CHAPTER XXVIIDUTY CALLS
All too swiftly speeded the minutes which were at Captain Marven's disposal. There was so much to be explained, so much to be learned, and barely an hour to explain everything. Yet, short as the time, it was broken in upon by the arrival of another visitor. For the second time that day Mr. Hildebrand Flurscheim found himself thrusting his company upon persons who had little desire for it. When he knocked at the door of Guy's chambers Guy at first ignored the summons. But the knocking persisted. He was forced to open the door, if only to prevent his neighbours being disturbed, and, when once the door was open, Flurscheim refused to be excluded.
"I must see you privately at once," declared the connoisseur. "My business is of the utmost importance."
Guy admitted him into the sitting-room, where the sight of Captain Marven surprised him into an exclamation.
"I must see you alone—quite alone," he insisted to Guy.
"I would rather you did not," said Guy. "I am afraid there is nothing you can say which will be news to Captain Marven."
Flurscheim looked from the young man to the elder man, and his shrewd eyes noted the emotion from which both were obviously suffering.
"It's my misfortune to have arrived at an inopportune time," he remarked. "But you shall soon be rid of my presence. I only want to rid myself of the debt I owe you for preserving my life."
Guy's face flushed. He felt exquisitely uncomfortable.
"You rate my service too highly," he said. "I did nothing which entailed any risk to myself, and——" Flurscheim interrupted, but Guy continued hastily, "And yet, perhaps, it is as well that you should have arrived just now, while Captain Marven is here. I have a confession to make to you. I should like him to hear what I have to say and—and, when I have said it, I think you will no longer consider yourself in my debt."
The connoisseur found it difficult to believe his ears. Guy's words could only bear one meaning. He glanced at Captain Marven and saw that a light had come into his face. Marven had grasped Guy's arm, and Flurscheim heard him say,
"That's right, Guy, get it over."
Guy turned to him. There was a new-born humility in his voice and manner. "It is really your wish?" he asked.
"My wish is that my son should do his duty," replied Marven sadly.
Guy threw back his head and faced the Jew.
"Mr. Flurscheim," he said, "I am the thief who stole your picture."
Father and son were astounded at the result of the bold confession. They had expected amazement, probably immediate denunciation, but, instead, the Jew threw up his hands deprecatingly, and fussily remarked:"There, there, there. What if you did? I could very well afford the loss, couldn't I?"
Guy stared. He thought that he was not believed, that, possibly, Flurscheim imagined that he had taken leave of his senses.
"But it is true, Mr. Flurscheim. I—Guy Hora—stole your pictures. See, I can give you proof."
He turned to a little silver-bound casket lying on the table, and took from it the miniature which was so like Meriel. He cast one longing glance at the portrait as he handed it to the connoisseur.
"Well, what if you did steal my picture," snapped Flurscheim, "there is no need to inform the whole world of the fact, is there?"
Guy was bewildered.
"I shall say no more about it," continued Flurscheim, "except to advise you to keep that miniature out of the sight of prying eyes, and to take the earliest opportunity of getting rid of that d——d scoundrel of a valet of yours."
"But, Mr. Flurscheim," said Guy, "you do not seem to comprehend, I——"
The situation trembled on the verge of farce. The Jew's eyes twinkled with amusement, but he grew grave as he saw Captain Marven's haggard face.
"Let me explain, Mr. Hora," he said. "A few days ago your man Jessel gave me information of this miniature being in your possession. That same afternoon while I was planning how to punish you, I fell overboard and you saved my life. Now, you tell me, you were the actual robber of the picture and other little articles. Well, in return you presented me with something I value stillmore. Shall we call it a deal, and shake hands on it?"
Guy could barely see the outstretched hand. A mist was before his eyes.
"Anyhow, I can appreciate your generosity," he said, as he and the Jew grasped hands, "and perhaps, if I could have restored you the articles I have stolen, I might have listened. But there is another concerned. I must share the penalty he will have to pay."
"There may be a hundred concerned. I'll not trouble any of 'em, if I should hurt you by so doing. Come, Mr. Hora, say it's a deal. Don't think you're accepting a favour. It's all the other way about, so you needn't let your pride stand in the way."
"Pride!" remarked Guy. "My pride has gone before my fall." He was silent. A few hours previously he would eagerly have accepted Flurscheim's offer, but since he had read Hora's letter to Captain Marven, the whole position was changed. Lynton Hora was no longer worthy of consideration. There was no tie of blood between them. Hora had deliberately deceived him, poisoned his mind, robbed him of parents and honour and love to gratify the malice in his heart. Guy could not think of sparing him. There could be no treachery where so deeply dyed a traitor was concerned.
"You'll say it's a deal?" asked Flurscheim again.
Captain Marven intervened. "Perhaps it will be best to explain the whole of the circumstances to Mr. Flurscheim," he said quietly. "I know that he will treat the family matters involved as purely confidential."
Flurscheim listened while Captain Marven deliberately laid before him the facts. "You see," he added quietly,when he had finished the story, "that this matter cannot remain a secret between us. This letter must be laid before my chief."
"But that is madness," cried Flurscheim. He gesticulated wildly in his excitement. He protested, he implored, he argued that only an entirely wrong-headed sense of duty could demand such a course of action. But Marven remained inflexible, and Guy supported him in his determination.
He was still arguing when the striking of a clock warned Marven that he must leave. Already it had been arranged that Guy was to accompany him to the Foreign Office. "I shall come, too," declared the Jew. "Sir Everard Markham is an old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps he will make you listen to reason."
Neither Captain Marven nor Guy believed that he would fulfil his threat. But they did not know the pertinacity with which Flurscheim carried out every scheme to which he had once set his hand. They left him on the pavement, and drove to Whitehall, but Flurscheim followed them a few minutes later. When he arrived at the Foreign Office Captain Marven had already been shown to the Permanent Secretary's room. Flurscheim demanded notepaper, and, scribbling a hasty note, succeeded in persuading a messenger to deliver it to Sir Everard Markham at once. Then he sat down, and awaited the result.
The note was delivered as he desired, but it remained unopened for a while. The Permanent Secretary was far too deeply immersed in the business in hand to have a single thought for anything else.
It was a distasteful task which Sir Everard Markhamhad undertaken to perform. Never before, during his tenure of office, had he been called upon to question the honesty of any of his trusted officials. That a soldier and a gentleman could be so lost to all sense of honour as to deliberately steal government secrets for purposes of private gain was almost unthinkable. Yet the report which Detective Inspector Kenly had made left very little room for doubt as to Captain Marven's guilt. And Marven was the last man whom he should have suspected of such infamy. The Secretary of State, too, was as much amazed as the Permanent Secretary at Kenly's report. He also knew Captain Marven personally. He had dined at his house, they belonged to the same clubs, he would have pledged his whole estate on Marven's fidelity, and yet—he trusted that the damning facts might be explained away, though he doubted that it would be possible to furnish any plausible explanation of the facts save one.
Most damning of all to both their minds was the final item of information which Inspector Kenly had brought with him shortly before the hour at which it had been arranged for the King's Messenger to call. There could only be one explanation of Lynton Hora's communication with Marven within an hour or two of his reaching town. The two men must be in close communication with one another. Kenly himself no longer had any doubts as to Captain Marven's guilt. He only regretted that the exigencies of the situation were such that any one of the gang would escape his clutches. Still, there would be some satisfaction in having assisted to unmask such a scoundrel. He looked forward to the interview with keen anticipation. He had advised the course to beadopted, and, with some alterations of their own, both the Great Man and the Permanent Secretary had fallen in with his views.
But the interview was not destined to take the lines suggested, for almost the first words Captain Marven had spoken, when he had been ushered into the presence of his three judges, had thrown the carefully discussed plans into confusion. So intent was he on performing the duty he had laid down for himself, that he observed nothing out of the way in the presence of Sir Gadsby Dimbleby and another man, a stranger to him, in the Permanent Secretary's room. He did not observe that neither the Permanent Secretary nor the Great Man had offered him a hand, nor that there was a false ring about the "How d'ye do, Marven," with which Sir Gadsby greeted him. Trivialities, such as these, were of no importance to the man who had before him the terrible duty of denouncing the son whom he had but just found.
Captain Marven had mapped out for himself the course to be pursued. First he must make amends for his own share in the disclosure. He had failed in his trust. He had allowed himself to fall into the trap laid for him. There was only one way in which he could make amends.
"I suppose, Sir Markham," he said, "you have sent for me in the ordinary course. I regret that some matters I have to lay before you will probably lead you to the conclusion that I am no longer fit to be entrusted with your commands. I think it well to tell you at once, in case you are in urgent need of a messenger, so that you may communicate with the next man on the rota."
A dead silence followed his words. The Great Man looked at the Permanent Secretary and the PermanentSecretary returned the glance. One thought was common to each of their minds. Was Marven going to confess? They suddenly became aware that the Captain had aged considerably since they last saw him, that his face was worn and lined, his eyes dull. Yet he held himself erect, and his voice was calm.
He continued, "The matter is of importance. Of course I can have no objection to the presence of Sir Gadsby, but I do not recognise this gentleman,"—he indicated Kenly with a gesture—"and if he would retire——"
Kenly made no movement, and the Permanent Secretary raised his eyebrows in mute enquiry to the Great Man. Sir Gadsby coughed. Then he remarked drily, "This gentleman is Detective Inspector Kenly of Scotland Yard. It is my desire that he should hear why you consider yourself unfit to be trusted with your duties as a King's Messenger."
Captain Marven could not fail to understand the suggestion which lay behind the Great Man's words. Still more significant was the cold tone in which the words were spoken. He was himself suspect. His summons was not in the ordinary course of events. He was to have been called to account. Well, what did it matter? Yet, though his cheek flushed, and as suddenly paled, he gave no other sign of agitation. "He has a soldier's pluck, anyway," muttered Kenly to himself, as Marven replied calmly, "Certainly, if you wish it, Sir Gadsby."
Marven turned immediately to the Permanent Secretary. "I received barely two hours ago a letter from an old brother officer of mine, named Hartley Ruthven, who is now known by the name of Lynton Hora. I want you to read that letter first. Afterwards I should like to addany information which is in my possession to the disclosures it contains."
The Permanent Secretary took the letter from Marven's hand, and glanced rapidly over the first page.
"Good God!" he said. He looked up and insensibly his tone became more kindly. "Won't you sit down, Marven?"
Captain Marven seated himself. The Permanent Secretary read another page. Then he spoke again.
"Shall I read this letter to Sir Gadsby? I am sure that if I say it is desirable that Mr. Kenly shall withdraw he will not insist upon his remaining."
"I should prefer Mr. Kenly should hear the contents," answered Marven steadily.
The Permanent Secretary read the letter aloud. When he concluded there was a silence that could be felt.
Marven broke it. "My son is waiting below to give himself up to justice." His voice quivered for a moment, then became steady again. "He is ready—even anxious—to pay the penalty."
Sir Gadsby's face became purple. He turned to Kenly. "Here you, what the devil do you mean by letting this d——d scoundrel Hora go about kidnapping honest men's sons and bringing 'em up to break their father's hearts? What is the use of a detective force at all?"
Kenly nearly fell off his chair at the suddenness of the attack. He was far too amazed to defend himself. He understood the next moment that the explosion was only the ebullition of a warm heart which needed an outlet, for the next moment the Great Man had taken Captain Marven's hand and was shaking it violently, while he stuttered out, "By Gad, Marven, I have to apologise toyou. I've been thinking that you peeped into that despatch box yourself. I'll never forgive myself for doubting you."
Captain Marven smiled sadly. "Though unintentionally, I have betrayed my trust," he said. "If I had been more careful, my son——" He could get no further. The Great Man wiped his eyes and blew his nose violently. He knew Marven's story, knew of his sorrow and his hopes, and he could appreciate the wonderful devotion to duty which had led him to so sacrifice his son. He turned to the Permanent Secretary. "Look here, Markham, we must put our old heads together and get the boy out of this scrape somehow." He nodded to the detective. "You ought to be able to suggest something, Kenly."
The Inspector's face was a study. He foresaw all his efforts being wasted. He set his lips doggedly.
"I am afraid you are asking me to assent in compounding a felony," he answered sourly.
"Compounding a felony be d——d!" roared the Great Man. "I'll guarantee it wouldn't be the first time you've compounded."
To this totally undeserved slur, the Inspector was about to make a heated reply, when the Permanent Secretary intervened. "Sir Gadsby often says more than he means," he remarked, adding thoughtfully, "—in private life, of course."
The Great Man laughed, and said, "Yes, you must not take my last remark to you literally, Inspector."
Kenly's face cleared, but he was still loth to let the victim, about whom he had wound his net, escape.
"Do you propose to let this man Lynton Hora go free,then?" he asked. "What would Mr. Flurscheim say to that?"
A totally unexpected answer came to the enquiry. The Permanent Secretary had remembered the unopened note which had been brought to him. He had torn it open, and the signature had attracted his attention.
"Suppose we ask Mr. Flurscheim," he said. "Listen to this," he read the note aloud.
"DEAR SIR MARKHAM: A friend of mine, from some pig-headed notion of duty, is insisting on sending his son to prison. I want you, before you take any action in the matter, to hear what I have to say on the question."Very sincerely yours,"HILDEBRAND FLURSCHEIM."P. S.—By the time you receive this you will, of course, understand that I am writing about Captain Marven."PP. S.—I shall wait here until I see you."
"DEAR SIR MARKHAM: A friend of mine, from some pig-headed notion of duty, is insisting on sending his son to prison. I want you, before you take any action in the matter, to hear what I have to say on the question.
"Very sincerely yours,"HILDEBRAND FLURSCHEIM.
"P. S.—By the time you receive this you will, of course, understand that I am writing about Captain Marven.
"PP. S.—I shall wait here until I see you."
The Great Man rubbed his hands together and chuckled.
"Let us have Mr. Flurscheim up," he said.