Meanwhile, Deborah had suffered much more from gloomy anticipations
than the unfortunate Lord St. Austell. She opened the window wide, in
spite of the rain and the cold, and putting her head out, listened and
watched eagerly for his return.
Half an hour had passed, and her anxiety had reached fever pitch, when
the door of the room was opened very slowly. Catching sight of a
woman’s figure in the gloom, the intruder tried to retreat. But
Deborah, who was no fussy young woman, and who was getting tired of
mysteries, rushed to the door and kept it shut.
“I know who you are,” she cried. “You’re Sep Jocelyn. And you shall
not go until you have told me everything I want to know.”
Sep, in a trembling voice, was trying to silence her throughout the
whole of this speech.
“Sh-sh,” he whispered as she finished. “Do you want to get me into
trouble, perhaps have me murdered! Where’s”--and his voice sank still
lower--“where’s Goodhare?”
“I don’t know. He went out through that window some time ago. Do you
know where he is gone?”
“It’s better not to ask too many questions here, Miss Audaer. Where’s
Rees?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I want to see him.”
“Have you come to see Rees, Miss Audaer?” asked Sep, in a weak,
mistrustful voice.
“I will tell you everything when you have lit the gas,” said she,
struck by the fear in his tones. “Have you any matches about you?”
Very unwillingly Sep produced a box, which Deborah took from him. As
soon as the gas was alight she turned to look at him, and surprised a
furtive glance towards the door. Before he had time to follow his
evident inclination, she put her arm through his and drew him down on
to the sofa beside her. Sep never resisted anybody, so of course he
yielded like a lamb to her.
“And now,” she said, looking him full in the face, “what is the matter
with you?”
“Nothing,” stammered Sep, glancing quickly at her, and then avoiding
her eyes.
The answer was absurd. With his wan face, wrinkled and furrowed by
deadly anxiety and fear, and marked with black streaks of smoke and
fog, his bloodshot, swollen eyes, his quivering lips, and the
trembling fits which from time to time seized his limbs, Sep Jocelyn
had evidently something very seriously the matter with him.
“You are cold,” said Deborah gently.
“I am always cold.”
“Have you just returned from a journey?”
Sep started, and began to tremble so violently that Deborah, with her
wits on the alert, began to have an inkling of the truth.
“Listen, Sep,” she said in a low, earnest voice. “I know the trouble
you and Rees are in. It is through that man Goodhare, I feel sure.”
“Sh-sh,” interrupted Jocelyn, glancing around him fearfully.
“I’ve come to get you all out of it. If you will tell me where the
jewels are, I can promise you that nothing will ever be heard of the
business. And if you will come back to Carstow with me, I can promise
that your aunt, who misses you most dreadfully, will take you back to
her arms without a word of reproach.”
“Oh, no; she couldn’t now. You don’t know--I can’t tell you; but it’s
too late. The next shelter I get will be a prison.”
Deborah was shocked. He was altogether broken down, a mere wreck, a
shivering, quaking creature, broken-nerved, bemuddled, helpless.
“Lord St. Austell’s influence will keep you out of prison.”
“Lord St. Austell!” Sep started violently. “Why, he’s the very last
person to help us. He has no end of grudges against us, if he only
knew.”
“He does know, but the career of his brother Charles and the honor of
his family outweigh everything with him. You see, if the loss of part
of the regalia were made known, there would be a public outcry, and
his brother would be disgraced. Now, Sep, what interest have I in the
matter except yours and Rees Pennant’s?”
“Rees’s! Yes, that is true,” he muttered.
“Well, then, trust your secret to me. You were sent away with the
jewels to dispose of them, were you not?”
Sep admitted this with a half-involuntary nod, not looking at her.
“Where?”
“To Amsterdam.”
“But the jewels were only stolen yesterday, and you are back already!”
“I didn’t go. I lost heart. I was afraid. I fancied I was followed.”
And he cast another hunted look around him. “And now I daren’t meet
Goodhare. And yet--I don’t know where to go. So I sneaked back
here--to wait--till I’m taken.”
“No! Your instinct guided you back to be saved,” cried Deborah, in
re-assuring tones. “You have the jewels with you now?”
“No-o,” stammered Sep.
“Oh yes, you have,” said she, confidently. “Now, trust them with me,
and Goodhare need not know at present that you have not taken them to
Amsterdam.”
“But where shall I go?”
“Go back to your aunt at Carstow, and she’ll nurse all those worried
lines out of your face again.”
“But I daren’t; I’m ashamed to,” objected the poor wretch.
“Then go away and hide yourself somewhere for to-night, and be at
Paddington to-morrow at twelve, and you shall go down with me.”
“And Rees, what about Rees?” asked Sep, who although he had lost most
of his old enthusiasm about his friend, still retained the remains of
a dogged and not very reasonable devotion to him.
“You don’t think I should forget him,” said Deborah, gravely.
“Of course not,” he answered, hastily. “You will get him out of the
scrape too?”
“Certainly.”
“But there are so many other scrapes behind this one!”
“I think I can get them all hushed up.”
“But then there’s Goodhare,” whispered Sep, with a shudder. “He’ll
have us both back if he wants to!”
“I think he will find it expedient to keep out of the way for the
future. Now come, we haven’t much time.”
She held out her hand, assuming a tone of greater confidence than she
felt; for she feared that at the last moment Sep might decline to part
with the treasure entrusted to him. However, he looked at her
outstretched hand, and then, irresolutely, tremblingly drew out from a
pocket of his coat first one flat packet, and then another.
Deborah could scarcely refrain from snatching them, or keep her
fingers from quivering, as she took them and hid them in the front of
her own dress, under her mantle. Sep felt a-trembling as soon as he
had given them up, and buried his face in his hands.
“And now,” said she, softly, “I must find Lord St. Austell. He went
out at that door, following Goodhare.”
Sep started up wildly. “Following Goodhare!” he almost shouted. Then,
sinking his voice to a hoarse whisper, he stammered out: “You musn’t
hope anything from Lord St. Austell, then. If Goodhare took him where
I expect he did, he would never let him out alive. Goodhare hates him,
and he is more devil than man!”
Deborah rose quickly and quietly and opened the door into the yard.
“Take me to this place at once,” said she.
Remonstrance with her was useless. With staggering steps Sep
accompanied her along the outer passage.