For the next few days Vernon vainly grappled with the new problem which Lady Corsoon's information had supplied. That The Spider should offer the millionaire's wife a fortune of ten thousand pounds per annum on condition of receiving the income for the first year scarcely surprised the young man, for he already suspected The Spider to be connected with Diabella, if, indeed, the creature was not that famous individual herself. But it seemed odd that the arch-criminal should interest himself in Maunders' affairs, even to assisting to bring about the marriage with Lucy. Could it be possible that Maunders was one of the gang?
Vernon recalled that after Mrs. Bedge's confession of poverty he had suspected Maunders in this respect, since the young man apparently contrived to live like a prince on nothing a year. He did not receive much from his aunt and he did not earn an income, so it was possible that in some shady way he managed to become possessed of sufficient money to gratify his extravagant tastes. Maunders also being in the vicinity of the library on the occasion of the conversation with the late Mr. Dimsdale, must have heard the suggested arrangement of the trap. But then, as Vernon recalled, Miss Hest had stated in quite an innocent way how Maunders had been with her all the evening and could not thus have had anything to do with the crime at "Rangoon." Vernon's suspicions had been banished by Miss Hest's assertions, but they now revived in full force after Lady Corsoon's communication. He had made her show him the letter, and it proved to be similar to the earlier epistle of The Spider, even to the ideograph at the end. Apparently it was genuine enough, and, if genuine, Maunders must be connected in some way with the blackmailer. No other explanation was feasible.
Had Maunders been in London Vernon would have gone straight to tax him with his possible complicity, but the young man was at Bowderstyke and so, for the moment, could not be questioned. But, sooner or later, he would return to London, and then Vernon intended to force him to explain. Meanwhile it seemed best to seek out Diabella at the Bazaar for the Homeless Hindoos and threaten her with arrest unless she explained how she had come to let The Spider know Martin Dimsdale's secret. Also, she might supply the connecting link between The Spider and Maunders. Vernon was rather surprised at Diabella's daring in thus making a public appearance, but he supposed that his ruse had been successful, and that the fortune-teller, not having been openly searched for, presumed that Colonel Towton had taken no steps. If she had learned that Towton was to be at the fête she might have declined to risk exercising her profession; but she had no reason to believe that he would be present, and thus dared the danger. But, never suspecting Vernon, he could enter the tent and tear off her mask, which was what he intended to do at the first opportunity.
The young man hesitated whether to tell Inspector Drench or to remain silent until more satisfied as to the hidden connection between Diabella and The Spider. After reflection, he decided to carry through the matter himself. By removing the waxen mask he would at least learn what Diabella was like, and perhaps, if brought to bay, she would speak out to save her skin. Then, when he knew more, he might venture to call in the aid of the police. It was a dangerous business, and perhaps Vernon would have been better advised had he taken more precautions against the woman's escape; but the evidence against her was so vague, and there appeared to be so much to clear up, that he doubted if Drench would be able to arrest her on the bare suspicion. At all events, after turning the matter over in his mind Vernon started by himself for the bazaar, resolved to act on his own initiative. He told no one of the second letter from The Spider to Lady Corsoon, not even Colonel Towton. So that military gentleman, ignorant of what was taking place, lingered in his chambers or idled at the Athenian Club, fretting over his inaction and longing for some chance to display his generalship. A very natural feeling, considering the Colonel's active mind.
The Georgian Hall was a huge repository of Hanoverian relics in South Kensington, and consisted of many moderately large apartments encircling a spacious central room. This was used for concerts, balls, meetings, fêtes, and such-like entertainments requiring ample scope for their celebration. The minor halls were dedicated to the display of objects connected with the rule of the House of Brunswick, and dating from the reign of the first monarch of the dynasty. Memorials of warfare on land and at sea were here, together with pictures of famous events, and collections of old-world things dealing with social life of the various epochs. One room was filled with figures representing the male and female garbs of the different reigns; another displayed china and silver and glass of the several periods; and a third room held quaint furniture, recalling the tales of Jane Austen. The political and social and military history of England was contained in the museums, and from this fact the hall took its name, since the objects dated only from The Act of Succession. It was an interesting place and well worth the patronage which it received from the idle public.
On this occasion the central room was filled with gaily-decorated stalls in divers colours, on which were displayed modern luxuries likely to appeal to the purses of the self-indulgent. Society beauties, charming actresses, and celebrated lady novelists presided over the booths of this Vanity Fair, and did a large trade by their fascinating personality alone. Vernon, accurately dressed, as became a young man about town, managed to elude these sirens, who would have cajoled every shilling out of his pocket, and walked into the grounds at the back of the Hall, where, Mrs. Crimer had informed him, the tent of Diabella was to be found. It was a sunny afternoon, as the flippant lady had desired, and the spacious gardens looked extremely pretty with flags and tents and flowers and general greenery. Games of all kinds were going on, and the place resembled a fair with its crowd of laughing people, who were enjoying themselves thoroughly. So far as could be judged, the Homeless Hindoos would benefit largely by the bazaar, as it apparently was a great success. No prettier function had taken place during the season.
p180"'I must see who you are,' cried Vernon, and pulled herhands away." Page 180.
Vernon saw endless friends and acquaintances, as many fashionable folk were present, but, taken up with his own anxious thoughts, he spoke to no one. However, someone spoke to him as he threaded his way amongst the throng, for a friendly touch on his shoulder wheeled him round, to behold Francis Hest. He looked more like his sister than ever, and decidedly handsome in his immaculate frock-coat, grey trousers, patent leather boots, and silk hat. The only fault which Vernon--always rather fastidious--could find in his general appearance was that he wore his hair much too long, which gave him the look of a poet or of a fashionable musician. And the full black locks added still more to his resemblance to Frances.
"I did not expect to find you here, Vernon," said Hest after a handshake. "Why not? It's one of the entertainments of the season, and everyone who is anyone is bound to patronise it."
"I should have thought it was too frivolous for you."
"Oh, I assure you I am a very frivolous person," said Vernon smoothly.
"Is Colonel Towton?" asked the other smiling; "and is he here?"
Vernon wondered why the question was asked. "Really, I can't say. Towton is certainly not frivolous, but he enjoys society and is usually to be found everywhere, enjoying himself. Do you know him?"
"No. I am an innocent countryman, who knows no one in the fashionable world except Lady Corsoon, who is a host in herself. I asked out of curiosity, as, having heard Miss Dimsdale speak of the Colonel, I should like to meet him."
"Oh! She spoke of Colonel Towton, did she?"
"Is that strange?" asked Hest, smiling again and showing his white teeth. "I rather think Miss Dimsdale admires the Colonel."
"He admires her and wants to marry her," said Vernon bluntly.
"So I should imagine. Another reason why I did right in running away from Gerby Hall and in declining my sister's help in marrying me to the lady. I think, however," added Hest significantly, "that unless the Colonel looks to his bride he will find she is likely to become Mrs. Maunders."
"I should be sorry to see that."
"Why? Don't you like Maunders?"
"Oh, yes. We were at school together. But I believe that Miss Dimsdale is in love with the Colonel. You know, of course, that Maunders has gone down to your place?"
"Certainly. Frances wrote me that he arrived on Sunday morning. That is why I advise Colonel Towton to look after Miss Dimsdale."
"Why does your sister wish Miss Dimsdale to marry Maunders?" asked Vernon in a pointedly blunt way.
Hest raised his thick, dark eyebrows. "Ask me another," he said lightly. "All I can say is that Frances is a great matchmaker. Failing me, she suggests Maunders as a suitor. He is younger than the Colonel, I believe."
"And much handsomer. But he has not Towton's sterling character. By the way, have you met Maunders?"
"Twice. Once in town and once at my own place. I confess that he doesn't attract me greatly. Handsome, yes; but there is something dangerous about him."
"Dangerous?" Vernon looked straightly at the speaker, wondering how he had chanced to hit on the very defect which spoilt Maunders' charm.
"It's the only word I can think of which describes him. But perhaps I am wrong. Frances would think so."
"I always thought that Miss Hest did not like Maunders.
"It may be so," said Hest indifferently. "Still, he is handsome, and Frances is a woman. It seems to me, however, that the word rests with Miss Dimsdale. If she loves Colonel Towton she will marry him, if Maunders, he will win her. A wilful woman will have her way."
"I do not think that Miss Dimsdale is wilful," said Vernon stiffly, then with an afterthought that Hest might help the Colonel to thwart the plans which Frances certainly appeared to entertain, he added, "Would you like to meet Towton?"
"Oh, yes. I shall be in town for a week before going to Paris. I have few friends here and like to be amused."
"Where are you staying?"
"At Professor Garrick Gail's, Isleworth."
"Oh!" Vernon could scarcely conceal his surprise. "I thought that you did not approve of your sister appearing as a reciter?"
"Nor do I," rejoined the other man with a frown, "but Frances asked me to deliver a message to Professor Gail, whom I met before and whom I like. He asked me to accept his hospitality while in London, so I did so, as I hope to induce him to get Frances to abandon this scheme of earning money by her talents--which by the way I don't deny--so that she may resume her proper place in society as my sister."
Vernon shook his head. "Miss Hest is of too active a mind to bear tamely the life of an ordinary country lady."
"She is singularly obstinate, if that is what you mean," said Hest with a curling lip. "However, that is my address, so if you can arrange a dinner with Colonel Towton I shall be glad to meet him and to give him the latest news of Miss Dimsdale."
"Thank you!" Vernon booked the dinner. "Say next Wednesday?"
"That will suit me capitally. The day after to-morrow? Well, and what are you going to do now?"
"Just wander round," replied Vernon evasively. He did not wish to disclose his plans regarding Diabella to the Yorkshire squire. "Good-day."
"Good-day," said the other in a friendly tone, and the two were soon separated by the ever-moving crowd.
It was growing late by this time and the gardens were not nearly so filled as they had been. Already there was a shade of twilight in the calm sky and several lamps had been lighted. It was necessary to see Diabella at once, for it might be that she would not be present in the evening. Vernon therefore went to seek for the Egyptian tent and soon found it standing in an isolated position at the far end of the ground. With some skill the canvas had been erected into the square form of a Memphis temple, and this, coloured like stone and adorned with gaudy hieroglyphics, looked a striking object in the waning light. Two imitation sphinxes guarded the doorway, and beside these on either side stood two men like bronze statues with folded arms. One was slender and the other burly, and both were natives of India in spite of their ancient Egyptian array. Vernon, knowing what he did know, had no difficulty in recognising Bahadur and the heavier man who had attempted to strangle the Colonel, until prevented by his mistress.
"Can I see Diabella?" he asked, approaching slowly and addressing Bahadur as the more amiable-looking of the two.
"One, two, three," said the man, showing his teeth and throwing up triple fingers. "Three to see mistress. Then you."
Vernon nodded and, resting on his cane, stared at the merry scene in an idle manner. But his thoughts were taken up with the probable scene which would ensue when he tore the mask from the woman's face. He wondered if she would make an outcry and would summon her attendants, and if so, would the sullen-looking wrestler attempt to choke him? But Vernon resolved at the moment he removed the mask to intimate that he knew of the assault on Colonel Towton, and so hoped that the woman would not risk unpleasant discoveries by making an outcry but would be willing to talk calmly. If so, then he hoped to induce her to state how she came to be possessed of Martin Dimsdale's secret. And here again, as it always did, came the thought that Diabela might be a disguise for The Spider, in which case she would surely decline to incriminate herself. If she did and refused to be frank there would be nothing for it but to see Drench and procure her arrest. For the moment, and now that he was on the very eve of the enterprise, Vernon regretted that he had not brought the Inspector with him so that he might be legally supported by the arm of the law. But it was too late for such regrets, and when he arrived at this point of his meditations Bahadur lifted the curtain which formed the door of the canvas temple to intimate that the stranger might enter.
The interior of the tent was adorned as an Egyptian Hall, much in the same way as the Bond Street rooms, save that the mummies were absent. Diabella, in the weird dress described by Towton, sat stiffly in a chair, with a small table at her elbow. The cards and the crystal and various charts bearing astrological figures were on the table, together with a boat-shaped lamp. This gave out a fairly strong light, and Vernon could see plainly the expressionless waxen mask which covered the face of the fortune-teller. She looked like a sphinx, solemn, calm, and passionless. Yet below that non-committing mask Vernon guessed was the face of the true woman, alive with passion and intrigue. He saw two glittering eyes scanning him curiously from the shadow of a black veil which the seeress wore draped over her Egyptian head-dress, and shivered a trifle at the uncanny look.
The sorceress saw the tremor. "Are you afraid?" she asked in her metallic voice, which was as expressionless as her mask.
"I am afraid of nothing," replied Vernon boldly and coldly; "but the night air strikes chill."
He thought that he heard a sarcastic laugh, but it was so soft that he well might have been mistaken. However, thinking that the prophetess was sneering at him he might have ventured on some angry remark, but that he recollected his intention and drew back with a grim smile. The laugh would be on his side when the mask was torn off.
"You wish to have your fortune told?" asked Diabella coldly and stretched out her hand. "Let me read your palm."
This was just what Vernon desired, as the grip brought him within snatching distance of the mask. There was a stool near at hand, upon which Diabella motioned that he should be seated; so shortly he was sitting, so to speak, at her feet, with his hand in hers. Shadows filled the corners of the tent and enhanced the grotesque looks of the figures painted on the canvas. The laughter and chatter of the diminishing crowd without had died away into a faint and confused murmur, and in the vivid circle of the lamplight sat the two figures. Diabella, holding back her veil, bent over Vernon's hand in silence.
"You are coming into good fortune," she said thinly. "Yes. Here is the line which foretells money and position. One near to you, if not dear, is on his death-bed and you benefit by his decease. Am I right?"
She raised her glittering eyes again to peer into his face. "If you are certain of your craft, there is no need for you to ask if you are right," said Vernon composedly. He was well aware of how fortune-tellers gain more knowledge than they impart by such dexterously-put questions.
Diabella gave a very modern shrug quite out of keeping with her dress and mien. However, she made no reply and continued her reading. "There is marriage here", she continued in a low voice; "but you have a rival."
"Will he be successful?"
"If he chooses to be."
"That is untrue," contradicted Vernon nettled; "The lady loves me."
"It is questionable--questionable," muttered the woman hastily. "Your rival is a formidable one and not easily turned from his purpose. Look at the break in the line yourself." She handed him a magnifying glass. "That means trouble before you achieve your heart's desire."
"Can you tell me what my heart's desire is?" asked Vernon after a glance through the glass.
"A lovely, wealthy wife and a happy home."
"Quite so; but I have a stronger desire."
"To do what?"
"Ah!" said Vernon sarcastically, "that is for you to say. But my second desire, which is marriage, is contingent on my first being realised."
"I see, I see," said Diabella raising her voice, which whistled shrilly like the wind through a crack. "You have to save someone from disgrace before you can marry the girl you love?"
"Is the someone a woman or a man?"
"A woman, and closely connected with the girl you wish to marry."
"Is there any chance of success?"
"None! none!"
"Then I shall not marry the----"
"You may marry, for the line of Venus is strongly marked," interrupted Diabella sharply. "The girl loves you, and may defy the person with whom she is so closely connected."
"And my rival also?"
Diabella shook her head. "He is too strong for her. He can force her to marry him when he chooses."
"Perhaps he may be forced to defend himself," said Vernon incautiously.
Diabella looked up quickly. "What's that?"
"Never mind. If you can read events you must guess what I mean."
"I can only read what is in your hand, and all that a man plans and thinks may not be written there. Still, you will be wise to leave your rival alone, for he is too strong for you."
"I don't think so, knowing what I know."
"What do you know?" Diabella's metallic voice sounded somewhat nervous, and she dropped Vernon's hand to clasp her own on her lap.
"I know," said Vernon, bending closely towards her, "I know that my rival will marry neither Ida Dimsdale nor Lucy Corsoon."
Diabella shrank back and gripped the arms of her chair. "The names are not familiar to me," she breathed in a low voice.
"Think again. The first name is familiar, surely?" mocked Vernon. "Why should it be?"
"Colonel Towton might be able to answer that."
Diabella rose suddenly, tall and straight, from her chair and threw out her arms with a repellant gesture. "I do not know the name of Colonel Towton."
Vernon rose slowly and measured his distance carefully. "You seem to forget a great deal, madame," he said softly, his fingers itching to tear off the expressionless mask.
"I never ask the names of my clients," she mumbled.
"How do you know that Colonel Towton was a client of yours? I never told you."
"I guessed--that is---- Ah! Help!"
She shrieked loudly and with good reason. Vernon's hand had shot out while he kept her attention engaged, and in a moment he had ripped the mask from her face. Head-dress and all came away in his grip, and Diabella covered her face with her hands. At her shriek the fold of the tent door was torn open and the burly Indian appeared. Vernon flung aside the mask and veil and head-dress and seized Diabella's wrists as the Indian ran forward to aid her. "I must see who you are," cried Vernon and pulled her hands away. "Maunders!"
He fell back a step and into the arms of the Hindoo. It was indeed Maunders whom he beheld, shrinking back into the shadows with a furious, shameful face, startled as a trapped animal. Vernon had no time to see more, for the Hindoo made a clutch at his throat, silent and venomous. Mindful of how Colonel Towton had been assaulted and Dimsdale killed, the young man turned fiercely to grapple with his assailant. As the two men closed in what promised to be a deadly struggle Maunders recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to dash over the lamp, and the tent became pitchy dark.
In that Cimmerian gloom the combatants swayed and swung and fought with silent earnestness. But the Hindoo was the stronger of the two, and Vernon felt the lean, long fingers grip his throat with vicious strength. He faintly heard Maunders, now at the door, hurriedly call to the native in an unknown tongue, and, fearful lest the two villains should escape, he tore himself away with a violent effort, crying as loudly as he could for assistance. The next moment his opponent flung himself forward and, picking him up as though he were a child, dashed him with gigantic force to the ground. His head struck the turf with a thud, and everything was swallowed up in blank insensibility.
In half an hour, more or less, Vernon came to himself slowly, and opened his eyes in a bewildered manner. He was in complete darkness, and for the moment could not remember where he was or what had taken place. Gradually memory returned to him and he sat up painfully to recall details. His head throbbed with the violence of the fall, and the short, sharp struggle had set his nerves jangling like ill-tuned bells. Rising to his feet with an effort he wondered why the Indian had not finished him off, then recollected the rapid words of Maunders in an unknown tongue. Probably he had been speaking Tamil and had ordered the man not to go to extremities. As in the case of Colonel Towton, when the creature had been warned by Diabella, or, rather, by Maunders, as in this instance, the native had stopped short of actual murder. In Maunders' desperate enterprise it was necessary that he should remain on the right side of the law.
Striking a match, Vernon ascertained that he was still in the tent, for its blue glimmer showed the figures and hieroglyphics weirdly flickering on the canvas walls. Apparently the criminals, for they were nothing else, had fled, leaving him insensible, and Vernon wondered that he had not been discovered. But when he walked outside he saw on the door a notice stating that the booth was closed for an hour, and guessed that in this way Maunders had provided time for flight. So warned, no one would enter the tent, and evidently both the noise of the struggle and his cry for assistance had passed unheeded. Vernon drew a long breath and stood where he was, watching the crowd of people merry-making under hundreds of coloured lamps, quite oblivious to the fact that a tragedy had nearly taken place under their very noses. He wondered what was best to be done.
It was useless to go to those in authority at The Georgian Hall as no one would credit his wild tale, although the flight of Diabella and her accomplices might lend colour to his narrative. Moreover, Vernon decided that more than ever was it necessary to hunt down Maunders in secrecy, as he wished for a full explanation from him before calling in Drench to assist. Likewise, for the sake of Ida, of Mrs. Bedge, and Lady Corsoon, Vernon wished if possible to avoid publicity, since any scandal would certainly bring their names into unpleasant notoriety. For these reasons the young man left The Georgian Hall without telling anyone what had happened. But he chuckled as he went to think how the public would be disappointed to find the tent of the sorceress empty. Also, how amazed those managing the bazaar would be to discover that Diabella had vanished with her takings for the day, which would be considerable. Vernon felt quite sure that a man so unscrupulous as Maunders would not hesitate to seize the till seeing that, having been exposed, and doubtful if his old schoolfellow would hold his tongue, he would want all the money he could get to assist his flight.
The question was to learn whither he had fled and what track to follow in order to hunt him down. It was close upon seven o'clock, and outside The Georgian Hall Vernon hesitated as to his next step. He wondered whether it would be better to go home and retire to bed, since he felt shaken by the struggle, or to seek out Colonel Towton and enlist him as a fellow-pursuer in the man-hunt. Finally he decided to take a taxi to the Colonel's chambers and relate what had happened, for he knew that unless he discussed the matter he would only worry the whole night over the catastrophe. He therefore fortified himself with a stiff brandy and soda at a near hotel and pulled himself together for a serious conversation. And serious enough it would be for Constantine Maunders, who could not be permitted to continue in his nefarious career.
As it happened, Towton, late in dressing for dinner, had not yet left his rooms for the Athenian Club. Vernon arrived at a quarter to eight, just as the Colonel opened the door. The two came face to face with mutual joy at meeting.
"My dear Vernon, I am glad to see you. I am simply dying to have a talk, as I can do nothing but think of the entanglement in which we find ourselves."
"You can't be more pleased than I am at having found you, Colonel. I have had an adventure with Diabella."
"The deuce. Have you learned who she is?"
"Who _he_ is, you mean. Yes. That mask concealed Constantine Maunders."
Towton sat down on one of the hall chairs and stared. "Do you mean to say that the young scamp has been masquerading as a woman?"
Vernon nodded and sat down wearily, for his bones ached. "I presume he thought that there would be less danger of discovery if he changed his sex. I expect he wore those long Egyptian robes over his ordinary clothes. When discarding them he would reappear as Maunders, and could easily escape without being noticed in the crowd. He's clever, is Constantine, and yet not clever enough."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Towton gruffly and rising to his feet. "Suppose you come with me to the Athenian and tell me all about the matter."
"I'm not in evening kit."
"Oh, the deuce take that," said the Colonel cheerfully.
"And I'm rather knocked up with my fight."
"Fight? Did Maunders show fight?"
"No. Your Hindoo did. He assaulted me as he did you and left his job unfinished in the same way. It's a long story and I want your assistance. Go and have your dinner, Colonel, and I'll lie down on the sofa in your sitting-room until you return."
"Pooh! pooh! I can't eat with such news as this exciting me." Towton threw off his coat and hung his silk hat on a peg. "Come into the sitting-room and I'll send my man to the nearest restaurant for a meal. Meanwhile you'd better have a peg, for you look as white as a winter's day."
"No, thank you, Colonel. I had a brandy and soda just after leaving The Georgian Hall," said Vernon as they entered the sitting-room.
"Have you been there--at the bazaar?"
"Yes. Diabella had set up her tent there and was telling fortunes. I heard of this at Lady Corsoon's the other day, and so ventured to beard the lioness in her den."
"And the lioness turned out to be a lion," chuckled Towton throwing himself into a chair after making the sofa comfortable with cushions for his guest. "Well, we'll have the whole story after a makeshift dinner, for, hang it, your disclosure has taken away a very excellent appetite. Bendham!" The Colonel turned to the retired soldier who acted as his valet and who had just entered the room, "go round to the nearest restaurant and tell them to send in the best small dinner they have, for two. Look sharp, now. You can lay the cloth in the smoking-room; we'll make shift there."
Bendham saluted military fashion and took a speedy departure, while his master turned his head in the direction of Vernon. "Tell me all that has happened to you now," he said easily; "it will be some time before the dinner makes its appearance, and I'm on tenterhooks. The deuce, to think that our blackguard friend--for he is that, I swear--should be earning his money as a fortune-teller. It's worse than----" Towton hesitated.
"Than my profession of a detective, you would say, Colonel," finished Vernon languidly. "I should rather think so. I assist the law, and Maunders breaks it. But neither profession is tempting to a gentleman."
"Oh, hang your profession," said Towton impatiently. "You will soon enter into your kingdom when Sir Edward gives up the ghost. And it's just as well that you have some experience in thief-catching seeing what scoundrels we have to deal with. Maunders, by jove! Now we'll be able to find out how he came to know that Ida wasn't Dimsdale's daughter. No wonder he decided to give her up, seeing that he was after the money. What did he say?"
"Nothing. He cleared out of the tent as soon as I discovered his identity."
"Where is he now?" demanded the Colonel sharply.
"I don't know. That's what I wish to speak to you about. And, to make things quite clear, as I want your opinion, you had better hear the whole story."
Towton intimated his desire to be informed of what had taken place, and listened attentively while Vernon detailed all that had happened since Mrs. Crimer had informed him of Diabella's proposed appearance at the bazaar. He ended with a description of his recovering from insensibility in the deserted tent and his subsequent decision to consult the Colonel before-taking any steps. "And my reason for wishing to move quietly is obvious," was the concluding remark of the young man.
"Yes! yes! I quite understand. We must keep Miss Corsoon's name and that of Miss Dimsdale out of the papers. By the way, what did this fellow mean by hinting in his confounded fortune-telling at disgrace to someone closely connected with Miss Corsoon? Does he mean her mother or her father?"
Vernon felt a trifle confused. In his interest in the recital he had unconsciously let slip more than he had been prepared to impart. Both as a detective and as a gentleman he was bound to keep Lady Corsoon's secret, and as the disclosure of it was not particularly pertinent to the matter in hand he brushed aside Towton's question with a scornful laugh. "Oh, I daresay that was all patter. Maunders knows that I love Lucy and thought to intimidate me by a threat that he had power to force the mother to support his preposterous claim to marry the girl. But after this exposure he will scarcely dare to come forward."
"The blackguard," cried the honest Colonel heatedly; "he blackens the character of both man and woman in his endeavours to earn his dirty money. But I thought he was supposed to be at Gerby Hall?"
"Oh, he doubtless arranged that so as to provide himself with an _alibi_."
"Why the deuce should he provide himself with analibi?"
"Can't you see that Maunders must be The Spider?" said Vernon impatiently. Towton leaped to his feet and began to walk to and fro much perturbed. "Oh, impossible! I don't like Maunders; all the same, it seems incredible that he should be a murderer."
"I can't see that myself," said Vernon drily. "Maunders is half a Greek and is as wily a bird as ever had salt put on its tail. Whether he gets it from his Greek father or from his English mother I can't say, but he certainly has that strong criminal taint, which induces him to get money for his whims by illegal methods rather than by honest toil. Besides, we can't say if he killed Dimsdale, even though, as is apparent, he is The Spider. Miss Hest declared to me in all innocence, and not with any intention of defending him, that Maunders was with her nearly all the evening."
"Then he can't be The Spider," insisted the Colonel, "for undoubtedly The Spider killed poor old Dimsdale."
"So we thought; so everyone thinks; and yet--well, of course, it's not impossible that Maunders ordered this nameless native to get the money, and the man may have executed the murder without instructions."
"Or else," said Towton emphatically, "Maunders may have had his mask torn off by Dimsdale when he came for the money and murdered the old man to prevent discovery. It cuts both ways."
"Pardon me, no, if Miss Hest is to be believed."
"I don't trust that woman," said the Colonel abruptly.
"She is scheming to get Ida to marry her brother."
"I think she will fail there, as the brother is in London."
"What?"
"Yes. I met him both at Lady Corsoon's and at the Bazaar. He said that his sister _did_ wish to bring about the match, but that, not being desirous of marrying Ida, he ran away from the Hall."
"Leaving the field clear for Maunders?"
"You forget that Maunders is in town masquerading as Diabella."
"He may have come up for that purpose."
"Well, we can ascertain that from Mr. Hest. He declares that he left him at Gerby Hall, or that Maunders was expected, I forget which. But we'll see him to-morrow and ask."
Towton shook his head wisely. "He won't know of Maunders' movements."
"You never can tell. At all events, it will do no harm to ask him. Now I come to think of it," said Vernon musingly and searching his memory, "Hest told me to-day at the bazaar that he had received a letter from his sister saying that Maunders had arrived on Sunday morning. That was yesterday, so it is impossible to believe that Maunders went down and came up in such a hurry. It's my opinion that he never went to Gerby Hall at all."
"And I say, by jove!" cried the Colonel greatly excited, "Hest told a lie if he said that he received a letter saying that Maunders had arrived. Even if posted in Bowderstyke last evening it could not reach him before to-night, and you say he gave you the information this afternoon?"
"He may have received it at mid-day."
"No," said Towton decidedly. "Our post at Bowderstyke is very uncertain, as I know to my cost. This evening or to-morrow morning is the very earliest that Hest could receive a letter posted on Sunday, and as Maunders did not arrive until then Miss Hest could not have written before."
"I don't believe that he arrived at all, and I can't conceive why Miss Hest should tell a falsehood."
"I can. She is scheming for this money. However, I shall go with you to-morrow and we'll have it out with Hest. Where is he to be found?"
"He is staying with Professor Garrick Gail, at Isleworth."
"The deuce! Ida told me that he did not approve of his sister's reciting."
"Nor does he. But she asked him to give some message, and the Professor asked him to stop at Isleworth while he was in town. He did so, as he explained to me, so that he could persuade the Professor to induce Miss Hest to give up her career."
"A very lame explanation," said the Colonel grimly. "Gentlemen don't stay at such places for such weak purposes. I tell you, Vernon, that I don't believe in those Hests. I never did, although you defended the sister. They had a bad name at Bowderstyke as a wild family."
"Oh, I thought that Francis Hest was looked upon as a benefactor?"
"He is," admitted the Colonel reluctantly, "he's a crazy philanthropist, with his parish school-houses and Bolly Reservoir. All the same, there's a queer taint about them, and they live queer lives."
"I can't see that. Frances recites in London in a perfectly open and honest way, and Francis acts in a noble manner as a philanthropist."
"I daresay. All the same, I don't trust either brother or sister: they quarrel like mad, too."
"Most families do," retorted Vernon drily as he swung himself off the sofa, "and Frances is certainly trying to further her brother's interest by securing him an heiress. That doesn't look as though they quarrelled."
"Humph!" said Towton disbelievingly. "Probably the sister has learned that Ida isn't an heiress and wants to do her brother a bad turn. However, it's no use talking, as we get no further. Let us see Hest to-morrow, and then learn, if we can, the whereabouts of Maunders. All depends upon the confession of that scamp. But, I tell you what, Vernon, if our young friend is this poisonous beast of a Spider he will have left England by to-night's mail."
"Perhaps. But I could not stop him without consulting Drench, and that means the interference of the police, which we wish to avoid."
"It's a damned tangle altogether," muttered Towton savagely, "and--but here comes Bendham to announce dinner. Come and eat. To-morrow we can talk further."
Vernon was quite willing to drop the subject for the time being, as his head and limbs still ached with the struggle, and he felt more inclined to go to bed than to sit discussing criminal trickery, which required a very clear brain. Even at the makeshift dinner, which after all was dainty and tempting, he was unable to eat much, and excused himself to his host as speedily as he could consistently with politeness. After arranging to meet the Colonel next day at three o'clock at Waterloo Station he went home. A warm bath took the pains partially away, and he was so tired that almost as soon as his head rested on the pillow he dropped into a profound sleep. Not a single dream broke his rest, which was prolonged to ten o'clock the next morning.
While at breakfast, which he devoured with an excellent appetite, Vernon recollected that he had not Professor Garrick Gail's exact address. It was at Isleworth that he lived, but it was necessary to find the street and the number of the house. This was quickly learned from an _Era_, which he sent his servant to buy, and he ascertained that the retired actor dwelt in Siddons Villa, Petterby Road. Vernon rather regretted that he had not made the appointment with Colonel Towton earlier, since Mr. Hest might have gone out for the day. However, he comforted himself with the reflection that in any case Hest and Towton would meet at dinner on Wednesday. Meanwhile, there was always the chance that the Yorkshire squire might be at Isleworth, and in any case Vernon felt curious to see where Miss Hest lived when in town. Like the Colonel, he was beginning to mistrust that young lady.
Punctual to the moment Vernon arrived at Waterloo Station, but found Towton before him. They greeted one another cordially, and Towton congratulated his friend on his improved looks. And certainly a night's rest had done wonders for the young man. He felt, as the saying goes, as fit as a fiddle, and quite looked forward to the visit. "And I sincerely trust that Mr. Hest is at home," he said anxiously.
"We can wait for him if he is not," said the Colonel, shouldering his umbrella in soldier fashion. "I don't leave until I have seen him, that's all. In one way or another I intend to have these infernal mysteries cleared up. Upon my soul, sir," said the Colonel bluffly, "I feel as though I were bathing in dirty water."
"You are not used to the seamy side of life as I am," replied Vernon as they passed the barrier and stepped into the train.
"No, by jove, sir, I'm not. And once I am married to Ida I shall take care to leave all this sort of thing alone. Not the thing for a gentleman by any means. You chuck it also, Vernon."
"I intend to when my uncle dies. Once let Sir Arthur Vernon come into existence with a good income and Nemo vanishes for ever."
The Colonel nodded his approbation, and the two chatted about their errand on the way to Isleworth. But all they could do in the absence of positive fact was to theorise, which was unsatisfactory. But they hoped when they laid hands on Maunders--no very easy matter, since the scamp had taken the alarm--to have everything cleared up. Vernon still held that his former friend was The Spider, but Colonel Towton disagreed. "No! No! No!" said he decisively, "Maunders may be bad, but he isn't a murderer."
"He's anything that suits his purpose, so long as he isn't found out," was Vernon's retort. "He's clever----"
"And cunning, but he isn't bold, and would be sure not to bring himself within reach of the hands of justice by bloodshed."
"He has brought himself quite close enough in other ways," replied Vernon.
In this way they talked, and in due time arrived at the charming suburb of Isleworth, which looked quite countrified. The two descended the steps and passed along a narrow path which led out of the station into the road. An inquiry from a passing butcher-boy on a bicycle soon advised them of the whereabouts of Petterby Road, and shortly they found themselves facing a double-fronted house with a small and neglected garden between it and the quiet side-road.
"The sluggard's domain," said Towton with disgust, for, like most military men, he was excessively tidy. "Might be made pretty if attended to, by jove."
"I don't think retired actors go in much for gardening," said Vernon with a smile, as he reached for the knocker.
A stout woman, with the remains of heavy good looks, opened the door with the air of a tragedy queen, although her dress was scarcely regal. Vernon asked if he could see Mr. Hest and received a reply in the negative, as it seemed that Mr. Hest was absent. "But I anticipate that he will return at a comparatively early hour," said the lady grandiloquently.
"Can we see Professor Gail?" asked Vernon, determined to enter the house and wait for hours if necessary.
"Professor Garrick Gail," said the lady, giving him the entire name with the air of a Siddons, "is resting prior to going later to the Curtain Theatre. But if your errand is pressing----"
"Yes, it is. Please give the Professor my card."
"I am Mrs. Garrick Gail, formerly Miss Hettie Montgomery," said the lady in haughty tones, "and I do not convey messages. Maria!" she beckoned to a small servant whose not very clean face peeped under her substantial arm, "convey this intimation to your master. Gentlemen," she flung open the door grandly, "enter, and repose yourselves in the drawing-room."
Vernon smiled at the tinsel majesty of the actress, but the Colonel, without moving a muscle of his good-looking face, marched in stiffly. Shortly they found themselves in a tawdry room of no great size, crammed with theatrical photographs and furnished in a poor, pretentious manner, which revealed poverty, while it aped the genteel. Mrs. Garrick Gail, formerly Miss Hettie Montgomery, conducted them in with the air of one accustomed to the centre of the stage and then departed stating that her husband would shortly do himself the honour of waiting on them.
"What airs!" murmured Towton, recalling his Shakespeare indistinctly; "an intolerable quantity of sack to a pennyworth of bread."
"These actors and actresses are always in the glare of the footlights," said Vernon, sitting down cautiously on a shaky chair. "By the way, Colonel, if I do a little business with the Professor don't look more surprised than you can help."
"Business? What business?"
"I intend to ask if Miss Frances Hest is open to an engagement. It is necessary, since both you and I are beginning to mistrust that young lady, to be diplomatic."
"That means you mistrust this actor also and wish to throw him off the scent?"
Vernon nodded. "Exactly, and--hush----" He stopped and composed his features as the door opened and Professor Gail stalked into the room, like the Ghost of Hamlet's father.
Anyone could see at a glance that the man was an actor. He was tall, and lean, and solemn, yet with a twinkle in his deep-sunken eyes, which showed that he could play comedy as well as tragedy. His bluish jowl, from frequent close shaving, his long hair, his measured gestures, and his lordly gait all revealed one who was used to the world behind the curtain. His voice was deep and sonorous and his enunciation almost too perfect; nor did he clip his words colloquially, but gave them their full length and full meaning. Finally, he had a certain dignity, habitual to one who had played many a kingly part in his time, and who in ordinary life found it difficult not to relapse into blank verse.
"Colonel Towton--Arthur Vernon," he read from the pencilled card. "These are your names, I take it? And your business, gentlemen?"
"Well, we are killing two birds with one stone," said Vernon easily, as the actor sat down in a regal manner as though the arm-chair were a throne. "My friend here wishes to see Mr. Hest."
"He is absent for the moment, sir, but will return anon. Will you wait or will you leave a message."
"I prefer to wait," said Towton stiffly, as he did not like the atmosphere or the company. "When do you expect Mr. Hest back?"
"Well, sir, he may return in twenty minutes or in sixty, which is to say, on the hour. As my guest he has full freedom to go and return when he desires. I am content that you should remain, and if any refreshment----"
"Thank you, no," interrupted the Colonel hastily but politely.
"It is well. And you, sir?" The Professor turned to Vernon. "Nothing for me, thank you. I have called both to see Mr. Hest and yourself, sir, as I wish to engage Miss Hest to recite at the 'At Home' of a friend of mine. Lady Brankworth. Perhaps you know her?"
"Well. I know her well. I have superintended amateur plays in her drawing-room on more than one occasion. Ah! so she desires the services of my talented pupil? And on what date?"
"Thursday week, I think. But I am not sure. I shall have to see her again and then can let you know. Miss Hest is away, I fancy."
"In her ancestral home in Yorkshire," said the actor rolling his words out grandly, "but she returns shortly and will be delighted to accept of the engagement provided the fees----"
"Those will be all right, Professor. Lady Brankworth pays liberally."
"And so she ought, to secure the services of Miss Hest. I assure you, sir, that I have rarely come across a lady who recites so nobly. If she would only pay attention to her art instead of indulging in social frivolity with that unfortunate young lady who lost her father at Hampstead, she would become one of our greatest actresses."
"I fancy her brother does not wish her to go on the stage," said Vernon.
Professor Garrick Gail waved his hand and then thrust it into his coat in Napoleonic fashion. "He is prejudiced, prejudiced. I would he were on the stage himself, if only because he resembles his sister, my talented pupil, so closely. As Viola and Sebastian in 'Twelfth Night,' they would take the town by storm. Always provided," said the old actor with another wave, "that Mr. Hest has the same talent in measure as his sister has: a fact I am by no means sure of."
"They are very like one another," broke in Towton coldly.
"For that reason I wish both were on the stage to play in twin parts," replied the Professor in his most stately manner. "They are as like as two eggs, as you observe, sir. But Mr. Hest thinks little of our glorious profession, and is staying here in the vain hope of inducing me to persuade his sister, my talented pupil, to surrender the laurel wreath of the stage. Needless to say, I decline to commit so great a crime."
How long the Professor would have gone on descanting on the histrionic capabilities of Frances Hest it is hard to say, but his eloquence was cut short by the entrance of Mrs. Gail, who swept an apologetic curtsey to the gentlemen for her sudden appearance. She then whispered to her husband, and Vernon caught a word or two about "a bill--man at the back door--must have his money," etc. Gail looked perturbed and rose quickly.
"A small domestic concern, gentlemen," he said, stalking to the door followed by his wife. "Excuse me while I adjust matters. I shall return soon," and he made his exit with Mrs. Gail in a most approved stage fashion.
When they were alone the Colonel asked a question: "Can you get this engagement for Miss Hest?"
"Oh, yes. Lady Brankworth is a great friend of mine and is always giving parties. There will be no difficulty in my making good my word. The old man seems to be all right and his wife also. Whatever devilry the Hests may be up to, that worthy couple know nothing about it."
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the door opened quickly and a man entered the room in great haste. Vernon sprang to his feet.
"Maunders once more!" He cried; "The very man I wish to see."
And Maunders it was, looking like a trapped tiger, furious and despairing.