When in the street, Craver turned over in his mind what the girl had said relative to the hint given by her father. Undoubtedly Lemby had a superlatively bad temper, and undoubtedly he had been in the house when the crime was committed. Adding to this the fact that Wyke disliked Claudia's father and had a bitter tongue, it did not seem impossible that the pirate might have struck the blow in a moment of anger. Before the arrival of the postman, and while Mrs. Vence was in the kitchen, Lemby might have slipped down from the upstairs drawing-room to commit the crime and then have slipped up again. But against this was to be placed the fact that a second visitor was not only in the house, but in the company of the baronet. Lemby could scarcely have used the knife while the other man was present. On the whole, Craver was perplexed by the situation, and wondered what he should do. If Lemby took his daughter to Australia, Craver felt sure that he would never see her again, as he himself was unable to leave England. And Lemby, if implicated in the death of his proposed son-in-law, would certainly return to his native land to escape possible arrest. For quite ten minutes Craver stood by the Underground Station at Earl's Court considering how be act. Finally, he made up his mind as to his next step, and took a ticket to Blackfriars.
When in the train the young man reflected on the conclusion he had arrived at. This was to follow Lemby to Mr. Sandal's office, and frankly offer his assistance in extricating the pirate from his dilemma on condition that Claudia should be allowed to marry him. It was difficult to see how he could help the pirate since he knew so little. Two heads are always better than one, and Craver believed that Lemby would consent to the marriage in order to gain a friend while in trouble. Craver alighted on the Blackfriars platform with the conviction that he was going on a wild-goose chase. Nevertheless, failing all else, he believed it was worth while to act as he intended.
Edwin knew where Mr. Sandal's office was situated, as Sir Hector had mentioned on a momentous occasion the name and address of his lawyer. So the young man walked up to the Strand, and soon found himself in Lincoln's Inn Fields. In a few minutes he was at the door of the building in which Mr. Sandal's office was situated, and was mounting the stairs. On inquiry it appeared that Lemby had arrived, and was awaiting the interview with Mr. Sandal, who was engaged for the time being. Craver rejoiced that there was a chance of seeing the pirate before he interviewed the lawyer, and requested to be shown into the waiting-room. The clerk opened a side door to admit him into the same, and then closed it again. Seated near a table covered with magazines and newspapers for the convenience of waiting clients was Lemby reading one of the newspapers. He raised his eyes when the door opened, and rose to his foot when he saw Craver. The astonishment of the buccaneer was very apparent.
"What on earth are you doing here, Craver?" he asked in his truculent way. "I did not know that Sandal was your lawyer?"
"Nor is he," replied Craver, taking a seat and thus forcing Lemby to resume his former position. "I came here to see you."
"Oh, did you? And who told you that I was here?"
"Claudia."
"Miss Lemby to you, Craver," said the pirate, gruffly. "I suppose you slipped in to see my daughter immediately my back was turned. A nice way of behaving, I must say."
"I am behaving in a perfectly honourable way," retorted Craver, much nettled.
"Well, I don't think so, dash you! I refuse to allow you to make love to Claudia, as I don't intend you shall marry her. I told you so before."
"You did, while Sir Hector was alive. Now that he is dead there is no reason why I should not marry your daughter."
"There is every reason, and one confoundedly strong one." snarled Lemby, glaring furiously. "You have no money. When Wyke was alive I told you to keep away from my flat, and now that he is dead you might have had the decency to do what I asked you to do."
"See here, Mr. Lemby." said Craver, steadily. "I love Claudia, and I intend to marry her. She yielded to your pressing wishes and became engaged to marry Sir Hector. He is dead now, and I intend to have my innings."
"Like your dashed impertinence to think so!"
"Speeches of that kind won't turn me from my resolution, Mr. Lemby," said the young man, coldly.
Lemby appeared confused for the moment, and cast down his eyes. "I won't have it," he declared with a growl. "Claudia's my daughter, and she shall marry whom I choose."
"She won't. She shall marry me. It is about that matter I have come to see you, Mr. Lemby."
"Oh, have you? And do you think that I am going to be spied upon and followed and worried and chased? Well, you are mistaken. Clear out, and mind your own dashed business."
Lemby was on the point of losing his temper, according to his usual fashion; but Craver did not mind. The hotter Lemby got the cooler was the young man, and the more composed was his speech. "I have come to see after your business, Mr. Lemby," he said, significantly.
"I shan't allow you to meddle with that," snapped the angry pirate.
"It is better that I should meddle with it than that the police----"
"Here"--Lemby jumped up in a violent hurry--"drop it! You are going too far, Craver. What the deuce have the police to do with me?"
"This much. They want to know exactly what took place at Maranatha while you were in the house."
Lemby winced but still kept up his defiance. "I told all that I knew at the inquest," he blustered, "and Sergeant Purse was quite satisfied."
"Ah, so you think," hinted Craver, bluffing boldly; "but he may have his suspicious of you. If he takes action----"
"Takes action." Lemby rose up, and sat down with a positive look of terror on his face. "I don't know what you mean," he ended, doggedly.
"I mean that you want money, and that you risked reputation, liberty and life to, get it." Craver looked significantly at his proposed father-in-law.
Lemby recognised his own speech to Claudia. "You have been listening to the conversation between me and my daughter," he said, fiercely.
"No, I have not. But after you left the flat I saw Claudia, and she sought my counsel."
"It's none of your business, Craver, and Claudia is a minx for talking to you about my affairs."
"It is my business," insisted the young man, firmly. "I hear that you want Claudia to go with you to Australia, and I don't intend her to go."
"Oh! don't you," sneered the other, "And how do you intend to stop her going?"
"Ah! that remains to be seen."
"You're a confounded scoundrel!"
"Gently, Mr. Lemby," said Edwin, resolutely, keeping his temper. "If I were what you call me, I could easily stop your projected journey to Australia by informing Sergeant Purse what you said to Claudia. But I don't intend to do that. I followed you here as your friend to offer my services."
"I don't want them," vociferated the pirate, looking uneasy.
"Think again, Mr. Lemby. You are in a difficult position, and notwithstanding your frankness at the inquest. Sergeant Purse may have suspicions that you did not reveal all. You need a friend, and I am willing to be that friend."
"At a price, I suppose?"
"Naturally. I wish you to consent to my marriage with Claudia if I succeed in getting you out of this trouble."
Lemby rose again, and began to walk up and down the room like a caged beast. "I am in no trouble," he raged fiercely.
"No, not now; but you may be. And your words to Claudia hint that you expect some sort of trouble."
"She had no right to speak to you."
"Oh, I think she had," rejoined Craver, equably. "Claudia knows that I love her and am her true friend. You have caused her much distress by your hints that you are in danger, so it is right that she should seek comfort from me. And as you are her father, it is not likely that I will jeopardise your freedom."
"I am in no danger of losing my freedom," was the angry reply.
"Then why did you use those words to Claudia?"
"To make her do what I want."
"Well, Mr. Lemby"--Edwin rose with an air of finality--"you know your own business best. I came here to offer my services on condition that you allow me to marry your daughter. But as you refuse to listen to sense you must be content to risk the suspicions of Purse. I apologise for having troubled you."
"Here"--Lemby stopped the young man as he moved towards the door--"don't be in a hurry. I expect to see Mr. Sandal every moment, but we can talk for a few minutes. Are you honest?"
"Yes, I, am, and you know that I am."
"Well, then, leave matters as they are for a day or so until we can have a long and exhaustive talk. I have come here, to see if Wyke has left his money to Claudia, which he should do, considering how badly he treated her. If he has acted fairly and squarely Claudia and I will be in clover; if not, I may require your assistance."
"I am willing to give it if you will promise to remain in England."
"For the time being I shall remain," said the pirate, grudgingly. "I have no reason to run away in spite of my speech to my daughter of which you have made such clever use, dash you."
"Then I take it that you have nothing to do with the murder?"
"Yes, you can take it that way; I am perfectly innocent."
"Then why do you accept my assistance?" asked Edwin, calmly.
"I shall explain that when we have our talk later. Meanwhile, as I have to see Sandal and arrange about the money, perhaps you will clear out. It is necessary for me to think over matters before interviewing the sharp."
"I should have thought you would have arranged matters by this time," commented Craver, sarcastically. "However. I will go. Remember you have promised to remain in London for the time being."
"Yes," growled Lemby, savagely, "you've got the whip-hand of me."
"If you mean that I am likely to use the information supplied by Claudia, to prevent your leaving, Mr. Lemby, I have not got the whip-hand of you. I am not so mean as to employ tactics of a dishonourable nature. All I say is that if you will stay in England I am willing to help you in every way."
"Well, we'll leave it at that," said Lemby, ungraciously. "But, mind, I don't say that you will marry Claudia."
"I am content to wait," replied Craver, coolly, and passed through the door of the waiting-room at the same moment that a clerk opened it to say that Mr. Sandal was ready to see Mr. Oliver Lemby.
The lawyer was a tall, thin, dried-up man, with a clean-shaven face and two shrewd, twinkling black eyes. He had met Lemby before in connection with the marriage settlements of Claudia, and did not like him. Therefore Sandal received him coldly, and, having seated himself at his desk, waited to hear what he had called about. Lemby, by no means disconcerted by this chilly reception, plunged at once into the matter. And, being nervous, he was the more truculent.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," he said, in his gruff way.
"If you are referring to the sad death of Sir Hector Wyke," said Sandal, in his dry, precise style, "it is a very painful matter."
"Why didn't you come down to Hedgerton to look into the affair?" asked Lemby. "Don't you know that I wrote to you?"
"I received your letter, Mr. Lemby; there was no need for me to go down personally. I sent a representative, who saw Sergeant Purse, and did what was required. My representative was at the inquest, at the burial, and at the police-office in Redleigh, where he learnt that no trace could be found of the assassin. But you, Mr. Lemby," added the lawyer pointedly, "were in the house when my late client was murdered. Have you come to tell me something likely to lead to the detection of the criminal?"
"No, sir, I haven't. I am as much in the dark as you are about the matter."
"Then I fail to understand why you have come to see me," said Sandal, coldly.
"Why?" Lemby grew angry. "I want to know what Sir Hector has done for my daughter."
"Nothing." Sandal raised his eyebrows. "Why should he do anything."
"My daughter was engaged to marry him, and the marriage settlements were drawn up by you."
"But they were not signed by Sir Hector," Sandal reminded him: "nor did the marriage take place. Well?"
"Well," echoed the pirate, viciously. "Surely Sir Hector has provided for my daughter in his will."
"No, he has not. There is a will dated many years ago, before Sir Hector met your daughter. That will leaves all the property, real and personal, to quite another person."
"Who to?" asked Lemby, rather ungrammatically.
"To Sir Hector's wife."
"What!" Lemby rose with a dazed air, scarcely believing his ears.
"To his wife. To Lady Wyke." The lawyer smiled grimly.
Having in his adventurous life become accustomed to unexpected surprises, Lemby was rarely startled, and frequently boasted that nothing could astonish him. But on this occasion he was not only astonished but enraged. At the outset he blankly refused to believe the lawyer.
"You are talking nonsense," he declared, roughly. "How could Wyke have a wife when he was engaged to be married to my daughter?"
"That is a fair question, which I shall endeavour to answer fairly," replied Mr. Sandal, ignoring the crudity of speech. "Sir Hector, it appears, was married some twenty years ago to an actress. They did not get on well together, and parted by mutual consent. Lady Wyke, under her stage name of Miss Maisie Chain, went to America, and, after a long silence, news came to Sir Hector that she had perished in a theatre fire at Chicago. He quite believed that he was a widower, and therefore felt himself at liberty to propose to Miss Lemby."
"It's all nonsense," repeated the pirate, furiously.
"Well, I don't wonder at your saying so," said Sandal, calmly. "I was surprised myself when Lady Wyke turned up again. She has altered little."
"Oh! So you have seen her before!"
"Yes. I have been Sir Hector's lawyer for many years, as we were at school together and have always been friends. When he wished to marry Miss Chain I tried to persuade him not to, but he was wilful, and persisted in doing so. As I foretold, the match turned out to be an unhappy one. When Sir Hector came to me with the news that Lady Wyke was dead, I congratulated him on his release. She was a very determined and trying woman."
Lemby clutched his head with both hands, leant his elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpet. "You are telling me the truth, I suppose?"
"Why, should I tell you a lie?" demanded Sandal, drily. "I wish myself that Sir Hector could have married your daughter, who is a sweet girl. She would have made him happy."
"How dare he make love to Claudia when he was already a married man!"
"Let me remind you, Mr. Lemby, that when Sir Hector asked your daughter to be his wife he was a widower, or, at least, believed himself to be so."
"Then why didn't he tell me so?"
"There was no need to tell you. Sir Hector very naturally wished to forget the mistake he had made with regard to his marriage."
"It's a plot to rob my daughter of her rights!" shouted Lemby, savagely.
"Lower your voice, if you please," said Sandal, sternly. "If you cannot speak quietly I shall put an end to this interview. There is no plot. I have the newspaper in which is the report of the fire at the Chicago theatre and the death of Maisie Chain, who was really Lady Wyke. Sir Hector left that with me, and it has remained in his deed box ever since. As to your daughter's rights, she had none, seeing that she was not married to my client."
"Are you sure, that this woman is Lady Wyke?"
"Yes, I am. I knew her well in the old days, when Sir Hector and I were young men. I was present at the marriage, and there is a certificate of that in the deed box also. I knew Lady Wyke immediately she walked into this office some days after her husband was buried."
"How did she escape from the fire?" asked Lemby, sullenly, for he felt that a fortune was slipping away from him.
"She was rescued, but owing to being stifled more or loss by the smoke, it was reported that she had died. But being nursed carefully she recovered, and remained quiet. Owing to the shock she did not resume her stage career, so that is why neither Sir Hector nor myself saw her name again. Had we done so, we should have known that she was still living, and then Sir Hector, being an honourable man, would not have courted your daughter."
"An honourable man!" snarled Lemby, who made no attempt to contain his wrath. "Oh, yes, very honourable to leave my daughter without a penny!"
"He had no reason to leave her anything," expostulated the lawyer, mildly.
"Yes, he had. She was engaged to him, and he dodged the marriage."
"He did so because Lady Wyke in America saw a statement in an English society paper which was sent to her that Sir Hector contemplated a second marriage. She came over to England at once and let him know that she was alive. For that reason Sir Hector postponed the marriage."
"Then you knew why he did so?" foamed Lemby, clenching his hands and looking dangerously savage.
"Not at the time. I was amazed to hear that the marriage was postponed, as I knew how deeply my old friend was in love with Miss Lemby. Only when Lady Wyke came here after his burial did I learn that her letter to him, saying she was alive, made him put off the day of his marriage with Miss Lemby."
"When he learnt that this woman was alive he should have made over a good income to my daughter, so as to recompense her for the disappointment."
"I don't agree with you," said Sandal, "for Sir Hector had no call to do what you suggest. And I don't think that your daughter is disappointed, seeing that she never cared for Sir Hector, and only yielded to your wish that, the marriage should take place."
"That's a lie."
"It is not a lie. And I beg that you will not speak to me in that way. Sir Hector told me himself that Miss Lemby was in love with a young engineer calling himself Edwin Craver, and that it was you who were compelling her to marry him. I pointed out to my friend that as he had made one mistake it was foolish for him to make a second, since Miss Lemby did not love him. But he was so infatuated with her that he insisted upon getting his own way."
"He made a fool of my girl," said the visitor, sullenly.
"Indeed, he did not. His intentions were strictly honourable, and he would have fulfilled them had not Lady Wyke made her appearance."
"Seeing now things stood, Wyke; should have told me all about them."
"I agree with you there. But he told no one, not even me. I knew nothing until Lady Wyke walked into this office and explained matters."
Lemby rose and stamped about the room. "It's all a lie! I don't believe a word of what you say."
"Well, it is natural that you should have your doubts," rejoined Sandal, coolly, and glanced at his watch. "But Lady Wyke will be here in a few minutes, as I have to see her to-day in regard to the property. Then she can tell you herself that what I say is true."
"Yes, I'll wait," snapped Lemby, and sat down again with a determination to have it out with this undesirable woman, who had risen from the dead to upset his selfish plans. "She sees you with regard to the property?"
"Yes. By a will made shortly after his marriage Sir Hector left all his property to his wife. That will has never been changed, and, therefore, holds good."
Lemby contradicted. "Wyke told me that when he married Claudia he intended to make a will leaving all his property to her."
"Quite so," said the solicitor, suavely. "And he would have done so when he was married. But as the marriage did not take place, there was no new will made."
"Wyke should have made the will before marriage."
Sandal laughed. "You are very ignorant of English law, Mr. Lemby," he observed drily. "A will made before marriage is waste paper when that marriage takes place. Until your daughter was Lady Wyke no disposition of the property on the lines of marriage, save in settlements, could have been made. Those settlements were drawn up, but not signed, therefore they are useless. And now that Sir Hector is dead the property goes to Lady Wyke by the only will which is in existence."
"Cannot it be upset?"
"No. The will is sound in law. I drew it up myself. And remember, Mr. Lemby, that in justice the widow of Sir Hector should inherit the five thousand a year which he died possessed of."
Lemby scowled at the carpet and revolved schemes. He wanted the money badly, as he was worse off than Claudia knew, even though he had given her a hint of coming poverty. But he saw no means of securing again what he had lost unless Lady Wyke was disposed to be gracious, and recompensed Claudia for her presumed disappointment. He therefore determined to wait and see if Lady Wyke was a person whom he could manage. Possibly he might coax or bully her into what he called justice. And it was at this stage of his meditations that the wife of Sir Hector entered the room.
"Good-day, Mr. Sandal," said Lady Wyke, in a high, shrill voice, hard and rather rasping in its tone. "I fear that I am late."
Mr. Sandal assured the newcomer that she was not late, and placed a chair for her near his desk. Lemby rose in a lumpish, ungracious fashion and glared at the fashionable little woman as though he could have slain her with a look. She cast a careless glance at him, looked him over from head to foot, and then glanced inquiringly at the lawyer.
"Is there any reason why this gentleman should wait?" asked Lady Wyke, and raised a lorgnette to her fine dark eyes to criticise the pirate.
"Mr. Lemby will explain himself why he is here, Lady Wyke."
Mr. Lemby was in no hurry to explain himself. He stared wolfishly at the woman who had put an end to his greedy hopes, and did not speak, for quite two minutes. He noted that Lady Wyke was a smallish woman, by no means in her first youth, with a slender figure and a very perfect pink-and-white complexion, which was probably due to art. Her features were cleanly cut, her teeth were white and regular, and she had a pair of large dark eyes, which suggested those of an Andalusian beauty. Nothing could have been more fashionable or accurate than mourning.
Lemby, being a big man, liked little women, and could not conceal from himself that Lady Wyke was particularly attractive. Yet he judged from the hardness of her bright eyes and the unemotional tones of her shrill voice that she was a cat. So he called her in his own mind, and decided that only personal violence could reduce her to reason, and to get the money by personal violence was quite, what the buccaneer would do. He loathed Lady Wyke as a marplot, yet he could not deny her attractions. At one the same time he would have liked to kiss her and to strangle her.
"Well, Mr. Lemby," said Lady Wyke, sharply, for she objected to his insolent scrutiny, "and why are you here?"
"To stand up for Claudia's rights," growled Lemby, in a surly manner.
"Claudia? And who is Claudia?" She stared impertinently through the lorgnette.
"My daughter, who would have married Sir Hector had you not been alive."
Lady Wyke dropped her glasses and burst into a shrill, unpleasant laugh. "Oh, I remember"--she clapped her elegantly-gloved hands--"I saw the announcement of the proposed marriage in a society paper which I picked up in New York, and it was that which brought me over, to tell Hector that he must not commit bigamy. Well, I'm sorry for your daughter, Mr. Lemby, but I am Sir Hector Wyke's wife."
"Pardon me," put in Sandal, "you are his widow."
"Pooh!" said Lady Wyke, contemptuously. "How precise you are."
"It is just as well to call things by their proper names," said Lemby, grimly.
"Oh, I'm a thing am I! Don't you think he is very ungallant, Mr. Lemby?"
"I don't think anything about it," snarled the pirate, crossly.
Lady Wyke put up her lorgnette again. "No? You look as though you acted rather than thought. I wonder if your daughter is like you."
"No, she dashed well ain't."
"I thought not. My late husband was a fool, but he was always a gentleman, and would not have cared to marry a girl who used oaths and bad grammar.
"Claudia speaks as well as you do, and is much handsomer and younger," retorted Lemby, spitefully.
"Really! You make me long to see this paragon. What is your Mr. Lemby, as I should like to call," and Lady Wyke took out a set of ivory tablets.
"I don't want you to call, nor does Claudia," growled Lemby, who was exasperated the way in which the woman spoke.
"If you don't want to see me, why are you here, then?"
"I want justice done to my daughter. Wyke intended to marry her, and settle money on her; and he's done neither."
"You can't expect a dead man to perform impossibilities, Mr. Lemby." rejoined the widow sarcastically. "I understand what you mean. If you will give me your address, I should call and talk the matter over."
Lemby shook his head. "There's not much to be got out of you."
"Dear me! how accurately you judge my character in five minutes. However, I leave the matter to your own discretion. Give me your address, and I shall pay a visit to see my rival and adjust matters."
Lemby, in a grudging tone, supplied the required information, which the widow noted down swiftly.
"That is all I want," she said, with a nod, as she replaced the tablets in her pocket. "I shall call to-morrow or the next day, Mr. Lemby, Good-afternoon."
Lemby rose and stood, fingering his silk hat like a schoolboy. He felt abashed in the presence of this domineering little woman.
She became impatient. "Don't stand there gawking. Go away. Good-afternoon, Mr. Lemby," And without a word, Lemby shambled from the room, snubbed into silence for once, in his life.
A week went by and things remained as they were. Claudia attended to her household duties, went shopping, and visited friends, while her father smoked and ate and slept in somewhat animal fashion. All his restlessness seemed to have departed since the failure of his scheme to marry Claudia to Sir Hector, and he was content to live a listless existence devoid of excitement. She had received a letter from Craver relating what had taken place in the Lincoln's Inn Fields office, and quite expected that her father would be angry with her for telling secrets. But as he held his peace she avoided any further reference to the ominous words he had uttered, and possessed her soul in patience until such time as Edwin would be able to help her. Everything was as dull as ditchwater, and Claudia disliked the whole position extremely. But so far as she could see there was nothing to be done.
Lemby's real reason for staying so much at home was that he hoped to be within doors to receive Lady Wyke. But as day after day went by and she never put in an appearance, the buccaneer began to believe in his own phrase, that she was "kidding him." Finally, when the week was ended, he shaved and dressed to go out and enjoy himself, for things were getting on his nerves, and he felt the need of change and fresh air. Claudia suggested that she should go with him, as she felt hipped herself. Lemby, however, roundly said that he wished to be by himself, and therefore went off alone. But he was punished for his selfishness, for during his absence Lady Wyke paid her promised call. She sent in her card while Claudia was enjoying her solitary afternoon tea, and the girl was very much amazed when she read the name. As her father had not informed her that Sir Hector had been previously married, and that his wife still lived. Miss Lemby believed that someone was playing a game. Out of sheer curiosity she told the parlourmaid to show in the visitor.
"You did not expect me?" questioned Lady Wyke, on arrival.
"No," answered Miss Lemby. "I am surprised to read the name on this card."
"Strange," said the newcomer, thoughtfully. "Yet I explained everything to your father a week ago in Mr. Sandal's office, and said that I would call."
"My father told me nothing about the matter, Lady----" She hesitated.
"Lady Wyke," said the visitor, politely.
"Are you Lady Wyke?"
"I am."
"But I did not know there was any Lady Wyke."
"You know now."
"Had Sir Hector a brother, then? Has he come in for the title, and are you his wife?" Claudia asked all these questions in one breath.
"Oh dear me, no, Miss Lemby. I was Sir Hector's wife, and I am his widow. I see that your father has kept you quite in the dark. Why, I don t know." Lady Wyke laughed in an amused manner, and selected a comfortable chair. "As you have sat down, Miss Lemby, I presume that I may sit also."
Claudia had indeed sunk into a chair, as the announcement took her so greatly by surprise that she was unable to stand. "Are you in earnest?" she asked her visitor, and taking no notice of the last remark.
"Of course I am in earnest. If you doubt me, you can see Mr. Sandal, who will show you my marriage certificate, and will tell you that, as Sir Hector's widow, I inherit all his property."
"But Sir Hector was engaged to marry me," stammered the girl, feeling dazed.
Lady Wyke waved her daintily-gloved hands airily. "Ah, poor man. He believed that I was dead, and that he was free to marry again. I learnt from a society newspaper in America, that such was the case, and came over to tell him not to commit bigamy. For that reason he postponed the wedding, and retired to Hedgerton."
"But why did he not tell me?" asked Claudia, growing crimson with anger. "Well, my dear"--Lady Wyke shrugged her elegant shoulders--"it might be that he hoped to gain time and think matters over. Perhaps he would have divorced me, although without cause he could not have done so. Perhaps he might have murdered me."
"I think he has behaved very badly!" cried the girl, with great indignation.
"All men behave badly, Miss Lemby; they can't help themselves. But as Sir Hector is dead, suppose we say no more about the matter. After all"--she raised her glasses--"you don't look very broken-hearted."
"I am not," Claudia assured her. "I never loved your husband."
"Indeed! Then the title and the money attracted you."
"No. I was worried by my father into the position."
"I see. You love another."
"Yes." Claudia's eyes, from habit, wandered to a side table, on which stood a silver frame containing the photograph of Edwin.
With the swiftness and grace of a swallow Lady Wyke swooped to the other end of the room and took up the photograph. Then her face changed, and, a variety of emotions displayed themselves rapidly. Love, jealousy, fear, astonishment, and suspicion were all written plainly for Claudia to see. "Why, it's him!"
"It is Mr. Edwin Craver, to whom I am engaged."
"That's a lie!" cried Lady Wyke, and threw down the photograph to face The girl with a flushed face and hard eyes.
"Seeing that you do not know Mr. Craver, I do not see why you should speak in that way," was Claudia's dignified reply.
"I do know him. I say that the photograph is one of 'Him.' I call him that to myself, although until now I never heard his name," and she clenched her hands so tightly that one glove split.
The more angry Lady Wyke grew the cooler Claudia became, she had received two great shocks; one was when Lady Wyke announced who she was, and the other on hearing about the recognition of the photo. Danger was in the air and it was Claudia's nature to face danger calmly. "Where did you meet him?" she asked.
"Oh, my dear," Lady Wyke was now quite her self-possessed self, "it is quite a romance. I went to a motor-factory to buy a car, and there I saw Mr. Craver, although I did not know his name, as I never asked it. It was another man who attended to me, and I only saw Mr. Craver at a distance. But he was so very handsome that I admired him exceedingly. Although I am not so young as you are, Miss Lemby, I have the heart and fresh feelings of a girl. After I left the factory I thought a great deal about Mr. Craver."
"Did you indeed?" said. Claudia, hardly relishing this frank confession.
"Now you are jealous. Well, I don't wonder at it. If I was engaged to such a splendid young lover I should be jealous of everyone who looked at him. However, I was beginning to forget him when I went to Hendon to see the flying, and there saw Mr. Craver in an aeroplane."
"You never did," said Claudia, excitedly. "Edwin does not go in for aviation."
"Indeed he does. He went up in an aeroplane and spun about the place like a tee-to-tum, looping the loop, and soaring and all the rest of it. It made me so giddy that I had to close my eyes. But when he came down safely I went up to his machine and congratulated him on his courage. Then, my dear"--Lady Wyke made a gesture of despair--"my heart was wholly lost to him. His good looks, his bravery, his charming manners--can you blame me?"
Claudia declined to say whether she blamed her or not. "You must be making a mistake," she said, in a disturbed manner. "Edwin certainly is in a motor factory, and you might have seen him in one. But he does not go in for aviation. He would have told me had he taken up that profession."
"Oh, I don't say that he is a professional," said Lady Wyke, readily. "He is only an amateur, I fancy, and perhaps he did not tell you what he was doing, lest you should worry. I know it would break my heart to think that the man I loved was up in the air risking his darling neck."
"I don't see why you should talk of Mr. Craver in that way, Lady Wyke. He is engaged to me."
"For the time being, that is."
"For ever. How dare you hint at our parting."
"Well, my dear girl," said the visitor, impertinently, "you took my husband, so why should I not take your lover?"
Claudia rose indignantly, and her mien was that of a queen in a truly royal rage. "I won't allow you to talk to me in that way," she declared, heatedly. "So far as I am concerned, I did not wish to marry your husband, and I never knew that he had a wife already. My father forced me to consent, but now that Sir Hector is dead I am going to have my own way and marry Edwin. You have caused quite enough mischief, Lady Wyke."
"Mischief, when I saved you from a marriage you disliked?"
"You did not save me. Sir Hector was murdered, and that saved me."
"One moment," said Lady Wyke, in cool tones, "you forgot that it was my interposition which sent Sir Hector down to Hedgerton to consider matters. Had he not gone there he might not have been murdered, so I have saved you, in spite of all you say."
"Did you send him to Hedgerton to got him murdered?" asked Claudia, scornfully.
Lady Wyke lost her breath at this insinuation, and rose indignantly. When she got it again it was to protest. "You go too for. Miss Lemby."
"Not so far as you go, madam. How dare you come here and tell me that you love the man I am going to marry?"
"And how dare you accuse me of murdering my husband?"
The two women faced one another and looked into one another's eyes, each trying to bear the other down. The widow felt her inferiority under the girl's indignant gaze, but managed to retreat gracefully.
"Oh, my dear, there is no use our quarrelling like two fishwives. Sit down and let us talk."
"We have nothing to talk about, said Claudia, refusing to obey, for by this time she had taken a deep dislike to Lady Wyke.
"Oh, but we have. Let us leave Mr. Craver on one side for the time being. I told your father that I would call and see you. I am sorry for you."
"Really. And why?"
"Because, by my reappearance and my husband's death you have lost a title and a good income. I wish to make amends."
"I refuse to allow you to make amends."
"Now that I see you"--Lady Wyke put up her lorgnette again--"I am not surprised. But your father wants money to compensate him for failure, and I came here to offer it.
"My father is not at home," said Miss Lemby, coldly. "If you will make an appointment you and he can talk the matter over. With my father's concerns I have nothing to do."
Lady Wyke silently acknowledged that she was beaten, for the time being at all events. Nevertheless, she as silently determined to get the whip hand of this haughty girl and make her pay for such insolence. The little woman liked no one to be insolent but herself. Still, for the moment she veiled her enmity with Judas smiles. "We part friends, I hope?" she said, with her sweetest expression.
"No," returned Claudia, uncompromisingly. "We part as we met--merely as acquaintances."
"I am sorry." Lady Wyke became plaintive. "I like you, and I don t see why you should not like me. And you know, Miss Lemby, we shall meet often in Hedgerton when we go to live there.
"You may be going to live there, I am not."
"Oh, but you will. Now that you have mentioned Mr. Craver's name, I remember that his father is the Rector of Hedgerton. Mr. Sandal told me so, amongst other matters, when I made inquiries about the death of Hector. And when you marry Mr. Craver, or course you will take up your residence near his people.
"Will I?" said Claudia, unsmilingly.
"I think you should, so as to make friends with his parents. And I shall be in the parish also, as I have taken that house my husband died in."
"Maranatha?" Miss Lemby looked astonished.
"Yes." Lady Wyke shot a keen glance at her. "It is said to be unlucky, but, of course, I think that is rubbish. I intend to stay there on the spot, in order to search for the murderer of my late husband. We were not particularly good friends; but I owe it to his memory to avenge his death. And perhaps, when the truth is known to me, it need not be known to others--if you give up the idea of marrying Mr. Craver."
"What do you mean?" Claudia turned cold as Lady Wyke halted at the door.
"I mean,", said the other, "that your father was in the house when my husband was killed. Think it over," and with a significant smile she disappeared quickly.
The last words of Lady Wyke, taken in conjunction with the last words of her father before he paid his visit to Sandal, alarmed Claudia exceedingly.
The high-spirited girl spent a miserable time alone before her father appeared on the scene. She employed a few minutes in wiring to Craver, saying that she wished him to call. In one way or another Claudia determined to have an explanation, so that she might know where she was. At present she did not.
Mr. Lemby made his appearance shortly before seven o'clock, and seemed to be in very good spirits. He asked for his dinner, declared that he felt better, and treated himself to a sherry and bitters so as to give zest to his meal. Then, the dinner having been cleared away, the two sat down to talk. Claudia began abruptly.
"Lady Wyke was here this afternoon," she said, hurling the bombshell at her father in the hope of startling him.
She failed to do so. "Yes, I know," he said, coolly. "I was wondering when you would tell me about the matter."
"I waited for you to speak first," said Claudia, rather annoyed. "You should have explained things to me long ago."
"I didn't think it was necessary," protested the pirate.
"Not necessary? Why, dad. Sir Hector wanted to marry me while he had a wife living, and for that reason postponed our marriage."
"I know, confound you," growled Lemby. "But Wyke didn't know that his wife was alive. If he had he would not have proposed to you. I suppose she told you all about the dashed thing?"
"She explained much, but not all. I think you might speak, dad."
"Oh, I don't mind," rejoined the old man, good-humouredly, and then and there related the past of the dead man. He stated how Lady Wyke had been the actress Maisie Chain, and how Sandal had witnessed the ill-omened wedding. Then he told Claudia about the separation, the journey to America, the presumed death in the fire at the Chicago theatre, and finally described how Lady Wyke had learnt her husband's determination to marry again. "So she came over to prevent that," he concluded, "and so completely knocked the old man off his perch that he ran away to hide from her at Hedgerton."
"What did he intend to do?" asked Claudia, after she had digested the story. Lemby shrugged his shoulders. "Ask me another, my girl? I don't know. Whether he intended to lie low until he could get rid of her and marry you, or whether he intended to stick to her and chuck you I can't say. Seeing that she's a bit of a tartar, I guess he wanted to divorce her if possible."
"Could he have done so?"
"Lady Wyke says he couldn't, as she has always kept herself respectable."
"I don't think that Sir Hector was to blame," said Claudia, after a pause "except in not telling me and you before he went to Hedgerton."
"I should have squeezed the explanation out of him when I paid him that visit, my girl, if he hadn't gone to see the man who killed him."
"Do you know the girl who killed him?" asked the girl in a low voice.
"No, I don't," denied the pirate, roundly, but looking uneasy, "and I wish you'd stop harping on that dashed murder, Claudia. Wyke's dead and buried, and his widow has got the cash, so let the whole shoot slide."
"How can I when you hinted that you were mixed up in the matter?"
"Oh, I only said that to get you to come to Australia with me," said her father, rising with a yawn and stretching himself lazily.
"But Lady Wyke says the same thing."
Lemby dropped his arms and his mouth shut like a steel trap. "Tell me what that dashed woman said."
Claudia repeated Lady Wyke's last words verbatim. "And she said that, although the truth was known to her, it need not be known to others if----"
"If what; if what? Don't stop," rapped out the buccaneer, sharply.
"If I refused to marry Edwin."
"Oh!" Lemby's black eyes grew larger and rounder. "Why did she say that? She doesn't know Craver."
"Yes, she does. She saw him at the factory and at Hendon."
"What was she doing at Hendon?"
"Flying," said Claudia, curtly.
"You don't say so. I never thought he'd have the pluck to go up in an aeroplane, my girl. I wish he'd break his dashed neck."
"How dare you say that, dad! Edwin is the bravest man in the world, and if he broke his neck I should die. I love him. I love him and she shall never, never take him from me."
"She. Who?"
"Lady Wyke. She has fallen in love with Edwin."
Lemby's face grew evil and lowering. "Then I again say that I wish he'd break his dashed neck," he cried with an oath. "Confound the fellow, he comes up against me at every turn. First, he tried to spoil my plans with regard to your marriage with Wyke, and now he is my rival."
"Your rival?" Claudia looked puzzled.
"Yes, hang him. I can't get the money for you by will, as everything has been left to that woman. So I've got an idea that she might marry me."
"Marry you?" Claudia started up from the chair she was seated in. "I hope you won't be so silly as to marry at your age."
"Don't be insolent, my girl," retorted Lemby, for his vanity was hurt. "I'm by no means an old man. There's many a kick left in me yet. Why shouldn't I marry Lady Wyke? She isn't bad-looking, and has the five thousand a year we want so badly."
"I don't want it!" cried Claudia, vehemently? "I wouldn't take a penny of it, dad. She's a horrid and dangerous woman. I object to having her for a stepmother, There!" and she stamped after her usual fashion.
"Well, then," snarled Lemby, crossly, "you can prevent my having my own way by letting her marry Craver, since it seems he is in love with her."
"He isn't in love with her. I never said so. She is in love with him. As to letting her marry him, she shan't! You are cruel to suggest such a thing."
Lemby clutched his head. "Dash it, things are so crooked that I must straighten them out somehow by suggesting," he said, angrily. "And if this young jackaroo is trying to spoil my plans again, I'll make it hot for him. Upon my word, Claudia, I think it best that you should marry the fellow, so that I may be able to make Lady Wyke my wife and collar the dibs."
"She won't have you, dad."
"Oh, yes, she will." Lemby glanced at the nearest mirror, and admired his big body, his black hair, his stalwart looks and general virility. "I may as well tell you that I met her when she came downstairs after seeing you, and I took her to a teashop to have a talk. We got on famously."
"Did she tell you that she suspected you of committing the murder?" asked Claudia, acidly, and not approving of this escapade.
"No, she didn't. If she had I'd have brought her to her senses."
"You'll never do that. She's too clever for you, dad."
Claudia had just uttered this remark in a very positive way when Jane, the parlourmaid, showed young Craver into the drawing-room. Lemby was by no means so pleased to see him as Claudia was, and looked at their greeting glumly. He was quite annoyed when he heard that his daughter had summoned this inconvenient third by telegram. Edwin, who looked smart and well-groomed in evening dress, nodded coolly to his prospective father-in-law and sat down. Then Lemby could contain himself no longer.
"What the deuce do you mean by treating me as nothing in my own house?" he demanded, clenching his big fists with a truculent air.
"I apologise if I have treated you impolitely," said Edwin, raising his eyebrows; "but as you have never shaken hands with me, or bid me welcome; I do not see what you expect me to do."
"Be civil," growled the buccaneer, and dropped into an armchair to fill his pipe. "I'd have dropped you at sight with my little gun had you behaved in this cheeky way to me in Australia."
"I'm not so easily dropped." retorted Craver, laughing, for the man's childish behaviour was not worth noticing. "Two can play at that game, Mr. Lemby. But as Claudia wants to tell me something, don't you think you can treat me as your guest and with courtesy for a few minutes?"
Turning towards her lover, Claudia rapidly told him all about Lady Wyke and her visit. Craver was amazed by the story, and could not believe, that Wyke had been married.
"How do you know that this woman is not an impostor?" he asked Mr. Lemby over Claudia's shoulder.
The pirate grunted. "She ain't," he declared, decisively. "Sandal knows all about the marriage, and knows her and knows about the will leaving the cash to her, hang her! She's not an impostor, worse luck. And, what's more, she's a dashed pretty woman."
"Do you think so, Edwin?" asked Claudia, anxiously and significantly.
"Oh!" The young man smiled broadly. "Then she told you that she had met me?"
"Yes. Both at Hendon and at your factory. Edwin, you did not tell me that you went in for aviation."
"I was keeping it as a surprise for you. But I can explain all about my reasons later. Meanwhile we have ample to talk about. Yes, I did see Lady Wyke at the factory, where she came to buy a car. Afterwards I saw her at Hendon, when she congratulated me on a successful flight. She's a pretty woman created by her own art."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Lemby, growling like a dog over a bone.
"I mean that she is painted and powdered, and padded and overdressed, and all the rest of it. She is mutton trying to look like lamb."
"Then you don't love her?" said Claudia, with a sob of relief.
"Darling," said the astonished young man, "are you mad? How could I love a woman of that kind? And, remember, I have only seen her twice."
"She loves you, however," said Lemby, grimly.
Edwin stared at him. "Is this a joke?" he asked, sternly. "If so it is not a good one, and you display bad taste in making it, Mr. Lemby."
"I am in earnest, as it happens," said the old man, drily, "and don't tell me what's good taste or bad taste, dash you! Lady Wyke saw your photograph over there, and recognised you, Claudia told her your name, which she said she had never heard."
"Then she is telling lies," said Craver, calmly. "I was introduced to her at the factory when I sold her the car."
"She said that another person attended to her," said Claudia, quickly.
"I attended to her. Lady Wyke is evidently an accomplished liar. As to being in love with a man she has only seen twice, she must be joking."
"It didn't sound like joking," remarked the girl, wretchedly. "She hinted that dad was concerned in the death of her husband, but that she would say nothing if I refused to marry you."
"I'll twist her neck if she accuses me of a crime of which I am innocent," was Lemby's observation; "and when, I marry her I'll soon bring her to heel."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"Why shouldn't I, Craver? She's rich and dashed pretty, in my opinion. I want money, and I can put up with her. Do you object?" he asked, with a sneer.
"Not at all," rejoined Edwin, promptly, "I don't want her. I shall tell her so if she makes advances to me--on one condition, that is."
Lemby scowled. "What condition?"
"That you allow Claudia to pay a month's visit to my parents at Hedgerton Rectory. I have told them that I love her, and they are anxious to see her."
Claudia, longing for peace and quietness, clapped her hands. "Oh, I should like that above all things. Do say yes, dad."
To the surprise of both young people, the pirate agreed very amicably. "The fact is, I haven't enough money to run this flat much longer," he explained, coolly; "so if Claudia goes away for a month, I can stay here on short commons. Mind, I don't say that I agree to your marrying her, Craver. I let her go to Hedgerton for my convenience, not for yours."
"Dad, how excessively rude," cried the girl, colouring.
"Rude or not, you can go. As to Lady Wyke, if Craver will sheer off, I think I can bring her to reason. Wyke should have left the five thousand a year to you, Claudia. So, as we can't get it by will, we'll get it by marriage."
"I rather think you will find Lady Wyke a difficult woman to manage," said Edwin, warningly. "She's an adventuress of the worst type."
"Well, I'm an adventurer," retorted Lemby, "I know how to size her up."
"What about her accusation, dad?"
"Oh, a wife can't give evidence against her husband," said Lemby, coolly.
The young people, still mystified by the ambiguous way in which Lemby spoke, glanced at one another.