A QUAKER LADY
Kingsbridge is the quaintest of towns, and was of great importance
before the era of steam. Then fruit schooners ran as far as the
Azores, and smuggling was a fine art; but now the glory and excitement
has departed, and Kingsbridge is a quiet, clean, country town set in
the heart of the Devonshire hills. At the top of the steep High Street
dwelt Miss Dorothy Drake, and from her window she could behold the
silver waters of the estuary and a panorama of undulating lands. The
window was Miss Drake's favourite seat, and there she sat knitting for
many a long hour, watching the landscape changing under the wonderful
colours of the sky.
She was a quiet, homely little person, usually clothed in a grey stuff
gown, and wearing the white, close-fitting cap of the sect she
belonged to. Her serious face was the hue of old ivory, and she had
mild blue eyes, the pensive expression of which, added to the calm
look, soothed all to whom she spoke. When anyone was in trouble, he or
she--it was usually a she--came for advice and comfort to Miss Drake,
and both were freely given. She kept only one servant, a stout wench
called Kezia, who adored her mistress, and who made it the study of
her life that Miss Drake should be comfortable. The old lady had a
little money of her own, and with this and the twenty pounds a month
which came from America she lived in what she regarded as a luxurious
way. But Miss Drake's luxury would have been the penury of other and
more modern people.
The room in which she sat was as quaint as herself, and almost as
small. The furniture was old, and polished brightly by Kezia. The
curtains and hangings were faded, but the room was brightened by
numerous antimacassars worked by its owner. There was a china cupboard
containing hoarded cups and saucers, strange seashells on the
mantelpiece, and portraits in oil of Miss Drake's ancestors on the
walls. She did not claim descent from the famous Sir Francis, but
admitted that she derived her blood from a distant branch of the
family. At all events, the love of travel and seafaring was in the
Drake blood, for two of Miss Drake's brothers had been merchant
captains, and her only sister had travelled in quest of a situation to
America. They were all dead now, and Miss Drake remained awaiting her
summons in the small room in the small house at the top of Kingsbridge
High Street. Miss Drake missed her nephew. She was much attached to
him, and had done her best to bring him up since the time when he was
entrusted to her charge at the tender age of two years. But Frank's
ambitions had led him to London, and Miss Drake, knowing that it
behoved him to fight the battle of life, had let him depart with a
sigh. Sometimes he came to see her, and these occasions were always
festivals. When the news of Frank's trouble came, Miss Drake sturdily
refused to believe it, and prayed earnestly that Frank's innocence
would be made evident in God's good time. She firmly believed that it
would.
All the same, in spite of her undoubted faith, Miss Drake was much
agitated over the matter. As the weeks went by and nothing was heard
of Frank, she fretted over his disappearance until the good Kezia grew
quite alarmed. But after a time, so long as no mention was made of the
matter, she became calmer, and waited patiently for the result of her
prayers. When Eustace called she was at once alarmed, divining that
the arrival of this stranger had something to do with the trouble of
her poor lost boy. She saw her visitor at once, and gave him tea out
of wonderful egg-shell china. Eustace liked the old lady at sight, and
strove to set her at her ease. In this he succeeded, for by the time
they arrived at the most serious portion of their conversation Miss
Drake was quite alert. She had been greatly cheered by Jarman's
insistence on Frank's innocence.
"Though I never believed he was guilty," she said, in her quiet voice.
"Friend Jarman, thou hast been a brother to him. Thy reward will
come."
"I don't ask for any reward, Miss Drake. I am not the man to see a
fellow like Frank--such a good fellow, too--go under without doing my
best to help him. Well, I have told you that he is with me in
disguise, and you know all the circumstances of the crime."
"So much, Friend Jarman, as the police could tell me."
"The police? Oh! has Inspector Herny been here?"
Miss Drake nodded, and looked at her knitting with her head on one
side like a bright-eyed robin. "This Mr. Herny took possession of
Frank's goods in the name of law and order. He found a letter
addressed to me, and learnt that I was aunt to my poor boy. He came to
learn if Frank had fled to me."
"I thought he would," said Jarman, drawing a long breath.
"I was not able to tell him anything," resumed Miss Drake, "but I
insisted that Frank was innocent. Beyond a few papers, all Frank's
goods have been sent here. I have paid up the rent of his rooms, and
they are now let to another tenant. So when Frank comes to me, Friend
Jarman, he will find that his worldly affairs are as settled as I, in
my poor weak way, could arrange them."
"You have done splendidly, Miss Drake. And now that we know how we
stand, I will come to the object of my visit. I want you to help me to
prove Frank's innocence."
Miss Drake's hands trembled, and she stopped knitting. "Gladly would I
do so, but thou art mistaken. I can do nothing."
"That depends upon what you know of Frank's father."
"I know very little, Friend Jarman. My sister Ruth met him in San
Francisco, and married him. I never saw him myself. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's this way, Miss Drake. I believe that Frank is the victim
of a conspiracy, which involves a lot of money. You know that he had a
Scarlet Bat tattooed on his right arm?"
"Truly I know that. Many a time have I seen it when he was a child.
But I do not know what it means?"
"Did you never inquire?"
"From whom could I inquire, Friend Jarman? Frank knew nothing, and his
father would not tell me. I never asked, as I did not think it was
worth while. But had I inquired, Friend Lancaster would not have
replied. According to Ruth, he was a silent and secretive man."
"Is Mrs. Lancaster alive now?"
"Alas! no. She died when giving birth to the boy. Friend Lancaster
kept the baby with him for two years. Then, as he was going on some
expedition, he sent the child to me, with a stipend of twenty pounds a
month. I brought up the lad as I best knew how. He had a good
education at the school here, and then departed to college.
Afterwards, he dwelt in London as you know. That is his story. All I
know."
"But the twenty pounds is paid regularly?"
Miss Drake nodded. "Through White & Saon, of Kirk Lane, London. I
wished Frank to take it to himself, but he always refused. I use a
part of it, but much I put aside. So," said the old lady, looking over
her spectacles, "if he should be tried, or if he is in need of money
now, Friend Jarman, I have a hundred or so waiting for him."
"It will come in handy," said Jarman, idly. He was disappointed at the
scanty information afforded by the old lady. "Have you any letters
from Mr. Lancaster?" he asked.
Miss Drake rose, and produced from a cabinet a bundle of envelopes
with the American postmark. These she placed in Jarman's hands, and,
having obtained permission, he examined them carefully. While he did
so the old lady examined him stealthily and anxiously. Twice she
frowned, as if trying to solve some problem.
"There's nothing here likely to throw any light on the subject," said
Eustace, tying up the bundle again in the faded blue ribbon.
"What didst thou expect to find, Friend Jarman?"
Eustace pinched his nether lip in perplexity. "I thought to find some
mention of Banjo Berry," he said, frowning, "for it seems to me that
he is at the bottom of all this business. For some reason he wants
Frank hanged."
"An evil man--an evil man!" said Miss Drake, shaking her head.
"Oh, he's one of the worst," continued Eustace; "but in these
letters"--he laid his hand on the bundle--"there is no mention of him.
These only ask after the boy and announce the remittance of money. But
I notice," said Eustace, looking at his hostess sharply, "that there
are no late letters."
Miss Drake nodded. "Quite so, Friend Jarman. For many years there have
been none. Friend Lancaster stopped writing to me when his son was
aged ten. That is nearly fifteen years ago."
"So I understand," said Eustace, pondering. "Frank is twenty-five in
September. His birthday is in a few weeks."
The old lady took off her spectacles and rubbed them with a vexed air.
She appeared about to say something, but closing her mouth firmly she
went on knitting. Jarman was annoyed as he saw that she was not quite
open with him. However, he made no direct comment, but resumed the
conversation as though he had noticed nothing. "Do you think old Mr.
Lancaster is dead?" he asked.
"I cannot say, I think he is," said Miss Drake, with a worried look,
"but Frank thinks otherwise, Friend Jarman. He would have gone to San
Francisco to learn, but that I asked him to wait till his twenty-fifth
birthday."
Jarman recalled Natty's remark that he was entitled to money after his
birthday in September. Frank was the same age, and was born on the
same day, so it would seem from Miss Drake's remark that to his
birthday also there was something attached. "Is Frank entitled to any
money?" he asked. "Is there a will, or--"
"There is no money as far as I know, Friend Jarman," said Miss Drake,
rising; she paused, then went on. "But my heart misgives me."
"Why should it?"
"There is some mystery about the boy," continued Miss Drake, still
agitated. "That mark on his arm is strange--and then the sealed
letter."
It was for the mention of the sealed letter that Jarman had been
waiting. Now that Miss Drake had mentioned it of her own free will, he
no longer disguised the object of his visit. "It was to get that
letter that I came down."
"Why?" asked Miss Drake, suspiciously.
"Because I think it may solve the mystery of Berry's enmity. Miss
Drake," he went on, earnestly, "this man Berry has in his clutches a
fellow called Denham, who seems to be an ass as far as I can judge.
Denham is of the same age as your nephew, and was born on the same
day. He also has a Scarlet Bat tattooed; but he is marked on the left
arm. I believe that there is a sum of money--a fortune--perhaps the
one to which Denham alludes. Berry is trying to get Frank out of the
way, so that Denham may obtain the money, in which case he will have
the handling of it. Of course this is all supposition, but I can
account for the extraordinary circumstances in no other way."
Miss Drake heard him quietly, her bright eyes fixed on his earnest
face. "I believe thou art a good man, Friend Eustace," she said, "and,
for the sake of my poor boy, I will trust thee. Sixteen years ago,
just before Friend Lancaster stopped writing, he sent me an envelope
which he asked me to give Frank on his twenty-fifth birthday. I
intended to do so with my own hands, but as this trouble prevents me
from doing so, I will give the letter to thee--" She stopped and
folded her hands as though in prayer. "I trust I am doing right," she
murmured to herself, "but the man seems good and kindly."
"I swear you can trust me, Miss Drake. I have Frank's interests at
heart. I shall take the letter back, and ask Frank to open it."
"But it was not to be opened until his twenty-fifth birthday."
"Under the circumstances I think it should be opened at once," pleaded
Jarman, earnestly; "there is no good to be gained by waiting. And,
remember, Frank is in great danger. Should Berry succeed in tracing
him, he will denounce him at once to the police. If Frank is tried, I
don't see what defence he can put forward."
"But he is innocent, poor lamb."
"I am sure of that. But the circumstantial evidence is too strong."
Miss Drake thought for a few moments. "Friend Jarman," she said at
length, "by his unhappy position Frank is tied hand and foot, and thou
must act for him. If thou dost think that the letter is vital to the
proving of his innocence, why not open it now?"
Eustace shook his head. "I can't say if the letter will prove his
innocence," he said doubtfully, "but it may be a clue to the mystery.
I prefer that Frank should open the letter."
"I will get it for thee," said Miss Drake, rising. "One moment," said
Jarman as she walked to the door. "Have you ever heard the name of
Tamaroo?"
"No. A strange name. But I know it not."
"It's not mentioned in the letters either," said Eustace to himself as
the old lady left the room, "yet it has something to do with the
Scarlet Bat, and _that_ I am certain has to do with the mystery. A
queer affair." He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked out of
the window. "I can't see what it all means."
Miss Drake returned and placed in his hands a common-looking envelope
which, from the fold, had evidently come inside another letter. It was
addressed to "My son Francis!" and was sealed with red wax. Jarman
drew near the window and looked at the seal. Then he muttered an
ejaculation--"The Scarlet Bat again!"
"Yes," said Miss Drake, divining his astonishment, "the seal is the
same as the mark on the poor lad's arm."
"I am more convinced than ever that this has to do with the solution
of the mystery," said Jarman, placing the letter in his pocket-book.
"Wherever we look we meet with the Scarlet Bat. I shall take this to
Frank, and on my way to Wargrove I will call on White & Saon. They may
know something. By the way, have you a photograph of Mr. Lancaster?"
"Yes. Ruth sent me a photograph taken with her husband when they were
married," and Miss Drake, taking a picture in a silver frame from a
distant corner of the room, showed it to Jarman.
Mrs. Lancaster was a sweet-looking, mild woman, not unlike Miss Drake,
her sister. But Lancaster was a picturesque, resolute man, with a firm
mouth and a pair of rather fierce eyes. Frank resembled both his
parents, but favoured his mother most. Jarman examined the photograph
carefully, then rose to go. "I shall tell you what this contains when
Frank opens it," he said, "and if possible I shall get Frank to come
down and see you."