Dan went to bed with an aching head, doubtless induced by the power of the drug which had been used to stupefy him. The Sumatra perfume was evidently both powerful and useful, as it was used by the Society of Flies not only as a means of recognition in the form of a harmless scent, but as a soporific to bring about insensibility. Probably many a person had been rendered unconscious by the drowsy smoke, and taken to the headquarters of the infernal association, there to become members. But where the headquarters were to be found, Dan had not the slightest notion. And, as his head pained him greatly, he decided to wait until the next morning before thinking out the matter. Off and on he managed to sleep a trifle, but it was not until the small hours that true slumber came to him. It was nine o'clock when he woke, and then he found his head clear, and the pain absent. Only an evil taste remained in his mouth, and after a cold bath he felt more himself, although a touch of languor remained to recall to his recollection what he had been through. After breakfast he lighted a pipe, and began to think over late events as carefully as was necessary. On alighting at his own door he had paid the driver of the four-wheeled cab, and had asked questions, which the man was willing enough to answer. Halliday hoped by learning where the cabman had picked him up, to discover at least the neighborhood wherein the headquarters were situated. It was difficult to think that an unconscious person, as he had been, could have been taken any great distance along streets, or roads, or lanes, without attention being attracted. But the cabman explained that the friend who had placed his fare in the four-wheeler, had removed him from a taxi, which the friend declared had broken down. "And he wanted to get you home, you being drunk," explained the driver, "so he shoved you into my trap, and I drove off, having the address I was to take you to, leaving your friend to look after the broken-down taxi, along with the chauffer." From this explanation it was apparent that on being removed from the dark room Dan had been transported for some distance, long or short, in the taxi. He did not believe that the same had broken down, but that his friend--probably Marcus Penn--had hailed the first cab he saw, and on pretence of an accident had got rid of him in this clever way. It was West Kensington where this exchange had taken place, according to the cabman's story, but since he had been driven an indefinite distance by Penn in the taxi, the headquarters might be in Hampstead, or Blackheath, or Ilford, or, indeed, anywhere round about London, if not in the heart of the metropolis itself. All bearings were lost by the clever way in which the return had been carried out. And now Halliday scarcely knew what to do, or how to act. He did not dare to tell the police, as the first sign of activity on the part of the authorities would mean his own death in some mysterious way. He also would be found with an artificial fly near the wound and the odor of the Sumatra scent on his clothes. As Dan did not wish to die, he therefore hesitated to make any statement to Inspector Tenson of Hampstead, who was so anxious to learn the secret and gain the reward. In fact, he hoped that the man would not come to his rooms--he had been there several times in quest of information--lest he should smell the Sumatra scent. Dan found that he had brought the perfume away on his clothes when he examined them, which was scarcely to be wondered at considering how powerfully the dark room had reeked of the odor. Certainly Tenson did not know the scent so well as Halliday did, although he had experienced a whiff of it when examining the body of Sir Charles Moon. But he might have forgotten the smell. While Dan turned over his clothes--the blue serge suit he had worn on the previous night--he found a piece of paper in one of the trousers pockets, which contained a message typewritten in crimson ink. It was set forth in the third person, by no less an individual than Queen Beelzebub herself, and ran as follows--
"QUEEN BEELZEBUB warns Daniel Halliday that not only his own life depends upon his secrecy but the life of Lillian Moon also. Should he apply to the authorities, or in any way recount his adventures, the girl he loves will be put out of the way, and afterwards Daniel Halliday will be dealt with. At the end of thirty days Queen Beelzebub expects to receive homage from her new subject, who will receive notice of time and place fixed for the ceremony. Remember!"
"Quite a Charles-the-First ring about that last word," thought Dan, frowning at the threatening message; "the scoundrels: they have tied my hands with a vengeance. What the deuce am I to do?" It was useless for him to ask himself this question as the only answer could be, "Nothing!" If he moved in any way likely to harm the society he ran the chance of sacrificing, not only himself, but Lillian. It was bad enough that he should be done to death; but he might have risked that so as to break up the organization; but it was impossible to place the girl he loved in so dangerous a position. Queen Beelzebub knew what she was about when she used the phrase. And Halliday was well aware that the Society had a long arm, and that nothing could protect Lillian from these moles who were working in darkness--clever, deadly, and unscrupulous. For the next two days the young man went about in a dream, or rather in a nightmare. He did not dare to see Lillian, or to write to Lillian, lest the members of the Society should believe he was betraying them. They appeared to have spies everywhere, and there was no move on the chessboard which he could make which might not be detected. Yet he could not wait passively for the rest of the thirty days, since he had no idea of joining the band and had only asked for a respite so as to think out some means of escape. More than ever he longed for the return of Laurance. He could trust him, and a consultation between the two might evolve some scheme by which to baffle the subjects of the accursed woman who called herself Queen Beelzebub. Dan wondered if she was Mrs. Jarsell, but the evidence of the perfume seemed too slight a link to join her with this deadly organization. Of course there was Marcus Penn who was a member and knew everything; but he would not speak, since he ran also a risk of death should he betray too much. Still, Dan, being in the same boat and under the same ban, fancied that the secretary might be frank, as his confidence could not be abused. Now, if he could get Penn to state positively that Mrs. Jarsell was Queen Beelzebub, he might have something tangible upon which to work. But, taking into consideration the Egyptian mask, and the alteration of the voice by means of the artificial mouthpiece, Dan believed that she wished to keep her identity secret; always presuming that Queen Beelzebub was the "she" in question. On this assumption Halliday concluded that Penn would not speak out, and bothered himself for hours as to whether it would be worth while to ask the secretary questions. While still in this undecided frame of mind he received a morning visit from Laurance, who turned up unexpectedly. Freddy, in pursuit of his business, played puss-in-the-corner all over the world, coming and going from London in the most unexpected manner. He reminded Dan of this when the young man jumped up with an exclamation at his sudden entrance. "You might have known that I would turn up, anyhow," he said, sitting down, and accepting an offer to have breakfast. "I never know where I shall be on any given date, and you must be always prepared for the unexpected so far as I am concerned. I heard you were looking for me, when I returned last night from Vienna, so I came along to feed with you." Halliday ordered his man to bring in a clean cup, and poured out coffee, after which he heaped Freddy's plate with bacon and kidneys. "There you are, old fellow, eat away and get yourself ready for a long talk. I have heaps to tell you likely to be interesting."
"About the murder of Durwin?" questioned Laurance, reaching for toast. "Yes, and about the murder of Sir Charles Moon also. You don't mind my smoking while you eat?"
"No. Smoke away! Have you seenThe Momentthis morning?"
"No. Anything interesting in it about your Austrian excursion?"
"Oh, yes," said Laurance indifferently, "I managed to learn a good deal about these anarchistic beasts and it's set all out in print. But that's not what I meant," he fumbled in his pockets. "Hang it, I haven't brought a paper, and I meant to. There's a death chronicled this morning." Dan sat up and shivered. "Another of the murders?"
"Yes. Marcus Penn this time."
"Penn!" Halliday dropped his pipe, "the devil," he picked it up again, "I wonder why they killed him?"
"He told you too much, maybe," said Laurance drily; "anyhow, the gang has got rid of him by drowning him in an ornamental pond in Curberry's grounds."
"He might have fallen in," suggested Dan uneasily, "or he might have committed suicide out of sheer terror."
"Well, he might have," admitted Freddy, thoughtfully, "but from what I saw of the man I should think he was too great a coward to commit suicide." Dan smoked in a meditative manner. "I suppose she killed him, or had him killed," he said aloud, after a pause. "She? Who?"
"The she-devil who presides over the Society of Flies. Queen Beelzebub." Laurance dropped his knife and fork to stare hard at his friend. "So you have learned something since I have been away?" "Several things. Wait a moment." Dan rose and retired to his bedroom, while Freddy pushed away the breakfast things as he did not wish to eat further in the face of Halliday's hint which had taken away his appetite. In a few minutes Dan came back to the sitting-room carrying the clothes he had worn on the night of his kidnapping, which still retained a faint odor of the fatal scent belonging to the gang. "Smell that," said Dan, placing the clothes on his friend's knee. Laurance sniffed. "Is this the Sumatra scent?" he asked; "h'm, quite a tropical fragrance. But I thought you proved to your satisfaction that there was nothing in this perfume business?"
"I always had my doubts," said Halliday drily, "they were lulled by Penn's lies and reawakened when I found the scent at Mrs. Jarsell's. Now I know all about the matter. I place my life in your hands by telling you."
"Is it as serious as that?" asked Laurance uneasily. "Yes. Serious to me and to Lillian also. Read that." The journalist scanned the crimson typewriting, and his eyes opened larger and larger as he grasped the meaning of the message. "Where the deuce did you get this?" he demanded hurriedly. "I found it in my pocket when I got back the other night."
"Where from?"
"From the headquarters of the Society of Flies."
"There is a gang then?" asked Laurance, starting. "Yes. A very well-organized gang, presided over by Queen Beelzebub, the consort of the gentleman of that name, who is the god of Flies."
"Where are the headquarters?"
"I don't know."
"We may be able to trace the gang by this," said Freddy, examining the typewritten paper. "If Inspector Tenson----"
"If Tenson gets hold of that and learns anything, which by the way I don't think he can, from that paper, my life won't be worth a cent; neither will that of Lillian's. I might not care for my own life, but I care a great deal for hers. I want to have a consultation as to what is best to be done to save her from these devils."
"Well, you can depend upon my saying nothing, Dan. It seems serious. Tell me all about your discoveries." Halliday did so, starting with his visit to the cinematograph with Lillian, and his recognition of Mrs. Jarsell in the animated picture. Then he recounted his journey to Hillshire, and what he had learned from Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew. "So on the face of it," concluded Dan earnestly, "I don't see how Mrs. Jarsell could have got to London. She didn't go by train and could not have gone by motor. Yet, I'm sure she was on the Blackheath grounds."
"It is a puzzle," admitted Freddy, drawing his brows together, "but go on; you have something else to tell me."
"Rather," and Dan detailed all that had taken place from the time he received Penn's invitation to meet him in the Bakerloo Tube to the moment he arrived at his rooms again in the four-wheeler. "What do you make of it all, Freddy?" asked Halliday, when he ended and relighted his pipe. "Give me time to think," said Laurance, and rose to pace the room. For a time there was a dead silence, each man thinking his own thoughts. It was Dan who spoke first, and said what was uppermost in his mind. "Of course my hands are tied," he said dismally, "I dare not risk Lillian's life. The beasts have killed her father, and Durwin and Penn, all because they got to know too much. They may kill Lillian also and in the same mysterious way."
"But she knows nothing," said Freddy anxiously. "No. But I do, and if I speak--well, then you know what will happen. Queen Beelzebub saw that I cared little for my own life, so she is striking at me through Lillian. 'The girl he loves!' says that message. Clever woman Mrs. Jarsell; she has me on toast." "But, my dear fellow, you can't be sure that your masked demon is Mrs. Jarsell, since you did not see her face, or recognize her voice."
"I admit that the mask concealed her features, and I believe that she spoke through an artificial mouthpiece to disguise the voice. Still, there is the evidence of her possessing the perfume, which plays such a large part in the gang's doings. Also her appearance in the animated picture, which proves her to have been on the Blackheath ground."
"But Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew declare positively that she could not have been there."
"Quite so, but Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew may be paid to keep silence," retorted Dan in a worried tone; "then Miss Armour, if you remember, prophesied that I should have a wonderful offer made to me. If I accepted I should marry Lillian and enjoy a large fortune. Well, an offer in precisely the same words was made to me, on condition that I joined the gang." "But surely you don't believe that a paralyzed woman like Miss Armour has anything to do with this business?" questioned Laurance skeptically. Dan shrugged his shoulders. "Miss Armour is the friend of Mrs. Jarsell, whom I suspect, and certainly told my fortune as you heard. Mrs. Jarsell may have told her what to say, knowing that the prophecy would be fulfilled. I don't say that Miss Armour knows about this infernal organization, as the very idea would horrify her. But Mrs. Jarsell may use the poor woman as a tool."
"I can't believe that Miss Armour knows anything," said Freddy decidedly; "to begin with, the Society of Flies needs useful people, and an invalid like Miss Armour would be of no use."
"I admit that Miss Armour is in the dark," replied Halliday impatiently; "all the same, her prophecy, together with the perfume and the cinematograph evidence, hints at Mrs. Jarsell's complicity. Again, the false Mrs. Brown who murdered Sir Charles was stout and massive. Mrs. Jarsell is stout and massive."
"Plenty of women are stout and massive," asserted the reporter, "but you saw the false Mrs. Brown yourself. Did you recognize Mrs. Jarsell as that person?"
"No. But Mrs. Brown was so wrinkled for a fat woman that I remember thinking at the time she might be a fraud. I daresay--I am positive, in fact--that her face was made up, and while I looked at her she let down her veil--another hint that she did not wish to be examined too closely."
"If you think that Mrs. Jarsell murdered Moon and Durwin, and you have the evidence you speak of, you should reveal all to the police."
"And risk Lillian's life and my own? Freddy, you must take me for a fool." Laurance shook his head. "No. I don't underrate your cleverness, and I see that you are in a tight place. You can't move with safety to yourself and Miss Moon. Yet if you don't move, what is to be done?"
"Well," said Dan, after a pause, "I have a month to think matters out. My idea is to hide Lillian somewhere under the care of Mrs. Bolstreath, and then take action. So long as Lillian is safe I am ready to risk my own life to bring these mysteries to light."
"I am with you," cried Freddy enthusiastically, "it's a good scheme, Dan. I wonder how Miss Moon is to be hidden though; since the Society of Flies may employ spies to find her whereabouts?"
"Oh, every member of the society is a spy," was Halliday's answer, "although I don't know how many members of the gang there are. Penn could have told us, and perhaps could have proved the identity of Mrs. Jarsell with Queen Beelzebub. But he's dead, and----"
"And was murdered," broke in Laurance decisively. "I am quite sure that--because he could prove too much for Mrs. Jarsell's safety--he was got rid of."
"Oh!" Dan looked up with a smile, "then you believe that Mrs. Jarsell----" "I don't know what to believe until more evidence is forthcoming," said the reporter impatiently, "but Miss Moon's hiding-place? Where is it best to place her, with Mrs. Bolstreath as her guardian?" Halliday reflected, and then made the last answer Freddy expected to hear, considering the circumstances. "At Sheepeak with Miss Vincent," he declared. "Dan, are you serious. You place her under the guns of the enemy."
"Quite so, and there has been proof that under the guns is the safest place in some cases. It is in this, I am sure. Should Mrs. Jarsell be the person we suspect her to be, she will not foul her own nest at Sheepeak. Therefore she will not dare to have Lillian killed within a stone-throw of her own house. By daring all, we gain all."
"It's a risk," said Laurance pondering. "I can see that."
"So can I. Everything is risky in this business."
"Then there's Mildred," rejoined the journalist uneasily. "I really do not want her to be brought into the matter."
"It will be all right, Freddy, and much the safer for Lillian. Mrs. Jarsell won't have the courage to hurt my promised wife, when your promised wife is in her company. Still, if you have qualms----"
"No, no, no!" interrupted Laurance eagerly, "after all, I cannot be half a friend, and if Mildred is willing--when she learns the whole circumstance that is, I shall agree. After all, if anything does happen, we can accuse Mrs. Jarsell, and if she is Queen Beelzebub she will end her career in jail. I don't think she will risk that by hurting the girls."
"Oh, she would never hurt Miss Vincent, I am sure, and would only harm Lillian because I have to be frightened into joining her gang. No, Freddy, a daring policy is the best in this case. We'll place Lillian with Mrs. Bolstreath under Mildred Vincent's charge--under the guns of the enemy as you say. I am sure the result will be good."
"But Sir John Moon will make a row if you take his niece away."
"Let him," retorted Dan contemptuously. "I can deal with that fribble of a man. After all, Lillian need only be absent from London for a month, and during that time we must break up the gang, with or without the aid of the police. If we don't, I shall certainly be murdered, like Moon and Durwin and Penn have been, and on the same grounds--that I know too much. But I daresay Lillian will then be left alone, and Sir John can carry out his pet scheme and marry her to Curberry."
"I wonder," said Laurance musingly, "if Curberry has anything to do with the gang in question."
"I think not, he has nothing to gain."
"Now he hasn't," said Freddy drily, "but he had a good deal to gain when he was a barrister and two lives stood between him and a title and a fortune." The two men looked at one another. "I see what you mean," said Dan slowly, "h'm. Of course he may be a member and the society may have cleared his uncle and cousin out of the way. But we can't be sure. One thing at a time, Freddy. I am going to see Lillian and Mrs. Bolstreath and get them to fly to Sheepeak."
"But you will have to reveal what we know, and that will frighten them." Dan looked vexed and gnawed his nether lip. "I don't want to say more than is necessary," he replied, "as for their own safety, the less they know of the business, the better. Perhaps I may induce Lillian to elope with me to Sheepeak, and need not explain to her. But Mrs. Bolstreath must know more."
"Well," said Freddy, putting on his hat, "I leave these matters in your very capable hands. So far as I am concerned, I am going to Blackheath to see about this death of Penn. I may get into the house--" he paused. "Well?" asked Halliday, raising his eyebrows. "Well, if Curberry does favor this Society of Flies, who knows what I may discover? Also some truths may come out at the inquest. Penn belonged to the gang as we know, and when he wanted a situation, he was taken on by Lord Curberry. That hints at much. However, we shall see; we shall see!" and with a careless nod Freddy took his leave, while Dan changed his clothes with the intention of calling at Sir John Moon's house. Owing to a late breakfast, and the long conversation with Laurance, it was quite one o'clock before Dan reached his destination. He half expected to be refused admittance as usual, especially when he learned from the footman that Miss Moon was not in the house. But failing Lillian, who had no doubt gone out on a shopping expedition and would shortly return to luncheon, Dan sent in his name to Mrs. Bolstreath, with a request for an interview. It was best to explain the situation to her, he thought, since no time could be lost in assuring Lillian's safety. The chaperon saw the young man at once, and when introduced into the room where she was seated, he was struck by her worried air. His thoughts immediately flew to the girl. "Lillian?" he asked anxiously, "is anything the matter with Lillian?"
"Oh, that girl will break my heart with her freaks," said Mrs. Bolstreath in an irritable tone, "she knows that Sir John does not approve of her going out by herself, and that my retaining my situation depends upon my looking after her closely. Yet she has gone out without telling me."
"Where has she gone to?"
"Well," said Mrs. Bolstreath, looking at him, "I think she has gone to Lord Curberry's house." Dan's lip curled. "That ought to please Sir John. Is he with her?"
"No. Sir John is in the country for a few days. He would not be pleased at Lillian going to see Lord Curberry without my being present."
"But why has she gone to see a man she hates?" asked Halliday perplexed. "It is not Lord Curberry she wishes to see," Mrs. Bolstreath hesitated. "I suppose you saw that Mr. Penn is dead?" she asked irrelevantly. "It was in the morning paper, I know--that is, the announcement of his death," said Dan. "Laurance came and told me. Well?"
"This morning Lillian received a letter from Mr. Penn, written a few days ago, saying that if anything happened to him, she was to go to Lord Curberry and find some important paper he has left behind him for her perusal."
"Oh," Dan started to his feet, "then Penn has left a confession?"
"A confession?" Mrs. Bolstreath looked puzzled. "He must have guessed that his death was determined upon," said Halliday to himself, but loud enough for his companion to hear, "perhaps the truth will come out in that confession."
"What truth? For heaven's sake, Mr. Halliday, speak plainly. I am worried enough as it is over Lillian's escapade. Is anything wrong?"
"A great deal. Mrs. Bolstreath, I have to confide in you in order to save Lillian from death--from a death like her father suffered." Mrs. Bolstreath screamed. "Oh, what is it, what is it?"
"You must be silent about what I tell you."
"Of course I shall. I can keep a secret. But tell me, tell me," she panted. "If you don't keep the secret all our lives are in jeopardy. There is no time to be lost. I must follow Lillian to Curberry's house at once. Listen, Mrs. Bolstreath, and remember every word I say is important." Then Dan hastily related much that he knew, though not more than was absolutely necessary. However, he told enough to make Mrs. Bolstreath almost crazy with terror. "Keep your head and my confidence," said Halliday sharply, "we must beat these demons at their own game. Get ready and come with me to Blackheath; on the way I can explain."
"You think Lillian is safe?" implored Mrs. Bolstreath, preparing to leave the room and assume her out-of-door things. "Yes. Yet, if Curberry is connected with the gang and thinks she is hunting for Penn's confession, he may--but it won't bear thinking of. We must go to Lillian at once. You will work with me to save Lillian?"
"With all my heart and soul and body," cried the chaperon wildly. "Then get ready and come with me at once," said Dan imperiously.
Lord Curberry was something of a student and a great deal of a man-about-town, so his residence at Blackheath was an ideal one for an individual who blended such opposite qualities. His pleasant Georgian mansion of mellow red brick stood sufficiently far from London to secure privacy for study, and yet was sufficiently near to enable its owner to reach Piccadilly, Bond Street, the clubs and the theatres, easily when he felt so disposed. The chief seat of the family, indeed, was situated in Somersetshire, but Curberry, not possessing a sporting nature, rarely went to live in the country. The Blackheath estate was not large, consisting only of a few acres of woodland, surrounded by a lofty stone wall; but this wall and the trees of the park so sequestered the house that its seclusion suggested a situation in the very wildest parts of England. In every way, therefore, this compact place suited Lord Curberry and he lived there for the greater part of the year. When Dan and Mrs. Bolstreath arrived they found that the house had been thrown open to the public, so to speak. That is, there was a crowd at the entrance-gates, many people in the grounds, and not a few in the very mansion itself. There was not much difficulty in guessing that Marcus Penn's death had drawn a morbid multitude into the neighborhood wherein he had come to his untimely end. Moreover, the inquest was to be held in the house, and the public desired ardently to hear if the verdict would be "Suicide!"
"Murder!" or merely "Accident!" In any case, sensational developments were expected, since the death of the secretary was both violent and unexpected. As a barrister, Curberry assisted the law in every possible way and had permitted the inquest to take place in the house instead of ordering the body of the unfortunate man to be removed to the nearest mortuary. Every one commented on his kindness in this respect, and approved of his consideration. For the time being Curberry was more popular than he had ever been before. As Dan walked up the short avenue and noted the disorganization of the establishment, he made a significant remark to the agitated chaperon. "I don't think that Curberry will have much time to give to Lillian. All the better, isn't it?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Mrs. Bolstreath, much flustered. "Well, Penn must have concealed his confession somewhere about the house, so if Lillian wishes to find it, she must get rid of Curberry somehow." "But wouldn't it be wise of her to tell him and ask him to assist in the search?" suggested the lady. "No. If Penn wished Curberry to see his confession, he would have given it to him for delivery to Lillian. He doesn't want Curberry to see what he has written. H'm," Dan reflected that he had used the present tense, "I forgot that the poor chap is dead."
"But surely," Mrs. Bolstreath's voice sank to a horrified whisper, "surely you don't think that Lord Curberry has anything to do with these horrible people you have been telling me about?" "I say nothing--because I know nothing--for certain, that is. I only suspect--er--well--that Curberry may be in the swim. Now don't go and give away the show by changing your manner toward the man," continued Halliday hastily; "act as you have always acted and, indeed, I want you to make yourself as agreeable as possible. Take him away if you can, and leave me alone with Lillian."
"But for what reason?"
"Well, if Curberry is mixed up in this shady business he will not leave Lillian alone. He may wonder, and probably does, at her unexpected presence here, on this day of all days; therefore he may suspect a confession by his secretary and will keep his eyes open."
"Oh, you go too far," cried Mrs. Bolstreath, fanning herself with her handkerchief. "Perhaps I do," assented Dan in a very dry tone, "but in a case like this it is just as well to take all necessary precautions. And in any case Curberry will haunt Lillian's footsteps until she is out of the house, if only to find out why she paid this unnecessary visit."
"He can ask her," said the chaperon curtly. "He won't, if he is what I suspect him to be. But there, I may be accusing the man wrongfully."
"I'm sure you are. Lord Curberry is a perfect gentleman."
"Perfect gentlemen have been discovered doing shady things before now. However, you know what comedy we have arranged. You have come to fetch Lillian back, and I came to escort you. Then get Curberry away on some pretext and let me have ten minutes talk with Lillian. Understand?"
"Yes," gasped Mrs. Bolstreath, "but I don't like these things."
"One can't touch pitch without being defiled," quoted Dan cynically, as they arrived at the open hall door, "we wish to see Lord Curberry." This last question was addressed to a footman, who came to meet them. He recognized Mrs. Bolstreath as having been in the house before with Miss Moon, so readily explained that the young lady was with his master in the drawing-room. Everything was so upset with the inquest, that he never thought of asking for a card, so conducted the visitors to where Lord Curberry was entertaining the girl. Having announced the names and fairly pushed them into the room, the footman departed in a hurry, as there was much excitement amongst the servants and he wished to hear all that was being said. Had not Curberry been attending to Lillian, he would have kept better order, as he was a severe master, and expected decency under all circumstances. But no doubt he also was disturbed by the unusual invasion of his house. "My--dear--Lillian," cried Mrs. Bolstreath in large capitals, and advancing toward the end of the room, where Lillian was seated, looking uncomfortable, "my dear Lillian!" She glared at Lord Curberry. The gentleman had evidently been pressing his suit, a proceeding which sufficiently explained Miss Moon's discomfort. He was as cadaverous as ever in his looks, and his pale-blue eyes, thin lips and general sneering expression struck Dan afresh as uncommonly unpleasant. The man flushed to a brick red under Mrs. Bolstreath's glare and hastened to excuse himself. "I am not to blame, I assure you," he said hurriedly. "Blame!" echoed Lillian with a thankful glance at the sight of her lover, "why do you say 'blame,' Lord Curberry?"
"You ask that?" said Mrs. Bolstreath, plumping down indignantly, "when you go away without my knowledge to pay an unauthorized visit to a-a-a bachelor. If I thought that Lord Curberry----"
"I am not to blame," said that gentleman again with a scowl, for he did not like to stand on the defensive. "Of course you aren't," remarked Miss Moon easily, and with another glance at Dan to point her words. "I saw in the paper that poor Mr. Penn was dead, and as he had been my dear father's secretary I came on the impulse of the moment to learn exactly what had happened." Curberry nodded acquiescence. "I have explained the circumstance to Miss Moon and I shall explain matters to you, Mrs. Bolstreath! As for Mr. Halliday," he frowned at Dan, "I don't know why he has come."
"To escort me, at my request," said Mrs. Bolstreath coldly. "It was necessary for me to call here and take Lillian home. Why did you come?" she asked again. "To hear about Mr. Penn," repeated Lillian rather crossly. "I have been telling you so for the last few minutes."
"I am curious about Penn's death myself," said Dan agreeably, "did he commit suicide?" Curberry wheeled at the word. "Why should he commit suicide?" he demanded with suspicion written on every line of his clean-shaven face. Dan shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure I can't say," he answered good-humoredly, "only a man in good health isn't found drowned unless he has some reason to get into the pond."
"Penn was not in good health," said Curberry sharply. "He was always complaining and did his work so badly that I intended to give him notice."
"Perhaps he committed suicide because you did." "No. I did not tell him to go, and after all, I can't say that he did kill himself. He was all right at luncheon yesterday, which was when I last set eyes on him. I went to town and returned at five o'clock to hear that he was dead. One of the servants walking in the park found his body in the ornamental water at the bottom of the garden."
"Did any one push him in?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath. "I think not. He was on good terms with the servants, although not popular in any way. No one in my employment would have murdered him, and, as the gates were closed and no one called between luncheon and five o'clock yesterday, it is quite certain that he was not murdered by a stranger. In fact, I don't believe he was murdered at all."
"Suicide, then?" suggested Dan once more, and again Curberry looked at him unpleasantly, as if not relishing the idea. "So far as I saw he had no intention of committing suicide," he said in a cold manner, "however, the evidence at the inquest will settle the matter."
"I expect he didn't look where he was going and fell in," said Lillian suddenly. "Mr. Penn was always absent-minded you know."
"I frequently found him so," remarked Curberry grimly. "He made a great mess of his work occasionally. I am inclined to agree with you, Miss Moon."
"Well," said Dan, after a pause, "let us settle that Penn fell in by accident until we hear the verdict of the jury. When does the inquest take place?"
"In another hour," responded the host, glancing at his watch. "I was just impressing upon Miss Moon the necessity of returning home when you arrived. I have to be present, of course, so as to state what I know of Penn."
"You will give him a good character?" asked Halliday pointedly. Curberry stared in a supercilious way. "The best of characters," he said. "I had no fault to find with him save that he was absent-minded, a quality which no doubt accounts for his death, poor chap."
"Well, well, it's all very sad," said Mrs. Bolstreath in a matter of fact way, "but all our talking will not bring the poor man back. Lillian, child, we must go home, now that your curiosity is satisfied. But first I shall ask Lord Curberry to give me some of those hot-house flowers I see yonder," and she nodded toward a conservatory, which could be entered from the drawing-room by means of a French window. "Oh, I shall be charmed," said Curberry with alacrity, "and perhaps Miss Moon will come also to choose the flowers."
"I can wait here," replied Lillian carelessly. "I have every confidence in Mrs. Bolstreath's choice." Curberry scowled at Dan, for he understood well enough that Lillian wished to remain with his rival. However, he could make no further objection without appearing rude, so he moved reluctantly toward the conservatory beside the chaperon. Yet Dan saw plainly that he was determined not to lose sight of the two, for he plucked the flowers which were directly in front of the French window, and thus could gain a view of the young couple every now and then, when facing round to speak with Mrs. Bolstreath. Lillian noticed this espionage, also, and whispered to Dan, who had sauntered across the room close to her elbow. "He won't let us out of his sight," said Lillian rapidly, "and I can't get to the library, although I have been trying all the time."
"Why do you wish to get to the library?" asked Dan in a low voice. Lillian rose suddenly and dropped a piece of paper. "Put your foot on it and pick it up when he is not looking," she said swiftly; "hush, he's coming back," and then she raised her voice as Curberry returned to the room. "Of course Mr. Penn was always nervous. I really think his health was bad."
"Still on the disagreeable subject of the death," remarked Curberry, who had a handful of flowers to offer. "I wish you wouldn't think of these things, Lillian--I beg pardon, Miss Moon. Please take these flowers and let me escort you and Mrs. Bolstreath out of the house. It's atmosphere is uncomfortable just now." He took no notice of Dan, but offered his arm to Lillian. With a swift glance at her lover, at Mrs. Bolstreath, at the room, the flowers, at anything save Dan's right foot, which was placed firmly on the scrap of paper, she accepted his offer. The chaperon followed, and when Curberry's back was turned she noticed that Halliday stooped swiftly to pick up the paper. But that he gave her a warning glance she would have asked an indiscreet question. As it was she went after her host and pupil, walking beside Dan, who had now slipped the paper into his trousers pocket. But Mrs. Bolstreath could not restrain her curiosity altogether. "What is it?" she whispered, as they walked into the entrance hall. "Nothing! Nothing!" he replied softly, "take Lillian home at once. I shall follow later," and with this Mrs. Bolstreath was obliged to be content, although she was desperately anxious to know more. "I wish I could escort you home," said Curberry, as the two ladies and he stood on the steps, "but my duty keeps me here for the inquest. Perhaps Mr. Halliday will oblige."
"I am afraid not," said Dan stolidly. "I promised to meet my friend Mr. Laurance here. He is coming about the matter of Penn's death. Why, there he is," and sure enough, at a moment that could not have been better chosen, Freddy appeared up the avenue. "Well," said Mrs. Bolstreath, catching a significant glance from Dan. "We are not able to wait and chat. Lord Curberry, we detain you."
"No! no! Let me walk for some distance with you," cried Curberry, and bareheaded as he was he strolled down the avenue between the two ladies. Laurance took off his hat and Lillian bowed graciously, as did Mrs. Bolstreath. But Lord Curberry took no notice of the reporter beyond a rude stare. "That's just as it should be," remarked Halliday, watching the man's retreating form, while Freddy came up to him, "you're just the man we want."
"We?" echoed Laurance, glancing round. "Lillian and myself. See here, this is the note sent by Penn to her, and it asks her to do something which she has not been able to accomplish owing to our noble friend's vigilance."
"What's that?"
"I'm just going to find out. I haven't read the note as yet," and with a second glance to make sure that Curberry was at a safe distance Dan opened the piece of paper, and read it hurriedly. A moment later he slipped it again into his pocket and took Freddy's arm. "It's only a few lines saying that Penn has left a document which he wishes Lillian to read. It is to be found between the pages of the second volume of Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall.' Hum! So that is why Lillian wished to get into the library."
"Let me go," said Freddy eagerly. "No! no! You catch Curberry as he returns and keep him in conversation on some plea or other. Then I can slip into the house and seek the library without being noticed."
"Won't the servants----"
"Oh, the house is all upset this day with the inquest, and every one is wandering about more or less at large. I'll chance it."
"But if Lord Curberry asks for you?"
"Say that I am in the library and that I am waiting to have an interview."
"On what subject?" asked Laurance, rather puzzled by this scheming. "I'll find the subject," said Dan, retreating toward the door of the house; "all I want is five minutes in the library to find the confession. Detain Curberry for that time. Here he is coming back and here I am going forward." As he spoke Dan vanished into the house and came face to face with the butler. "I am waiting for Lord Curberry," said Dan, "will you show me into the library, please." Suspecting nothing wrong and impressed by Dan's cool manner, the butler conducted him to the room in question, and after intimating that he would tell his lordship, departed, closing the door. Halliday ran his eye round the shelves, which extended on three sides of the large compartment from floor to ceiling. It seemed impossible to find the book he was in search of, in so short space of time as would probably be at his disposal. He wished that Penn had indicated the position of Gibbon's masterpiece. However, Halliday, by a stroke of luck, suddenly realized that Curberry numbered his shelves alphabetically, and catalogued his books, so to speak, by the initial letter of the author's name. Those beginning with "A" were placed on the shelf, ticketed with that letter, as Allison, Allen, Anderson, and so on, while the shelf "B" contained Browning, Bronte, Burns, and others. Going by this way of finding the whereabouts of books, Dan discovered Gibbon's "Decline and Fall" on shelf "G" and laid his hand on the second volume. But as luck would have it, Lord Curberry suddenly entered the room just as he was about to open it. Halliday looked up, retaining the volume in his hand. "I am rather surprised to see you here, Mr. Halliday," said Curberry in a cold and haughty tone, "you know that I am busy with this inquest and have no time for conversation. Besides," he looked hard at his visitor, "you could have explained your business out of doors."
"Not in the presence of the ladies," said Dan promptly; "however, I won't keep you more than five minutes," and he wondered how he was to secure the confession without the knowledge of his host. "I am waiting to hear what you have to say," said Curberry, throwing his lean figure into a chair, "you have been making yourself at home," he added with a sneer, glancing at the book. Dan laid it on the table. "I took up Gibbon's second volume just to pass the time," said he carelessly, "I apologize if you think me presuming."
"I don't think anything," rejoined Curberry with a shrug, "except that I am anxious to know why you desire a private conversation."
"It is about Lillian----"
"Miss Moon, if you please."
"Lillian to me, Lord Curberry." "Nothing of the sort, sir," cried the other suitor furiously, and his pale eyes grew angry. "Sir John Moon wishes me to marry his niece."
"Probably, but his niece wishes to marry me."
"That she shall never do."
"Oh, I think so. And what I wish to say, Lord Curberry, is this--that you annoy Miss Moon with your attentions. They must cease."
"How dare you; how dare you; how dare you!"
"Oh, I dare anything where Lillian is concerned," retorted Halliday, and again in a careless manner took up the book, leaning against the table and crossing his legs as he did so. "Leave my house," cried Curberry, starting to his feet, for this nonchalant behavior irritated him greatly. "Oh, willingly. I simply stayed to warn you that Lillian must not be annoyed by you in any way."
"And if I do not obey you?" sneered the other, quivering with rage. "I shall make myself unpleasant, Lord Curberry."
"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"Well," said Dan slowly, and with a keen glance at the angry face, "I am not quite sure. I am not Asmodeus to unroof houses, you know." Curberry's yellow face suddenly became white, and his lips trembled nervously. "I don't understand you."
"I scarcely understand myself, and----"
"Wait," interrupted Curberry, as a knock came to the door, "there is no need to let every one overhear our conversation. Come in!" he cried aloud. The butler entered. "You are wanted at the inquest, my lord," he said, and as Curberry's face was bent inquiringly on that of the servant, Dan seized the opportunity to slip a stiff sheaf of papers out of the Gibbon volume. As a matter of fact, it was three or four sheets joined at the corner by a brass clasp. Scarcely had he got it in his hand when Curberry wheeled, after hurriedly telling the butler that he would come shortly. "What have you there?" demanded the host, advancing menacingly. "Some papers of mine," said Dan, preparing to put the sheets into his pocket. "It's a lie. You must have taken them from the table, or out of that book, Mr. Halliday. Yes, I am sure you did. Give me what you have taken."
"No," said Dan, retreating before Curberry's advance, "you are not to----" Before he could get another word, the man flung himself forward and made a snatch at the papers. Held loosely by the corner clasp they flew into a kind of fan, and Curberry managed to grip one or two of the sheets. In the momentary struggle these were torn away, and then the owner of the house released himself suddenly. The next moment he had flung the sheets into the fire, apparently thinking he had got them all. Dan cleverly thrust the one or two remaining sheets into his pocket, and played the part of a man who has been robbed. "How dare you destroy my papers," he cried indignantly. "They were mine," said Curberry, gasping with relief, "and now they are burnt."
"They were Penn's," retorted Halliday sharply, "perhaps that is why they have been destroyed by you."
"What do you mean; what do you mean?"
"Never mind. I think you understand."
"I don't. I swear I don't."
"In that case," said Dan slowly, "you can make public the fact that I came into your library to find a document in the second volume of Gibbon, which was placed there by Marcus Penn. But you won't, Lord Curberry."
"If the papers were not destroyed, I would place them before the Coroner at once," said Curberry, wiping his face and with a glance at the fire on which fluttered a few black shreds--all that remained of what he had thrown in. "I think you must be mad to talk as you do."
"If I am, why not make the matter public?" asked Dan drily. "I don't care about a scandal," said Curberry loftily. "Well," Halliday retreated to the library door, "perhaps the death of Penn will be scandal enough. Those papers doubtless contained an account of the reasons which led to his death."
"I'm sorry that I burnt them then," said Curberry in a studied tone of regret. "I am an impulsive man, Mr. Halliday, and you should not have annoyed me in the way you did. How did you know that the papers were in the second volume of Gibbon?"
"Never mind."
"Were they addressed to you?"
"Never mind."
"What were they about?"
"Never mind!" "D---- you, sir, how dare you?"
"Good-day, Lord Curberry," interrupted Dan, and walked out of the room, leaving his host looking the picture of consternation and dread.