DAN'S DIPLOMACY
Mrs. Pelgrin welcomed her unexpected guests with great delight and
showed her appreciation of their coming by emphatic aggressiveness.
Why she should mask a kind heart and an excellent disposition by
assuming a brusque demeanor is not very clear, but certainly the more
amiable she felt the more disagreeable did she become. In fact, the
landlady appeared to believe that honesty of purpose was best shown by
blunt speeches and abrupt movements. Consequently, she did not get on
particularly well with Mrs. Bolstreath, who demanded respect and
deference from underlings, which Mrs. Pelgrin positively declined to
render. She termed the chaperon "a fine madam," in the same spirit as
she had called Dan "a butterfly," and was always ready for a war of
words. But, admiring Lillian's gay and lively character, she waited on
the girl hand and foot, yet with an air of protest to hide the real
satisfaction she felt at having her in the house. To Mrs. Pelgrin,
Lillian was a goddess who had descended from high Olympus to mingle
for a time with mere mortals.
Out of consideration for Halliday's desire to seek safety for Lillian
by placing her under the guns of the enemy, Mrs. Bolstreath decided to
remain a week at the Peacock Hotel. Later she arranged to go to
Hartlepool in Durhamshire, where she and her charge could find shelter
with two spinsters who kept a school. The chaperon admitted that she
felt uneasy in the near vicinity of Queen Beelzebub, and all Dan's
assurance could not quieten her fears. She thought that he was playing
too bold a game, and that ill would come of the stay at Sheepeak.
Lillian was more confident, always confident that Dan could do no
wrong, and she was quite indifferent to Mrs. Jarsell's doings.
However, she agreed to go to Hartlepool, and as Mrs. Bolstreath was
bent upon the change, Halliday accepted the situation.
Meanwhile, he decided to call at The Grange on some innocent pretext
and diplomatically give Queen Beelzebub to understand that he held the
winning card in the game he was playing with the Society of Flies.
This could be done, he ventured to think, by assuming that Mrs.
Jarsell knew nothing about the nefarious association, and he did not
believe that she would remove her mask, since it was to her interest
to observe secrecy in Hillshire. However, he left this matter of a
call and an explanation in abeyance for the time being, and for a
couple of days attended to the three ladies. The third, it is needless
to say, was Mildred Vincent, who called at The Peacock Hotel on
receipt of her lover's letter.
She gave Dan to understand that he was out of favor with the inventor.
"Uncle has never forgiven you for not winning the race," said Mildred,
at afternoon tea, "he says you should have gained the prize."
"I wish I had," said Halliday, dryly, "the money would have been very
acceptable. It was my fancy-flying did the mischief, as I broke the
rudder. However, I shall call and apologize."
"He won't see you, Mr. Halliday."
"Ah, that's so like an inventor, who is as touchy as a minor poet."
"Mrs. Jarsell is annoyed also," continued Mildred, sadly, "she says
you should have made a better use of the favor she procured for you."
"It seems to me that I am in hot water all round, Miss Vincent. All
the same, I shall survive these dislikes."
"It is absurd," cried Lillian, with indignation. "Dan risked his life
to win the race, and if he hadn't had such bad luck he would have
won."
"Thanks, my dear girl, but it was less bad luck than carelessness, and
a certain amount of vanity, to show how I could handle the machine."
"You are very modest, Dan," said Mrs. Bolstreath, laughingly.
"It is my best quality," replied Halliday, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Where is Mr. Vincent's machine now?" questioned Mildred.
"At Blackheath stored away. I suppose, as it was only lent, I shall
have to return it to your uncle. But I shall have a final fly on it
when I go back to London in a few days."
"Does Miss Moon go back also?"
"Not to London," interposed Mrs. Bolstreath, "we propose to visit some
friends in Scotland."
Lillian looked up in surprise, as Hartlepool certainly was not in
Scotland, and she thought that Mrs. Bolstreath's geography was at
fault. But a significant look from Dan showed her that he understood
why the wrong address had been given. Mrs. Bolstreath, with too much
zeal, mistrusted Mildred, although she had no cause to do so.
Certainly Mildred, in perfect innocence, did she know the actual
destination, might tell her uncle, who would assuredly tell Mrs.
Jarsell, and, for obvious reasons, it was not necessary that Mrs.
Jarsell should know where the city of refuge was situated. All the
same, Dan did not think for a moment that Mildred knew anything about
the Society of Flies. But he was beginning to fancy that Vincent had
some such knowledge, as Mrs. Jarsell financed him, and that she would
not do so, he was positive, unless she made something out of the
matter. It was very convenient for Queen Beelzebub to have an inventor
at her elbow who could construct swift aeroplanes. And it was at this
point of his meditations that Dan jumped up so suddenly as to spill
his tea.
"What's the matter?" asked Lillian, making a dash at the cup and
saucer to save breakage.
"I've got an idea," said Halliday, with a gasp. "I must go out and
think it over," and, without excusing himself further, he rushed from
the room.
"That's not like Dan," remarked Mrs. Bolstreath, uneasily, "he is calm
and cool-headed as a rule. I wonder what is the matter?"
"Oh, he'll tell us when he comes back," replied Lillian,
philosophically. "I can always trust Dan." Then she turned the
conversation in a somewhat heedless manner. "Do you like living here,
Miss Vincent?"
"Well," admitted Mildred, "it is rather too quiet for my taste. But I
have plenty to do in looking after my uncle and his business. He
depends so much on me, that I wonder what he will do when I get
married."
"When do you intend to get married?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath, curiously.
She could not disabuse herself of the idea that, living so close to
Mrs. Jarsell, and having an uncle who was helped by Mrs. Jarsell, the
girl knew something about the Society of Flies.
"Next year, the year after--I don't exactly know. It all depends upon
my dear Freddy's success. We must have a home and an income. But I
suppose we shall marry, sooner or later, and then Mrs. Jarsell can
look after Uncle Solomon."
"Who is Mrs. Jarsell?" asked Lillian, artfully and cautiously.
"She is an old lady who lives at The Grange with another old lady, her
former governess, Miss Armour. Both are charming. If you are dull
here, perhaps, Miss Moon, you would like to meet them?"
"Later, later," put in Mrs. Bolstreath, hurriedly, "thank you for the
suggestion, Miss Vincent. Meanwhile, we wish to explore the country.
It is a charming neighborhood, although very quiet in many respects."
Mildred agreed and then began to plan excursions to this place and
that, with the idea of making the stay of the visitors at Sheepeak
pleasant. So agreeably did she behave and took such trouble in
designing trips that Mrs. Bolstreath revised her opinion and began to
believe that so nice a girl could not possibly know anything of Mrs.
Jarsell's doings, whatever knowledge her uncle might be possessed of.
And Dan, walking at top speed along the high road in a vain attempt to
quieten his mind, was convinced that the inventor had some such
knowledge. The idea which had brought him to his feet, and had sent
him out to work off his excitement, was that the inventor was
responsible for Mrs. Jarsell's presence in London at unexpected
moments. She financed him and retained him at her elbow, so to speak,
that she might utilize his capabilities and his clever inventions. If,
on the day of the London to York race, Mrs. Jarsell was at the Peacock
Hotel about the hour of nine o'clock--as she certainly was, on the
evidence of Mrs. Pelgrin, who had no obvious reason to tell a lie--she
could not have got to London by train or motor in time to murder
Durwin. Yet she was assuredly at Blackheath, if the cinematograph was
to be believed. Dan had hitherto been puzzled to reconcile apparent
impossibilities, but at tea-time the solution of the problem had
suddenly flashed into his mind. Mrs. Jarsell had travelled to town on
an aeroplane.
"It is about one hundred and sixty miles from this place to town,"
muttered Dan, walking very fast, and talking aloud to himself in his
excitement, "so she could accomplish that distance with ease in three
hours, considering that Vincent's machine can fly at sixty miles in
sixty minutes. He said so and I proved that he spoke truly when I
experimented with the machine he lent me. Mrs. Jarsell was at the
Peacock Hotel at nine o'clock, and the cinematograph showed she was at
Blackheath at one o'clock. The race started then, and Durwin was
killed shortly afterwards. Sixty miles an hour means one hundred and
eighty miles in three hours. Say she started at half-past nine--which
she could easily do, leaving Mrs. Pelgrin immediately for Vincent's
place--she could reach London by half-past twelve, if not earlier,
seeing she had just one hundred and sixty miles to go. There would be
no difficulty in her reaching Blackheath and stabbing Durwin at the
time the death took place."
Halliday was convinced that in this way the miracle of Mrs. Jarsell
had taken place. No other means of transit could have landed her at
the place where Durwin had met with his death. Of course, this
assumption intimated that Mrs. Jarsell was an accomplished aviator,
and that there had been no hitch in the journey from Sheepeak to
Blackheath. But these were not impossibilities, for Vincent probably
had taught the woman how to fly, and perhaps had handled the machine
himself. There was room for two in the aeroplane, as Dan very well
knew, since he had taken Penn for a flight himself, and the vehicle
used was probably built on the same lines as the one lent. Since
aviation was yet in its infancy, there was certainly a possibility
that such a journey could not take place without accidents or
hindrance. But, as inferior machines had accomplished greater
distances, Dan quite believed that Mrs. Jarsell, with or without
Vincent as pilot, had reached London in one smooth stretch of flying.
On other occasions she might not have been so successful, but on this
one she probably had, for to get to Blackheath in time to commit the
crime, it would have been necessary for her to use rightfully every
second of the given time. No wonder with such a means of transit at
her disposal she could prove an advantageous alibi, when occasion
demanded. Also, since the late conquest of the air afforded her the
opportunity of swift travelling, greatly in excess of other human
inventions, it was quite reasonable that she should live so far from
the scene of her criminal exploits.
Thinking thus, Halliday stumbled across the very person who was in his
thought. He rushed with bent head along the roads and unconsciously
mounted towards the vast spaces of the moorlands, stretching under
gray skies. Thus--and he swiftly decided that the collision was
meant--he ran into Mrs. Jarsell, who approached in the opposite
direction. She laughed and expostulated, as if Dan was in the wrong,
although she must have seen him coming, and the road was wide enough
for her to move to one side.
"Really, Mr. Halliday, you require the whole country to move in," said
Mrs. Jarsell in her heavy way, and with an affectation of joviality.
"I--I--I beg your pardon," stammered Dan, not quite himself, and
stared at her as though she had suddenly risen out of the earth.
Indeed, so far as he was concerned, she had done so, ignorant as he
was of her approach.
The woman was arrayed in her favorite white, but, as the day was
chilly, she wore a voluminous cloak of scarlet silk quilted and padded
and warm both in looks and wear. Her black eyes, set in her olive-hued
face, peered from under her white hair as watchfully as ever. At the
present moment, her heavy countenance wore an expression of amusement
at the startled looks of the young man, and she commented on them with
ponderous jocularity.
"One would think I was a ghost, Mr. Halliday. You will admit that I am
a very substantial ghost," and she shook her silver-mounted cane
playfully at him.
"I didn't expect to meet you here," said Dan, drawing a deep breath,
and thinking how best he could introduce the subject of Lillian.
"Nor did I expect to meet you," responded Mrs. Jarsell, still
phlegmatically playful. "Have you risen from the earth, or dropped
from the skies? I did not even know that you were in the
neighborhood."
Dan grimly decided that this last statement was false, since he had
been a whole two days at the Peacock Hotel, and he was certain Mrs.
Jarsell must have heard of his visit. Also of the ladies sheltering
under Mrs. Pelgrin's wing, for in the country gossip is more prevalent
than in town. "I came up for a day or two, or three or four," said
Dan, still staring.
"You don't appear to be very decided in your own mind," rejoined Mrs.
Jarsell, dryly, and sat down on a large block of granite, which was
embedded amongst the heather; "our neighborhood evidently has a
fascination for you," her eye searched his face carefully. "I am
pleased, as we are proud of our scenery hereabouts. Those who come
once, come twice; quite a proverb, isn't it? Is your friend, Mr.
Laurance, with you?"
"Not on this occasion," answered Dan, coolly, and coming to the point.
"I came with two ladies, Miss Moon and her companion. They are
stopping at the Peacock Hotel for a short time."
"Miss Moon! Miss Moon!" mused Mrs. Jarsell, "oh, yes, the young lady
you are engaged to marry. The daughter of that poor man who was
murdered."
"You have an excellent memory, Mrs. Jarsell."
"We have little to exercise our memories in this dull place," said the
woman graciously, and with a motherly air, "you don't ask after Miss
Armour, I observe. That is very unkind of you, as you are a great
favorite with her."
"Miss Armour is my very good friend," responded Halliday, cautiously,
"and so are you, since you induced Mr. Vincent to lend me the
aeroplane."
"I am as glad that I did that as I am sorry you lost the race, Mr.
Halliday."
"Fortune of war," said Dan, lightly, "we can't always be successful
you know, Mrs. Jarsell. I wish you had seen the start; it was grand."
"I wish I had," said the woman, lying glibly, "but it was impossible
for me to leave Miss Armour on that day, as she had bad health. In
fact, Mr. Vincent wished to go also and see how his machine worked;
but he could not get away either. Still," added Mrs. Jarsell, with a
cheerful air, "perhaps it is as well, so far as I am concerned, that I
could not go. Aviation seems to be very dangerous, and I should have
been afraid for your safety."
"Oh, I shall never come to harm in the air, I hope," responded Dan,
with emphasis, "you must let me take you up some day."
Mrs. Jarsell shuddered. "I should be terrified out of my wits," she
protested, "fancy a heavy woman, such as I am, trying to emulate a
bird. Why, I am quite sure I would fall and smash like an egg, even
supposing there is any machine capable of bearing my none too trifling
weight."
"Oh, I think there is, Mrs. Jarsell. Some machines can carry two, you
know, and lately in France an aviator took five or six people from one
given point to another. It is quite safe."
Mrs. Jarsell shook her head seriously. "I think not, since aviation is
yet in its infancy. In five years, if I live as long, I may venture,
but now--no, thank you, Mr. Halliday."
"Most ladies are afraid, certainly. Even Miss Moon, who is plucky,
will not let me take her for a fly."
"Miss Moon, of course. I was quite forgetting her. I hope you will
bring her to see me and Miss Armour."
"If she stays here, certainly. But I think of returning to town
to-morrow, so I may not be able to bring her. I daresay Mrs.
Bolstreath will, however," ended Dan, quite certain in his own mind
that the chaperon would find some good excuse to avoid the visit.
"I shall be delighted," Mrs. Jarsell murmured vaguely, "how have you
been, Mr. Halliday, since I saw you last?" It seemed to Dan that she
asked this question with intention, and he was entirely willing to
give her a frank answer. In frankness, as in taking Lillian under the
guns of the enemy, lay the safety of both. Halliday was convinced of
this. "I have been rather worried," he said, slowly, and with a
side-glance at Mrs. Jarsell's watchful face. "I had an adventure."
"I love adventures," replied the woman, heavily, "and this one?"
"Well. I was hustled into a taxi-cab and carried in a drugged
condition to some place where I met with a collection of scoundrels. A
kind of murder-gang, you might call it, who slay, blackmail, and
thieve for the sake of power."
"Rather a strange reason," said Mrs. Jarsell, equably, and not at all
moved, "I should say the reason was for money."
"That, with power," explained Dan, "but, indeed, this society appears
to be governed on wonderful principles, such as one would ascribe to
honest men."
"In what way?" Mrs. Jarsell was quite curious in a detached manner.
"Well, the members are chaste and sober and industrious."
"They must be virtuous. You are describing a society of saints."
"Quite so; only these saints apply their virtues to crime. They have a
head who is called Queen Beelzebub."
Mrs. Jarsell shuddered and drew lines on the dust of the road with her
cane slowly and carefully. "Did you see her?" she asked, "it's a
horrid name, full of horrid possibilities."
"No, I did not see her or anyone," said Dan, frankly, "the room was in
darkness save for a red light around Queen Beelzebub's mask."
"Oh, this person wore a mask! How did you know she was a woman?"
"Well, you see, the name is Queen Beelzebub."
"That might be taken by a man to hide the truth."
"It might," admitted the other carelessly, "and, indeed, I don't think
that any woman would have the nerve to belong to such a gang."
"I agree with you," said Mrs. Jarsell, gravely, "well, and what
happened?"
"I was asked by Queen Beelzebub to join the gang and share the
profits, which you may guess are large. I have a month to think over
the matter." Mrs. Jarsell looked at him keenly. "Surely, you would
never belong to such an organization," she said with a reproachful
tone in her heavy voice.
"Oh, I don't know. I have my own axe to grind like other people, and,
if this gang helps me to grind it, I may consider the offer. Do I
shock you, Mrs. Jarsell? Your voice sounded as though I did."
"You shock me more than I can say," she replied, decisively, "that an
honest man should even think of such a thing is dreadful. This gang
should be denounced to the police. I wonder you have not done so
already."
Dan shook his head and admired the cool, clever way in which she was
playing a very dangerous game, though, to be sure, she was far from
suspecting he guessed her connection with Queen Beelzebub. "I can't do
that yet."
"What do you mean by--yet?" questioned Mrs. Jarsell, and this time
there was a distinct note of alarm in her voice.
"I risk death if I denounce the gang, not only to myself, but to Miss
Moon. I am sure she and I would be killed as her father was killed, if
I moved in the matter. Also, I am not sure of many things."
Mrs. Jarsell, still drawing patterns, spoke thoughtfully. "I don't
think you are wise to speak of this gang if it is so dangerous, even
to a country mouse such as I am. Of course, I shall say nothing, as I
have no one to say anything to, and if I had I should not speak. But
if you talk to a stranger like me about things you were told to keep
secret, you or Miss Moon may be murdered."
"I thought so a week ago," admitted Halliday, candidly.
"Then you don't think so now."
"No. Not since Marcus Penn died."
Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath and wriggled uneasily. "Who is Marcus
Penn?"
"Well, he was the secretary of Sir Charles Moon, and afterwards he was
the secretary of Lord Curberry. Now he's a corpse."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Jarsell, suddenly, "I wish you wouldn't talk of these
horrible things. Has this gang----"
"Murdered him?" finished the young man, "yes, I believe so, although a
verdict of suicide was brought in. But poor Penn's death may be the
means of saving me and Miss Moon."
"Indeed!" the woman's tone became harsh and imperative, but she did
not ask any questions.
"Yes. He left a confession."
Even the side-glance Dan sent in Mrs. Jarsell's direction showed him
that her olive cheeks had turned to a dead white. However, she said
nothing, although she moistened her lips slowly; so he went on easily,
as if he were telling an idle story. "This confession was concealed in
Lord Curberry's house, but Penn sent a note of its whereabouts to Miss
Moon, who told me. I got the confession and placed it in safe
keeping."
"That was wise," said Mrs. Jarsell, with an effort. "And the safe
keeping?"
"Oh, I shall only tell the whereabouts of the confession and the name
of the person who holds it when there is no necessity for the
confession to be used."
"I don't see quite what you mean, Mr. Halliday."
"Well, you see, Mrs. Jarsell, I have to protect myself and Miss Moon
from the machinations of the society. The person who holds the
confession will not open the sealed envelope in which it is placed
unless something happens to Miss Moon or to myself. Therefore, so long
as no member of the gang hurts us, the secrets of the gang are quite
safe."
To his attentive ear it seemed that Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath of
relief. With a command of herself which did her credit, she displayed
no emotion, but observed playfully, "It is very clever of you and very
wise to guard yourself in this way. Certainly the gang cannot hurt you
in any way so long as there is danger of the confession being opened
in the event of things happening to you or to Miss Moon. Suppose the
confession is a very dreadful one, Mr. Halliday?"
"It is not so dreadful or so full as I should like it to be," said
Dan, in his calmest manner, "but there is sufficient set down to
warrant the interference of the authorities. If that confession comes
into the hands of the Scotland Yard officials, they can lay hands on
the gang;" he was bluffing when he said this, as he was not quite sure
if Curberry had not let Mrs. Jarsell know that the confession--as
Curberry thought--had been destroyed.
"I think the police should know," said Mrs. Jarsell, rising.
"Thank you for nothing," said Dan, following her example, "but, if I
move in the matter, I run the risk of death. Besides, I may accept the
offer of the society. Who knows?"
"Don't do that," implored Mrs. Jarsell, so earnestly that Dan was
convinced Curberry had not told her of any confession, "it's so
wicked."
"Perhaps it is. However, if the society leave me and Miss Moon alone,
the confession won't be opened and the gang is safe. Otherwise----"
"Otherwise the whole association will be exposed to the danger of
arrest," said Mrs. Jarsell, lightly, "well, it sounds all very
dreadful to a country lady as I am. I wish you had not told me. Why
did you tell me?"
"Because," said Dan, ironically, "I look upon you as a friend."
Mrs. Jarsell's face cleared and she smiled. "I am your friend," she
said in an emphatic way, "and, believe me when I say that I am sure
Miss Moon is safe."
"Thank you," replied Dan, agreeably, "I am sure also."
Then they parted with mutual compliments, smiles and handshakes.