Dan was not naturally of a suspicious nature, but since taking up the profession of a detective, he had become so. Slight matters that formerly he would not have noticed, now attracted his attention, and, as the saying goes, he saw a bird in every bush. For this reason while returning slowly to the cottage, he considered Vincent's backward glance, which hinted at nervousness, and his unnecessarily angry reply to the question as to whether he was rich. Usually dreamy and absent-minded, the turn taken by the conversation had awakened the tiger in the man, and apparently he regarded Halliday as over-inquisitive. Yet why the inventor should take this view, Dan could not conjecture. But after musing for a few minutes, the young man began to think he was making a mountain out of a mole-hill. And whatever secret Vincent had in his life, as his suddenly aggressive attitude showed, it could have nothing to do with the particular quest upon which Dan was bent. Halliday, therefore, dismissed the matter from his mind with a shrug, and went into the cottage to disturb the lovers. "Well, Mr. Halliday," remarked Mildred, whose cheeks were flushed and whose eyes were bright, "what did my uncle say?"
"Very little, but what he did say was to the point. He refuses to let me have a machine."
"How like him," ejaculated Laurance quickly; "but upon what grounds?" Dan scratched his chin. "Really, I don't know. He seems to think that I am a spy desirous of learning his trade secrets. He called you a meddlesome fool, Freddy."
"Ah, that is because I wish to marry Mildred," replied Freddy drily; "it is very natural that Mr. Vincent should object to a man who comes to rob him of his treasure, so I don't mind his abuse."
"I am not a treasure," cried Mildred, becoming pink. "You are. Who knows that better than I, my darling."
"You think too well of me."
"Impossible. You are the best and dearest----"
"Stop! Stop!" Mildred covered her face. "Remember we are not alone."
"Oh, don't mind me," said Dan phlegmatically, "I'm in love myself, Miss Vincent." She nodded comprehendingly. "With Miss Moon. Freddy has told me."
"Has he told you that my marriage depends upon my finding out who murdered her father?" questioned the young man dismally. "Yes, and that you need money for the search."
"Which money," continued Laurance determinedly, "must be obtained by Dan winning this London to York race. That can be done, I am certain, with one of your uncle's aeroplanes, Mildred, as he has made wonderful improvements in their structure, and----"
"But he declines to furnish me with a machine," interrupted Halliday in a vexed tone, "not even my offer to share the £2,000 prize tempts him. He is too rich, I suppose?" He cast an inquiring glance at the girl. Mildred shook her head. "Uncle Solomon is not rich," she replied quietly. "He must be," insisted Dan sharply; "he could not indulge in such an expensive hobby otherwise."
"Mrs. Jarsell helps him with money, though, to be sure, he has a little of his own. Still, unless she supplied money, Uncle Solomon could not go on building aeroplanes, especially as he rarely sells one, and wishes to keep all his inventions to himself. His idea is to invent a perfect machine and then sell it to the Government, and he fancies that if he allows any one else to handle his aeroplanes, his secrets may be prematurely discovered."
"Well, I can see his objection in that way," assented Dan, "since more ideas are stolen than pocket handkerchiefs, as Balzac says. But Mrs. Jarsell?"
"She is a rich and rather eccentric lady, who lives at The Grange," said Mr. Laurance, before Mildred could reply. "I am as wise as I was before, Freddy. It's an odd thing for a lady to finance an inventor of flying-machines. She must be large-minded and have a very great deal of money."
"She is large-minded and she has plenty of money," admitted Mildred vivaciously; "her influence with my uncle is extraordinary."
"Not at all if she supplies the cash," said Dan cynically, "but I have an idea, Miss Vincent. Suppose we enlist Mrs. Jarsell's sympathies."
"About the murder?"
"No," said Halliday, after thinking for a moment or so. "I don't see the use of talking too much about that. The more secret Freddy and I keep our hunt, the better prospect have we of success, since the gang will not be on guard, as it were. No, Miss Vincent, introduce me to Mrs. Jarsell as a young and ardent lover who wishes to make money in order to marry the girl of his heart. If she is romantic--and nine old ladies out of ten are romantic--she will induce your uncle to, give me his newest aeroplane."
"If she decides to help you, Uncle Solomon certainly will give you what you want," Mildred assured him, "since Mrs. Jarsell has supplied him with so much money for his experiments." She thought for a second, then raised her head cheerfully. "We shall see Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour this afternoon."
"Who is Miss Armour?"
"Mrs. Jarsell's companion and relative and confidential friend. She's a dear old thing, and is sure to sympathize with your romance."
"All the better, so long as she can influence Mrs. Jarsell."
"She can influence her, as Mrs. Jarsell swears by her," put in Freddy. "Oh, I think you'll pull it off, Dan. It's a good idea to work old Vincent through the hermit ladies."
"The hermit ladies," echoed Dan wonderingly, "an odd reputation. Hermits are usually masculine."
"Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour are an exception," said Laurance laughing, "in fact they are modern representatives of that eccentric couple of ladies who lived at Llangollen. You remember them."
"I have heard the names," murmured Dan reflectively. "The old ladies of Llangollen, who eloped together and lived in Wales. I should rather like to see this pair that follow so strange an example. When are we to go?"
"This afternoon," repeated Mildred, nodding brightly, "I really think something may come of the visit, Mr. Halliday. You and Freddy go back to 'The Peacock' for dinner and then call for me later--say at three o'clock. I am a favorite with the hermit ladies and have leave to bring any one to afternoon tea. Especially nice young men. Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour are fond of young men."
"Giddy old things," said Dan gaily. "I hope they will take a fancy to me, as I shall do my best to charm them. Well?" "You must go now, Mr. Halliday, as I have much to do before taking an hour off." "Vincent works you too hard, Mildred," said Laurance impatiently, as he took up his cap, "you can't call a moment your own."
"I shall call two hours or so my own this afternoon," replied Mildred amiably, and sent the young men away quite happy, since there was a promising chance that Dan would gain his ends. "That's a delightful girl," said Dan, when the two were seated at dinner. "I should like to marry her if Lillian were not in existence."
"I'm glad that Lillian is, Dan, since I want to marry Mildred myself. Don't poach, you animal."
"I won't," promised Halliday generously, "I don't like dark hair. But it's no use arguing. Let us eat and drink, for I have to fascinate Mrs. Jarsell and her bosom friend. I'll get hold of that aeroplane, somehow."
"We are here for that purpose," said Laurance, determined to have the last word, and as Dan was hungry he let him have it. The Grange--at which they arrived late in the afternoon, the two men escorting the one girl--was a large, rambling mansion built of yellowish stone, its original color more or less washed out by rain and burnt out by sunshine. The surface of the massive walls was grimy with black and rough with lichens, while the broad, flat stones of the roof were covered with damp green moss. The house, although in two stories, was of no great height, and stood on the uttermost verge of the hill, which sloped abruptly down into the valley. The view should have been very fine, but sundry tall houses had been built round The Grange, which prevented the owner from enjoying the magnificent prospect. This shutting-in--according to the legend--was due to the malice of a disinherited brother in Jacobean times, who had created quite a village round about the estate so as to block out the view. But the present inhabitants did not mind much, for, as Mildred explained, both Miss Armour and Mrs. Jarsell stayed within doors a great deal. "In fact, Miss Armour is more or less paralyzed, and sits in a big chair all day, reading and knitting, and talking and playing Patience," said Mildred, as the trio turned into a small courtyard, and found themselves facing a squat door, set in a porch sufficiently massive to serve for the entrance to a mausoleum. An elderly maid, in an incongruous dress of brilliant scarlet, admitted them into a darkish hall, whose atmosphere, suggestive of a Turkish bath in a mild way, hinted that the house was heated by steam pipes, as indeed was the case. There were some carved boxes of black oak in the hall and three or four uncomfortable high-backed chairs, but the walls and floor were bare, and the general aspect was somewhat bleak. However, when the visitors were conducted along a narrow passage, ill-lighted and dismal, they were introduced to a large low-ceilinged room, richly and luxuriously and picturesquely furnished. The brilliant garb of the maidservant suited this room much better than it did hall or passage, and there was a suggestion of tropical splendor about the woman and the sitting-room, which revealed in Mrs. Jarsell a strong love of color, warmth, and light. Indeed, although there were three large windows looking out on to a garden, and immediately facing the door by which they had entered, yet the light which was admitted being insufficient--perhaps because of the wintry gloom--the apartment was brilliantly illuminated by six lamps. Three of these stood at one end of the room, and three at the other, on tall brass stands, and the light, radiating through opaque globes, filled the place with mellow splendor. The vivid scene it revealed was a strange and unexpected one to find in these barren wilds. What impressed Dan straight away, was the prevalence of scarlet. The walls were covered with brightly toned paper, the floor with a carpet of violently brilliant hue, and even the ceiling was splashed with arabesque designs, blood-red against the white background. The furniture was of black oak upholstered in satin of the same fiery tint, while the draperies were of a dense black, funereal in aspect. A large fire glowed on a wide hearth in a vermilion-tiled alcove, and the poker, tongs, shovels, and pincers were of brass. Also there were brass candlesticks, a tripod of the same alloy in which incense slowly smoldered and even brazen warming-pans of antique pattern were ranged on either side of the fireplace. Thus, the general color-scheme was of black, scarlet, and yellow. What with the barbaric hues, the warm atmosphere, and the faint scent of incense, Dan felt as though he had stumbled on the den of a magician, malicious and dangerous. But this may have only been an impression caused by coming suddenly into this tropical room out of the chill air and neutral-tinted landscape. Neither Mrs. Jarsell nor Miss Armour, however, carried their love of violent color into their personal attire, as both were arrayed--somewhat incongruously, considering the season--in unrelieved white. The former lady was tall and bulky and somewhat assertive in manner, with a masculine cast of countenance and watchful dark eyes. From the smooth olive texture of her skin, she had probably possessed jet-black hair, before age turned her still plentiful locks completely white. She was not, as Dan concluded, more than fifty, as she possessed great vitality, and gripped his hand in a vigorous, manly way, quite in keeping with her commanding looks. Her white gown was made perfectly plain; she did not display even a ribbon, and wore no jewellery whatsoever, yet her whole appearance was distinguished and dignified. Indeed, when she welcomed the young people she assumed something of a motherly air, but if the hint conveyed by the barbarically decorated room was to be taken, she was anything but maternal. Mrs. Jarsell, as Dan mentally confessed, was something of a puzzle; he could not place her, as the saying goes. Miss Armour had also an unusual personality, being the antithesis of her friend in looks and manner. To Mrs. Jarsell's massive assertiveness, she opposed a fragile timidity, and was as small of body as the other was large. Her oval, many-wrinkled face was the hue of old ivory, her features were delicate, and her small head drooped in a rather pensive manner. Her white hair, not so plentiful as that of Mrs. Jarsell, was smoothly arranged under a dainty cap of white lace, decorated, oddly enough, with diamond ornaments. And, indeed, she wore enough jewellery for both ladies; rings on her slender fingers, and chains round her neck, and bracelets on her wrists, with a belt of turquoise stones, a ruby brooch, and earrings of pearls. On a less refined person, this overloading of ornaments would have looked vulgar, but Miss Armour, although she glittered at all points like a heathen idol, preserved a calm dignity, which caused her sumptuous display to appear perfectly natural. It was very strange that such a mild-looking woman should deck herself out in this manner, so she, also, was a puzzle to Halliday's intelligence. Indeed, the two ladies, in their splendid room, suggested to Dan dreams of the Arabian Nights, and gave him the impression of being concerned in some gorgeous romance. Miss Armour, seated in the big chair which Mildred had mentioned, looked over Dan with mild, brown eyes, and evidently approved of his good looks. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Halliday," she said in a soft and musical voice, quite silvery in its sound. "To an old person, such as I am, the young are always welcome." Dan felt called upon to pay a compliment. "You don't look old," he said bluntly. "Well, now-a-days, sixty cannot be called old," said Miss Armour with a pretty laugh, "as I am assured that women of that age actually dance in London."
"The age-limit has been extended since Victorian times," laughed Laurance, who had seated himself near one of the windows beside Mildred. "Yes," assented Mrs. Jarsell, in deep tones suggestive of a mellow-sounding bell. "In those times, women went on the shelf at thirty-five, and lived again in their children. Now-a-days, there are no old people."
"Certainly not in this room," said Dan courteously. "You are Irish, I should say, Mr. Halliday," remarked Miss Armour, smiling, as she resumed her knitting of a red and white striped shawl; "only an Irishman could pay such a pretty compliment."
"My mother was Irish," admitted Dan amiably, "and I made a special journey to kiss the Blarney stone in the hope that it might oil my tongue." Mrs. Jarsell in her heavy way seemed amused. "You have certainly accomplished your purpose, Mr. Halliday. But what does a gay young man, as I see you are, do in this solitary neighborhood?" and her keen black eyes swept over him from head to foot inquiringly. "Ah," put in Freddy quickly, "that question brings out the reason of our visit to you, Mrs. Jarsell. Behold in my friend a lover."
"Delightful," cried Miss Armour with great animation, "and the lady?" "Miss Moon, the daughter of Sir Charles Moon."
"Moon? Moon?" murmured Miss Armour, as though she were invoking the planet. "I seem to have heard that name somewhere. Eliza?" she glanced at her friend. "Don't you remember the murder we read about some months ago?" replied Mrs. Jarsell heavily. "It was much talked about."
"It would need to be to reach my ears, Eliza; you know that I don't like hearing about crime. In this neighborhood," she addressed herself to Dan, "we live a quiet and uneventful life, and although we take one London newspaper daily, we know little of what is going on in the world. My friend reads to me about the theatres and dresses, and sometimes politics, but rarely does she inflict murder cases on me. I don't like to hear of crime."
"I read that particular case because it caused so great a sensation," said Mrs. Jarsell, in a deprecating tone. "You remember Sir Charles was poisoned by some unknown woman. And now I recall the case, Mr. Halliday, your name was mentioned in connection with it."
"Probably," said Dan lightly, "I am engaged to Miss Moon."
"Have the police discovered who murdered Sir Charles?"
"No. Nor is there any chance that the police will make the discovery. The woman came and the woman went after doing her work, but she has vanished into thin air, like Macbeth's witches."
"I wonder why she murdered Sir Charles?" asked Mrs. Jarsell, after a pause. Halliday glanced at Laurance, and it was the latter who replied in a most cautious manner, wishing to say as little as possible about the quest. "The reason is not known, Mrs. Jarsell."
"But, why--" began Mildred, only to be cut short somewhat impatiently by Miss Armour, who had been moving uneasily. "Don't talk any more about the horrid thing," she broke out impetuously, "I don't want to hear. Tell me of your love affair, Mr. Halliday."
"There is little to tell," said Dan, relieved that the conversation was changed in this manner, since he did not desire to say too much of his business in connection with the crime, "and I would not tell you that little, but that I wish to enlist your sympathies and those of Mrs. Jarsell."
"You have mine already," declared the old lady vivaciously, "but why Eliza's?"
"Mrs. Jarsell can help me."
"Indeed," said that lady, looking at him hard, "in what way?"
"Let me explain," chimed in Freddy, impatient of Dan's slower methods, "Mr. Halliday wishes to marry Miss Moon and wants money."
"But she has plenty, Mr. Laurance. The papers said that the late Sir Charles was a millionaire."
"So he was, and Miss Moon is his heiress," cried Dan quickly; "all the same, I don't wish to live on my wife, and so desire to be in a position to offer her a home however humble. Now I am an aviator, Miss Armour, and there is to be a race for £2,000 between London and York. I wish to compete and desire one of Mr. Vincent's machines, as they are the most improved kind on the market."
"They are not on the market," said Mrs. Jarsell frowning. "Mr. Vincent will not part with his machines until he perfects a masterpiece, and then hopes to sell it to the Government. I don't wonder you failed to get an aeroplane from him."
"I did not say that," said Dan swiftly. "Not in so many words," rejoined Mrs. Jarsell deliberately, "but I can guess why you want my assistance, Mr. Vincent will give you a machine if I ask him."
"And you will?" said Halliday eagerly. "Oh, Eliza, you must," put in Miss Armour quickly. "Vincent will do anything for you, since you have helped him so much with money."
"I shall be delighted to help," said Mrs. Jarsell, in her quiet, slow manner; "you shall have the machine, Mr. Halliday, and I hope you will win the race and marry Miss Moon. But you are a bold man to offer to wed an heiress on £2,000. Don't you want more money?"
"I want heaps and heaps," said Dan laughing, "but I have no chance of getting it. However, two thousand will do to start with. Lillian--Miss Moon, that is--loves me well enough to marry me at once, even on the prize given byThe Moment."
"Well, Eliza, will get you the machine, that is certain, Mr. Halliday. As to the rest, I have no doubt you will be successful and win the money; but you must have much more in order to marry Miss Moon, since I can see that you are much too honorable a man to live on her millions. The cards"--Miss Armour hastily put away her knitting and took a small box from a drawer in the tiny table which stood at her elbow--"my patience cards, Mr. Halliday, for you know, having few amusements, I am devoted to the game. Also I can tell fortunes. I shall tell yours," and she opened the box to take out two packs of cards. "Dan isn't superstitious," laughed Freddy, and approached with Mildred. "I don't know," said Halliday gravely. "I have known cases----"
"Well, have your fortune told now," broke in Mrs. Jarsell, going to the door, "it will amuse Miss Armour to reveal your future while I see about the tea. I am sure you young people must be hungry."
"But I haven't thanked you for your promise to get me the machine." Mrs. Jarsell nodded in a friendly manner. "When you win the race and marry the young lady, you can thank me," she said, with ponderous playfulness. "Miss Armour will tell you if the Fates will be kind to you in both respects," and she disappeared to get the tea, or rather to instruct the red-robed servant to bring it in. Meanwhile, Miss Armour, her mild face quite flushed with excitement, was spreading out the cards after Dan had shuffled them. She used only one pack, and Freddy looked on at the disposition of the colored oblongs with the deepest interest. Dan idly took up the unused pack, and the moment he brought them near his eyes to examine them, he became aware that there clung to them the same mysterious scent which Penn had stated came from Sumatra. New as he was to the detective business, he yet had enough sense to suppress his excitement at this discovery. Seeing that the ex-secretary had stated very positively that no one but himself in England possessed the perfume, it was strange indeed, that Dan should come across it in these wilds, and connected with the personal possessions of a harmless old lady, confined to her chair by partial paralysis. In spite of his coolness, he was so thunderstruck that he could scarcely stammer a reply to Miss Armour, when she asked him if his colored-card was clubs or spades. She saw his confusion immediately. "What is the matter?" she demanded sharply, and her face grew pale. "The heat of the room, the scents, make me feel rather faint," said Dan haltingly. "Remove the incense burner to the end of the room, Mr. Laurance," said Miss Armour, and when the young man did so, she turned to Halliday. "Are you, then, so susceptible to scents?"
"Yes. I don't like strong perfumes. You do apparently, Miss Armour. Why, even your cards are scented," and he held out the odd pack. The lady took the cards and smelt them, but showed no sign of emotion. "I expect it's some scent Eliza gave me a few weeks ago. I had it on my handkerchief, and it must have got on to the cards. Have you ever smelt a perfume like it before?" she asked suddenly. "No," said Dan, lying promptly, as he thought it best to be on the safe side, "and I hope I shan't again. It's too rich for my taste."
"And was for mine," said Miss Armour indifferently. "I only used it once or twice. Strange that you should be so susceptible to scents. However, you feel better now. That's right. And the cards? See! There is great good fortune coming to you."
"That's jolly," said Dan, now quite recovered. "In a few weeks," said Miss Armour impressively, "a wonderful chance will be offered to you. If you take it, a large amount of money will be yours within the year. You will marry Miss Moon if you seize this chance. If you do not, she will marry another person," and the fortune-teller gathered her pack. "In that case, I shall take the chance at once," said Dan promptly. Miss Armour looked at him hard. "I advise you to do so," she said briefly.
p.107
The tea that followed the fortune-telling was quite a success, as Miss Armour was a most amusing talker, and the rest of the party proved themselves to be good listeners. The old lady, being an invalid, had ample time for reading, and concerned herself chiefly with French Mémoires, the cynical light-hearted tone of which appealed to her. But she was also well-posted in English literature of the best kind, and could converse very ably--as she did--on leading authors and their works. Dan complimented her on the knowledge she had attained. "Oh, but it is no credit to me, Mr. Halliday," Miss Armour protested. "I have so much time unoccupied, and grow weary of playing patience and of knitting. It would be strange if I did not know something, after years and years of reading. Books are my best friends."
"Then Mrs. Jarsell is also a book, or say a human document," said Dan politely. "She is the best woman in the world," cried Miss Armour, while Mrs. Jarsell bent her heavy white eyebrows in acknowledgment of the compliment. "You can have no idea how kind she is to me."
"And to whom should I be kind, but to my old governess," said Mrs. Jarsell in a gruff way. "Why, you have taught me all I know."
"And I should think Miss Armour could teach a lot," said Laurance in his pleasant manner; "you know so much and have such tact, that you should be out in the world governing people, Miss Armour." She sent a sharp glance in his direction, as if to inquire exactly what he meant. Then she accepted the compliment with a charming laugh. "But for this dreadful paralysis, I should, indeed, love to be out in the world. I love to deal with human nature, and make people do what I want."
"Can you?" asked Mildred anxiously. "Yes, child," replied the ex-governess quietly, "because I base my diplomacy on the knowledge that every one, with few exceptions, is ruled by self. Harp on that string, and you can manage any one."
"Miss Armour," put in Mrs. Jarsell, in her deep voice, "rather talks of what she would do than what she does. Here, we see few people. I go up to town on occasions, but very rarely."
"You must find it dull," said Dan candidly. For some reason Miss Armour appeared to think this speech amusing. "Oh, no; I don't find life dull at all, I assure you. There is always a great deal to be done, when one knows how to set about the doing."
"As how?" questioned the young man, somewhat puzzled. "Books and music, and card-games and knitting-work," said Mrs. Jarsell quickly, as if she did not approve of Miss Armour's observations; "nothing more."
"Quite so nothing more," assented the governess, but with a sudden flash of her brown eyes directed towards her friend. "Here we are out of the world. Do you stay long, Mr. Halliday?"
"Only for another couple of days, until I can get the machine."
"You shall get it, I promise you," said Mrs. Jarsell graciously, when the trio arose to depart. "Mr. Vincent owes me too much to disregard my request."
"Of course," chimed in Mildred. "Uncle Solomon would never be able to build his aeroplanes if you didn't help him with money. Good-by, Miss Armour."
"Good-by, dear child. I shall sayau revoirto you, Mr. Halliday, as I shall expect you to come and see me again, if only to let me know that your fortune has come true."
"Will it, do you think?"
"Yes," said Miss Armour positively. "I am quite certain that the chance foretold by the cards will be given you." Dan hoped it would, and thanked the lady for her happy prediction, after which he and Freddy, with Mildred between them, left the weird house, and walked up the darkened road toward the village. Halliday went at once to the "Peacock," wishing to give Freddy and his beloved chance of atête-à-tête. They took it readily enough, as Laurance escorted the girl home. It was an hour before he returned to an overdue supper, which Mrs. Pelgrin served with fierce grumbling. After supper, Dan spoke his mind to Laurance. "When I took up that extra pack of cards," he said abruptly, "I smelt that same perfume that hung about Sir Charles's clothes when he was dead."
"What!" Freddy sat up aghast in his corner of the room, "the perfume about which Penn explained?"
"The same. But did he explain? It seems to me that he told a lie. If he only had one bottle, and the perfume is not procurable in England, seeing it is manufactured in Sumatra, how did Miss Armour become possessed of it?"
"It may not be the same scent," said Laurance, still aghast; "you see a bird in every bush, Dan."
"This is not a question for the eyes, but for the nose. I tell you, Freddy, that the perfume is exactly the same."
"Why did you not ask Miss Armour about it?"
"I did; you heard me. She got it from Mrs. Jarsell, so she said. Now where did Mrs. Jarsell get it? From Sumatra?" "Perhaps. Why not ask her straight out?"
"No," said Dan decisively. "I shall not mention the subject to Mrs. Jarsell until I have questioned Marcus Penn once more. He told me a lie once, by saying that no one in this country possessed this especial perfume. He shan't tell me another."
"How do you mean to get him to tell you the truth?" asked Freddy dubiously. "Never mind. I have some sort of a plan. I shan't explain until it comes off. There is some connection between that perfume and the crime, I am certain," concluded Dan, with a positive air. Laurance wriggled uneasily. "Oh, that is absurd. On such assumption, you suggest that Miss Armour knows about the matter."
"About what matter?"
"You know--the gang."
"Well," said Halliday, smoking thoughtfully, "we are not entirely certain yet if such a gang exists. It's all theory anyhow, in spite of the letters you drew from this person and the other. Penn certainly explained the scent, but told an obvious lie, since Miss Armour has it. I don't say that she knows anything, but it is strange that she should possess the Sumatra perfume."
"Other people can send the same perfume to England," retorted Freddy. "Penn isn't the sole person who has friends in Sumatra. Mrs. Jarsell, since she gave the scent to Miss Armour, may have friends in that island. Ask her."
"No," said Dan, very positively. "I shall ask no one until I make Penn speak out. In any case, I want to know why he told a lie."
"Perhaps he didn't."
"I'm jolly well sure that he did."
"Then, to put it plainly--you suspect Mrs. Jarsell?"
"To answer plainly, I don't. There can be no connection between two harmless old ladies living in these wilds and the murder of Sir Charles. Yet this confounded scent forms a link between the dead man, Mrs. Jarsell, and Penn." Laurance rubbed his chin reflectively. "It's odd, to say the least of it. I suppose you are certain the perfume is the same?"
"I'll swear to it." Dan rose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "And I intend to learn how Mrs. Jarsell became possessed of it. I may be on a wild goose chase. All the same, with the stake I have, I can't afford to lose an opportunity."
"So Miss Armour said, when she told your fortune," commented Freddy thoughtfully. "Yes. I wonder what she meant?" Dan stretched himself. "I'm for bed. Ring the bell, and ask Mrs. Pelgrin for the spirits." Laurance, not feeling called upon to resume the conversation, as he was tired himself, did as he was told, and Mrs. Pelgrin, raw-boned and grim, bounced aggressively into the room, to demand fiercely what they required. She sniffed when whiskey was ordered, but as its consumption would increase her bill, she brought in a bottle of "Johnny Walker" and a siphon of soda, without argument. When she turned to depart, and wished them good-night in tones suggestive of a jailer, a sudden thought struck Dan. It would not be amiss, he thought, to question Mrs. Pelgrin concerning the hermit ladies. Not that he expected a great deal to result from his exanimation, as the worthy woman was a she-cat, and what she knew would probably have to be clawed out of her. "We had tea at The Grange to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin," said Dan casually. The landlady wrapped her hands in her apron and wheeled grimly at the door to speak aggressively. "Ho!" she grunted. "What's that?"
"I said 'Ho,' and 'Ho's' all I'm going to say."
"Well," drawled Freddy with a shrug, "you can't say much less, you know."
"Less or much, I don't say anything," retorted Mrs. Pelgrin, screwing up her hard mouth and nodding. "Nobody wants you to say anything," remarked Dan lazily, but on the alert. Of course this speech opened the landlady's mouth. "People say as it's queer two ladies should live like dormice in a haystack," she observed significantly. "That's like people. They will meddle with what doesn't concern them."
"Not me," snorted Mrs. Pelgrin violently and epigrammatically. "I don't say what I could say, for what I could say wouldn't be what's right to say."
"Wouldn't it?" inquired Freddy innocently. "No, it wouldn't, sir; I'm not to be pumped," cried Mrs. Pelgrin, "try you ever so hard. So there!" and she screwed up her mouth tighter than ever. "Who is pumping?" asked Dan coolly; "I simply remarked that we had tea with Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour to-day."
"Friends of yours, no doubt?" snapped the landlady. "I never saw them before to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin." "Then don't see them again," advised the woman sharply. "Thank you for that advice. Anything wrong?"
"Wrong! Wrong! What should be wrong?" Mrs. Pelgrin became more violent than ever. "There's nothing wrong."
"Then that's all right," said Halliday coolly. "Goodnight." Mrs. Pelgrin stared hard at him, evidently wondering why he did not press his questions, seeing how significant a remark she had made. The idea that her conversation was trivial in his eyes hurt her self-esteem. She gave another hint that she knew something. "I wonder how those ladies make their money," she observed casually to the ceiling. "Ah, I wonder," agreed Dan, making a covert sign that Freddy should restrain the question now on the tip of his tongue. "Three motor-cars," said Mrs. Pelgrin musingly, "four servants, women all and sluts at that, I do say, with a house like a palace inside, whatever it may be to look at from the road. All that needs money, Mr. Halliday."
"Quite so. Nothing for nothing in this greedy world."
"Ten years have those ladies been here," continued the landlady, exasperated by this indifference as Dan intended she should be, "and dull they must find that old house. To be sure, Miss Armour is ill and never moves from her chair--so they say," she ended emphatically and stared at Halliday. "So who say?" he inquired phlegmatically. "Every one, sir. She's paralyzed--so they say."
"And Mrs. Jarsell attends to her like an angel," remarked Dan suavely; "they say that also, you know."
"Why do you advise us not to see the ladies again?" asked Freddy, who could no longer rein in his curiosity. Halliday was annoyed by the question, as he thought it would dry up the stream of Mrs. Pelgrin's hinted information. But instead of this happening, she became excessively frank. "Well, it's this way, Mr. Laurance," she said, rubbing her nose in a vexed manner. "You are two nice young gentlemen, and I don't want either of you to step in and spoil George's chance."
"George?"
"My nephew, he being the son of my late husband's brother, and a porter at the Thawley Railway Station. Mrs. Jarsell had taken quite a fancy to him, he being a handsome lad in his way, and the chances are she will leave him a lot of her money, if you two gentlemen don't take her fancy. Now you know my reason for not wanting you to see her again."
"Oh, I don't think Mrs. Jarsell will leave either my friend or me money," said Dan affably. "George Pelgrin is quite safe. I suppose one good turn deserves another."
"What do you mean?" said the landlady, sharper than ever. "Well, George Pelgrin must have done something for Mrs. Jarsell to make her leave him money."
"He's done nothing, and she don't say she'll leave him her money, but George thinks she might, seeing she has taken a fancy to him. I don't want you, or Mr. Laurance here, to spoil my nephew's chances."
"Oh, we shan't do that," rejoined Halliday calmly. "I suppose George finds it dull at the Thawley Station, when there are no Sheepeak friends there with him. Working at the station, that is."
"Oh, he doesn't find it dull," replied Mrs. Pelgrin innocently; "he has made friends with plenty of Thawley folk. Are you going away to-morrow?"
"Perhaps, and perhaps the next day," said Dan, wondering at the direct question. "You see I wish to get an aeroplane from Mr. Vincent, and as soon as I do, I shall go back to London."
"You'll be seeing Mrs. Jarsell again?" Halliday shook his head. "I shall be too busy to spare the time." Mrs. Pelgrin drew a breath of relief, and again became fierce. "I ain't ashamed of what I've said," she declared, pulling open the door violently; "you can tell the whole village if you like," and she bounced out as she had bounced in, leaving Laurance overcome with surprise. "Now what's the meaning of all that chatter?" he asked, staring at Dan. "Oh, it's very plain. Mrs. Jarsell has taken a fancy to her nephew, and Mrs. Pelgrin thinks our fascinations may spoil his chance of getting money. What I want to know is what George has done for Mrs. Jarsell to warrant the deep interest she apparently takes in him. Evidently," mused Dan to himself, "there are not other Sheepeak people employed at the Thawley Station." "What of that?" Laurance stared harder than ever. "Nothing. Only George Pelgrin would be the only person likely to know Mrs. Jarsell at the Thawley Station. There are motor-cars also, remember."
"I really don't see what you are driving at, Dan."
"I scarcely see myself, save that I want to learn the secret of that perfume, and why it forms a link between Moon and Penn and Mrs. Jarsell."
"But how can this chatter of Mrs. Pelgrin's help?" asked Freddy, more and more puzzled. Dan lighted his bedroom candle and walked slowly to the door before he replied. "I shall have to sleep upon what I know before I can answer that," he said, nodding. "Good-night, old chap."
"But Dan, Dan, Dan!" called out Laurance, who had heard just enough to make him wish to hear more, "tell me----"; he stopped speaking, as he saw that Halliday was out of hearing. It was in a very dissatisfied frame of mind that Laurance retired to his bed. Next morning Dan had evidently quite forgotten the conversation of the landlady, for he made no remark, and although Freddy tried to start the subject again he declined to revert to it. Halliday declared that he did not know what to say, that he was putting two and two together, but as yet could not make four, and that it would be just as well to seek Mr. Solomon Vincent, to hear if he was disposed to supply an aeroplane. "Only I wonder," he remarked irrelevantly, as he walked up the road with his friend, "how it comes that Mrs. Pelgrin speaks more like a Londoner than a Derbyshire woman."
"I thought we discussed that question before," replied Laurance. "School-boards are doing away largely with the local dialect. Also Mrs. Pelgrin, as Mildred told me, was in service for some years at Reading. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I ask nothing," said Dan easily; "it was only an idea I had."
"Connected with the case?"
"Yes, and with Mrs. Jarsell."
"Pooh. You see a bird in every bush, Dan."
"So you said before," rejoined Halliday drily; "why repeat yourself? Hullo, there is our inventor!" he added, as they drew near to the cottage, "and, by Jove! he's smiling. Mrs. Jarsell had evidently spoken to him." It was as Dan said, for Vincent received the young men with a sour smile, which sat uneasily on his face, since he was more accustomed to frowning. However, as he was disposed to be amiable, Dan was thankful for small mercies, and expressed his feeling loudly when the inventor graciously placed at his disposal an aeroplane of the latest construction. "I owe Mrs. Jarsell much," said Vincent, leading the way toward the shed, "so her requests must be granted. Here is the machine, Mr. Halliday."
"It's very good of you----"
"It isn't. Don't thank me, but Mrs. Jarsell. Speaking for myself, I shouldn't allow you to have the aeroplane," said Vincent sourly. "I want to keep all my improvements to myself until I make a perfect machine."
"Oh, I'll keep all your secrets," Dan assured him cheerfully as they entered the vast shed, "and I'll share the prize money with you."
"I don't want it. Win the race and prove that my machine is the best. That is all I ask. By the way, where is Laurance?"
"Don't you remember? We left him in the cottage with your niece."
"I don't want him to marry her, and he shan't," said Vincent with a frown, speaking on the subject unexpectedly, "and, what is more, since he's a newspaper man, I don't want you to talk too freely to him about my improvements."
"Laurance can hold his tongue," rejoined Dan somewhat stiffly; "your trade-secrets are safe with him. So this is the machine," he ended, to avert further discussion on the inventor's part. "Yes," said Vincent, forgetting all else in the passion of his hobby, and he began to explain matters. "A biplane, as you see, and it can carry enough oil and essence for a twelve hours' flight. Wheel it out," he added, turning to a quartette of workmen. "Mr. Halliday will try a flight." Dan was only too ready, as the beauty of the machine appealed to him immensely, especially when he beheld it in the pale light of the sun, when it was brought into the open. The men wheeled it out of the back part of the shed on to a level lawn, which could serve as a starting-place. Vincent talked all the time in a great state of excitement, and pointed out the various improvements and beauties of the masterpiece. The planes were not exactly horizontal, since Vincent considered that he gained more power by making them branch at a slight angle. The wings were doubly covered with fine canvas, and a broad streak of crimson ran through their white, which the inventor informed Dan was a characteristic of all his machines. "A sort of distinguishing mark, as it were," said Vincent. Another improvement was that the aviator could steer with his knees on occasions, which gave freedom to the hands when necessary. The engine was light and powerful, with tremendous driving-power considering its size. Finally, the steering-seat--the bridge of the airship, as it might be--was fenced in comfortably with aluminium, and a broad expanse of mica protected the controller of the aeroplane from the force of the winds. It was really an admirable machine and Halliday was loud in his praises, to which, however, its maker paid little attention. Genius does not require laudation, talent does. Dan inspected the machine in every direction, tried the steering gear which ran easily, saw that the engine was well supplied with fuel, and tested, as well as he could, the various spars and ropes and bolts. Then he took his seat in the pilot-box, and prepared for a trial flight. "Not that she hasn't been out before," said Vincent, while Dan gathered his energies to start. "Ready, Mr. Halliday. Let her go." The workman ran the machine along the lawn, Dan set the propeller going, and after lightly spinning along the ground for some distance the aeroplane rose into the gray sky like an immense bird. A side glance showed Dan that Mildred and her lover were running out of the shed, and had arrived just a moment too late to witness his start. However, he had no time to pay attention to terrestrial matters, for all his capabilities were given to handling the new craft. Up and up he went to a considerable height, with the engine running true and sweet, then dived nearly to earth in switch-back fashion, only to tower again like a hawk. Shortly he was at a lofty elevation, travelling along at top speed in the direction of the ten-mile-distant Thawley. Vincent and his workmen, Laurance and the girl, became mere black dots, and beneath him the earth slipped past at more than railroad speed. Once in the vast spaces of the firmament Dan let his engines travel at their fastest, and the vanes of the propeller spun, as an American would say, like greased lightning. Halliday's pulses raced almost as fast, as the joy of playing with death seized him. In the delicate structure of the aeroplane--being its soul and controlling power--he felt like a bird and swooped in mighty arcs in proof of his mastership of the sky. In a few minutes he was over Thawley, and a downward glance showed him innumerable black insects running with excitement here, there, and everywhere, as the machine was sighted. Dan dipped nearly to the weathercock of the parish church, then slid out toward the northern portion of the town. Making his aerial way with the speed of the wind Thawley was soon left behind and the aviator hovered over a wide country dotted with villages, intersected with streams, and rough with more or less high hills that divided the many vales of the country. Ten minutes took him out of Hillshire, and he flew over the mild Yorkshire moors. The air sang past him on either side of the mica screen, which prevented his breath being taken away. Everything was taut and fit and neat, and in its right place, and the engine sang a song of triumph, which mingled with the droning hum of the screw. Below was the painted earth, above the gray sky, faintly illuminated by the wintry sunshine, and between the two Halliday flew with the swiftness of a kestrel sighting its prey. Dan was used to this sublime excitement, and could control his feelings--otherwise he would have shouted for joy, which would have been from his point of view, a mere waste of energy. He finally reached York, circled round the Minster, and then turned his craft homeward in glee. The machine was certainly the best he had yet handled, and he made sure that given moderately decent conditions he would win the race and gain the £2,000 necessary to continue his search for Moon's murderess. And the capture of her, as he reminded himself, meant his marriage with Lillian. No wonder the young man's heart beat high, for it was not easy to come by so magnificent an aeroplane, and he felt as grateful to Vincent for building it as he felt to Mrs. Jarsell for procuring him the mastership of the same. Those left behind on the lawn behind the Sheepeak shed stared steadily into the gray distance, and shortly saw a dim spot moving toward them with the swiftness of an eagle. Larger and larger it grew, until they could distinguish the aeroplane's construction, like a delicate tracery against the clouds. In a wide circle it moved gracefully and then like a bird folding its wings, settled gently at the very feet of its inventor. The trial was a complete success in every way.