BLACKMAIL.
Having come to the only possible arrangement, consistent with the
difficult position in which they stood, Lambert and Lady Agnes took
their almost immediate departure from The Manor. The young man had
merely come to stay there in response to his cousin's request, so that
his avoidance of her should not be too marked, and the suspicions of
Pine excited. Now that the man was dead, there was no need to behave in
this judicious way, and having no great love for Garvington, whom he
thoroughly despised, Lambert returned to his forest cottage. There he
busied himself once more with his art, and waited patiently to see what
the final decision of Agnes would be. He did not expect to hear for some
weeks, or even months, as the affairs of Garvington, being very much
involved, could not be understood in a moment. But the lovers, parted by
a strict sense of duty, eased their minds by writing weekly letters to
one another.
Needless to say, Garvington did not at all approve of the decision of
his sister, which she duly communicated to him. He disliked Lambert,
both as the next heir to the estates, and because he was a more popular
man than himself. Even had Pine not prohibited the marriage in his will,
Garvington would have objected to Agnes becoming the young man's wife;
as it was, he stormed tempests, but without changing the widow's
determination. Being a remarkably selfish creature, all he desired was
that Agnes should live a solitary life as a kind of banker, to supply
him with money whenever he chose to ask for the same. Pine he had not
been able to manage, but he felt quite sure that he could bully his
sister into doing what he wanted. It both enraged and surprised him to
find that she had a will of her own and was not content to obey his
egotistical orders. Agnes would not even remain under his roof--as he
wanted her to, lest some other person should get hold of her and the
desirable millions--but returned to her London house. The only comfort
he had was that Lambert was not with her, and therefore--as he devoutly
hoped--she would meet some man who would cause her to forget the Abbot's
Wood recluse. So long as Agnes retained the money, Garvington did not
particularly object to her marrying, as he always hoped to cajole and
bully ready cash out of her, but he would have preferred had she
remained single, as then she could be more easily plundered.
"And yet I don't know," he said to his long-suffering wife. "While she's
a widow there's always the chance that she may take the bit between her
teeth and marry Noel, in which case she loses everything. It will be as
well to get her married."
"You will have no selection of the husband this time," said Lady
Garvington, whose sympathies were entirely for Agnes. "She will choose
for herself."
"Let her," retorted Garvington, with feigned generosity. "So long as she
does not choose Noel; hang him!"
"He's the very man she will choose;" replied his wife, and Garvington,
uneasily conscious that she was probably right, cursed freely all women
in general and his sister in particular. Meanwhile he went to Paris to
look after a famous chef, of whom he had heard great things, and left
his wife in London with strict injunctions to keep a watch on Agnes.
The widow was speedily made aware of these instructions, for when Lady
Garvington came to stay with her sister-in-law at the sumptuous Mayfair
mansion, she told her hostess about the conversation. More than that,
she even pressed her to marry Noel, and be happy.
"Money doesn't do so much, after all, when you come to think of it,"
lamented Lady Garvington. "And I know you'd be happier with Noel, than
living here with all this horrid wealth."
"What would Freddy say if he heard you talk so, Jane?"
"I don't know what else he can say," rejoined the other reflectively.
"He's never kept his temper or held his tongue with me. His liver is
nearly always out of order with over-eating. However," she added
cheering up, "he is sure to die of apoplexy before long, and then I
shall live on tea and buns for the rest of my life. I simply hate the
sight of a dinner table."
"Freddy isn't a pretty sight during a meal," admitted his sister with a
shrug. "All the same you shouldn't wish him dead, Jane. You might have a
worse husband."
"I'd rather have a profligate than a glutton, Agnes. But Freddy won't
die, my dear. He'll go to Wiesbaden, or Vichy, or Schwalbach, and take
the waters to get thin; then he'll return to eat himself to the size of
a prize pig again. But thank goodness," said Lady Garvington, cheering
up once more, "he's away for a few weeks, and we can enjoy ourselves.
But do let us have plain joints and no sauces, Agnes."
"Oh, you can live on bread and water if you choose," said the widow
good-humoredly. "It's a pity I am in mourning, as I can't take you out
much. But the motor is always at your disposal, and I can give you all
the money you want. Get a few dresses--"
"And hats, and boots, and shoes, and--and--oh, I don't know what else.
You're a dear, Agnes, and although I don't want to ruin you, I do want
heaps of things. I'm in rags, as Freddy eats up our entire income."
"You can't ruin a woman with two millions, Jane. Get what you require
and I'll pay. I am only too glad to give you some pleasure, since I
can't attend to you as I ought to. But you see, nearly three times a
week I have to consult the lawyers about settling Freddy's affairs."
On these conditions four or five weeks passed away very happily for the
two women. Lady Garvington certainly had the time of her life, and
regained a portion of her lost youth. She revelled in shopping, went in
a quiet way to theatres, patronized skating rinks, and even attended one
or two small winter dances. And to her joy, she met with a nice young
man, who was earnestly in pursuit of a new religion, which involved much
fasting and occasional vegetarian meals. He taught her to eat nuts, and
eschew meats, talking meanwhile of the psychic powers which such
abstemiousness would develop in her. Of course Lady Garvington did not
overdo this asceticism, but she was thankful to meet a man who had not
read Beeton's Cookery Book. Besides, he flirted quite nicely.
Agnes, pleased to see her sister-in-law enjoying life, gave her
attention to Garvington's affairs, and found them in a woeful mess. It
really did appear as if she would have to save the Lambert family from
ever-lasting disgrace, and from being entirely submerged, by keeping
hold of her millions. But she did not lose heart, and worked on bravely
in the hope that an adjustment would save a few thousand a year for
Freddy, without touching any of Pine's money. If she could manage to
secure him a sufficient income to keep up the title, and to prevent the
sale of The Manor in Hengishire, she then intended to surrender her
husband's wealth and retire to a country life with Noel as her husband.
"He can paint and I can look after the cottage along with Mrs. Tribb,"
she told Mrs. Belgrove, who called to see her one day, more painted and
dyed and padded and tastefully dressed than ever. "We can keep fowls and
things, you know," she added vaguely.
"Quite an idyl," tittered the visitor, and then went away to tell her
friends that Lady Agnes must have been in love with her cousin all the
time. And as the contents of the will were now generally known, every
one agreed that the woman was a fool to give up wealth for a dull
existence in the woods. "All the same it's very sweet," sighed Mrs.
Belgrove, having made as much mischief as she possibly could. "I should
like it myself if I could only dress as a Watteau shepherdess, you know,
and carry a lamb with a blue ribbon round its dear neck."
Of course, Lady Agnes heard nothing of this ill-natured chatter, since
she did not go into society during her period of mourning, and received
only a few of her most intimate friends. Moreover, besides attending to
Garvington's affairs, it was necessary that she should have frequent
consultations with Mr. Jarwin in his stuffy Chancery Lane office,
relative to the large fortune left by her late husband. There, on three
occasions she met Silver, the ex-secretary, when he came to explain
various matters to the solicitor. With the consent of Lady Agnes, the
man had been discharged, when Jarvin took over the management of the
millions, but having a thorough knowledge of Pine's financial dealings,
it was necessary that he should be questioned every now and then.
Silver was rather sulky over his abrupt dismissal, but cunningly
concealed his real feelings when in the presence of the widow, since she
was too opulent a person to offend. It was Silver who suggested that a
reward should be offered for the detection of Pine's assassin. Lady
Agnes approved of the idea, and indeed was somewhat shocked that she had
not thought of taking this course herself. Therefore, within seven days
every police office in the United Kingdom was placarded with bills,
stating that the sum of one thousand pounds would be given to the person
or persons who should denounce the culprit. The amount offered caused
quite a flutter of excitement, and public interest in the case was
revived for nearly a fortnight. At the conclusion of that period, as
nothing fresh was discovered, people ceased to discuss the matter. It
seemed as though the reward, large as it was, would never be claimed.
But having regard to the fact that Silver was interesting himself in the
endeavor to avenge his patron's death, Lady Agnes was not at all
surprised to receive a visit from him one foggy November afternoon. She
certainly did not care much for the little man, but feeling dull and
somewhat lonely, she quite welcomed his visit. Lady Garvington had gone
with her ascetic admirer to a lecture on "Souls and Sorrows!" therefore
Agnes had a spare hour for the ex-secretary. He was shown into her own
particular private sitting-room, and she welcomed him with studied
politeness, for try as she might it was impossible for her to overcome
her mistrust.
"Good-day, Mr. Silver," she said, when he bowed before her. "This is an
unexpected visit. Won't you be seated?"
Silver accepted her offer of a chair with an air of demure shyness, and
sitting on its edge stared at her rather hard. He looked neat and dapper
in his Bond Street kit, and for a man who had started life as a
Whitechapel toymaker, his manners were inoffensive. While Pine's
secretary he had contrived to pick up hints in the way of social
behavior, and undoubtedly he was clever, since he so readily adapted
himself to his surroundings. He was not a gentleman, but he looked like
a gentleman, and therein lay a subtle difference as Lady Agnes decided.
She unconsciously in her manner, affable as it was, suggested the gulf
between them, and Silver, quickly contacting the atmosphere, did not
love her any the more for the hint.
Nevertheless, he admired her statuesque beauty, the fairness of which
was accentuated by her sombre dress. Blinking like a well-fed cat,
Silver stared at his hostess, and she looked questioningly at him. With
his foxy face, his reddish hair, and suave manners, too careful to be
natural, he more than ever impressed her with the idea that he was a
dangerous man. Yet she could not see in what way he could reveal his
malignant disposition.
"What do you wish to see me about, Mr. Silver?" she asked kindly, but
did not--as he swiftly noticed--offer him a cup of tea, although it was
close upon five o'clock.
"I have come to place my services at your disposal," he said in a low
voice.
"Really, I am not aware that I need them," replied Lady Agnes coldly,
and not at all anxious to accept the offer.
"I think," said Silver dryly, and clearing his throat, "that when you
hear what I have to say you will be glad that I have come."
"Indeed! Will you be good enough to speak plainer?"
She colored hotly when she asked the question, as it struck her suddenly
that perhaps this plotter knew of Garvington's slip regarding the check.
But as that had been burnt by Pine at the time of her marriage, she
reflected that even if Silver knew about it, he could do nothing.
Unless, and it was this thought that made her turn red, Garvington had
again risked contact with the criminal courts. The idea was not a
pleasant one, but being a brave woman, she faced the possibility boldly.
"Well?" she asked calmly, as he did not reply immediately. "What have
you to say?"
"It's about Pine's death," said Silver bluntly.
"Sir Hubert, if you please."
"And why, Lady Agnes?" Silver raised his faint eyebrows. "We were more
like brothers than master and servant. And remember that it was by the
penny toys that I invented your husband first made money."
"In talking to me, I prefer that you should call my late husband Sir
Hubert," insisted the widow haughtily. "What have you discovered
relative to his death?"
Silver did not answer the question directly. "Sir Hubert, since you will
have it so, Lady Agnes, was a gypsy," he remarked carelessly.
"That was made plain at the inquest, Mr. Silver."
"Quite so, Lady Agnes, but there were other things not made plain on
that occasion. It was not discovered who shot him."
"You tell me nothing new. I presume you have come to explain that you
have discovered a clew to the truth?"
Silver raised his pale face steadily. "Would you be glad if I had?"
"Certainly! Can you doubt it?"
The man shirked a reply to this question also. "Sir Hubert did not treat
me over well," he observed irrelevantly.
"I fear that has nothing to do with me, Mr. Silver."
"And I was dimissed from my post," he went on imperturbably.
"On Mr. Jarwin's advice," she informed him quickly. "There was no need
for you to be retained. But I believe that you were given a year's
salary in lieu of notice."
"That is so," he admitted. "I am obliged to you and to Mr. Jarwin for
the money, although it is not a very large sum. Considering what I did
for Sir Hubert, and how he built up his fortune out of my brains, I
think that I have been treated shabbily."
Lady Agnes rose, and moved towards the fireplace to touch the ivory
button of the electric bell. "On that point I refer you to Mr. Jarwin,"
she said coldly. "This interview has lasted long enough and can lead to
nothing."
"It may lead to something unpleasant unless you listen to me," said
Silver acidly. "I advise you not to have me turned out, Lady Agnes."
"What do you mean?" She dropped the hand she had extended to ring the
bell, and faced the smooth-faced creature suddenly. "I don't know what
you are talking about."
"If you will sit down, Lady Agnes, I can explain."
"I can receive your explanation standing," said the widow, frowning. "Be
brief, please."
"Very well. To put the matter in a nutshell, I want five thousand
pounds."
"Five thousand pounds!" she echoed, aghast.
"On account," said Silver blandly. "On account, Lady Agnes."
"And for what reason?"
"Sir Hubert was a gypsy," he said again, and with a significant look.
"Well?"
"He stopped at the camp near Abbot's Wood."
"Well?"
"There is a gypsy girl there called Chaldea."
"Chaldea! Chaldea!" muttered the widow, passing her hand across her
brow. "I have heard that name. Oh, yes. Miss Greeby mentioned it to me
as the name of a girl who was sitting as Mr. Lambert's model."
"Yes," assented Silver, grinning. "She is a very beautiful girl."
The color rushed again to the woman's cheeks, but she controlled her
emotions with an effort. "So Miss Greeby told me!" She knew that the man
was hinting that Lambert admired the girl in question, but her pride
prevented her admitting the knowledge. "Chaldea is being painted as
Esmeralda to the Quasimodo of her lover, a Servian gypsy called Kara, as
I have been informed, Mr. Silver. But what has all this to do with me?"
"Don't be in a hurry, Lady Agnes. It will take time to explain."
"How dare you take this tone with me?" demanded the widow, clenching her
hands. "Leave the room, sir, or I shall have you turned out."
"Oh, I shall leave since you wish it," replied Silver, rising slowly and
smoothing his silk hat with his sleeve. "But of course I shall try and
earn the reward you offered, by taking the letter to the police."
Agnes was so surprised that she closed again the door she had opened for
her visitor's exit. "What letter?"
"That one which was written to inveigle Sir Hubert to The Manor on the
night he was murdered," replied Silver slowly, and suddenly raising his
eyes he looked at her straightly.
"I don't understand," she said in a puzzled way. "I have never heard
that such a letter was in existence. Where is it?"
"Chaldea has it, and will not give it up unless she receives five
thousand pounds," answered the man glibly. "Give it to me and it passes
into your possession, Lady Agnes."
"Give you what?"
"Five thousand pounds--on account."
"On account of blackmail. How dare you make such a proposition to me?"
"You know," said Silver pointedly.
"I know nothing. It is the first time I have heard of any letter. Who
wrote it, may I ask?"
"You know," said Silver again.
Lady Agnes was so insulted by his triumphant look that she could have
struck his grinning face. However, she had too strong a nature to lower
herself in this way, and pointed to a chair. "Let me ask you a few
questions, Mr. Silver," she said imperiously.
"Oh, I am quite ready to answer whatever you choose to ask," he
retorted, taking his seat again and secretly surprised at her
self-control.
"You say that Chaldea holds a letter which inveigled my husband to his
death?" demanded Lady Agnes coolly.
"Yes. And she wants five thousand pounds for it."
"Why doesn't she give it to the police?"
"One thousand pounds is not enough for the letter. It is worth more--to
some people," and Silver raised his pale eyes again.
"To me, I presume you mean;" then when he bowed, she continued her
examination. "The five thousand pounds you intimate is on account, yet
you say that Chaldea will deliver the letter for that sum."
"To me," rejoined the ex-secretary impudently. "And when it is in my
possession, I can give it to you for twenty thousand pounds."
Lady Agnes laughed in his face. "I am too good a business woman to make
such a bargain," she said with a shrug.
"Well, you know best," replied Silver, imitating her shrug.
"I know nothing; I am quite in the dark as to the reason for your
blackmailing, Mr. Silver."
"That is a nasty word, Lady Agnes."
"It is the only word which seems to suit the situation. Why should I
give twenty-five thousand pounds for this letter?"
"Its production will place the police on the track of the assassin."
"And is not that what I desire? Why did I offer a reward of one thousand
pounds if I did not hope that the wretch who murdered my husband should
be brought to justice?"
Silver exhibited unfeigned surprise. "You wish that?"
"Certainly I do. Where was this letter discovered?"
"Chaldea went to the tent of your husband in the camp and found it in
the pocket of his coat. He apparently left it behind by mistake when he
went to watch."
"Watch?"
"Yes! The letter stated that you intended to elope that night with Mr.
Lambert, and would leave the house by the blue door. Sir Hubert went to
watch and prevent the elopement. In that way he came by his death, since
Lord Garvington threatened to shoot a possible burglar. Of course, Sir
Hubert, when the blue door was opened by Lord Garvington, who had heard
the footsteps of the supposed burglar, threw himself forward, thinking
you were coming out to meet Mr. Lambert. Sir Hubert was first shot in
the arm by Lord Garvington, who really believed for the moment that he
had to do with a robber. But the second shot," ended Silver with
emphasis, "was fired by a person concealed in the shrubbery, who knew
that Sir Hubert would walk into the trap laid by the letter."
During this amazing recital, Lady Agnes, with her eyes on the man's
face, and her hands clasped in sheer surprise, had sat down on a near
couch. She could scarcely believe her ears. "Is this true?" she asked in
a faltering voice.
Silver shrugged his shoulders again. "The letter held by Chaldea
certainly set the snare in which Sir Hubert was caught. Unless the
person in the shrubbery knew about the letter, the person would scarcely
have been concealed there with a revolver. I know about the letter for
certain, since Chaldea showed it to me, when I went to ask questions
about the murder in the hope of gaining the reward. The rest of my story
is theoretical."
"Who was the person who fired the shot?" asked Lady Agnes abruptly.
"I don't know."
"Who wrote the letter which set the snare?"
Silver shuffled. "Chaldea loves Mr. Lambert," he said hesitating.
"Go on," ordered the widow coldly and retaining her self-control.
"She is jealous of you, Lady Agnes, because--"
"There is no reason to explain," interrupted the listener between her
teeth.
"Well, then, Chaldea hating you, says that you wrote the letter."
"Oh, indeed." Lady Agnes replied calmly enough, although her conflicting
emotions almost suffocated her. "Then I take it that this gypsy declares
me to be a murderess."
"Oh, I shouldn't say that exactly."
"I do say it," cried Lady Agnes, rising fiercely. "If I wrote the
letter, and set the snare, I must necessarily know that some one was
hiding in the shrubbery to shoot my husband. It is an abominable lie
from start to finish."
"I am glad to hear you say so. But the letter?"
"The police will deal with that."
"The police? You will let Chaldea give the letter to the police?"
"I am innocent and have no fear of the police. Your attempt to
blackmail me has failed, Mr. Silver."
"Be wise and take time for reflection," he urged, walking towards the
door, "for I have seen this letter, and it is in your handwriting."
"I never wrote such a letter."
"Then who did--in your handwriting?"
"Perhaps you did yourself, Mr. Silver, since you are trying to blackmail
me in this bareface way."
Silver snarled and gave her an ugly look. "I did no such thing," he
retorted vehemently, and, as it seemed, honestly enough. "I had every
reason to wish that Sir Hubert should live, since my income and my
position depended upon his existence. But you--"
"What about me?" demanded Lady Agnes, taking so sudden a step forward
that the little man retreated nearer the door.
"People say--"
"I know what people say and what you are about to repeat," she said in a
stifled voice. "You can tell the girl to take that forged letter to the
police. I am quite able to face any inquiry."
"Is Mr. Lambert also able?"
"Mr. Lambert?" Agnes felt as though she would choke.
"He was at his cottage on that night."
"I deny that; he went to London."
"Chaldea can prove that he was at his cottage, and--"
"You had better go," said Lady Agnes, turning white and looking
dangerous. "Go, before you say what you may be sorry for. I shall tell
Mr. Lambert the story you have told me, and let him deal with the
matter."
Silver threw off the mask, as he was enraged she should so boldly
withstand his demands. "I give you one week," he said harshly. "And, if
you do not pay me twenty-five thousand pounds, that letter goes to the
inspector at Wanbury."
"It can go now," she declared dauntlessly.
"In that case you and Mr. Lambert will be arrested at once."
Agnes gripped the man's arm as he was about to step through the door. "I
take your week of grace," she said with a sudden impulse of wisdom.
"I thought you would," retorted Silver insultingly. "But remember I must
get the money at the end of seven days. It's twenty-five thousand pounds
for me, or disgrace to you," and with an abrupt nod he disappeared
sneering.
"Twenty-five thousand pounds or disgrace," whispered Agnes to herself.