"Lies just outside the window, doesn't he?" Ralph asked.
He seemed to speak callously. A man who had passed through his experiences and emotions was not likely to feel for the loss of a dog. And yet there was intense curiosity in his tone.
"Just outside; close to the hives."
"Ah, yes. He was poisoned, you think?"
"I expect so. And yet where could he get the poison? Nobody comes here. Perhaps it was not poison after all."
A thin smile flickered on Ralph's face.
"Yes, it was," he said; "the dog was poisoned by a bee sting."
Geoffrey had no words for a time. Slowly the hideousness of the plot was beginning to beat in upon him. Mrs. May had mentioned bees to her mysterious companion, who had so remarkable a likeness to Marion, and by a strange chance Ralph Ravenspur had the same morning, at breakfast, mentioned a certain Asiatic bee, whose poison and whose honey were fatal to human life.
"Ah," said Geoffrey slowly, "the bees Mrs. May mentioned."
"Precisely, my boy. And the bees that I mentioned also. Tchigorsky found the dog but a minute or two ago. He slipped downstairs with me the minute we heard the wagonette drive away. He was very anxious to see the hives. Directly he caught sight of Tut lying there he knew what had happened. He has gone to my room for something. When he comes back he will have something to show you."
Tchigorsky entered the room a moment later. He had in his hand a small cardboard box with a glass lid. Inside something was buzzing angrily. It was an insect, the wings of which moved so rapidly that they seemed to scream, as a house fly does when the falces of a spider close upon him.
"Have a good look at it," Tchigorsky said curtly.
"Is it dangerous?" Geoffrey asked.
"One of the most deadly of winged insects," the Russian said. "It is a black bee from the forests near Lassa. There is a larger variety, whose sting produces the most horrible sufferings and death. This sort injectsa poison which stops the action of the heart like prussic acid, but without the rigidity caused by that poison. The Lassa black bee invades other bees' nests and preys on their honey. They frighten the other bees, which make no attempt to drive them out, but go on working as usual. Then gradually the whole hive gets impregnated with that poison, and an ordinary brown bee becomes as dangerous as a black one. This is the bee that killed your dog."
"Then the hives are already impregnated," Geoffrey cried.
"Precisely. Half a dozen of these black bees have been introduced into the hives. Now, do you begin to understand the malignity of the plot? Your dog was not dead when, with my net, I caught this fellow—I expected to catch him."
"And ran great risk in doing so."
"Of course. It was a recreation compared with some of the risks I have run."
"You are right there," Ralph said in his deep, croaking tones. "Look at the thing, Geoffrey."
With a shudder Geoffrey took the box in his hand. There was nothing formidable about the insect under the glass lid. It had more anger and fury, more "devil" than the ordinary bee, but it was very little larger, of a deep, lustrous black, with orange eyes and purple gauzy wings. There was nothing weird about it.
"Was it imported for the purpose?" Geoffrey asked.
"Undoubtedly," Ralph replied. "Imported by the woman who calls herself Mrs. May. Before she came over to England she must have had this house described to her with the greatest minuteness. Otherwise she could not have so many instruments ready to her hand; she would never have thought of these bees, for instance.
"If this scheme had not been discovered everybody in the house would have been stung before long, and every one assuredly would have died. Those black bees are exceedingly fierce, and do not hesitate to attack everybodyand everything. Their sting is so sharp and so minute that it leaves no mark and no pain. Half an hour passes, and then the victim falls down and dies."
Geoffrey regarded the specimen with new interest. He eyed it up and down as if examining a cobra through the glass sides of its prison house. Tchigorsky took the box and flattened the lid down until the insect within was no more than a red smash on the glass. A little later and the thing was pitched over the cliffs into the sea.
"It is a dreadful business," Geoffrey said. "And, indeed, it seems almost hopeless to try to combat foes so ruthless, so resourceful, and so daring as ours. No sooner are we out of one horror than we are into another."
"While life lasts there is always hope," said Tchigorsky.
"That's true," said Geoffrey, more cheerfully. "At any rate we can avert the danger now. But how are we going to get rid of those things?"
"We are going to catch them," said Tchigorsky grimly. "We shall have to destroy all the other bees, I am afraid, and we shall be compelled to let Miss Vera draw her own conclusions as to the cause of the mischief."
"And the honey, Mr. Tchigorsky?"
"Oh, the honey will be all right. That hasn't been stung, you know. I have tasted honey from a nest which the black bees have invaded, and have been none the worse for it. We had better surmise that for some inscrutable reason the bees have deserted their quarters. And we shall propose to know nothing at all about the matter. I flatter myself we shall puzzle the enemy as completely as our friends."
The matter was discussed in all its bearings until the light began to fail and the glow faded gradually from out of the sky.
Then, after locking the inner door of the morning room, Ralph produced two large gauze frames, some matches, and powdered sulphur. This, with a small bellows, completed the stock in trade.
Tchigorsky immediately set about his task in a workmanlike manner. The bees were all in the two hives by this time. Over the hole in front of each a square of muslin was fastened, a pile of sulphur in front was lighted, and the fumes were gently wafted into the hole with the aid of the pair of miniature bellows.
There was an angry murmur from within, the murmur of droning insects, then the quick scream of churning wings. The little strip of muslin was strained by alarmed and infuriated bees striving to escape. But not for long. Gradually the noise died down, and Tchigorsky signed to Geoffrey to help him carry the hive into the house.
There it was deposited on a table and the top lifted off. Instantly the gauze frame was placed over it, and with a brush Tchigorsky swept out the stagnant insects into a glass-topped box provided for the purpose. On the whole, there was not much danger, but it was just as well to be on the safe side.
"Not one left," said Tchigorsky, after he had made a careful investigation. "But it's quite as well to be certain. I've put those insects into the box, but I don't fancy that any of them will revive. Now for the other one."
The other hive was treated in similar fashion. There was no hitch and finally the frame was replaced as if nothing had happened, with the exception that the tiny occupants were no more. In the glass boxes, among the piles of dead bees, Geoffrey could see here and there the form of a black insect. From his coat pocket Tchigorsky produced some long, thin strips of lead, which he proceeded to wind round the boxes containing the bees.
"There," he exclaimed, "that job is done at last, and a nasty one it has been. To prevent any further mischief I'll just step across the terrace and throw these over into the sea. He moved off into the darkness, and as he did so there came the sound of a fresh young voice that startled Geoffrey and Ralph as if they had been criminals caught red-handed in some crime.
"Geoffrey, Geoffrey, where are you?" the voice cried.
Ralph stepped across and closed the window as Vera entered. It was quite dark outside, and Ralph hoped that Tchigorsky would see without being seen. Vera flashed a look of gentle reproach at her lover.
"How can you look me in the face after the way in which you have treated me?" she asked. "This is the first day's pleasure we have had for years, and you——"
"Did not care to leave Uncle Ralph," Geoffrey said. "He seemed so lonely that I felt I could not let him remain like this."
"Geoffrey is a good fellow," Ralph muttered.
Vera bent and kissed Geoffrey fondly. She smiled without any show of anger.
"I forgive him," she said. "Still, I did miss him. Where are you going, dear?"
"Across the terrace," Geoffrey replied. "I'll be in to supper directly. It's all ready, and there is Marion calling you. I'm coming."
Tchigorsky had crept to the window. He caught Geoffrey's eye and waved to him vigorously. It was a sign that he wanted assistance at once.
Geoffrey gave one glance at Ralph before he went. The latter nodded slightly and sharply, much as if he saw the look and perfectly comprehended it. Vera had disappeared at Marion's call. In the dining room beyond the servants were getting supper. From the distance came the pop of a cork.
Outside it was dark by this time. Geoffrey closed the window. He did not speak, but waited for Tchigorsky to give the sign. His feet touched something that gave out a faint metallic twang.
Geoffrey wondered. Did this mean burglars! He was certainly near to a wire which was stretched across the terrace, close to the ground. It was precisely the precaution taken by modern burglars to baffle capture in case of being disturbed during their predatory proceedings.
But burglars would not come to Ravenspur. A minute's reflection convinced Geoffrey of that. The name and horror of the house were known all over England. Everybody knew of the watch and ward kept there, and no burglar in his senses would risk what amounted to almost certain capture.
No, something far different was going on. And that something had been sprung hastily, for half an hour before these wires had not been there. Geoffrey waited with comfortable assurance that Tchigorsky was not far off.
A stealthy footstep crept toward him; a shadow crossed the gloom.
"Is that you, Tchigorsky?" Geoffrey whispered.
"Yes," came the reply. "There are hawks about. Listen."
A little way down the terrace something was moving. Geoffrey could hear what sounded to him like labored breathing, followed by a stifled cry of pain.
"The one hawk is wounded and the other has sheered off," said Tchigorsky.
"It sounds like a woman," said Geoffrey.
"It is a woman, my dear boy. And such a woman! Beautiful as the angels, fair as a summer's night. Clever! No words can paint her talents. And she is in the toils. She cries, but nobody heeds."
Again came the cry of pain. There was a flash and a spurt of flame as Tchigorsky struck a match and proceeded to light a lantern. He picked his way over the entanglement of wires; Geoffrey followed him.
"Who laid this labyrinth?" Geoffrey asked.
"Oh, a good and true assistant of ours, an old servant of your uncle's. We have more than one assistant, and Elphick is invaluable. We laid the trap for the bird, and she has broken her wing in it. Pity she had not broken her neck."
Geoffrey did not echo the last ferocious sentiment. He was aflame with curiosity. A little farther off in the dim path shown by the lantern's flare something dark lay huddled on the ground. There was a flash of white here and there, the shimmer and rustle of silken garments.
It might have been Geoffrey's fancy, but he seemed to hear a hurried whisper of voices, and saw something rise from the ground and hurry away. But the black and white heap remained. Tchigorsky flashed his lantern upon it. Geoffrey could just see that there was a strange malignant grin upon his face.
"A lady," he cried in affected astonishment. "Ravenspur, here is a lady! Madame permit me to tender you our assistance. You are in pain."
A white, defiant face looked up—a beautiful facedisfigured for the moment by evil passions. There was murder in the eyes. The woman seemed to have no consciousness of any one but Tchigorsky.
"It is you," she hissed. "ToujoursTchigorsky."
"Yes, it is I. But I have unfortunately forgotten your name. Strange that one should do so in the case of one so lovely and distinguished. You are——"
"Mrs. May. Mrs. Mona May."
She had caught sight of Geoffrey now and a smile came, forced to her lips.
"Mrs. Mona May," said Tchigorsky. He spoke in the same slightly mocking strain. "Mrs. Mona May. How stupid of me to forget. And yet in my muddled brain the name was so different."
Geoffrey bent over the woman anxiously.
"You are in pain," he said. "May I assist you?"
"Indeed, it is very kind of you, Mr. Ravenspur," Mrs. May replied. "I tripped over something. I have hurt my ankle."
"Barbed wire," said Tchigorsky. "Laid down to trap—er—burglars."
"But on no other occasion——"
Mrs. May paused and bit her lips. Tchigorsky smiled. He understood what she was going to say. On no other occasion when she had been here had she encountered a similar obstacle.
Geoffrey was frankly puzzled.
"How did you get here?" he asked. "When the gates are closed——"
"But they were not closed an hour ago when I slipped into the yard," was the reply. "I am ashamed to say that I allowed sheer vulgar curiosity to get the better of me, and now I am properly punished for my error of taste."
"Nothing but curiosity," Tchigorsky murmured. "My dear Ravenspur, you may dismiss any unworthy suspicions from your mind. The glamor of your name and the fatal romance that clings to your race have provedtoo much for the most charming and most tender-hearted of her sex."
"I have no suspicions at all," said Geoffrey.
"Of course not," Tchigorsky spoke in the same mocking way. The light yet keen sarcasm was lost on Geoffrey, but the other listener understood. "Mrs. May would not injure a living creature—not a fly or a bee."
The white face flashed again. By this time the woman was on her feet. One foot she found it almost impossible to put to the ground.
"Get a conveyance and take me home," she moaned.
"Perish the thought," Tchigorsky cried. "Would the Ravenspurs outrage the sacred name of hospitality like that? Circumstances compel the life of the cloister and the recluse, but there are limits. Suspicious as the family must be, I am sure they would not fear an unfortunate lady with a sprained ankle."
"Of course not," Geoffrey observed. "I will go and prepare them."
He had read that suggestion in Tchigorsky's eyes. Heedless of Mrs. May's protests, he had vanished toward the house. Tchigorsky had stooped and taken the woman in his arms as if she had been a child.
"What a precious burden!" he said. "Scarred and battered, old Tchigorsky is a fortunate man, madam. There, you need not struggle; your little fluttering heart has no occasion to beat like that. I am not going to throw you over the cliffs."
The last few words were uttered in tones of smothered ferocity.
"You are a devil," the woman muttered.
"Ay, you are right there. Never was the devil stronger in my heart than he is at this moment. Never was I more tempted to pitch you over the terrace into the sea. But there is worse than that waiting for you."
"What are you going to do with me?"
"I am going to carry you into the house; I am going to introduce you formally to the family of Ravenspur.I am doing you a kindness. Think how useful the information afforded you will be later!"
"You are certainly the boldest man in England."
"As you are the most utterly abandoned and unscrupulous woman. I can only die once. But I am not going to die before I see you and your hellspawn all hanged."
"Why don't you denounce me now?"
"Madam, I never did care for unripe fruit. The pear is ripening on the tree, and I will pluck it when the time comes."
Tchigorsky pushed the window of the morning room open and laid his burden down on a couch.
Almost immediately Rupert Ravenspur, followed by Mrs. Gordon and Geoffrey, came into the room. Ralph was already there. Geoffrey proceeded to explain and make the necessary introduction.
"And who is this gentleman?" Rupert Ravenspur demanded, his eye on Tchigorsky.
"A friend of mine," Ralph put in, "Dr. Tchigorsky."
Ravenspur bowed, not that he looked overpleased.
"Permit me to place my hospitality at your disposal," he said. "It is many years since we entertained at Ravenspur, nor do we, in ordinary circumstances, desire them. At present I cannot do less than make you welcome. Madame, I regret that your curiosity should have ended so disastrously."
"I am properly punished," Mrs. May groaned. "My poor foot!"
In the presence of pain and suffering even Ravenspur's displeasure disappeared. Mrs. Gordon proceeded to cut away the high French boot and bathe the small foot in warm water. Almost immediately Mrs. May declared the pain to have passed away. There were tears in her eyes—tears that moved some of the onlookers.
"I am sure I don't deserve this," she said. "I have behaved so abominably that I really don't know what to say."
"Say nothing," Mrs. Gordon replied simply and gently, "but come in to supper. I understand that you are staying at Jessop's farm. A message shall be sent them that you will not return till morning. Meanwhile, if you will lean on me we will manage to reach the dining room."
The procession started. In the doorway stood Vera. She came forward with a speech of condolence. Tchigorsky was watching the pair. There was a hard gleam in his eyes; the clenching of his hand as over the hilt of a dagger. Beyond, with a face white as her dress, stood Marion.
She staggered against the table as she saw Mrs. May. Her face was full of terror. Geoffrey wondered what it all meant. And was this the wildest comedy or the direst tragedy that was working out before his eyes?
Of the real palpitating horror of the situation only three people round the table knew the true inwardness. They were Tchigorsky and Ralph and Mrs. May. Geoffrey guessed much, and probably Marion could have said a deal had she cared to. Her face was smiling again, but the uneasy, haunted look never left her eyes. And all through the elaborate, daintily served meal Mrs. May never glanced at the girl once.
And yet, here under the Ravenspur roof, partaking of the family hospitality, was the evil itself. Ralph smiled to himself grimly as he wondered what his father would say if he knew the truth.
Once or twice as he spoke Mrs. May glanced at him curiously. She was herself now; she might have been an honored guest at that table for years.
"Your face is oddly familiar to me," she said.
"I regret I cannot say the same," Ralph replied. "I am blind."
"But you have not always been blind?"
"No. But my misfortune dates back for a number of years. It is a matter that I do not care to discuss with anybody."
But Mrs. May was not to be baffled. She had an odd feeling that this man and herself had met before. The face was the same, and yet not the same.
"Were you ever in Tibet?" she asked.
"I had a brother who once went there," Ralph replied. "I am accounted like him. It is possible you may have met my brother, madam."
The speech was sullen, delivered with a stupid air that impressed Mrs. May that she had nothing to fear from him. And yet the words had a curious effect on her. Her face changed color and for the first time she glanced at Marion. The girl was trembling; she was ashy grey to her lips. Tchigorsky, observing, smiled.
"Tibet is a wonderful country," he said, "and Lassa a marvelous city. I had some of my strangest experiences there. I and another man, since dead, penetrated all the secrets of the Holy City. It was only by a miracle that I escaped with my life. But these I will carry to my grave."
He indicated the scars on his face. Vera was profoundly interested.
"Tell me something of your adventures there," she said.
"Some day, perhaps," Tchigorsky replied. "For the most part they were too horrible. I could tell you all about the beasts and birds and insects. I see you have some bees outside, Miss Vera. Did you ever see Tibet bees?"
"Are they different to ours?" Vera asked.
Tchigorsky glanced up. Mrs. May was regarding him with more than a flattering interest. A slight smile, almost a defiance, parted her lips. Marion was looking down at her plate, crumbling a piece of bread absently. "Some of them," said Tchigorsky. "Some are black, for instance. I have a place in Kent where I dabble in that kind of thing. I have a few of the bees with me."
Tchigorsky took a small box from his pocket and laid it on the table. Vera inspected the black bees for a moment and then handed them back to Tchigorsky.
By accident or design he let the box fall, the lid flew open, and immediately half a dozen sable objects were buzzing in the air.
A yell of terror broke from Mrs. May, a yell that rang to the roof. She jumped to her feet only to sink again with the pain of the injured limb. She seemed to havelost all control of herself; she turned and addressed Tchigorsky in some liquid tongue that conveyed nothing to any one except that she was denouncing the Russian in a fury of passionate anger.
Geoffrey had risen, too, greatly alarmed. From the head of the table, Ralph Ravenspur coolly demanded to know what it was all about.
"The man is mad," Mrs. May screamed. "He is a dangerous lunatic. Those are the black bees of Tibet. They are the most fearsome of insects. Ah!"
One of the droning objects dropped on her hand, and she yelled again. She was a picture of abject and pitiable terror.
"I am doomed, doomed," she moaned. "Killed by a careless madman."
"Is there any danger?" Geoffrey demanded.
Only the life led among so many perils caused the family to wait calmly for the next and most dramatic development. Perhaps the way in which Tchigorsky was behaving gave them confidence. If he was a madman, as Mrs. May asserted, then the madman was wonderfully calm and placid.
"You are alarming yourself unnecessarily," he said. "See here."
He reached over and took the bee from Mrs. May's arm. The insect had become entangled in her sleeve and was buzzing angrily.
"The little creature is furious," he said. "As a matter of fact, they are always more or less furious. If there is any danger there is danger now."
He held the bee lightly in his hand. Then he released it.
"The stings have been removed," he said. "I bred these myself, and I know how to treat them. I am sorry to have caused a disturbance."
He spoke with serious, earnest, politeness, but there was a mocking light in his eyes as he turned upon Mrs. May. Nobody had a thought or a glance for anybodyelse, and the spectacle of Marion lying back half fainting in her chair passed unnoticed.
"Then they are usually dangerous?" Vera asked.
"My dear young lady, they are dreadful," Tchigorsky explained. "They invade other nests and eat the honey as they might have invaded your hives. By way of experiment I tried one of these on your hives to-night, and your bees seemed to recognize an enemy at once. They all deserted their hives and not one of them has returned. As some amends for what I have done I am going to send you two of the finest swarms in England."
Vera shuddered.
"I shall never want to see a bee again," she said.
Once more the eyes of Tchigorsky and Mrs. May met. She knew well that Tchigorsky was talking at her through the rest, and that in his own characteristic way he was informing her that the last plot had failed. With a queer smile on her face she proceeded to peel a peach.
"You are so horribly clever," she said, "that I feel half afraid of you. But I don't suppose we shall meet again."
"Not unless you come to Russia," said Tchigorsky, "whither I start to-morrow. But I am leaving my affairs in competent hands."
Again was the suggestion of a threat; again Mrs. May smiled. The smile was on her face long after the three most interested in the tragedy had left the dining hall and gone to the billiard room for a smoke.
"Are you really leaving us?" Geoffrey asked.
"I want Mrs. May to imagine so," said Tchigorsky. "In a day or two her spies will bring her information that I have left England. As a matter of fact, I have succeeded in tapping a vein of information that has baffled me for a long time.
"Still, I am not going away and my disguise will be the one you saw me in. If luck goes well I shall be attached to Mrs. May in the character of a native servant before long. So if you see any suspicious-looking Asiaticprowling about, don't put a bullet into him, for you may kill me by mistake."
Geoffrey smiled and promised.
"That was a rare fright you gave Mrs. May over the bees," he said. "How did you manage it?"
Tchigorsky smiled as he lighted a cigarette.
"I stole them from the woman's spare supply," he said. "I have been all over her possessions to-day. I almost suffocated the horrible little things and removed their stings. Of course, they won't live many hours. I did it in a spirit of mischief, intending to release them in my lady's own sitting room. I couldn't resist the temptation to try her nerves to-night."
"You are getting near the truth?" Geoffrey asked.
"Very near it. We want certain evidence to bring the whole gang into the net, and then we shall strike—if they don't murder us first. But——"
The speaker paused as Vera entered the room.
"Where is Mrs. May?" Geoffrey asked.
"She has gone to her room," Vera explained. "Her foot is so painful that she has decided to accept an invitation to spend the night here."
"Good," Tchigorsky muttered. "It could not have been better."
The woman known as Mrs. Mona May had lost no time in adapting herself to circumstances. That she had found her way on to the terrace for no good purpose was known to three people, although in all probability she imagined that Tchigorsky alone was acquainted with her designs.
He had laid a trap for her and to a certain extent he had forced her hand. But she was too brilliant and unscrupulous a woman not to be able to turn misfortune to her own advantage. And was she not here——here a guest among those who for some reason she hated from her soul?
Why, it matters not for the present. From Mrs. May's point of view Tchigorsky alone knew, and Tchigorsky was going away ere long. But whether Tchigorsky remained or not, Mrs. Mona May could defy him to prove that she was in any way connected with the misfortunes of the Ravenspurs.
Once the man she had most reason to dread had withdrawn to the billiard room, the adventuress lost no time in ingratiating herself with her involuntary hosts.
This was the woman with whom Geoffrey had dined. Vera regarded her curiously. She was very beautiful and fascinating. She had a manner that attracted. Her conversation was bright and interesting.
"You must not mind me," she said to Vera. "And you must not grudge me a little of your lover's company."
Vera blushed divinely.
"How did you guess that?" she asked.
"Oh, there are signs, my dear. I have had my own romance and I know. But women of my age can never really rival young girls like yourself. We lack the one great charm."
"I should not have thought so," said Vera.
Mrs. May patted the girl playfully on the cheek.
"That is a very pretty compliment," she replied. "But it does not alter facts. A woman of forty may be fascinating. She has the brilliant parts. But, alas! it is only once that she can possess youth."
The speaker turned away with a gentle sigh and began to discuss the art treasures in the drawing room with Mrs. Gordon. All the time Marion had held coldly aloof from the stranger.
"You are not like yourself to-night," Vera murmured.
Marion's dark eyes were lifted. There were purple rings under those eyes and a hunted expression on the white face. It was the face of one who has seen a terror that it is impossible to forget.
"Am I not?" she said indifferently. "Perhaps so."
"Don't you like that woman?" Vera asked.
"Frankly, I don't," Marion admitted. "But there are reasons. Strange that you don't recognize the likeness between us. Geoffrey did at once."
Vera started. Strange, indeed, that she had not noticed it before. And, now that Marion had spoken the likeness was surprising. Making allowance for the disparity of years, the two faces were the same.
"Is there another mystery?" Vera asked.
Marion smiled like her old self.
"Indeed there is," she confessed. "But it is a poor, vulgar little thing beside your family mystery. Mrs. May is a connection of mine. As a matter of fact, she is closely related to my mother's family. She is not a good woman, and I hope you will see as little of her as possible."
"But I suppose she came to see you?"
"Oh! dear no. She would never have done that. She knows perfectly well that I should strongly oppose her coming here. Beyond question, her taking up her residence for the benefit of her health in this village was simply a coincidence."
Vera looked closely at the visitor.
"Mrs. May doesn't look like an invalid," she said.
"She doesn't. It is her heart. Any sudden excitement might be fatal to her. Is it not strange that I have the seeds of the same complaint?"
"You, Marion? I never heard that before. And you are here!"
"Oh, yes, I am here. A bad place for heart troubles, you would say. But I am young and strong. I merely made the remark—perhaps it would have been better had I not said anything about it."
Mrs. May was talking. She protested gently against the trouble she was causing. Indeed, there was no reason why she should not have gone back to her farm. Still, her kind friends were so very pressing she would stay the night. But she must be up and away early in the morning. She had pressing business, tiresome law business, to see to in York.
"And now I am not going to keep you up any longer," she said with a brilliant smile. "Who will help me upstairs? Will you, dear?"
She had risen to her feet and approached Marion. The girl seemed to shrink back; it looked as if she was being dragged into some painful undertaking. Then the natural sweetness of her disposition conquered her dislike.
"If you think I can manage it," she said.
Mrs. May hobbled upstairs, leaning on Marion's shoulder, chatting gaily. The latter helped her into the room set apart for the involuntary guest and at a sign closed the door. All her smiles and pretty feminine blandishments vanished; her eyes were dark and hard; her manner was cold and stinging.
"You fool," hissed Mrs. May. "This is a nice thing you have done!"
Marion smiled wearily. She seemed to have suddenly fallen under the mantle of years. She dropped into a chair like somebody old and weary.
"What have I done?" she asked.
"Fallen in love with Geoffrey Ravenspur."
The words came like a blow. Marion staggered under them.
"I deny it," she said weakly. "It is false."
"It is true, you idiot. You are blushing like a rose. And to-night, when that fiend Tchigorsky played that fool's trick upon us you had no eyes for any one but Geoffrey. Frightened as I was, I could see that. Your looks betrayed you. What are you going to do about it?"
Marion shook her head sadly. Never had any one at Ravenspur ever seen her look so forlorn and dejected as she did at this moment.
"I don't know," she said hopelessly. "I know what I ought to do. I ought to kill you and throw myself into the sea afterwards. Why should I go on leading my present life? Why should I shield you? What are you? What are you to me?"
"You dare ask me that question?"
"Oh! I dare anything in my present mood. Still, I am in your power. You have only to say the word and it is done."
"Then why do you take every means of thwarting me?"
Marion rose and crossed over to the door. Her eyes were shining. There was a certain restless motion of her hands.
"Take care," she whispered. "Don't drive me too far. Oh, if I could only live the last four years of my life over again!"
Ralph Ravenspur, with Tchigorsky and Geoffrey, sat smoking in the billiard room until Vera came in to say good-night and drive them off to bed. As they were about to separate at the head of the stairs Ralph gave them a sign to follow him.
"Come to my room for half an hour," he said.
The others complied. Tchigorsky slipped away for a while, and on his return he laid the end of a long silk thread on the white table cover.
"Part of a little scheme," he said. "This is one end of the silk thread. Where the other end is matters nothing for the present. Ralph, everybody has retired?"
"Everybody," Ralph replied as he filled his pipe.
"I fancy you said that no servants sleep in the house."
"They have not done so for a long time," Geoffrey explained. "Not that we entertain the least suspicion of any of them. We merely made the change for safety's sake."
Tchigorsky nodded his approval. He arranged the silk thread neatly on the table, coiling the end round a daisy pattern worked into the damask cloth.
"For Mrs. May's benefit?" Geoffrey asked.
"Precisely," Tchigorsky said gravely. "I take a great interest in her."
Geoffrey smoked a whole cigarette before he spoke again.
"By the way," he exclaimed, "who and what is Mrs. May?"
"The devil fairly disguised," Ralph croaked. "Abeautiful Mephistopheles, a fascinating Beelzebub, a dark-eyed fiend, a—a——"
He pulled up choking with all-consuming rage. His arm was sawing the air as if feeling for the white throat of his lovely foe.
"Steady, there," Tchigorsky muttered. "Steady, Ralph, my friend. Shall we enlighten Master Geoffrey a little as to the kind of woman she is?"
Ralph nodded over his pipe.
"If you like," he said. "Only the tale shall be yours. When I come to think of it, I go out of my mind, as I did that night in the Black Valley. Tell him, Tchigorsky; tell him by all means—but not all."
"Ay, ay, I shall know where to leave off. I'll sit here where I can watch the table. I am interested in that silk thread. So long as it remains simply coiled up there I can go on talking. When it moves——"
"You are wasting time," Geoffrey suggested.
"True. But to make amends I am going to interest you from the very outset. Doubtless you are curious to know the meaning of those scars on my face and on the face of your uncle. Lately he has managed artistically to disguise his for reasons that will appear later. There was nothing to gain by hiding mine and pretty ugly they are.
"These scars were branded on us both at the same time by the priests of the great temple in the hills beyond Lassa. Three of us had penetrated there, but the other one knew nothing of the mysteries of Buddha, for the simple reason that he was the servant of your uncle—one Elphick by name. Elphick is doing good work for us elsewhere, but you shall see him in time.
"Now, these two men, who had disguised themselves as Buddhist priests and had penetrated all the mysteries of that most mysterious creed, had made a boast two years before at Lahore of what they meant to do. And the words of their vaporings were carried to the ears of a woman who was a Brahmin, though it appeared asif she had abandoned her religion and had married an Englishman.
"This Englishman had been to Lassa himself and, when a girl, his wife had fallen in love with him and he married her. There was a good deal of scandal about it at the time, but there are so many scandals in India that this one was quickly buried under a layer of other slanders. Some said that that officer had managed to pick up some of the holiest mysteries of Buddha, and that the lovely native had married him to close his lips. Certainly, he would never speak of Lassa and when the place was mentioned he always showed signs of agitation.
"Well, we went. We were not afraid. Both of us knew the East, we spoke many languages, we could assume any disguise. And in a short time, as honored pilgrims from a far land, we were free of the holy temple in the hills beyond Lassa. Soon we were picking up all the mysteries."
"Are there any mysteries?" Geoffrey asked.
Ralph gave a quick barking laugh like the snap of a pistol shot. All this time his grave, wooden smile never relaxed.
"Ay," Tchigorsky went on, "mysteries! The things we saw and the things we learned would have driven many a strong man mad. Occult sciences! What do we know of them? I tell you the greatest man who walks the earth, a whole regiment of the finest scientists in Europe, would be a set of chattering monkeys alongside a Buddhist priest. We have seen the dead rise from their graves and heard them speak. We came near to learn the secret of eternal life. And yet everlasting life and the unveiling of the future would not tempt me there again."
Tchigorsky's voice had fallen to a harsh whisper. As Geoffrey glanced at Ralph he saw that the latter's face was bathed in a profound perspiration.
"We were thus situated for some months," Tchigorsky resumed. "Gradually every mystery connected withlife and death was opening up before us, and the secret of universal knowledge was within our grasp. Then one day there was a commotion in the city, and we found that there was to be a great feast in honor of a princess of the royal blood who had come back to Lassa after a long pilgrimage. We were bidden to that feast and had places of honor near to the seat of the princess.
"She came in presently, gorgeously attired in flowing robes and strings of diamonds and emeralds in her hair. She was a magnificent creature. I have seen many a native queen on her throne, but none to compare with that woman who sat flashing her lovely eyes round the table.
"As I looked at her again and again I had an odd feeling that I had seen her before. I turned to speak to Ralph here and beheld with distended eyes and dropped jaw that he was regarding the princess.
"'What is it?' I asked. 'Do you know her, too?'
"Ralph whispered a few words in my ear—a few pungent words that turned me cold. And what he saw was this. In the princess we had the woman from Lahore—the woman who had forsaken her tribe to marry an English officer. We had heard before that she was in the habit of going away for long periods, and we knew that her husband must have possessed himself of Buddhist secrets, perhaps sacred Buddhist script, or that woman would never have been allowed to come and go like this.
"Had she married an Englishman in the ordinary way and subsequently returned to Lassa, she would have been torn to pieces. She had been granted absolution on purpose to wrest those secrets from the Englishman who had stolen them. And we two had boasted in the hearing of this woman that we were going to learn those secrets for ourselves.
"Would she recognize us? That was the question. Remember that we were most carefully disguised, we spoke the language without flaw, we had the same tale to tell—a tale that we had rehearsed over and over again.There was no reason why we should not pass muster.
"Hope began to revive. Then I looked up and caught that woman's eye and she smiled. I dream of that smile sometimes at night, and wake up cold and wet and shivering from head to foot. Not that I have more fear than most men, but then I had seen men put to death in Tibet. The torture of the wheel would be a pleasant recreation alongside of death like that.
"We were recognized. No need to tell us that. Doubtless that woman had followed us step by step, giving us all the latitude we required, and now she had come to teach us the pains and penalties attaching to our office. She favored us with no further glance until the feast had concluded and what passes for music had begun, when she honored both of us with a summons to her side.
"Of course, we went. In the circumstances there was nothing else to do. She made room for us; she smiled dazzlingly upon us. And then slowly and deliberately, as a cat with a mouse, she began to play with us.
"'I speak to you thus,' she said, 'because there are others who seek for the secrets of the faith. There were two Christian dogs who came up from Lahore. One was called Tchigorsky, the other was called Mayton' (Mayton was your uncle Ralph's pseudonym, Geoffrey), 'and they boasted what they were going to do. They knew the language, they said. And, behold, the one called Tchigorsky was very like you, holy man.'
"It was coming. I bowed gravely as if the comparison was not pleasing to me. A wild yell of hysterical laughter came to my lips, but I managed to suppress that. There were no knives on the table, and I had not dared to use my revolver. Had there been a knife on the table I should have stabbed that woman to the heart and taken the consequences.
"But your revolver, Tchigorsky," Geoffrey suggested.
"My dear boy, holy fathers and shining lights of the Buddhist faith do not carry Regulation Army revolvers," Tchigorsky said grimly. "All I could do was to wait."
"'Did you know those English at Lahore?' the princess asked.
"I disclaimed the knowledge, saying that at that time I was in Cawnpore. Then being closely questioned, I proceeded to give a detailed history of the movements of myself and my companion for the last year or so. I was lying glibly and easily, but I had no comfort from the knowledge. It was easy to see that not one word was believed, and that I was walking into the trap.
"'At Dargi you were,' said the princess. 'What are the five points of the temple there?'
"For the life of me I could not tell her. As a matter of fact, I had never been near Dargi in my life. And the question was one that any Buddhist who had been there would have answered offhand.
"'I have forgotten,' I answered as calmly as possible. 'I have a bad memory. I forget all kinds of things.'
"Those dark eyes seemed to look me all through.
"'You will forget your own name next,' the princess said.
"'I'll remember that,' I replied. 'I am Rane el Den, at your service.'
"Then came the reply in excellent English. 'Your name is Sergius Tchigorsky, and your companion is Ralph James Mayton. I have found you out. I have only to raise my hand and your fate is sealed.'
"It was all over. I said nothing. I asked no pity. Pity! You might as well strive to soften the heart of the wounded tiger that has you down with a handful of nuts. Then I——"
Tchigorsky paused. His eyes were on the table. He pointed to the silken thread that was slowly moving in the direction of the door.
"Hush!" he said softly. "Blow out the light."
Intensely interested as he was in the story that Tchigorsky had to tell, Geoffrey nevertheless watched the slowly moving thread on the table. Gradually and very slowly the silken tag began to draw away from the pattern on the tablecloth, Tchigorsky following it with grim eyes.
"You find it strange?" he asked Geoffrey.
"Strange and thrilling," Geoffrey replied. "It appeals to the imagination. Some tragedy may be at the other end of that innocent-looking thread."
"There may be; there would be if I were not here. We are dealing with a foe whose cunning and audacity know no bounds. You see I have been among the foe and know something of their dealings."
A passionate anger rose up in Geoffrey as he watched the gliding thread.
"Then why not drop upon them?" he cried. "Why not produce your proofs and hand the miscreants over to the police?"
"What good would that do?" Tchigorsky replied. "Could we prove that the foe had had a direct hand in the tragedies of the past? Could we demonstrate to the satisfaction of a jury that Mrs. May and her confederates were responsible for those poisoned flowers or the bees? And if we get them out of the way there are others behind them. No, no; they must be taught a lesson; they must know that we are all-powerful. And they must feel the weight of our hands. Then the painful family scandal——"
"You are going too far," Ralph interrupted warningly.
Tchigorsky checked himself after a glance at Geoffrey.
"I am not to be told everything," he said. "Why?"
"Because we dare not," Ralph murmured. "It is not that we cannot trust you, but because we dare not."
With this Geoffrey was fain to be content. By this time the thread had left the table, and was lying on the floor.
"The other end is tied to Mrs. May's door," Tchigorsky explained. "When that door was cautiously opened, of course, the thread moved. Geoffrey, you stay here. Ralph, will you go up by the back staircase and get up to the corridor. Wait there."
"Is there danger?" Geoffrey whispered.
"Not now," said Tchigorsky, "but this audacity passes all bounds. That woman had planned to strike a blow at the very moment when she was enjoying the hospitality of this roof. The boldness of it would have averted all suspicion from her. One of the family mysteriously disappears and is never heard of again. In the morning not one lock or bolt or bar is disturbed. And yet the member of the family is gone. England would have been startled by the news to-morrow."
"You heard all this?" Geoffrey cried.
"Yes," Tchigorsky said quietly. "That disguise I showed you was useful to me. It is going to be more useful still."
"But the danger! It must be averted," Geoffrey whispered.
Already Tchigorsky was leaving the room. The lamp had been extinguished, after taking care to place a box of matches close beside it. In the darkness Geoffrey waited, tingling to his finger tips with suppressed excitement.
Meanwhile, Tchigorsky felt his way along in the darkness. He was counting his steps carefully. He reached a certain spot and then stopped. Ralph strolled downthe back staircase, and thence down a flagged passage into the hall, where he climbed the stairs.
Light and darkness, it was all the same to him. There was nobody in the house who could find his way about as well as he.
Then he waited for the best part of half an hour. He could hear queer sounds coming from one of the bedrooms, a half cry in light feminine tones, a smothered protest and then the suggestion of a struggle. Yet Ralph never moved toward it; under cover of the darkness he smiled.
Then he heard a door creak and open; he heard footsteps coming along in his direction. The footsteps were stealthy, yet halting; there was the suggestion of the swish of silken drapery. On and on that mysterious figure came until it walked plump into Ralph's arms.
There was a faint cry—a cry strangled in its birth.
"Mrs. May," Ralph said quietly, "I am afraid I startled you."
The woman was gasping for breath, iron-nerved as she was. She stammered out some halting, stumbling explanation. She was suffering from nervous headache, she was subject to that kind of thing, and there was a remedy she always carried in her jacket pocket. And the jacket was in the hall.
"Go back to your room," said Ralph. "I will fetch it for you."
"There is no occasion," the woman replied. "The shock of meeting you has cured me. But what are you doing?"
"Sleeping on the stairs," Ralph said in his dullest, most mechanical way.
"Sleep—sleeping on the stairs! Why?"
"I frequently do it. I suffer from insomnia. The accident that deprived me of my sight injured my reason. This is one of my lucid intervals. For years I slept in the open air; the atmosphere of a bedroom stifles me. So I am here."
"And here you are going to remain all night?"
"Yes. I presume you have no objection."
Mrs. May was silent. Did this man know the terrible position he had placed her in? Was he telling the truth, or was he spying on her? Was he dangerous enough to be removed? Or was he the poor creature he represented himself to be?
"You should get your clever friend Tchigorsky to cure you," she said.
"Tchigorsky has gone away. I don't know when I shall see him again."
That was good news, at any rate. Mrs. May stooped to artifice. There were reasons why this man should be got out of the way at present. He had brought danger by his stupid eccentricity, but the bold woman was not going to change her plans for that.
"Be guided by me," she said. "Go to your room."
"I am here till the morning," Ralph said doggedly. "Go to yours. We are a lost, doomed race. What does it matter what I do?"
It was useless to combat sullen obstinacy like this. Mrs. May uttered a few clear words in a language that not one in a million would understand—certainly not three people in England. It never occurred to her for a moment that Ralph Ravenspur might be one of the three, but he was.
He listened grimly. No doubt the mysterious words had nothing to do with the matter, but a door in the corridor opened, and Marion emerged, carrying a light in her hand. She came swiftly down the corridor, her long hair streaming behind her. As she saw Ralph she gave a sigh of relief.
"Come quickly to Vera's room," she said. "I want your help."
In her intense excitement she seemed not to notice Mrs. May. The latter stood aside while the other two passed along. She slipped into her own room and closed the door.
"Foiled," she hissed, "and by that poor meaningless idiot. Is it possible that he suspected anything? But no, he is only a fool. If I had only dared, I might have 'removed' him at the same time. On the whole, it was a good thing that Marion did not see me."
Without the least trace of excitement and without hurry, Ralph followed Marion. A light was burning in the room and Vera, still dressed, was lying on the bed. She was fast asleep, but her face was deadly cold and her breathing was faint to nothingness. Ralph's fingers rested on her pulse for a minute.
"How long has she been like this?" Ralph asked.
"I don't know," Marion replied. "I was just dropping asleep when I fancied I heard Vera call out. In this house the mere suggestion sufficed. I crept quietly along and came in here. The room was empty save for Vera and there was no sign of a struggle. I should have imagined it to be all fancy but for the queer look in Vera's face. When I touched her I found her to be deadly cold. Is—is it dangerous?"
Ralph shook his head.
"Mysterious as ever," he said. "The miscreant is by us, almost in our hands, and yet we cannot touch him. Vera has been rendered insensible by a drug. The effect of it will pass away in time. She will sleep till morning, and you had better remain with her."
"Of course, I should not dream of leaving the poor child alone."
Ralph just touched Marion's cheek.
"You are a good girl—an angel," he murmured. "What we should do without you I cannot say. Stay here and have no fear. I shall not be far away. I am going to sleep for the rest of the night on the floor outside."
"On the floor, my dear uncle?"
"Bah! it is no hardship," said Ralph. "I have had far less comfortable quarters many a time. I am usedto it and like it. And I sleep like a hare. The slightest noise or motion and I am awake instantly."
Marion raised no further protests. This singular individual was in the habit of doing as he pleased, and nothing could turn him from his humor.
He bade Marion good-night and softly closed the door. But he did not lie down at the head of the stairs. On the contrary, he crept quietly down to his room again.
There Tchigorsky and Geoffrey waited him. The lamp was once more lighted. Tchigorsky had a grin on his face.
"Foiled her?" he asked. "I heard you."
"For the present, at any rate," Ralph replied. "That charming woman does me the honor to regard me as a benighted idiot."
Tchigorsky dropped into a chair and rocked to and fro, shaking with noiseless mirth.
Geoffrey looked from one to the other for explanation.
"Won't you tell me what has happened?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, nothing has happened," Ralph replied. "A little time ago Tchigorsky outlined a bold stroke on the part of the foe. He suggested that it was possible, without removing a single bolt or bar, to spirit away one of the family, who would never be heard of again. Tchigorsky was making no prophesy; he was speaking from knowledge. Well, the attempt has been made and it has failed."
"Who was the victim, uncle?"
"Your cousin, Vera. Sit down, my boy; if you go plunging about like that you will ruin everything. Did I not tell you that the attempt had been made and had failed? Vera is safe for a long time to come."
Geoffrey dropped into his seat again.
"How did you manage it, uncle?" he asked.
Ralph gave the details. He told the story dryly.
"So I not only prevented the dastardly attempt to carry Vera away," he concluded, "but I baffled the foe altogether. There was not the slightest suspicion that I was on the stairs except by the merest accident."
"But you say that Marion was with Vera?"
"She was. That nimble wit of hers led her to suspect danger. But Marion could not have averted the tragedy. A slender girl like her could have done nothing against a strong and determined foe. If necessary, she would have been carried off and they would have killed two birds with one stone."
Geoffrey shuddered. He was sick of the whole business. For the moment he was a prey to utter despair. It seemed hopeless to fight against a foe like this, a foe striking in the dark and almost moving invisibly.
"Some one ought to watch that room," he said.
"It is unnecessary. I am supposed to be sleeping close by. Already the foe has learned that I slumber with one eye open. Don't be cast down, Geoffrey. Two more of the enemy are on their way to Yorkshire, and when they are here the mouth of the net is going to close. I pledge you my word that no further harm shall come to anybody. And Tchigorsky will say the same."
"On my head be it," Tchigorsky muttered. He twisted a cigarette dexterously with his long fingers.
"There is nothing to fear," he said, "nothing with ordinary vigilance. The danger will come when the time for defence has passed and it is our turn to attack. Then there will be danger for the three of us here. Shall we go to bed?"
"I could not sleep for a king's ransom," said Geoffrey.
"Then we will chat and smoke awhile," said Tchigorsky. "If you like, I will go on with the history of our adventures in Lassa."
Geoffrey assented eagerly. Tchigorsky proceeded in a whirl of cigarette smoke.
"We knew we were doomed. We could see our fate in those smiling, merciless eyes. That woman had lived among civilized people; she knew Western life; she had passed in Society almost for an Englishwoman.
"But she was native at heart; all her feelings were with her people. All the past could not save us. She meant us to die, and die with the most horrible torture under her very own eyes. Her life in India was a masquerade—this was her real existence.
"'You fancy you are the first,' she said. 'Did you ever know a Russian traveler, Voski by name? He was very like you.'
"I recollected the man. I had met him years before, and had discussed this very Lassa trip.
"'Yes,' I said, for it was useless to hold up our disguises any longer. 'What of him?'
"'He came here,' the princess said. 'He learned some of our secrets. Then it was found out and he had to walk the Black Valley. He died.'
"All this was news to me. So astonished was I that I blurted out the truth. Only a year before, long after Voski was supposed to be dead, I had met him in London. When I mentioned Lassa he changed the subject and refused to continue the conversation. I fancied that he suspected me of chaffing him. Now I know that he had been through the horrors of the Black Valley and—escaped.
"The eyes of the princess blazed when she heard this. She was a wild devastating fury. It seemed almost impossible to believe that I had seen her in a tea gown at Simla, chattering Society platitudes in a white sahib's bungalow. And I bitterly regretted betraying myself, because I knew that, wherever he was, Voski would be hunted down and killed, as they were seeking to kill me, as they would slay Ralph Ravenspur, only they have not recognized him."
"Hence the changed face and the glasses?" Geoffrey asked.
"You have guessed it," said Ralph. "I did not want to be known. I am only a poor demented idiot, a fool who cumbers the ground."
"I had betrayed Voski without doing any good to myself," Tchigorsky resumed. "If any harm has come to him, I am his murderer. Presently the princess calmed down, and the old cruel mocking light came back to her eyes. We were speaking English by this time—a language utterly unknown to the awestruck, open-mouthed priests around us.
"'Let us pretend that this is my drawing room inIndia, and that I am entertaining you at tea,' she said. 'Later you shall know something of me in my real character. I suppose you recognized the risks that you ran?'
"'Perfectly,' I replied. 'We are going to be done to death in barbarous fashion, because we have come here and learned your secrets as your husband did.'
"I could afford this shot. I could afford to say anything. We were going to perish by a death the horror of which is beyond all words, and had I pulled the nose of the princess, had I strangled her as she sat there, the punishment could have been made no worse.
"'Take care,' she said, 'you are in my power. What do you mean?'
"'I mean that your husband penetrated the secrets of Buddha, and that you married him so as to regain those secrets. There were papers and the like, or he would merely have been assassinated in the ordinary vulgar manner, and there would have been an end of the business. Your husband has got an inkling of this and that is why he has hidden the documents and refuses to give them up; he would be murdered if he did.'
"'You are a bold man,' the princess said.
"'Not at all,' I replied. 'A man can only die once. Would you say that the condemned murderer was rash for attempting to pick the pocket of the gaoler, even for attempting to murder him? What I say and what I do matters nothing. And you know that I am telling the truth.'
"The princess smiled. My friend Ralph here will remember that smile."
"I could see then," Ralph muttered, "and I do remember it."
"'Very well,' the princess replied, 'you are candid and I will be the same. What you have said about my husband is perfectly true. I did marry him to recover those papers. And when I accidently let out the truth that I was not outcast of my tribe he saw his danger. He issafe till those papers are mine. And then I shall kill him.
"'And yet I love that man—I shall be desolate without him. But my religion and my people come first. For them I lose my caste, for them I degrade myself by becoming the wife of a white sahib, for them I shall eventually die. And yet I love my husband. Ay, you cannot command the human heart.'
"At this I laughed. The princess joined me.
"'You think I have no heart,' she said, 'but you are mistaken. You shall see. For the present I have my duty to perform. I do it thus.'
"She rose to her feet and clapped her hands and spoke in terse, vigorous sentences. A minute later we were bound and our disguises slipped from us. And there for the present you must be content to leave us. To-morrow I shall tell the rest."
Tchigorsky rose and yawned, but Geoffrey would fain have had more.
"The princess," he said; "at least tell me if I know her."
"Of course you do. Princess Zara is the woman who calls herself Mrs. Mona May."