It did not require a particularly clever man to guess that Lord Curberry was connected with the Society of Flies. Had he been entirely ignorant of that association, he would not have displayed such agitation when he saw the papers in Dan's hand, nor would he have struggled to gain possession of them, much less have destroyed them. Penn certainly was one of the gang, and on that account, probably Curberry had engaged him as a secretary after the death of Moon. Also he may have had some suspicion that Penn was a traitor, and had guessed that the papers betrayed the society. Otherwise, he would have placed the same before the Coroner, so as to elucidate the reason why the secretary had been done to death. That he had been, Halliday was quite convinced, as Penn was too nervous a man to commit suicide and must have been assisted out of the world by some other person. "But the verdict of suicide has been brought in," argued Laurance, when Dan related his adventure. "I daresay. Curberry's evidence was to the effect that Penn had been considerably worried of late. Of course, that is true, but he wouldn't have killed himself, I'll swear. However," Dan chuckled, "I have a sheet or two remaining of the confession, and we may learn much from that."
"Will it state that Curberry belonged to Queen Beelzebub's gang?"
"I think so. If Curberry does not, he would have made a row and kicked me out of the house. I had no business in the library and no right to take the papers, you know. But I defied Curberry to create a scandal, and left him in a pleasing state of uncertainty as to what I knew and what I intended to do. He was green with fright."
"You had better take care, Dan, or the society will murder you," warned Laurance in an uneasy tone. "Oh, I'm safe enough for the given month," returned Halliday positively; "so far I have said nothing, and until I do notify the authorities all will be well with me."
"But Miss Moon?"
"I join her and Mrs. Bolstreath, at St. Pancras this evening, to catch the six o'clock express to Thawley. Have you written to Miss Vincent?"
"Yes. There is no time to receive a reply, but she is aware that the ladies will stay at The Peacock Hotel, Sheepeak, under the wing of Mrs. Pelgrin. I only hope," added Freddy emphatically, "that you are doing right in placing Miss Moon in the lion's mouth."
"Under the guns of the enemy, you said before. Oh, yes, I am right, especially that I now hold a part of Penn's confession. I shall contrive to let Mrs. Jarsell know that I do, and that if anything happens to Lillian, I can make it hot for her."
"Does the confession implicate Mrs. Jarsell?"
"Yes, it does. I have not had time to decipher the crooked writing of our late friend, but intend to do so when in the train this evening. But the little I saw hinted that Mrs. Jarsell was in the swim."
"I wish you would leave the confession with me," said Laurance, who was desperately anxious to know the exact truth. "Can't, my dear fellow, nor have I time to let you read it, even if I had it on me, which I haven't. My taxi is at the door of this office, and I'm off to St. Pancras in five minutes. Remember, Freddy, that this confession is my sole weapon to protect Lillian. When Mrs. Jarsell learns that I have it, she will not dare to move, and will keep her subjects off the grass also."
"But Curberry will tell her that he has destroyed the confession."
"So he thinks," chuckled Halliday, "but I shall tell her that I rescued enough of it to damn her and her precious gang."
"But how can you tell her without danger?"
"I shall find a way, although I haven't formulated any scheme as yet. Perhaps she will ask me what all this--the story of Queen Beelzebub you know--has to do with her. I shall reply that it has nothing to do with her, but that I know she desires to assist in my love affair. Oh, I'll manage somehow, old son, you may be certain. Good-by."
"Wait a moment," said Laurance, following Dan to the door, "what about Sir John Moon? He will make a row over Lillian's flight, and you will get into trouble."
"He may make a row if he likes, but as Lillian is under the wing of Mrs. Bolstreath, her duly-appointed chaperon, I don't see what he can say. She is quite ready to take all blame."
"Of course," said Laurance thoughtfully, "Sir John may belong to the society himself, in which case, like Curberry, he dare not make a row."
"No," rejoined Dan positively, "I don't believe Sir John belongs to the gang. I wish he did, as it would smooth things. Curberry dare not make open trouble, because he is one of Queen Beelzebub's subjects, but Sir John may because he isn't. However, I shall risk taking Lillian away with Mrs. Bolstreath to play the part of dragon, and Sir John can do what he jolly well likes. Luckily, he is in the country on a visit just now, so we can get clear away without a fuss. By the way, you were at the inquest. Was there any fly found on Penn's body, or was there mention of any scent?"
"No. The man was drowned, and it was not possible for either scent or fly to be on his corpse or clothes. The evidence clearly pointed to suicide."
"H'm. Curberry brought that about," said Dan grimly; "however, I am jolly well sure that Penn was murdered by one of the gang."
"Not by Curberry. He was away at the time of the death." "Perhaps. I'd like to be certain of that. But in any case, he may have others of the gang in his employment, who could polish off the traitor. Queen Beelzebub's subjects are of all classes. Well, I'm off." Halliday took his way to St. Pancras forthwith, and found Mrs. Bolstreath and her charge waiting for him. Lillian was greatly excited and curious, as she did not yet know the reason for this sudden trip northward. Instructed by Dan, the chaperon had refused to impart knowledge, as the young man intended to tell the girl everything when they were in the train. However, Miss Moon was enjoying the unexpected journey and had every faith in her companion. Also, so long as she was in Dan's company, she did not care where she went, or why she went, or when she went. She loved Halliday too completely for there to be any room for distrust in her mind. "Dan," said Mrs. Bolstreath, when they were stepping into the first-class compartment which Halliday had wired to reserve to themselves. "I have written to Sir John saying that Lillian required a change, and that I was taking her to Hillshire, to see some friends of mine. When he has this explanation he will not make any trouble, or even any inquiries. He has every trust in me."
"Good," said Dan, heartily, "you make an excellent conspirator."
"Conspirator," echoed Lillian, gaily, "now what does that mysterious word mean, Dan? I am quite in the dark."
"You shall know all before we get to Thawley. Make yourself comfortable!" "Do we stay at Thawley?" asked the girl, arranging her rug. "For the night. I have telegraphed, engaging rooms for you and Mrs. Bolstreath at the best hotel. To-morrow we go to Sheepeak."
"Where is that?"
"Some miles from Thawley. You must live quietly for a short time, Lillian."
"It's all immensely exciting, of course," cried Miss Moon, petulantly, "but I should like to know what it all means."
"Patience! Patience!" said Dan in a teasing tone, "little girls should be content to wait. By Jove, we're off." The long train glided out of the station, gathering impetus as it left the lights of London behind. Mrs. Bolstreath made herself comfortable in one corner of the compartment, and Lillian did the same in another corner, while Dan sat on the opposite seat and addressed his conversation to both impartially. The girl could scarcely restrain her impatience, so anxious was she to learn the reason for this unexpected journey. "Now, Dan, now!" she cried, clapping her hands, "there is no stop until Bedford, so we have plenty of time to hear the story."
"One minute," said Halliday, who was now in possession of the three sheets of foolscap, which he had rescued from Curberry's grip, "I must bring the story up to date, and cannot do so until I read this statement. By the way, Lillian, why should he send to you about the matter?"
"I'm sure I don't know. But, of course, he knew how grieved I was over my father's murder, and perhaps wished to set my mind at rest." Dan looked at her curiously. "Why should you think that Penn knew of anything likely to set your mind at rest on that point?" Lillian cast down her eyes thoughtfully. "I always thought that Mr. Penn knew much more than he would confess about poor father's death. I quite forgot that I thought so until I got the letter asking me to look into the second volume of Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall' in Lord Curberry's library. Dear me!" murmured the girl, folding her hands, "how I did try to get into the library."
"Curberry would not let you?" "No, I think he was puzzled why I wished to go. But he did not ask me any questions."
"I quite believe that," said Dan, grimly; "asking questions was a dangerous game for him to play. However, when he found me in the library, he evidently recalled your desire to go there, and it flashed across him that we were working in consort. No wonder he destroyed the papers on the chance that Penn might have left incriminating evidence behind him."
"I don't know what you are talking about," said Lillian, fretfully. "Well," observed Dan, smoothing out the foolscap, "Penn, no doubt, left the clue as to the whereabouts of the confession to you, so that you might learn who murdered your father."
"Ah, I always believed Mr. Penn knew. Is the name in that paper?" she asked eagerly, and leaning forward. "It may or it may not be, dear. You see the greater part of the confession was destroyed by Lord Curberry. He was afraid."
"Dan!" Lillian caught her lover's hand, "you don't think that Lord Curberry killed my father?" "No, no, no!" said Halliday, quickly. "I am sure he did not. However, you shall hear all that I know, and Laurance knows, and all that Mrs. Bolstreath is acquainted with. Only let me read these few sheets first." The girl, on fire with curiosity, would have objected, but that Mrs. Bolstreath touched her shoulder significantly. With an effort to restrain her curiosity, which was creditable considering the circumstances, she nestled into her corner of the carriage, while Dan glanced through the manuscript. In spite of Penn's crooked handwriting--and it was very bad indeed--it did not take much time for the young man to master the contents of the confession. He uttered an exclamation of vexation when he reached the end. "Like a serial story, it breaks off at the most interesting part," he said crossly. "However, I have learned something." "What have you learned?" demanded Mrs. Bolstreath immediately. "All in good time," said Halliday, quietly. "I must first tell Lillian what we both know, and then I can bring our discoveries up to date by saying what is in this confession," and he tapped his breast-pocket, wherein he had placed the sheets. "Now then, Lillian."
"Now then, Dan," she mocked, "just tell me all, for I cannot keep silence any longer."
"You will have to, if you desire to hear the story. Only don't be worried by what I am about to tell you. You are safe with me." Lillian shrugged her shoulders, as if to imply that there was no need for him to state such a plain truth, and looked at him with inquiring eyes. As she appeared to be brave and collected, Dan had no hesitation in relating to her all that he had already told Mrs. Bolstreath, and thus the girl became thoroughly informed of the underhand doings which had taken place since the death of her father. As Halliday explained, her eyes became larger and rounder and more shining. Still the color did not leave her cheeks and although she was intensely interested she did not display any fright. This was creditable to her courage, considering that the revelation hinted at many possible dangers to herself and to her lover. Dan brought the story up to the time they started from London, and then waited to hear her opinion. "It's dreadful and wonderful, and very horrid," said Lillian, drawing a deep breath; "do you think that Mr. Penn murdered my father?"
"No. The evidence of the girl to whom he was dictating letters to be typewritten proves that he did not enter the library at the time when the death was supposed to have taken place."
"Then Lord Curberry? He----"
"I don't believe Lord Curberry, either directly or indirectly, had anything to do with the matter," said Dan, decisively. "Sir Charles approved of his suit rather than of mine, so it was to Curberry's interest to keep your father alive and well. My dear, it was the false Mrs. Brown who killed Sir Charles, and she came as an agent of this ghastly Society of Flies, because he got to know too much about the association."
"Then Mrs. Brown is Mrs. Jarsell?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath, anxiously. "I can't be sure of that," said the young man, thoughtfully; "of course, the sole evidence that proves Mrs. Jarsell to be connected with the gang is the presence of the Sumatra scent in her Hillshire house, and her presence on the Blackheath grounds when Durwin was murdered."
"But, by your own showing, she could not have reached London in time."
"That is quite true and yet I recognized her plainly enough on the day Lillian and I saw the animated pictures. However, we can leave that fact alone for the moment. I am certain that Mrs. Jarsell is Queen Beelzebub, for Penn says as much." He tapped his breast-pocket again. "Oh," cried Lillian, eagerly, "what does the confession say?"
"I'll give you the gist of it," replied Halliday, quietly. "Penn begins with a statement of his early life. He was the son of a clergyman, and his mother is still alive. From a public school he went to Cambridge, and thence to London, where he tried to make a living by literature. Not being clever he did not succeed, and fell into low water. I am bound to say that he did not trouble much about his own poverty, but seemed to be greatly concerned on account of his mother, who is badly off--so he says. Then he was tempted and fell, poor devil."
"Who tempted him?" demanded Mrs. Bolstreath. "A young man whom he met when he was staying in a Bloomsbury boarding-house, very hard up. The man said that he belonged to a society which could make its members rich, and proposed to introduce Penn. This was done, in the same way, I presume, in which I was taken to these mysterious headquarters. The first fruits of Penn's connection with Queen Beelzebub was that Sir Charles Moon engaged him as secretary, so, getting a good salary, he was enabled to give his mother many comforts." Lillian looked alarmed. "But my father did not belong to the association."
"No. Of course he didn't. But Penn was placed as his secretary--the business was managed through Curberry, whodoesbelong to the gang--so that he might inveigle Sir Charles into becoming a member. Penn appears to have lost his nerve, and did not dare to persuade Sir Charles, so another person was put on to the business. The name is not given."
"But why did Queen Beelzebub wish my father to belong to the gang?" asked Lillian, with natural perplexity. "The reason is plain, my dear. Sir Charles was an influential man, and could be of great service to the association. He learned enough to show him what a dangerous organization existed, and then sent for Mr. Durwin, who belonged to New Scotland Yard, so that he might reveal what he knew. Penn learned this, since he saw the letter written by your father, Lillian, and at once told the society. Then the false Mrs. Brown was sent to stop Sir Charles, and----" Dan made an eloquent gesture with his hands. There did not seem to be much need of further explanation. "Mrs. Brown undoubtedly murdered Sir Charles," commented Mrs. Bolstreath, in a thoughtful way, "but is she Mrs. Jarsell?"
"Penn says as much," repeated Dan, who had made the same remark earlier, "but it is just at that point he ends. Listen and I shall read you the last sentence," and Halliday took the papers from his pocket. The three sheets were intact, as Curberry did only rend away the remainder from the brass clasp. At the end of the third page Halliday read, "Mrs. Jarsell of the Grange, Hillshire, can explain how Mrs.----" Dan broke off with a frown. "Here we come to the end of the page, and can learn no more. Curberry burnt the most important part of the confession, which doubtless gave full details of Mrs. Jarsell's connection with the gang."
"She could explain about Mrs. Brown, I suppose," said Lillian, quietly. "Yes. The first word over the page is, I am certain, Brown. What is more, I believe Mrs. Jarsell and Mrs. Brown are one and the same."
"If I see Mrs. Jarsell, I may recognize her, Dan. I saw the false Mrs. Brown, remember, and it was because of me that she was admitted to an interview with my father." "If you do recognize her, which I doubt, you must not let on you know who she really is," Dan warned the girl; "our business just now, and until we get more evidence, is to pretend entire ignorance of these things. You are up in Hillshire for a change of air, Lillian, and know nothing. Mrs. Jarsell, relying on the clever way in which she was disguised, will never dream that you connect her with the poor woman who came on that fatal night to see your father. You understand?"
"Quite," put in Mrs. Bolstreath, before the girl could speak, "and I shall see that Lillian acts her part of knowing nothing."
"Remember you deal with an extraordinarily clever woman, Mrs. Bolstreath."
"I am a woman also, so diamond can cut diamond."
"But, Dan," asked Lillian, timidly, "do you think that Mrs. Jarsell really did murder my father?"
"On what evidence we have, I believe she did. She murdered your father and Durwin because they knew too much, and I should not be surprised to learn, in spite of the verdict at the inquest, that she got rid of Penn."
"Why should she?"
"Penn let out too much to me," explained Dan, putting away the confession, "and, in any case, was a weak sort of chap, who was a source of danger to the society. Queen Beelzebub, who is, I believe, Mrs. Jarsell, evidently thought it was best to silence him. I am sure that Penn did not commit suicide, and was drowned by Mrs. Jarsell. Still, in the absence of further evidence, we can do nothing."
"What action will you take now?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath, quickly. "Before leaving Thawley to-morrow morning," said Halliday, after a pause, "I shall post this confession to Laurance, and tell him to make use of it only should he hear that anything happens to me."
"Or to me," chimed in Lillian, and looked a trifle nervous. "My dear, nothing can happen to you," said Dan, decidedly, "cheek by jowl, as it were, with Mrs. Jarsell, you are perfectly safe. Queen Beelzebub confines her doings to London and keeps the name of Mrs. Jarsell clean in Hillshire, for obvious reasons. The Grange is her place of refuge, and no one would connect an innocent country lady with criminal doings in London. If she is what we think her to be, she will not hurt a hair of your head in Hillshire."
"All the same, I don't intend to see her," said Lillian, determinedly. "There is no reason that you should. She may call and try to learn why you are staying at the Peacock Hotel, and, if so, will probably ask you to The Grange. Don't go," ended Dan, emphatically. "Of course not," put in Mrs. Bolstreath, equally decisive, "leave that to me, since I am responsible for Lillian."
"You can say that I am ill with nerves or consumption, or something," said the girl, vaguely. "I don't want to meet the woman if she murdered my father."
"If you do," said Dan, impressively, "don't reveal your suspicions," and then he went on to instruct the two ladies how they were to behave in the enemy's country. That they were safe there, so long as they pretended ignorance, Dan did not doubt, but, should Mrs. Jarsell learn that they knew so much about her, she might adopt a counsel of despair and strike. It did not do to drive so dangerous a woman into a corner. For the rest of the journey very little was said. The subject had been thoroughly threshed out. Lillian had been informed of what was going on, and all plans had been made for the future. The girl was to live at the Peacock and see Miss Vincent, and chat with Mrs. Pelgrin, and take walks and admire the country, and to conduct herself generally as one who came simply for a change of air. If she did not go to The Grange--and on the plea of illness, she could excuse herself from going--Mrs. Jarsell could not harm her in any way. And, indeed, even if Mrs. Jarsell did succeed in getting her to come to afternoon tea, Dan had a plan in his head whereby to ensure Lillian against any use being made of the Sumatra scent. It was a daring thing to take Miss Moon into the jaws of the lion, yet that very daring would probably prove to be her safeguard. But Halliday had done what he could to guard against the events of a threatening future, and now could only wait to see what would take place. At the moment there was nothing more to be done. In due course the train arrived at Thawley Station, and Dan singled out George Pelgrin to convey luggage to a cab. Mindful of his last tip, George displayed great alacrity in performing his duties as porter, and, what is more, when he received another half-crown gave inadvertently a piece of valuable information, which Halliday was far from expecting. "That's the second two-and-six since yesterday," said George, spitting on the coin for luck. "Mrs. Jarsell gave me the same when she came back yesterday evening."
"Oh," Dan was startled, but did not show it, "your Sheepeak friend has been to London then?"
"Went a couple of days ago, and came back last night," said Pelgrin, "and she says to me, 'George, look after my traps, for you're the only smart porter in this station,' she says. Ah, she's a kind lady is Mrs. Jarsell, and that civil as never was. There's the luggage in the cab all right, sir. The Vulcan Hotel? Yes, sir. Drive on, cabby." Mrs. Bolstreath and Lillian had not heard this conversation, but Dan pondered over it on the way to the hotel. Mrs. Jarsell had, then, been in London at the time of Penn's death, and probably--although he could not prove this--she was responsible for the same. When the young man arrived at the hotel, and the ladies went to rest, he wrote a letter to Laurance, detailing the new fact he had learned, and instructed him what use to make of the confession if anything happened to himself in Hillshire. Then he enclosed the confession and went out personally to register the packet. Once it was posted he felt that he had done all that was possible. "And now," said Dan, to himself, "we'll see what move Queen Beelzebub will make."
Mrs. Pelgrin welcomed her unexpected guests with great delight and showed her appreciation of their coming by emphatic aggressiveness. Why she should mask a kind heart and an excellent disposition by assuming a brusque demeanor is not very clear, but certainly the more amiable she felt the more disagreeable did she become. In fact, the landlady appeared to believe that honesty of purpose was best shown by blunt speeches and abrupt movements. Consequently, she did not get on particularly well with Mrs. Bolstreath, who demanded respect and deference from underlings, which Mrs. Pelgrin positively declined to render. She termed the chaperon "a fine madam," in the same spirit as she had called Dan "a butterfly," and was always ready for a war of words. But, admiring Lillian's gay and lively character, she waited on the girl hand and foot, yet with an air of protest to hide the real satisfaction she felt at having her in the house. To Mrs. Pelgrin, Lillian was a goddess who had descended from high Olympus to mingle for a time with mere mortals. Out of consideration for Halliday's desire to seek safety for Lillian by placing her under the guns of the enemy, Mrs. Bolstreath decided to remain a week at the Peacock Hotel. Later she arranged to go to Hartlepool in Durhamshire, where she and her charge could find shelter with two spinsters who kept a school. The chaperon admitted that she felt uneasy in the near vicinity of Queen Beelzebub, and all Dan's assurance could not quieten her fears. She thought that he was playing too bold a game, and that ill would come of the stay at Sheepeak. Lillian was more confident, always confident that Dan could do no wrong, and she was quite indifferent to Mrs. Jarsell's doings. However, she agreed to go to Hartlepool, and as Mrs. Bolstreath was bent upon the change, Halliday accepted the situation. Meanwhile, he decided to call at The Grange on some innocent pretext and diplomatically give Queen Beelzebub to understand that he held the winning card in the game he was playing with the Society of Flies. This could be done, he ventured to think, by assuming that Mrs. Jarsell knew nothing about the nefarious association, and he did not believe that she would remove her mask, since it was to her interest to observe secrecy in Hillshire. However, he left this matter of a call and an explanation in abeyance for the time being, and for a couple of days attended to the three ladies. The third, it is needless to say, was Mildred Vincent, who called at The Peacock Hotel on receipt of her lover's letter. She gave Dan to understand that he was out of favor with the inventor. "Uncle has never forgiven you for not winning the race," said Mildred, at afternoon tea, "he says you should have gained the prize."
"I wish I had," said Halliday, dryly, "the money would have been very acceptable. It was my fancy-flying did the mischief, as I broke the rudder. However, I shall call and apologize."
"He won't see you, Mr. Halliday."
"Ah, that's so like an inventor, who is as touchy as a minor poet."
"Mrs. Jarsell is annoyed also," continued Mildred, sadly, "she says you should have made a better use of the favor she procured for you."
"It seems to me that I am in hot water all round, Miss Vincent. All the same, I shall survive these dislikes."
"It is absurd," cried Lillian, with indignation. "Dan risked his life to win the race, and if he hadn't had such bad luck he would have won."
"Thanks, my dear girl, but it was less bad luck than carelessness, and a certain amount of vanity, to show how I could handle the machine."
"You are very modest, Dan," said Mrs. Bolstreath, laughingly. "It is my best quality," replied Halliday, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Where is Mr. Vincent's machine now?" questioned Mildred. "At Blackheath stored away. I suppose, as it was only lent, I shall have to return it to your uncle. But I shall have a final fly on it when I go back to London in a few days."
"Does Miss Moon go back also?"
"Not to London," interposed Mrs. Bolstreath, "we propose to visit some friends in Scotland." Lillian looked up in surprise, as Hartlepool certainly was not in Scotland, and she thought that Mrs. Bolstreath's geography was at fault. But a significant look from Dan showed her that he understood why the wrong address had been given. Mrs. Bolstreath, with too much zeal, mistrusted Mildred, although she had no cause to do so. Certainly Mildred, in perfect innocence, did she know the actual destination, might tell her uncle, who would assuredly tell Mrs. Jarsell, and, for obvious reasons, it was not necessary that Mrs. Jarsell should know where the city of refuge was situated. All the same, Dan did not think for a moment that Mildred knew anything about the Society of Flies. But he was beginning to fancy that Vincent had some such knowledge, as Mrs. Jarsell financed him, and that she would not do so, he was positive, unless she made something out of the matter. It was very convenient for Queen Beelzebub to have an inventor at her elbow who could construct swift aeroplanes. And it was at this point of his meditations that Dan jumped up so suddenly as to spill his tea. "What's the matter?" asked Lillian, making a dash at the cup and saucer to save breakage. "I've got an idea," said Halliday, with a gasp. "I must go out and think it over," and, without excusing himself further, he rushed from the room. "That's not like Dan," remarked Mrs. Bolstreath, uneasily, "he is calm and cool-headed as a rule. I wonder what is the matter?"
"Oh, he'll tell us when he comes back," replied Lillian, philosophically. "I can always trust Dan." Then she turned the conversation in a somewhat heedless manner. "Do you like living here, Miss Vincent?"
"Well," admitted Mildred, "it is rather too quiet for my taste. But I have plenty to do in looking after my uncle and his business. He depends so much on me, that I wonder what he will do when I get married."
"When do you intend to get married?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath, curiously. She could not disabuse herself of the idea that, living so close to Mrs. Jarsell, and having an uncle who was helped by Mrs. Jarsell, the girl knew something about the Society of Flies. "Next year, the year after--I don't exactly know. It all depends upon my dear Freddy's success. We must have a home and an income. But I suppose we shall marry, sooner or later, and then Mrs. Jarsell can look after Uncle Solomon."
"Who is Mrs. Jarsell?" asked Lillian, artfully and cautiously. "She is an old lady who lives at The Grange with another old lady, her former governess, Miss Armour. Both are charming. If you are dull here, perhaps, Miss Moon, you would like to meet them?"
"Later, later," put in Mrs. Bolstreath, hurriedly, "thank you for the suggestion, Miss Vincent. Meanwhile, we wish to explore the country. It is a charming neighborhood, although very quiet in many respects." Mildred agreed and then began to plan excursions to this place and that, with the idea of making the stay of the visitors at Sheepeak pleasant. So agreeably did she behave and took such trouble in designing trips that Mrs. Bolstreath revised her opinion and began to believe that so nice a girl could not possibly know anything of Mrs. Jarsell's doings, whatever knowledge her uncle might be possessed of. And Dan, walking at top speed along the high road in a vain attempt to quieten his mind, was convinced that the inventor had some such knowledge. The idea which had brought him to his feet, and had sent him out to work off his excitement, was that the inventor was responsible for Mrs. Jarsell's presence in London at unexpected moments. She financed him and retained him at her elbow, so to speak, that she might utilize his capabilities and his clever inventions. If, on the day of the London to York race, Mrs. Jarsell was at the Peacock Hotel about the hour of nine o'clock--as she certainly was, on the evidence of Mrs. Pelgrin, who had no obvious reason to tell a lie--she could not have got to London by train or motor in time to murder Durwin. Yet she was assuredly at Blackheath, if the cinematograph was to be believed. Dan had hitherto been puzzled to reconcile apparent impossibilities, but at tea-time the solution of the problem had suddenly flashed into his mind. Mrs. Jarsell had travelled to town on an aeroplane. "It is about one hundred and sixty miles from this place to town," muttered Dan, walking very fast, and talking aloud to himself in his excitement, "so she could accomplish that distance with ease in three hours, considering that Vincent's machine can fly at sixty miles in sixty minutes. He said so and I proved that he spoke truly when I experimented with the machine he lent me. Mrs. Jarsell was at the Peacock Hotel at nine o'clock, and the cinematograph showed she was at Blackheath at one o'clock. The race started then, and Durwin was killed shortly afterwards. Sixty miles an hour means one hundred and eighty miles in three hours. Say she started at half-past nine--which she could easily do, leaving Mrs. Pelgrin immediately for Vincent's place--she could reach London by half-past twelve, if not earlier, seeing she had just one hundred and sixty miles to go. There would be no difficulty in her reaching Blackheath and stabbing Durwin at the time the death took place." Halliday was convinced that in this way the miracle of Mrs. Jarsell had taken place. No other means of transit could have landed her at the place where Durwin had met with his death. Of course, this assumption intimated that Mrs. Jarsell was an accomplished aviator, and that there had been no hitch in the journey from Sheepeak to Blackheath. But these were not impossibilities, for Vincent probably had taught the woman how to fly, and perhaps had handled the machine himself. There was room for two in the aeroplane, as Dan very well knew, since he had taken Penn for a flight himself, and the vehicle used was probably built on the same lines as the one lent. Since aviation was yet in its infancy, there was certainly a possibility that such a journey could not take place without accidents or hindrance. But, as inferior machines had accomplished greater distances, Dan quite believed that Mrs. Jarsell, with or without Vincent as pilot, had reached London in one smooth stretch of flying. On other occasions she might not have been so successful, but on this one she probably had, for to get to Blackheath in time to commit the crime, it would have been necessary for her to use rightfully every second of the given time. No wonder with such a means of transit at her disposal she could prove an advantageous alibi, when occasion demanded. Also, since the late conquest of the air afforded her the opportunity of swift travelling, greatly in excess of other human inventions, it was quite reasonable that she should live so far from the scene of her criminal exploits. Thinking thus, Halliday stumbled across the very person who was in his thought. He rushed with bent head along the roads and unconsciously mounted towards the vast spaces of the moorlands, stretching under gray skies. Thus--and he swiftly decided that the collision was meant--he ran into Mrs. Jarsell, who approached in the opposite direction. She laughed and expostulated, as if Dan was in the wrong, although she must have seen him coming, and the road was wide enough for her to move to one side. "Really, Mr. Halliday, you require the whole country to move in," said Mrs. Jarsell in her heavy way, and with an affectation of joviality. "I--I--I beg your pardon," stammered Dan, not quite himself, and stared at her as though she had suddenly risen out of the earth. Indeed, so far as he was concerned, she had done so, ignorant as he was of her approach. The woman was arrayed in her favorite white, but, as the day was chilly, she wore a voluminous cloak of scarlet silk quilted and padded and warm both in looks and wear. Her black eyes, set in her olive-hued face, peered from under her white hair as watchfully as ever. At the present moment, her heavy countenance wore an expression of amusement at the startled looks of the young man, and she commented on them with ponderous jocularity. "One would think I was a ghost, Mr. Halliday. You will admit that I am a very substantial ghost," and she shook her silver-mounted cane playfully at him. "I didn't expect to meet you here," said Dan, drawing a deep breath, and thinking how best he could introduce the subject of Lillian. "Nor did I expect to meet you," responded Mrs. Jarsell, still phlegmatically playful. "Have you risen from the earth, or dropped from the skies? I did not even know that you were in the neighborhood." Dan grimly decided that this last statement was false, since he had been a whole two days at the Peacock Hotel, and he was certain Mrs. Jarsell must have heard of his visit. Also of the ladies sheltering under Mrs. Pelgrin's wing, for in the country gossip is more prevalent than in town. "I came up for a day or two, or three or four," said Dan, still staring. "You don't appear to be very decided in your own mind," rejoined Mrs. Jarsell, dryly, and sat down on a large block of granite, which was embedded amongst the heather; "our neighborhood evidently has a fascination for you," her eye searched his face carefully. "I am pleased, as we are proud of our scenery hereabouts. Those who come once, come twice; quite a proverb, isn't it? Is your friend, Mr. Laurance, with you?"
"Not on this occasion," answered Dan, coolly, and coming to the point. "I came with two ladies, Miss Moon and her companion. They are stopping at the Peacock Hotel for a short time."
"Miss Moon! Miss Moon!" mused Mrs. Jarsell, "oh, yes, the young lady you are engaged to marry. The daughter of that poor man who was murdered." "You have an excellent memory, Mrs. Jarsell."
"We have little to exercise our memories in this dull place," said the woman graciously, and with a motherly air, "you don't ask after Miss Armour, I observe. That is very unkind of you, as you are a great favorite with her."
"Miss Armour is my very good friend," responded Halliday, cautiously, "and so are you, since you induced Mr. Vincent to lend me the aeroplane."
"I am as glad that I did that as I am sorry you lost the race, Mr. Halliday."
"Fortune of war," said Dan, lightly, "we can't always be successful you know, Mrs. Jarsell. I wish you had seen the start; it was grand."
"I wish I had," said the woman, lying glibly, "but it was impossible for me to leave Miss Armour on that day, as she had bad health. In fact, Mr. Vincent wished to go also and see how his machine worked; but he could not get away either. Still," added Mrs. Jarsell, with a cheerful air, "perhaps it is as well, so far as I am concerned, that I could not go. Aviation seems to be very dangerous, and I should have been afraid for your safety."
"Oh, I shall never come to harm in the air, I hope," responded Dan, with emphasis, "you must let me take you up some day." Mrs. Jarsell shuddered. "I should be terrified out of my wits," she protested, "fancy a heavy woman, such as I am, trying to emulate a bird. Why, I am quite sure I would fall and smash like an egg, even supposing there is any machine capable of bearing my none too trifling weight."
"Oh, I think there is, Mrs. Jarsell. Some machines can carry two, you know, and lately in France an aviator took five or six people from one given point to another. It is quite safe." Mrs. Jarsell shook her head seriously. "I think not, since aviation is yet in its infancy. In five years, if I live as long, I may venture, but now--no, thank you, Mr. Halliday."
"Most ladies are afraid, certainly. Even Miss Moon, who is plucky, will not let me take her for a fly."
"Miss Moon, of course. I was quite forgetting her. I hope you will bring her to see me and Miss Armour."
"If she stays here, certainly. But I think of returning to town to-morrow, so I may not be able to bring her. I daresay Mrs. Bolstreath will, however," ended Dan, quite certain in his own mind that the chaperon would find some good excuse to avoid the visit. "I shall be delighted," Mrs. Jarsell murmured vaguely, "how have you been, Mr. Halliday, since I saw you last?" It seemed to Dan that she asked this question with intention, and he was entirely willing to give her a frank answer. In frankness, as in taking Lillian under the guns of the enemy, lay the safety of both. Halliday was convinced of this. "I have been rather worried," he said, slowly, and with a side-glance at Mrs. Jarsell's watchful face. "I had an adventure."
"I love adventures," replied the woman, heavily, "and this one?"
"Well. I was hustled into a taxi-cab and carried in a drugged condition to some place where I met with a collection of scoundrels. A kind of murder-gang, you might call it, who slay, blackmail, and thieve for the sake of power."
"Rather a strange reason," said Mrs. Jarsell, equably, and not at all moved, "I should say the reason was for money."
"That, with power," explained Dan, "but, indeed, this society appears to be governed on wonderful principles, such as one would ascribe to honest men."
"In what way?" Mrs. Jarsell was quite curious in a detached manner. "Well, the members are chaste and sober and industrious."
"They must be virtuous. You are describing a society of saints."
"Quite so; only these saints apply their virtues to crime. They have a head who is called Queen Beelzebub." Mrs. Jarsell shuddered and drew lines on the dust of the road with her cane slowly and carefully. "Did you see her?" she asked, "it's a horrid name, full of horrid possibilities."
"No, I did not see her or anyone," said Dan, frankly, "the room was in darkness save for a red light around Queen Beelzebub's mask."
"Oh, this person wore a mask! How did you know she was a woman?"
"Well, you see, the name is Queen Beelzebub."
"That might be taken by a man to hide the truth."
"It might," admitted the other carelessly, "and, indeed, I don't think that any woman would have the nerve to belong to such a gang."
"I agree with you," said Mrs. Jarsell, gravely, "well, and what happened?"
"I was asked by Queen Beelzebub to join the gang and share the profits, which you may guess are large. I have a month to think over the matter." Mrs. Jarsell looked at him keenly. "Surely, you would never belong to such an organization," she said with a reproachful tone in her heavy voice. "Oh, I don't know. I have my own axe to grind like other people, and, if this gang helps me to grind it, I may consider the offer. Do I shock you, Mrs. Jarsell? Your voice sounded as though I did."
"You shock me more than I can say," she replied, decisively, "that an honest man should even think of such a thing is dreadful. This gang should be denounced to the police. I wonder you have not done so already." Dan shook his head and admired the cool, clever way in which she was playing a very dangerous game, though, to be sure, she was far from suspecting he guessed her connection with Queen Beelzebub. "I can't do that yet."
"What do you mean by--yet?" questioned Mrs. Jarsell, and this time there was a distinct note of alarm in her voice. "I risk death if I denounce the gang, not only to myself, but to Miss Moon. I am sure she and I would be killed as her father was killed, if I moved in the matter. Also, I am not sure of many things." Mrs. Jarsell, still drawing patterns, spoke thoughtfully. "I don't think you are wise to speak of this gang if it is so dangerous, even to a country mouse such as I am. Of course, I shall say nothing, as I have no one to say anything to, and if I had I should not speak. But if you talk to a stranger like me about things you were told to keep secret, you or Miss Moon may be murdered."
"I thought so a week ago," admitted Halliday, candidly. "Then you don't think so now."
"No. Not since Marcus Penn died." Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath and wriggled uneasily. "Who is Marcus Penn?"
"Well, he was the secretary of Sir Charles Moon, and afterwards he was the secretary of Lord Curberry. Now he's a corpse."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Jarsell, suddenly, "I wish you wouldn't talk of these horrible things. Has this gang----"
"Murdered him?" finished the young man, "yes, I believe so, although a verdict of suicide was brought in. But poor Penn's death may be the means of saving me and Miss Moon."
"Indeed!" the woman's tone became harsh and imperative, but she did not ask any questions. "Yes. He left a confession." Even the side-glance Dan sent in Mrs. Jarsell's direction showed him that her olive cheeks had turned to a dead white. However, she said nothing, although she moistened her lips slowly; so he went on easily, as if he were telling an idle story. "This confession was concealed in Lord Curberry's house, but Penn sent a note of its whereabouts to Miss Moon, who told me. I got the confession and placed it in safe keeping."
"That was wise," said Mrs. Jarsell, with an effort. "And the safe keeping?"
"Oh, I shall only tell the whereabouts of the confession and the name of the person who holds it when there is no necessity for the confession to be used."
"I don't see quite what you mean, Mr. Halliday."
"Well, you see, Mrs. Jarsell, I have to protect myself and Miss Moon from the machinations of the society. The person who holds the confession will not open the sealed envelope in which it is placed unless something happens to Miss Moon or to myself. Therefore, so long as no member of the gang hurts us, the secrets of the gang are quite safe." To his attentive ear it seemed that Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath of relief. With a command of herself which did her credit, she displayed no emotion, but observed playfully, "It is very clever of you and very wise to guard yourself in this way. Certainly the gang cannot hurt you in any way so long as there is danger of the confession being opened in the event of things happening to you or to Miss Moon. Suppose the confession is a very dreadful one, Mr. Halliday?"
"It is not so dreadful or so full as I should like it to be," said Dan, in his calmest manner, "but there is sufficient set down to warrant the interference of the authorities. If that confession comes into the hands of the Scotland Yard officials, they can lay hands on the gang;" he was bluffing when he said this, as he was not quite sure if Curberry had not let Mrs. Jarsell know that the confession--as Curberry thought--had been destroyed. "I think the police should know," said Mrs. Jarsell, rising. "Thank you for nothing," said Dan, following her example, "but, if I move in the matter, I run the risk of death. Besides, I may accept the offer of the society. Who knows?"
"Don't do that," implored Mrs. Jarsell, so earnestly that Dan was convinced Curberry had not told her of any confession, "it's so wicked."
"Perhaps it is. However, if the society leave me and Miss Moon alone, the confession won't be opened and the gang is safe. Otherwise----" "Otherwise the whole association will be exposed to the danger of arrest," said Mrs. Jarsell, lightly, "well, it sounds all very dreadful to a country lady as I am. I wish you had not told me. Why did you tell me?"
"Because," said Dan, ironically, "I look upon you as a friend." Mrs. Jarsell's face cleared and she smiled. "I am your friend," she said in an emphatic way, "and, believe me when I say that I am sure Miss Moon is safe."
"Thank you," replied Dan, agreeably, "I am sure also." Then they parted with mutual compliments, smiles and handshakes.