EVELYN ENTERS THE FRAY
Only a woman can fathom another woman's mind. A man tries to think
logically; a woman throws logic to the winds, and reads her opponent's
tactics by intuition. Though Warden was not wholly devoid of suspicion
of Rosamund's disinterestedness when he penned the plain statement
which Evelyn now skimmed through by the light of the Las Palmas moon,
he little dreamed that he was framing a damning indictment of one who
claimed to be his friend. But Evelyn extracted from every line the
hidden truth. A gentlewoman to her finger-tips, her loathing of Mrs.
Laing's despicable tactics was so overpowering for a while that she
could only vent her scorn and contempt by little gasps and sobs of
indignation.
Her lover's account of events at Ostend and in London was transparently
honest. She saw now that by some clever and unscrupulous device his
letters and telegrams had been withheld. The burking of her own
letters, sent with unfailing regularity until outraged pride bade her
cease, was equally clear. But how had their common enemy achieved these
results? Why did Mrs. Laing flush and look guilty when Lord Fairholme
recognized Warden's name half an hour ago? Well, she would ask the
genial little nobleman for an explanation. He would be candid, she was
sure; perhaps he might help to illumine some of the dark places of the
last four months.
Peter Evans, watching her eyes as they devoured page after page, winked
solemnly at Chris, but held his peace until the letter was restored to
its envelope. Then he felt that his innings had come.
"Well, miss," he remarked quietly, "does that round off everything in
ship-shape style?"
For answer, she put both hands on his shoulders, and looked into his
weather-beaten face.
"Peter," she said, "I can never repay you for what you have done.
Captain Warden tells me he had faith in you, and indeed you have
justified his confidence. But how did you and Chris manage to travel
all this long way to find me? What has it cost you? I have not much
money at my command here----"
"Money, miss? Did the Cap'n say nothink about it?"
"No."
"Just like 'im. There never _was_ a more free-handed gent than 'im.
Funny thing, ain't it, that the wrong people are bloomin' millionaires.
I s'pose that's w'y they 'ave it--coss they stick to it. Lord love a
duck, ther's bin no trouble about _money_! He did some tricks at the
Casino----"
"Yes, yes, he has told me that."
"Well, w'en 'e gives me that there packidge, 'e forks out fifty quid,
an' says, 'Peter, if you want more, go to my bank.' But fifty golden
suvrins is a small fortin to a sailorman--I've known the time it 'ud
keep me an' my missus an' Chris for a year--an' I wasn't flingin' it
about for bookin' clerks an' pursers to pick up, neether. We 'ad to dig
a bit out o' the bank w'en this trip showed up, but afore that Chris
an' me worked our passidge to Scotland, an' Hamburg, an' as far south
as Bordeaux."
"You went to Scotland? Why?"
"Afore the Cap'n left Lunnon 'e 'ad a telegram from the coas-tguard to
say the _San Sowsy_ headed sou'east by east from Lochmerig, an' them
ain't the sailin' directions for the Shetlands, or they wasn't w'en
I was at sea. It seemed to me some old salt thereabouts might help a
bit--fishermen keep a pretty close eye on passin' craft, miss--so off
we goes. I shipped as extra hand on the _Inverkeld_, bound from London
to Aberdeen, an' Chris was stooard in the engineers' mess. Sure enough,
I lights on a Montrose herrin'-boat as 'ad seen the yacht bearin' away
in the line for Hamburg, I follered, on a tramp from Newcastle, but I
was a week late. You see, my orders was 'into her own 'ands, Peter.'"
"Oh, you are a dear!"
"Well, mebbe. I've bin called most things in me time, miss. But it's
spinnin' a tremenjous long yarn to go over all the ground. Wot I want
to ax you now is this--wot stopped Cap'n Warden from gettin' your
letters?"
"Ah, Peter! a wicked woman, I am afraid."
"D'ye 'ear, Chris?" and Peter turned solemnly to his son. "Wot did I
tell yer? You see, miss," he went on, "I looked in at the Lodge, an'
med friends with a servant or two, an' it kem out that Mrs. Laing
collared a telegram addressed to you. 'Was it himportant?' sez one
chap. 'Reel himportant,' sez I, 'it was from 'er young man.' Beg
pardon, miss, but that's the way we talks among ourselves. 'Oo is he?'
sez the other fellow. 'Captain Warden,' sez I. 'Not Captain Arthur
Warden, of Ostend?' sez 'e. 'The very man,' sez I. 'Dash my eyes,' sez
'e, 'that's queer. Mrs. Laing wanted a letter out of the box one day
w'en I was goin' to the post, an' that's the very name as was on it.
Wot's 'is little game? Is 'e a-playin' up to both of 'em?' 'Young man,'
sez I, 'you don't know 'im. 'E's the straightest gentleman as ever
wore shoe-leather.' I axed 'im w'en the incident occurred, as they say
in the noospapers, an' 'e tole me it was just arter Mrs. Laing kem to
Lochmerig. In fact, 'e wouldn't ha' known 'oo she was if she 'adn't bin
standin' in the 'all talkin' to--to--wot's 'is name, Chris?"
"Lord Fairholme?" broke in Evelyn.
"No, miss, that wasn't it--not in the same street."
"Billy Thring?"
"Tally! I've got it all logged up in my cabin. I wasn't sartin I'd see
you to-night, or I'd ha' brought the book. That's 'im--Billy Thring--it
sounds familiar like, if he's a swell, but that's wot they called 'im
at Lochmerig."
"Peter, you are a wonder. You have found out the one thing I wanted to
know."
"Excuse me, miss, but you're a bit of a wonder yourself. If that was
the on'y missin' link, w'y didn't you write to me, care o' the Pilots'
Office, Cardiff? I could ha' put you straight within a week. Any ship's
skipper would ha' guessed my address, if you tole 'im about the _Nancy_
an' gev 'im my name."
"I fear I am very much to blame," said Evelyn contritely. "But you
hardly realize yet how I have been victimized. Now I must go. It is
very late. Where are you staying?"
"Chris an' me will turn in with our engineer friend on board the _Cid_.
At least that's wot I call the old tub, but these Spanish jokers make
it into _Thith_. Did y' ever 'ear anythink funnier'n that?"
She laughed blithely, arranged an early hour to meet the two at the
mole next day, and sped back to the hotel. She wanted to read that
thrice-precious letter again. Seen in the moonlight, it seemed to be
fantastic, unreal. The words danced before her eyes. Her brain had only
half grasped its extraordinary meanings.
[Illustration: Peter, you are a wonder _Page_ 238]
In the privacy of her own room she should go through it slowly,
weighing its bewildering revelations, taking to her very heart the
outspoken, manly sentences that assured her of Warden's devotion, and
planning with new zest the means whereby she might circumvent her
enemies and his. Warden had been deceived even more grossly than she
herself. His faithful record of Rosamund's malicious innuendoes during
the dinner at the Savoy Hotel gave ample proof of that. It was quite
true she had talked with Figuero in the garden at Lochmerig. The man
naturally interested her; his manner of speech was quaint, and he told
her strange things about the country in which the whole of her lover's
active career might be passed. Was that a crime? And how shameful that
any woman should write such a wicked untruth as to say that she had
gossiped to Thring and others about the men of Oku! Of course, Mrs.
Laing had obtained her information from the stolen letter. Evelyn
remembered perfectly well the unfortunate postscript in which she
alluded to the negroes and the calabash. She meant only to soften the
harshness of her comments on Rosamund and the two foreigners, but it
was obvious now that she could have written nothing more harmful to
Warden's mission.
And then, with a sudden horror that made her white to the lips, she
realized what it meant--that Warden had never received her letter, that
Rosamund had adroitly availed herself of the details it contained, and
that her lover had gone to Africa with a lurking doubt in his heart of
the one woman in the world whom he trusted. Did he think her really the
base creature she was depicted? Oh, it was intolerable! She would never
forgive Mrs. Laing--no, never! Her rival had stooped to a meanness that
could not be borne--she must be punished, with a vengeance at once
swift and merciless.
All this was very un-Christian, and wholly unlike the delightfully shy
yet lovable girl to whom Warden lost his heart during the midsummer
madness of Cowes and Plymouth, but Evelyn was stirred to the depths of
a passionate nature; not for the first time in Las Palmas, she cried
herself to sleep.
She awoke in a better frame of mind, though still determined to bring
Mrs. Laing to her knees at the first opportunity. Keeping the tryst
with Peter, she took him fully into her confidence. He was able to
supply many minor items of information that fitted the pieces of the
puzzle more accurately together. He did not know what had become of
Warden, but Evelyn made no scruple of telling him the facts within her
knowledge.
She recked little of Government secrets and the byways of Imperial
politics. The ex-pilot and his sturdy offspring were now the only
witnesses of her good faith. Perhaps they might meet Warden in England
before he was able to communicate with her. In that event, she wanted
Peter to be in a position to do for her lover what he had done for her,
and disabuse Warden's mind of the cloud of lies by which it had been
darkened.
Father and son were returning at once by the out-going mail steamer.
She pressed Peter to accept what little money she could spare, but he
would not take a penny.
"No, miss," he said, with emphatic head-shaking. "There's some shot
left in the locker yet, an' me an' the Cap'n will 'ave a reckonin'
w'en he comes 'ome. If I'm short of a pound or two afore I get the
_Nancy_ in commission this spring, I'll ax that gentleman at the bank
for it. P'raps you'll write 'im a line, an' say I've kep' me contract."
She had to be content with that. Were it practicable, she would have
gone back to England in the same steamer. Here, in Las Palmas, she
felt so utterly unbefriended. Though thousands of miles nearer Africa
than in England, she seemed to be more thousands of miles removed from
the chance of receiving a letter or a cablegram. True, she possessed
a very useful acquaintance in the commander of the _Valiant_, but she
could hardly expect one of His Majesty's cruisers to fly to and fro in
the East Atlantic in order to keep her conversant with developments
in Nigeria. Peter, however, undertook to call at the Colonial Office,
while she would cable him her address after the lapse of a fortnight.
Then, if there was any news of Warden, he would communicate with her.
At luncheon she had her first meeting with Mrs. Laing since the arrival
of that epoch-marking letter. A special menu was ordered, and the table
was gay with flowers, for the Baumgartners dearly loved a lord, and
were resolved to make the most of their friendly relations with the
Earl of Fairholme.
Mr. Baumgartner looked worried and preoccupied. The coming of the mail
which meant so much to Evelyn perhaps had its importance for him also.
At any rate, he left the entertainment of his guests largely to his
wife, until a sharp clash of wits rudely dispelled his reverie.
Beryl Baumgartner was the unconscious agent that brought about an
unforeseen crisis. Her restless eyes speedily caught the glint of
diamonds on Evelyn's left hand, and she cried ecstatically:
"Oh, Evelyn, what a lovely ring! Where did you get it?"
Each woman at the table was on the _qui vive_ instantly. In a place
like Las Palmas the mere mention of a diamond ring in connection with
a young and pretty girl suggests that one more infatuated male has
voluntarily removed his name from the list of eligibles.
Evelyn, having stilled the volcano that raged over night, might have
allowed the opportunity to pass if she had not happened to catch the
mocking smile on Rosamund's face when the nature of the ring became
self-evident. That steeled her intent.
"It is my engagement ring," she said quietly.
"What?" shrieked Beryl, to whom this was news indeed. "Who is he?"
"You do not know him, dear, but his name is Captain Warden. He is at
present in West Africa, somewhere near the Benuë River."
"And did he send it to you?"
"Yes. I received it only last night. It would have reached me four
months ago, had not Mrs. Laing stolen one of my letters--perhaps others
as well--and that naturally led to some confusion."
There was a moment of stupefied silence at the table. Everybody seemed
to be stricken dumb. Rosamund, crimson with anger, could only mutter:
"What insolence!"
"It is an unpleasant thing to say, but it is true," said Evelyn,
discussing her rival's transgression in the most matter-of-fact tone,
though she was conscious of a queer tingling at the roots of her hair,
and she hardly recognized the sound of her own voice.
Baumgartner felt it imperative to stop what threatened to develop into
a scandal.
"Miss Dane, you are making a serious charge against a lady of the
highest repute," he said, in his best chairman-of-the-company style.
"I mean it, every word," cried Evelyn, a trifle more vehemently. "Lord
Fairholme, am I speaking the truth or not?" she demanded, suddenly
wheeling round on the inoffensive peer.
"Really--er--really----" he spluttered, for once too bewildered to grin.
"Please tell Mr. Baumgartner what happened in the hall at Lochmerig
when Mrs. Laing asked the postman to give her a letter addressed to
Captain Arthur Warden, at Ostend. You were present. It was my letter
she obtained. Perhaps she has it yet if her boxes were searched."
Here was no timid girl striving vainly to bolster up a false
accusation, but a fiery young goddess impeaching an erring mortal. The
atmosphere was electrical; Beryl Baumgartner said afterwards that she
felt pins and needles attacking her at all points!
"I'm awfully sorry, Miss Dane, but I gave very little attention to the
incident," said Fairholme, partly recovering himself.
"But you remembered Captain Warden's name last night? Was it not at
Lochmerig that you heard it, and from Mrs. Laing?"
"Well--yes, but, you know, Mrs. Laing might have written to him."
"She did, after obtaining the address from my letter and reading what I
wrote."
Then she turned on Rosamund with magnificent disdain.
"Shall I give you a copy of your letter? Captain Warden has sent it to
me."
Sheer fury enabled Rosamund to regain her self-control.
"Your foolish attack on me is disproved out of your own mouth," she
said, striving desperately to speak with her accustomed nonchalance.
"Captain Warden has not written to you since I saw him in London. He
is in Africa, it is true, but he has never been heard of after going
ashore at Rabat fully three months ago. How can you pretend that
you received a letter from him last night? My authority is an Under
Secretary of State. Pray, who is yours?"
Under other conditions, Evelyn might have been warned by the imperious
command to "hold her tongue" that Baumgartner telegraphed to his wife
when that good lady was minded to interfere. But no consideration
would stop her now. The memory of all she had suffered through the
machinations of one evilly disposed woman upset her calm judgment.
In other respects, she acted with a restraint that was worthy of a
first-rate actress; people at the next table might have thought she was
discussing the weather. Taking Warden's letter from her pocket, she
handed it to Lord Fairholme.
"I cited you as a witness," she said. "Will you now act as a judge?
Read that, and tell my friends which of us two is speaking truly."
Despite his self-supposed shortcomings, Fairholme was a gentleman.
Instinctively he believed Evelyn, but he shrank from the duty she
entrusted to him.
"Oh, I say," he bleated, "hasn't this thing gone a bit too far already?
Is it worth all the beastly fuss? There may be a mistake somewhere,
you know. I'm sure, Miss Dane, nobody doubts your statement where this
lucky chap Warden is concerned, an', on the other hand, don't you know,
Mrs. Laing may have a perfectly fair explanation of the other business.
So let it go at that, eh, what?"
"May I act as arbitrator?" said Baumgartner. "If I glance through your
letter, Miss Dane, I may discover a means of settlement."
Something in his tone, some hint of a crafty purpose behind the
smooth-spoken words, beat through the haze of wrath and grief that
clouded Evelyn's mind. She could trust Fairholme with her lover's
letter, but not Baumgartner. To reveal to him what Warden had said
about Mrs. Laing's extraordinarily accurate knowledge of proceedings
in the Solent and affairs in Nigeria would be tantamount to betraying
her lover's faith.
With splendid calmness she took the letter from the table and replaced
it in her pocket.
"No, thank you, Mr. Baumgartner," she said, "if Lord Fairholme declines
to help me, nobody else can take his place. I appealed to him because
he is aware that Mrs. Laing induced your groom to unlock the post-box
and hand her my letter. The proof of my words lies here. It is for him
to say whether or not he is satisfied he saw Mrs. Laing commit a theft."
Fairholme shook his head. He was not lacking in pluck, and his
artificial humor was only the veneer of an honest nature, but he
surprised a look in Rosamund's eyes that startled him. She was pale
now, ashen pale. She uttered no word, but continued to glower at Evelyn
with a suppressed malevolence that was more threatening than the mere
rage of a detected trickster.
His lordship evidently thought it high time Baumgartner or his wife
exercised their authority.
"Don't you think this matter has gone quite far enough?" he asked,
glancing from one to the other, and avoiding the eyes of either Evelyn
or Mrs. Laing.
"Yes," said Baumgartner, speaking with a pomposity that contrasted
sharply with his prompt offer to supplant Fairholme as judge. "This
absurd dispute about a purely private affair must end at once. I and
my family are going to Europe by the next mail steamer----"
"Isadore!" gasped his wife.
"Father, you can't mean it!" cried Beryl, who, at the lowest
calculation, had made arrangements for a good three weeks' further
frivolity at Las Palmas.
"Unfortunately, I am quite in earnest."
The financier looked it. Despite his magisterial air, his puffy face
was drawn and haggard, and he had the aspect of a man who needed rest
and sleep.
"You will accompany us, of course, Miss Dane," he went on, speaking
slowly, as though he were groping for the best way out of a difficulty.
"Your quarrel with Mrs. Laing can be much more easily adjusted in
England than here. I hope, therefore, we shall be spared further
bickering during our brief stay in the Canaries."
"But, father dear," put in his daughter, "you said we were going home
on the yacht, and calling at Gibraltar and Algiers."
"I have changed my plans," he retorted curtly, and that was all he
would say on the subject.
Evelyn left the table at the earliest moment. When too late, she
regretted the impulse that led her to declare open war against Mrs.
Laing. But it was done now. Those words "theft" and "steal" were
irrevocable. She had retreated to a nook in the garden where a dense
clump of tropical trees and shrubs gave shelter from the sun, and
was trying to discover if she had imperilled the success of Warden's
mission by any unguarded phrase, when Lord Fairholme came to her.
"May I sit down here a few minutes?" he asked. "I want to try to
understand things."
"I should be sorry to test your lordship's capacity so greatly,"
she said. She had not yet forgiven him for not taking her part. She
was young; her world was tumbling about her ears; she believed that
everybody ought to stand aghast at Rosamund's wickedness.
"Oh, come now, that's a bit severe, isn't it?" grinned Fairholme. "You
don't make allowances for the ruffled feelin's of a poor fellow who has
just had his image battered----"
"Will you please tell me what you are talking about?"
"Eh--beg pardon, I meant idol shattered. Silly mistake, eh, what?"
Evelyn's lips relaxed in a smile. There was no resisting "Billy" when
(in his own phrase) he was goin' strong.
"I fear you all thought me very rude," she said, with a pathetic little
gesture of helplessness. "But what was I to do?--listen in silence to
fresh insults?"
"I think you did the only possible thing."
"Then why did you refuse to bear out my statement?"
"There were reasons. May I see that letter now?"
"Have you come of your own accord?" she asked.
Evelyn fighting for the man she loved was a very different girl from
the proud, disdainful Evelyn who, twenty-four hours earlier, would
have endured almost any infliction rather than flout her adversary in
a public dining-room. She credited Rosamund with the adoption of any
petty device to gain her ends, and felt that Fairholme was just the man
to be used as a stalking-horse.
"No," he said, "or rather, yes--and no. I am anxious to know the truth,
but Baumgartner suggested that I ought to accept your offer of reading
the evidence. Don't you see, he has to consider the future a bit."
"In what way?"
"Well, if Mrs. Laing stole a letter in his house, she--it's a jolly
hard thing to say--but she must be warned off."
Baumgartner as a guardian of morals was a new conception. Evelyn
felt that a more powerful foe than Rosamund was in the field. Her
unimportant romance had suddenly widened out into the world-domain
of politics. She must decide quickly and decide right. In that vital
moment she realized that her postscript to the Lochmerig letter might
have consequences far beyond their effect on Warden's fortunes and her
own.
"Lord Fairholme," she said, turning so that she could watch the
slightest change in the expression of his face, "does Mr. Baumgartner
strike you as a man who would go out of his way to interfere in a
dispute between two women?"
"Not unless there was money in it," said Fairholme cheerfully.
"Then why is he showing such interest now in a matter which he
deliberately closed at luncheon?"
"I gave you his explanation. Even Baumgartner likes to associate with
people of good character."
"No, that is not the reason. Mr. Baumgartner is engaged at this moment
in a plot against British dominion in West Africa. You see that
cruiser in the harbor? Well, she is here to watch the _Sans Souci_.
You yourself heard to-day that our party is going to Europe by the
mail steamer. Why, when the _Sans Souci_ is at our disposal? I will
tell you. The British authorities believe that the yacht will help,
or further in some way, a native rising in Southern Nigeria. Now, the
letter in my possession, read by any one who could extract its inner
meaning, would yield a valuable clue to the amount of information at
the disposal of the home government. If you, without knowing this,
answered Mr. Baumgartner's questions as to its contents, you would be
doing the gravest injury to Great Britain."
"By gad!" exclaimed Fairholme.
"You can easily assure yourself that I am not exaggerating the facts.
Here is the letter. Read it, and remember what I have told you."
Fairholme pursed his lips and bent his brows in deep mental effort. He
held the letter in his hand unopened during this unusual and seemingly
painful process. Then he gave it back to Evelyn.
"No, Miss Dane," he said emphatically. "I'm far too candid an ass to
be laden with state secrets. Now, if you wouldn't mind just pickin'
out the bits that refer to Mrs. Laing, an' skippin' all the political
part, I'll be able to bounce old Baumgartner for all he's worth."
"But I cannot. It is the political part which proves that my letter was
stolen."
"Same thing! Change the names. Turn West Africa into Newmarket, an'
call the Emperor Lord Rosebery."
"The Emperor," said Evelyn, surprised at Fairholme's chance shot.
"He's in it, I guess. He has his finger in every pie, an' some of 'em
have bin jolly hot. Now, go ahead. If it's at all awkward, leave me to
fill in a bit about the Ditch Mile an' the Epsom gradients that will
bamboozle Baumgartner."
Evelyn did her best. Fairholme was delighted with Warden's description
of the baccarat and roulette incidents, but his face lengthened when
he heard Rosamund's allusions to himself. Once, Evelyn forgot his
stipulation, and spoke of the "men of Oku."
"Oku," broke in Fairholme, "where is that?"
"It is a savage native state in West Africa. That is the one name you
must not remember, Lord Fairholme."
He did not interrupt again till she had finished reading. Then she
told him how Peter Evans had brought her the ring and the letter; and,
finding him sympathetic, she explained the extraordinary chance that
led to Warden's capture by a Mohammedan fanatic at Rabat.
"Funny thing!" he said, when she had made an end. "That chap Figuero
joined my steamer at Lisbon."
"He is not here?" cried Evelyn, genuinely startled, for she feared
Figuero.
"Yes, he is. I fancy he's on board the _Sans Souci_. I didn't speak to
him; I have a notion that he didn't recognize me under my new name. We
also picked up a number of German officers at the same port, but they
left us at Funchal, where another ship took them on to the Cameroons.
That is German West Africa, isn't it?"
"I believe so. My geographical knowledge of this part of the world is
of the vaguest. It dates chiefly from last night."
"When the naval Johnny was showing you the map, I suppose?"
"But how do you know that?" she demanded, and another wave of surprise
flooded her face with color.
"Mrs. Laing and I watched you for quite a time--the watchin' was
involuntary on my part, but she wouldn't come away from the veranda,
an' now I know why. You will observe, Miss Dane, that I have bin the
goat all through the proceedin's."
"I can hardly say that."
"No, you wouldn't. But it's true. The only bit of luck I've had is that
I am saved the painful necessity of bein' refused as a husband by Mrs.
Laing. I came here to ask her to marry me."
"Oh, I am so sorry----" began Evelyn, but Fairholme's cackling laugh
checked her.
"Why sorry? You've done me a good turn, twice over, an' if I can do you
one, just ask. In the first place, she would probably have said 'No,'
and in the second, where should I have been if she said 'Yes.' In the
soup, eh, what?"
Lord Fairholme seemed to pride himself on his narrow escape, and gave
Evelyn the credit of rescuing him. She protested that if she had known
he was really bent on marrying Mrs. Laing she would neither have
attacked the latter in his presence nor called on him to bear out her
statements. But he refused to admit that she had conferred other than a
favor on him, and repeated his desire to serve her if the opportunity
offered. It came quickly.
That night, when Evelyn was sound asleep, her room was entered and
Warden's letter taken. It lay with the ring and some other trinkets on
a dressing-table. The door was locked and bolted, but the window was
wide open to admit the sea breeze, and, although the room was on the
third floor, and therefore some forty feet or more above the ground
level, it was impossible that the thief could have entered it except
through the window. That the letter alone was the objective was shown
by the fact that the exceedingly valuable ring was left untouched.
There was almost a hint of malicious humor in the discrimination
exercised. An ordinary criminal, though bribed to procure a document of
great importance to some other person, would certainly have made away
with any jewelry that was lying handy. In this instance, there seemed
to be an unspoken warning to the girl that she was powerless in the
toils that surrounded her.
At first, she suspected Rosamund of complicity in this new theft,
but when she asked herself who had most to gain from the perusal of
the letter, suspicion pointed, not to Rosamund, who could guess its
contents with fair accuracy, but to Baumgartner and his associates,
who were evidently more afraid of one man than of the armed might of
Britain.
In the height of her distress her employer came to her.
"We have decided to return by the Portuguese mail from Madeira," he
said, "and in order to catch the next steamer we shall sail in the
_Sans Souci_ to-night. Would it be convenient for you to go aboard the
yacht this afternoon?"
"But what action am I to take with regard to my stolen letter?" she
demanded. "You heard what I said to Mrs. Laing. That letter is my
evidence against her."
"It may have blown out of your window. There is generally a strong
breeze just before dawn. At any rate, it is better lost. Such disputes
are useless."
"But it was of the utmost importance in other ways."
"Young ladies' love-letters always are," he gurgled with forced
laughter. "Still, if it really has gone, you can hardly propose to
remain in Las Palmas on the off chance that it may be recovered."
She felt that she was trapped, but for what purpose it was hard to
imagine. Lord Fairholme had told her already that Baumgartner was very
much annoyed with him for failing to remember what Warden had written,
and it was now beyond doubt that the _Sans Souci's_ voyage to Funchal
was a blind for some ulterior object.
In her dilemma, she thought of Mortimer. When Baumgartner went away,
she hurried out of the hotel and drove straight to the harbor. A boat
brought her to the _Valiant_; the commander himself met her at the
gangway, and escorted her to his cabin.
"Sorry I couldn't call last evening Miss Dane," he said, "but I was
detained on board unexpectedly. Things are happening, I hear."
"Yes. Figuero is here, and we leave on the yacht for Funchal to-night."
He smiled.
"Is that the dodge?" he exclaimed. "Of course, I was posted in the
movements of the Portuguese and his friends, but the trip to Madeira is
clever. What has caused the change of programme?"
She told him, and he banged a clenched fist emphatically on a table
which a steward had just arranged for tea.
"For once, I can find it in my heart to wish you were a man," he cried.
"A steamer starts for Lagos within two hours, and it would be a fine
thing if the Nigeria administration heard your story from your own
lips. Of course, I can write, but it is difficult to put on paper one's
guesses and surmises at the trickery that is going on."
The words were scarcely uttered ere a wild notion leaped into Evelyn's
brain. Why should she not go to Lagos? She might be able to clear
away some of the doubts and misgivings that must have gathered around
Warden's name. Above all else, if there was news of him, it would
surely reach the officials there long before it became known in England.
"If I were a man," she said tremulously, "would you pay my passage on
that ship?"
"Of course. You would be traveling on Government service."
"Then I shall go. Please arrange matters for me, and send some one to
take me on board."
"Do you mean it?" he cried.
"Yes."
"By Jove, Miss Dane, you astonish me more each time I see you. But how
about the Baumgartners?"
"I shall simply write a note resigning my situation. It is a mere
question of doing that to-day or three weeks hence. But I shall not
tell them why I am leaving their service so suddenly."
"Baumgartner will find out. Unless I am much mistaken, it will worry
him. Now, you are sure you intend to take this trip?"
"Quite certain."
"Very well. I shall give myself the pleasure of calling for you at
three o'clock."
Evelyn packed her boxes as speedily as possible. Counting her money,
she found she had only twenty-five pounds. But there was that new
treasure, the ring. How better could she use it than in furthering the
interests of the man she loved? She wondered if Lord Fairholme would
lend her fifty pounds on its security? A note brought him to her room,
and she explained briefly that she meant to visit Lagos, and might need
more funds than she had at her command.
"Well, that beats the band," he said. "Mrs. Laing is going there too."
"Not on to-day's steamer?" she protested, for it seemed that an unkind
fate was conspiring against her.
"Sure thing! Heard her tellin' Beryl an hour ago."
Though Evelyn wished heartily that her rival had chosen any other
route of the many which lead from Las Palmas, her resolution remained
unaltered. But there was another thrill in store for her.
"Tell you what, Miss Dane," said Fairholme, "I don't think you ought to
tackle an expedition of this sort single-handed. You may want some one
to pull you out of a tight place--what price me as a puller-out? I'm a
pretty useless sort of chap in most things, but there is no reason why
I shouldn't try to do my country a good turn once in a way. Let me go
with you, and then you'll have no need to worry about coin."
"You are really very kind," she faltered, "but--but----"
"You are afraid of Mrs. Laing again," he grinned. "Don't worry yourself
about her, dear girl. Not even Mrs. Grundy can growl at me for bein'
your fellow-passenger. I'm mixed up in this business, an', by Jove,
I mean to see it through. Look here, can't you adopt me as a sort of
elder brother, an' make it 'Billy' an' 'Evelyn,' an' that sort of
thing--eh, what?"