A FRIEND IN ADVERSITY
Blue skies and sunshine and a rippling silver sea, all nature
jocund and gay, and for the first time in her young life Meriel was
unresponsive to the appeal. The romance had gone out of life. The man
she had learned to love was a thief--a thief. She told herself fiercely
that she no longer loved him, that she had never loved him, but the
ache at her heart gave the lie to the declaration.
The perpetual ache at her heart! If she could only have shared the
burden with Mrs. Marven, taken advantage of her Aunt's sympathetic
counsel, sobbed out her trouble and her despair on that motherly
breast, the pain would have been easier to bear. But she could not do
that. Thief though he was, Meriel could not betray Guy's confidence.
Mrs. Marven wondered at the girl's reticence. Yet she waited in
patience for the confidence which was not yet given. Sooner or later
she felt it would be given to her. Her husband had told her of Guy's
conversation with him. She gathered that no ordinary blow had shattered
her darling's romance, and, though she longed to counsel and to
comfort, to mingle her tears with Meriel's, yet she did not press her
for the confidence which was withheld.
Yet, though the girl suffered, she strove to put her misery
from her, to busy herself with trivial duties. She went to the garden,
but she could not remain amongst the flowers. Her glance fell on a rose
Guy had tied. Now it was battered by the storm, and shapeless--like her
romance. She passed through the garden, across the meadow, and on to
the sea-wall. She desired to be alone, that was all. She strolled idly
along, unseeing anything but the tide slowly rising over the mud, quite
unconscious of the approach of an acquaintance.
Mr. Hildebrand Flurscheim had recognised Meriel while yet some distance
away, and had hastened his footsteps. He had wondered that she was
alone, but congratulated himself on the fact, for then Guy would
probably be alone, too. He wanted a private conference with Guy. He,
too, had been troubled greatly in his thoughts during the previous day
and night. Ever since Cornelius Jessel had revealed to him the fact
that one item of his missing property was in Guy's possession, he had
been rejoicing in the thought that vengeance on his spoliators was soon
to be within his reach. Not that he wholly trusted the valet's word.
The shadow-man was not possessed of a confidence-inspiring personality,
but the man had not asked for any cash on account for the information
he had furnished. Flurscheim judged that the informer must have been
quite convinced as to the truth of his information, or he would not
have been so confiding. Flurscheim had arranged with him to secure the
miniature so that he might identify it. After that his course would be
simple. The police would do the rest. He blessed the lucky chance which
had brought him to recognise the strange likeness which existed between
Meriel and the missing miniature. But for that curious coincidence
he might never have had the opportunity of getting on the track of his
missing treasures.
Meriel had been correct in her intuition when she read another meaning
in his warning to Guy to beware of the approaching storm. He could not
resist the jest. But then the events which had immediately followed
played havoc with his plans and projects.
Guy had saved his life. Would the man who had robbed him have done
that? Hildebrand Flurscheim set great store by his life. When he felt
himself falling, when the water closed over his head, a great horror
possessed him. He struggled madly, blindly, against the fearful thing.
Then a strong hand had gripped him. He had still struggled until dimly
he had comprehended that a cool voice was commanding him to be still,
telling him that he was safe. The words repeated again and again had
impressed themselves upon his consciousness. He had ceased to struggle.
He had trusted entirely to the strong hand which supported him. Then,
he knew not how, other hands had lifted him up and taken him into a
boat. He had opened his eyes and seen Guy clamber up over the stern,
had heard him say, "Not much the matter, eh, Mr. Flurscheim?"
The experience seemed to have lasted hours. He said little, but
he had insisted, when Guy was put aboard the _Witch_, on
shaking the young man's hand. And when, afterwards, the horror of
those moments returned to him there was renewed in his mind the
feeling of gratitude to his preserver. He was glad that it was
in his power to repay in some measure the debt of gratitude he
owed. Guy had given his life. Well, he could give Guy liberty.
Yet he was not altogether satisfied in his mind. He had
no reason for thinking that Guy had worked single-handed, and he saw no
reason why other parties should be participants in his gratitude. Yet,
rather than Guy should suffer, all the guilty parties should escape.
Certainly the experience of being at hand-grips with death had wrought
a wonderful change in Mr. Hildebrand Flurscheim's views, for it was
with this determination in his mind that he left his yacht, intending
to call at the Hall and tell Guy of Jessel's communication, and of his
determination not to act upon the information.
Not until he was a yard away and he spoke, did Meriel recognise the
connoisseur. A shadow of annoyance crossed her face. This man seemed
to her to be the cause, though a perfectly innocent cause, of Guy's
undoing. She bowed slightly, and would have passed by, but Flurscheim
stood in her path.
"Pardon me, Miss Challys," he said, "can you tell me where I can find
Mr. Guy Hora? I have something of importance to say to him."
There was a shade of agitation in his voice. Meriel was startled. Again
the thought came to her, "Did he suspect Guy? Was that the explanation
of the presence of himself and his yacht at Whitsea?"
She strove to answer steadily.
"Mr. Hora left for London by the first train this morning."
An exclamation of annoyance escaped Flurscheim. "It is most important
that I should see him at once. Most important. Will you give me his
address? I must send him a wire immediately."
The colour left her face. She trembled. She was sure now that
Flurscheim knew who had robbed him of his treasures, that his anxiety
was due to the fear lest the robber should escape him. How could she
warn Guy? How could she refuse to supply Flurscheim with the address
he asked? Even if she were to refuse, her aunt or uncle would give it.
They knew of no reason why it should be kept secret.
Flurscheim saw her hesitation, and a strange suspicion germinated in
his mind. "Surely she is not one of the gang," he thought.
His intent gaze increased her discomposure. His suspicions increased.
He ventured a bold stroke.
"I wish to make some return for the service Mr. Hora has rendered me,"
he said quietly. "Facts have come to my knowledge which go to show that
he is in considerable danger. If you do not trust me, will you convey
to him the warning?"
Again she looked at him doubtingly. "You would be his friend?" she
asked amazedly.
"If Mr. Hora will allow me," he answered, and seeing that she still
hesitated, he continued earnestly. "Will you not believe me, Miss
Challys, when I say that I would do anything in my power to save Mr.
Hora from a fate which would mean absolute ruin to him. May I go so far
as to say that if you are in the slightest degree interested in his
welfare you will not waste any time in communicating to him the message
I will give you."
There was a deep feeling expressed more in his tone than the words he
used. Instinctively Meriel felt that he was to be trusted.
"I will give you Guy--Mr. Hora's address," she remarked. "I cannot
communicate with him myself."
"Why--I thought----" he remarked and paused.
Meriel did not pretend to misunderstand the swiftly checked
exclamation. She shook her head sadly.
"I am a very unhappy girl, Mr. Flurscheim," she said, and despite her
efforts tears mounted to her eyes.
"There! There! There! Say no more," interrupted the connoisseur
hastily. "Misunderstandings will occur between young people."
Meriel again shook her head. "Yesterday Mr. Hora told me something
regarding himself which I could not have suspected; part of what he
told me concerned you, Mr. Flurscheim, and--so he has gone."
"Then the miniature did not come into his possession by accident!"
ejaculated Flurscheim. "And all the time I was hoping that it had."
"No," said Meriel. "It was no accident." The words slipped from her.
Flurscheim realised that she knew all about the robbery. He began to
question her eagerly, but she would answer him nothing. Already she
had been betrayed into a confidence which she regretted, and when he
realised her difficulty, he ceased to ask for details.
"It makes no difference in my intentions," he said. "Whether Mr. Hora
was himself the burglar who stole my picture and the miniatures, or
whether he was only one of the parties who handled them afterwards,
would make no difference to my course of action. If he is warned
immediately there will be time for him to clear out of the way. If
not----" He shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"But why?" asked Meriel.
Flurscheim repeated the story Jessel had told him.
"I can keep the man's mouth closed for a certain time," he
said, "but sooner or later he will blab it out, and once the police get
on the track----" Again he shrugged his shoulders.
Meriel was more than ever amazed at the Jew's attitude. She let some of
her surprise escape in speech.
"You, knowing where some of your valuables are, are willing to forego
all chance of their recovery, to let the--the thief--go unpunished? You
who everybody says had determined to spend the whole of the rest of
your life on the recovery."
The Jew spread out the palms of his hands in a characteristically
racial gesture.
"The rest of my life," he said. "My life would have been ended
yesterday but for Mr. Guy Hora. Strange as it may seem, life is very
good in my eyes. I might never have known how good but for my accident.
It was slipping away and he gave it back to me. That was a debt which
I must repay. Miss Challys, never yet have I failed to meet every
obligation that I have incurred. Ask Christian or Jew who has ever had
dealings with me if Hildebrand Flurscheim has ever failed to take up
his bond when it became due."
She murmured something about the nobility of his attitude, but he would
not accept any such complimentary description.
"It is just my business point of view," he remarked drily. "Suppose I
put the value of the pictures at fifty thousand pounds. Personally I
would give double that amount for my life, though I should very much
doubt whether anybody else would give as many pence."
Laughter and tears strove for mastery in her face.
"You have greatly relieved my mind, Mr. Flurscheim," she
said softly. "Though I shall never see Mr. Hora again, yet I--I could
not bear to think of him in prison."
"You had better see him again, and quickly, too, if you want to keep
him out of it," snapped the Jew promptly in response. "It will want a
woman's hand to do that, and from what I have observed you are about
the only person in the world who has half a chance of succeeding."
The direct attack, voicing the thought she had striven to suppress,
brought the colour surging to her cheeks. "Don't you understand," she
cried. "He is a thief--a thief."
"He seems to be a rare plucky one anyway," answered Flurscheim. Meriel
laughed hysterically. "There! There! There!" said the connoisseur in
his most soothing manner, "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I can see you
are very much upset. Perhaps we will talk over this bad business later
and see what we can manage between us."
There was so much kindness in his manner, so real a delicacy in his
whole attitude, that Meriel felt more than ever inclined to confide the
whole story to him. He was a man of the world. He owed Guy a debt of
gratitude. She had not promised Guy to keep silence. He had never asked
her, for he had realised that the request would have been an insult.
There was little time to argue the matter with herself. Flurscheim was
impatient to depart. She obeyed the impulse.
"Mr. Flurscheim," she said, "will you treat what I tell you as strictly
confidential, and take no action without my permission?"
"I give you my word," he said gravely.
Meriel glanced round her. No living soul was in sight. They stood alone
upon the sea-wall. Flurscheim noted her glance.
"There's no chance of being overheard," he remarked. At a little
distance was a stile in a rail fence which separated one meadow from
another. Flurscheim pointed to it.
"Come along," he said brusquely, and there the girl made known to her
companion the story of Guy's life as she had heard it from his lips.
"He is not so greatly to blame, is he, Mr. Flurscheim?" she asked
eagerly, when she had finished the narration. "And yet nothing can
alter the fact that he is a thief."
The Jew had listened with growing amazement. To him the story seemed
the wildest, maddest romance he had ever heard. He could scarcely
believe his ears. To Meriel's appeal he could only reply at first with
an Hebraic invocation, uttered beneath his breath. Then he asked, "And
you really think he was telling the truth?"
"If you had seen his face, you would have had no need to ask the
question," she answered sorrowfully.
"It's the tallest story I've ever heard," he remarked. "But whether
true or not, if we want to do anything for him the first step is to get
him out of the hands of that old scoundrel of a father, and," he added,
"I am more than ever convinced that only a woman can do that. Think it
over, Miss Challys, think it over." He glanced at his watch. "Now if
you will give me his address, I will be off. I have a number of things
to do before returning to town."
She gave him the address. She responded heartily to his
farewell, and as she stood watching him as he hastened along the path
towards the quay it seemed to her that already the burden of her
trouble was lightened. She trusted Flurscheim implicitly, and yet
twenty-four hours previously she would have been prepared to assert
that he would have been the last person in the world of whom she would
have taken counsel in her distress.
Not that her mind was at rest. She merely was relieved from
anxiety as regards Guy's immediate safety. As to the future
there was no trace of a silver lining to the clouds. Guy and
she had parted. Yet Flurscheim's words stuck in her brain.
"Only a woman could help him." Only a woman!