan centuries ago?" asked Basil, in rather an awed tone.
"Yes, I do," replied Miss Carrol firmly; "although I know that many people would laugh if I said so. This morning Mara is staying in bed and will not speak much. But I gather that the past has all returned to her. Remember how she loved to hear Count Akira's stories, and how she followed him about. He noticed that, and so acted as he did last night."
"But why did he think of the Miko dance in connection with Mara?"
"Theodore confessed to me--oh"--Patricia blushed--"I should not call him by his Christian name."
The young man suppressed a pang of jealousy. "I dare say you do so because you hear us all calling one another by our Christian names. I often wonder," he added cautiously, "that you do not call me Basil."
Patricia blushed still deeper, and waived the question. "I have to tell you what your brother said," she remarked stiffly. "He related to Count Akira how Mara danced in that weird manner when she smelt certain incense. That gave the Count a hint, and he acted upon it, as you saw." She paused, then turned to face Basil. "What is to be done now?"
The sailor had already made up his mind. "In the first place, my uncle must not be told, as he would make trouble. In the second, I shall take Akira to Hendle to-day sightseeing, so that he may not meet Mara. In the third, I shall hint that it would be as well, seeing the effect his presence has on Mara, that he should terminate his visit. Do you approve?"
"Yes," said Patricia, nodding. "You are taking the most practical way out of the difficulty. There is one thing I am afraid of, however?"
"What is that?"
"Mara may fall in love with Count Akira, if, indeed, she is not in love with him already."
"What! with that Japanese?" cried Basil furiously, and his racial hatred became pronounced at once. "That would never do. She must not see him again."
"He is bound to return here, so she must see him."
"Can't you keep her in her room until Akira goes?"
Patricia shook her head. "Mara is difficult to manage. However, although she may love the Count, he may not care for her. Let us hope so. All we can do is to act as you suggest. Now I must go and see after the dinner."
Basil would have liked to detain her, to talk on more absorbing topics. But the question of Mara and her oddities was so very prominent, that he decided against chatting about more personal matters. With a sigh he watched her disappear, and then went away to seek out Akira and take him out of the house for a few hours.
The Japanese, with all his astuteness, did not fathom the reason why he was asked to drive round the country, and willingly assented. He asked a few careless questions about Mara, but did not refer to the scene of the previous night. Basil, on his side, was acute enough to let sleeping dogs lie, so the pair started off about noon for their jaunt in a friendly fashion. They talked of this thing and that, and all round the shop--as the saying is--but neither one referred to the scene of the previous night. Yet a vivid memory of that was uppermost in Basil's mind, and--as he very shrewdly suspected--was present also in the thoughts of Akira. But judging from the man's composure and conversation he had quite forgotten what had taken place. Basil was pleased with this reticence, as it saved him the unpleasantness of explaining himself too forcibly.
Meanwhile, Patricia drew a long breath of relief when Basil drove away with the Japanese diplomatist, and she went at once to see if Mara was all right. The girl, feeling drowsy, was disinclined to chatter, but lay back with a smile of ecstasy on her pale face. Her lips were moving, although she did not open her eyes, and Patricia bent to hear if she required anything. But all that Mara was saying amounted to a reiteration that she had recalled the past. Doubtless, since the door was now wide open, she was in fancy dwelling again in her Oriental home. However, she was quite happy, so Miss Carrol, seeing that her presence was not necessary to the girl's comfort, stole on tip-toe out of the room.
It was when she came downstairs that she chanced upon Theodore in the entrance hall. The big man looked both startled and surprised, and spoke to her in an excited tone.
"Come into my uncle's library at once, Miss Carrol," he said, touching her arm. "It has come."
"What has come?" naturally asked Miss Carrol, puzzled by his tone and look.
"It came by post," went on Theodore breathlessly, "and was not even registered. There is not a line with it to show who sent it."
"I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Dane."
"Uncle wants you to hold it again in your hand and see if you can feel the drawing-power you spoke of. Come! Come quickly!"
At last Patricia knew what he meant and her face grew white. "Have you the Mikado Jewel?" she asked, leaning against the wall, faint and sick.
For answer Theodore unceremoniously led her into the library, and she saw Mr. Colpster standing near the window, gloating over something which he held in his hand. As he moved to face the girl, a vivid green ray shot through the subdued light of the large room.
"Look! Look!" cried the Squire, stuttering in his excitement, and he held up the jade chrysanthemum with the emerald flashing in its centre, as the sunlight caught its many facets.
"The Mikado Jewel!" gasped Patricia, and her legs refused to sustain her any longer. She sank into a chair. "How--how did you get it?"
"It came by post--by the mid-day post," explained the Squire, repeating what his nephew had said earlier. "Just carelessly wrapped up in brown paper and directed to me. Not even registered, and packed in a small tin box tied round with string. The postmark is London, so it must have been sent through the General Post Office. No district name is stamped on the covering. Oh, wonderful! wonderful! The luck of the Colpsters has returned."
"But who sent it?" asked Patricia, looking with ill-concealed repugnance at the sinister gem, which had indirectly brought about the death of Mrs. Pentreddle. "The man who committed the crime?"
"No, no!" struck in Theodore impatiently; "that's impossible. The assassin of poor Martha never had it in his possession, although, as we know, he hunted the house to find it. The thief who snatched it from you in the Park, Miss Carrol, must have repented and sent it to its rightful owner."
"And I am its rightful owner," said the Squire, drawing up his spare form to its full height. "This gem belonged to my ancestor, and it is only fair that I should possess it."
Patricia could not approve of this speech, as she knew from Colpster's own lips that Sir Bevis had given it to Queen Elizabeth in exchange for his knighthood. But she knew, also, that it was useless to argue with the Squire, as he appeared to be obsessed by the Jewel, to which he ascribed such fantastical powers. Nothing, she was convinced, would ever make him give it up, and she was confirmed in this opinion by his next words.
"Say nothing to Basil, or Akira, about the arrival of the emerald," he said hurriedly to his companions. "I don't trust that Japanese. He thinks that the Jewel belongs to the Temple of Kitzuki."
"So it does," remarked Patricia quickly.
Colpster snarled, and his face became quite ugly and animal in its anger, when he turned on her sharply. "It belongs to me! to me! to me!" he cried vehemently, and pressed the Jewel close to his breast. "I shall never give it up; never, never, never. Tell Akira at your peril."
"I don't intend to say a word to the Count," said Patricia, retreating a step before his malignant expression. "It is none of my business. But if you are wise you will throw it away."
"Why? Why? Why?" chattered Colpster, still angry at her opposition, and perhaps pricked in his conscience by her words.
"I think it will bring evil upon you. You shouldn't let it come into the house," she panted, and felt that what she said was true.
Theodore started and grew pale. Granny Lee had used almost the same words when he had asked her about the possible danger. The old woman had refused to say what the danger was, or perhaps--as she stated--she could not put a name to it. But after hearing Patricia's remark, Theodore felt that perhaps the Mikado Jewel had been referred to as "It." Granny Lee had said plainly: "Don't let It come into the house!" And now this girl, who also possessed certain powers, declared that it should not be allowed to remain under the roof lest it should bring evil in its train.
"You are talking rubbish," said Theodore roughly, and trying to conceal his dismay. "How can that jewel hurt anyone?"
"I don't know; I can't say; but it should not be allowed to remain here."
Squire Colpster laughed and laid the lovely thing down on his desk, where it flashed gloriously in a ray of sunshine. "It shall remain here always and bring good fortune to the family," he said vaingloriously.
Patricia, impelled by some outside power, rose and went up to lay a warning hand on the old man's arm. "There is something wrong," she urged. "Consider, Mr. Colpster! How could the thief have sent the jewel to you unless he knew more about the matter than we think? If an ordinary tramp stole it, he would have pawned it; if a priest of the temple took it, he would have carried it, as Mr. Theodore suggested, back to Japan. Why is it sent to you?"
"I don't know. That is what puzzles me," said Colpster, and his mouth grew more obstinate than ever. "But I'm going to keep it, anyhow."
"What do you say?" Miss Carrol turned to Theodore.
The big man winced and grew a shade whiter, for the warning of Granny Lee still haunted his mind. But the sight of the Jewel, and the knowledge that he might one day possess it, awoke all his covetous nature, and he could not make up his mind to suggest that it should be sent away. And, after all, the "It" to which Brenda Lee referred might not be this gem. "I say keep it," he remarked, drawing a deep breath. "The luck of the family is bound up in it, I am certain."
"The bad luck of the family," said Patricia bitterly.
"Oh, you have been listening to Akira," said the Squire crossly. "He declared that probably the power had been changed. How he could know when he never set eyes on the jewel I can't imagine. I admit that it is very strange that it should have been sent to me, and I can't conceive how the thief either obtained my address, or how he knew that I wanted his plunder."
"He might read in the papers----" began Theodore, only to be stopped by his uncle, who looked at him sharply.
"You talk rubbish, my boy. I said nothing at the inquest about my interest in the jewel, and no one outside our own family knew that I desired it.
"I shouldn't wonder if Akira knew," said Theodore quickly.
"Impossible. You have heard all he had to tell. All the same, it will be as well to say nothing about our recovery of the gem while he is in the house. I have your promise, Miss Carrol?"
"Yes. I shall say nothing."
"And you, Theodore? Good. Don't even tell Mara or Basil, else they may let out something to that infernal Japanese. I shall lock the jewel in my safe yonder," and he pointed to a green-painted safe, standing in an alcove of the room. "Now we shall see the luck returning! I shall win that lawsuit; I shall sell that ruined hay to advantage; I shall----"
Patricia stopped him. "I believe everything will go wrong with you."
"How dare you say that, girl!" exclaimed Colpster furiously.
"Because I feel that I must. That jewel has been sent to you for no good purpose, I am convinced."
"Your sixth sense again, I suppose," scoffed the Squire angrily.
"Perhaps," said Patricia simply. Privately she believed that the Jewel was already beginning to do harm, since the old man behaved so rudely. As a rule he had always treated her with politeness, but now he revealed a side to his character which she had not seen. His eyes shone with greed, and he showed all the instincts of a miser. Looking at her and then glancing at his nephew, he continued to speak to her.
"Hold this in your hand and see if you still feel the drawing-power you spoke of."
In silence Patricia took the cold jade blossom, and it lay outstretched on her pink palm. She did not speak, but a bewildered expression gradually took possession of her face. The two men, who were watching her closely, both spoke together, moved by a single impulse.
"What do you feel?"
Patricia did not reply directly. "This is not the Mikado Jewel," she said in breathless tones. "I am sure it is not."
The Squire became pale and Theodore looked amazed. "What makes you think that?" demanded the latter, who was first able to command his voice.
"The drawing-power is reversed in this jewel," said Patricia. "Yes! oh, yes! I feel it quite plainly. Instead of the power radiating and keeping away evil, it is drawing danger towards itself."
"Danger?" gasped the Squire, and his nephew, mindful of Granny Lee's warning, winced visibly. "Danger and darkness. Wave after wave of fear is coming towards me, while I hold the stone, and the darkness is swallowing me up. Oh!" Patricia shivered and deliberately dropped the jewel on the floor. "Take it away! I don't like it at all."
Colpster picked up the gem. "Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't have let the emerald fall otherwise," said Patricia, who was now trembling as if with cold. "When I last held it waves of light went out, and I felt absolutely safe. Now tides of darkness press in on me on every side, and there is a sense of danger everywhere."
"What sort of danger?" asked Theodore nervously.
"I can't say; I can't put my feelings into words. It looks like the Mikado Jewel, but it can't be, when it feels so different."
"I am certain that it is the Mikado Jewel!" cried Colpster angrily.
"Whether it is or not I can't say," retorted Patricia, backing towards the library door, "but it is dangerous. Get rid of it, or suffer." And she went quickly out of the room, leaving the two men staring at one another.