THE OLD ROMANCE
Mrs. Anchor, _alias_ Miss Fanny Berry, was a pretty little creature
even when the searching morning sunlight was full on her face. She had
no absolute need of paint and powder to make her attractive. In a tea
gown of delicate blue, with a head of fluffy golden hair, and a
piquant face, she looked--as the saying is--as pretty as a picture.
Jarman eyed her sternly, and wondered how he could ever have loved a
woman possessed of such obviously meretricious charms. Her mouth was
hard, and there was an unpleasant glitter in her blue eyes which did
not bode well for Eustace. After her failure in San Francisco the lady
was intensely suspicious of Jarman, deeming him too scrupulous.
Eustace saw the inquiring light in her eyes, and, having his own game
to play, he pretended to forget the past, and to be overjoyed at the
meeting. Now that he knew who Fairy Fan was, he felt quite certain
that Captain Berry would answer readily to the name of Sakers, and
hoped to see him before the termination of the interview. Meanwhile,
to abate the suspicions of the little lady, he made himself agreeable.
And Eustace could be extremely pleasant when it suited his book.
"Mrs. Anchor," he said, advancing with outstretched hands, "this _is_
a surprise."
"An agreeable one, I hope?" replied the lady with an artificial laugh,
but searching his face keenly.
"Very agreeable. I have often thought of you, Mrs. Anchor."
Womanlike her thoughts reverted to his love, and she strove to see if
she yet had him in her toils. But Eustace did not flush, and the calm
expression of his face baffled the reading of his thoughts. A puzzled
look which meant, "I-wonder-why-you-called!" crept into her expressive
eyes, but beyond this she governed her feelings excellently. But
Eustace had interpreted the look, and to rearrange their friendship
hastened to explain.
"I have never seen you at the theatre," he said, easily, taking a
chair, "so it never struck me that Fairy Fan, who was delighting the
British public, was the same as Mrs. Anchor of San Francisco."
"Nor is she," replied the little woman, seating herself on the sofa.
"After the sad death of my husband, I took my maiden name again."
"Miss Berry?" inquired Eustace.
"Fanny Berry," she replied, nodding. "I am over here with my uncle."
She glanced uneasily at the door, thinking he might come in. "His name
is Banjo Berry. He is a merchant captain, but in 'Frisco you knew him
as Edward Sakers."
"Oh I thought--"
"I know you did," she interrupted petulantly, "and so did everyone
else. But he is my relative, and nothing more. Owing to some trouble
connected with the casting away of a fruit schooner on a South Sea
reef, he was obliged to call himself Sakers. As I told you, my
husband's behaviour became so impossible that I had to leave."
"You never told me that," said Jarman, serenely; "but at our last
interview you hinted that I might fight Anchor with revolvers."
"I don't deny it. The man treated me shamefully. I was a good wife to
him." Miss Berry--as it is best to call her--squeezed out a tear. "But
he--he--well, what's the use of going over the old ground. You know
how jealous he was."
"And I know how he loved you," said Eustace, pointedly.
"What about yourself?" she responded flippantly.
"I never lost the right of calling myself your husband's friend."
"No," she taunted, "you hadn't the pluck to do that. You pretended to
love me, yet when I would have given you myself and a fortune you drew
back."
"The price was too high. And you got someone else to put him out of
the way."
Fairy Fan rose indignantly. "I never did!" she declared vehemently. "I
was in Chicago at the time. When Anchor's conduct became unbearable I
went with my uncle to that city. It was there that we heard of his
death."
"Shot and stabbed, wasn't he?"
"Yes. But not by me--not by my uncle, although he was angry at the way
in which I had been treated. I left Anchor and intended to get a
divorce--but circumstances made me his widow."
"Did it make you a rich woman also?" asked Eustace, remembering the
last interview he had with her.
"No," she said quietly. "You never gave me time to tell you about the
money. Anchor speculated, and lost his fortune. However, he knew,
through some Indian, of a treasure--a Spanish treasure which was
buried in a certain place. I wanted him to tell me the secret, but he
would not. When he died he took the secret along with him. I am as
poor now as I was then, and I shouldn't be acting at the Piccadilly
Theatre if I wasn't."
"Why was the death of your husband necessary to your learning the
secret?" demanded Jarman, quickly.
Fairy Fan arranged herself on the sofa and took out a case, which she
opened, "It wasn't," she said, blandly, selecting a cigarette. "But I
feared I wouldn't get a divorce, and so I wished him out of the way.
You were too scrupulous, although all you had to do was to pick a
quarrel with him. You were a better shot than he was."
"I don't commit murder even for love, Mrs. Anchor."
"Berry, if you please. Love!" she repeated, lighting the cigarette.
"You don't know the meaning of the word. Had you really and truly
loved me you would have rid me of the man who struck me."
"Did he strike you?"
"I was beaten black and blue. I told you so," she retorted. "Would any
woman put up with that treatment? I hated the man!" She clenched her
small fist, and her face grew angry. "I would have killed him myself
had I been able."
"Perhaps, as you didn't, you got someone else to--"
"How dare you say that, Eustace!" Jarman winced as she called him by
the old name. "I tell you I knew nothing of the matter. If you have
come here to denounce me for the murder of my husband, you have wasted
your time. There is no evidence which can connect me with that crime,
or my uncle either. We are quite at our ease--quite!"
"I never thought of doing such a thing," said Jarman, drily. "My
coming here is a pure accident. I live in Essex, and rarely come to
town. I had not the slightest idea of your identity. It was simply and
solely to write you a sketch and make money that I came."
"Why did you write under a false name?"
"Bah! You understand well enough. I am known as Leonard Grant in this
line, as I'm not proud of the occupation of writing these drivelling
things. You--so far as I knew--were a stranger to me. I wrote you
under the name I was best known by, to do the sketch. Fan--"
"Don't call me Fan!" she said petulantly.
"Well, I treated you so badly that I don't deserve much at your hands,
my dear," he said, with feigned penitence, "but for the sake of old
times let me call you by the old name."
"My uncle will not like it. He will be here soon, and should he hear
you call me by so intimate a name he will be angry. He is very, very
particular."
Jarman privately thought that an ex-skipper, who had cast away a
schooner and had to change his name for that reason, had no need to be
so scrupulous. But he did not believe in the relationship, and
suspected that Fairy Fan was telling glib lies. However, it suited him
to accept the story she set forth, and he swallowed the scrupulous
Captain Banjo Berry along with the other fiction.
"I'll call you Miss Berry when he comes, but till then--" He looked
imploringly.
She gave him a coquettish smile. "Very well, till then, Eustace!"
Jarman knew perfectly well that she was calculating to make use of
him, and wished her to think so. Should she accept him as a colleague
in the swindle which she and her so-called uncle were perpetrating, he
might more easily penetrate the secret of Starth's murder.
"Then tell me, Fan, was it ever discovered who killed Anchor?"
"How you harp on that, Eustace! Yes. An old partner of his, whom he
cheated in connection with a mining claim, shot him."
"And who thrust the knife into his heart?"
"A Chinaman. He found the body, or rather, he found Anchor dying, and
intended to rob him. When Anchor opened his eyes and tried to sing out
for the police Lo Keong knifed him. The Chinaman has been hanged, but
the man who fired the shot got away. And now don't let's talk any more
about the matter; it gives me the horrors. I'm doing very well here,
and I hope to make a lot of money. Then I shall retire."
"And marry again?"
Fairy Fan shot a second provocative glance. "Perhaps," she said.
"H'm!" Jarman resolved to startle her. "So Walter Starth was not to
your taste?"
He woefully failed to bring about the desired result. Fan was too old
a hand to be startled. "You've been reading the papers?" she said.
Jarman nodded. "I saw that both Starth and the man who is supposed to
have killed him loved you."
"They did, and I refused both of them. Nice boys, but a couple of
paupers. If I marry again, I marry money. But why do you use the word
'supposed.' Frank Lancaster murdered Starth, sure enough."
"So the jury say, but--"
"And so I say. I know exactly how it happened. Starth thought that I
was going to marry Lancaster, and they had a row. Then Frank, who
always carried a revolver, shot him."
"And knifed him afterwards like your friend, Lo Keong, did Anchor."
"That _was_ strange," admitted Fan, thoughtfully. "I don't think such
a nice boy as Frank would act so brutally; and it's odd that my
husband should have been treated in the same way."
"A coincidence, I suppose," said Eustace, indifferently, knowing that
Fan was watching him closely. "What's become of Lancaster?"
"I don't know. I wish I did. He should hang."
"I thought you liked him, as a nice boy."
"So I did," she replied, "but I liked Starth better."
"Oh!" Jarman found it difficult to believe this. She eyed him
suspiciously, and he would have explained himself further, but that
Banjo Berry, followed by a young man, entered the room.
"Uncle," said Fan, rising and anticipating Eustace, "who do you think
Leonard Grant, who wants to do the sketch, is?"
"Well, this is very curious," said Berry, shaking Eustace by the hand
in the warmest and most friendly way. "Jarman, of 'Frisco."
"That's me," responded Eustace. "How are you, Sakers?"
Berry winked. "Don't need that name now," said he. "There's no chance
of my getting run in for piling up that old schooner at Samoa. I'm
Banjo Berry now. M'own name, and it's a hummer in the South Seas."
"I've been explaining all that to him," said Fan, impatiently. "I say,
Mr. Jarman"--Eustace observed the punctiliousness--"do you know this
boy, Natty Denham?"
The boy, so-called, was a callow young gentleman of twenty-five,
dark-haired and brown-complexioned. He had a pleasant smile but rather
a vacant expression, and in Jarman's mind was sized up, not exactly as
a fool, but as a youth of rather weak will. He thrust forward a slim
hand, and gave Eustace a nerveless handshake.
"How do you do?" he said, talking very fast. "I never met you in
'Frisco, but I saw you often. I'm Chicago m'self, and came to this old
country along with the Captain and Miss Berry."
"You never met in 'Frisco?" asked Fan, addressing Jarman.
"No. I heard you talk of Mr. Denham, though."
It seemed to Eustace that both Fan and her uncle were rather relieved
by this admission, and he wondered what connection this fool could
have with the game the two were playing. He fancied that Denham was
the pigeon, and Berry & Co. the hawks. It also struck him that if he
could get Natty to himself he might find out something, always
supposing that the young fellow knew anything. Later on, after a
desultory and friendly conversation, Natty gave him an opening.
"I say," said he, "you live down in Essex?"
"Yes. At Wargrove."
Natty nodded to Fan and the Captain. "I knew," he said. "Can't
understand how it slipped my memory."
"What slipped your memory, Bub?" asked Berry, sharply.
"Why, that he"--he nodded towards Eustace--"was in Essex. When Starth
took me down to see that pretty sister of his, he said something about
Jarman. I remember now."
"Why didn't you tell me, Natty," said Fan, in so cooing a voice that
Eustace guessed she was thoroughly angry.
"I forgot. Can't remember anything," rattled on the youth. "I
say"--suddenly turning to Eustace--"awful about poor Starth. Eh?"
"Oh, give it a rest," cried Berry, savagely. "You've done nothing but
jaw of that since it happened. Jarman, wasn't it you who introduced
him to Lancaster? Quite so. H'm! guess Lancaster's an almighty friend
of yours. Eh?"
"Well, he was," drawled Jarman, seeing that his reply was awaited with
much interest, "but now--" Eustace shrugged his shoulders. "I don't
much care to consort with criminals."
"Right, sir. You don't happen to know where he's skipped to?"
"Certainly not. He legged it sharp to escape the police."
"He won't escape me," said Berry, grimly. "I'm goin' to get that young
man lynched, you bet. I loved Starth just like a son."
Jarman laughed. "Yet Starth wasn't a lovable man," he said.
"Oh, there was no end of good in him when you got at it," replied the
little skipper, solemnly. "Besides, we had a scheme on to make money."
"What sort of a scheme?"
"Never mind," said Berry. "He's dead now, and the scheme's up a tree."
"I suppose Miss Starth's cut up?" said Denham to Eustace.
"Naturally. Her only brother."
"I guess she needs a heap of consolation," went on the young man
artlessly. "It's just in my mind to go down and see her."
Jarman was not at all pleased at this proposition, and was inclined to
reply in the negative. But a bright thought struck him--a very daring
thought of the nature of bluff. Denham was a fool, and not at all
observant. It might be that if he came down and saw Mr. Desmond O'Neil
he might be able to dispel any suspicions which might afterwards take
shape in the minds of Fan and her uncle. With this idea he gave Natty
an invitation.
"Come and stop with me," he said cordially. "There is no one with me
but my secretary, an Irish chap called O'Neil. You'd get on well with
him."
Natty seemed inclined to accept, but looked at Berry for instruction.
The skipper nodded. "Go by all means, and have a good time."
"You never ask me," said Fan, reproachfully, to her old lover.
"I'm afraid a bachelor establishment is not quite a paradise to
ladies," said Eustace, laughing; "but if you will spend the day I'll
be very pleased. When will you come down?" he asked Denham.
Berry answered. "He can come on Saturday," said he, "as I'm going
to-morrow to see an old friend for a couple of days. I'll be back in
the morning--Saturday morning, that is. I don't want Fan to be left."
"Is it Balkis you're going to see?" asked Denham.
Jarman nearly uttered an exclamation of surprise, for Balkis was the
name of the negress in the portrait which Lancaster had seen in
Starth's rooms. Berry didn't seem pleased at Natty's speech, and Fan
frowned. But they both laughed indulgently.
"It isn't Balkis," said Berry, "but a marine officer I'm seeing in
connection with Lancaster. He's left the country, and I think I know
the ship he's skipped by."
"That's clever of you," said Jarman, rising to take his leave. "If you
catch him, Captain, you'll do more than the police."
"Huh!" scoffed Berry. "Your police are fools. Most people in this old
country are. I can squash the lot of them. Lancaster too, you bet!"
Eustace laughed when on his way home. He was pretty certain that,
having already made a false start about Lancaster, Berry would _not_
squash him. Jarman hoped to gather a great deal from Natty's prattle.