AN EXPERT
Returning from morning stables to his barrack-room, Soldier Bill
found on his table a document that puzzled him exceedingly. He read
it a dozen times, turned it up-side down, smoothed it out with his
riding-whip, all in vain. He could make nothing of it; then he summoned
Barney.
"When did this thing come, and who brought it?"
"Five minutes back," answered the batman. "Left by a young man on
fatigue duty."
So Barney, with military exactitude, described a government official,
in the costume of its telegraphic department.
"Did the man leave no message?" continued Bill.
"Said as there was nothing to pay," answered Barney, standing at
"attention" and obviously considering this part of his communication
satisfactory in the extreme.
"Said there was nothing to pay!" mused his master, "and I would have
given him a guinea to explain any two words of it." Then he took his
coat off, and sat doggedly down to read the mysterious sentences again
and again.
The soldier, as he expressed it, was "up a tree!" That the message
must be of importance, he argued from its mode of transmission. The
sender's name was legible enough, and his own address perfectly
correct. He felt sure Daisy would not have telegraphed from the wilds
of Roscommon but on a matter of urgency; and it did seem provoking
that the only sense to be got out of the whole composition, was in
the sentence with which it concluded--"Do not lose a moment." In his
perplexity, he could think of no one so likely to help him as Mrs.
Lushington.
"She has more 'nous' in that pretty little head of hers," thought Bill,
as he plunged into a suit of plain clothes, "than the Horse Guards and
the War Office put together. _She'll_ knock the marrow out of this, if
anybody can! I've heard her guess riddles right off, the first time she
heard them; and there isn't her equal in London for acting charades
and games of that kind, where you must be down to it, before they can
say 'knife.' By Jove, I shouldn't wonder if this was a double acrostic
after all? Only Daisy wouldn't be such a flat as to telegraph it all
the way from Ireland to _me_. I hope she'll see me. It's awfully early.
I wonder if she'll blow me up for coming so soon."
These reflections, and Catamount's thorough-bred canter, soon brought
him to Mrs. Lushington's door. She was at home, and sufficiently
well prepared for exercises of ingenuity, having been engaged, after
breakfast,--though it is but fair to say, such skirmishes were of
unusual occurrence,--in a passage-of-arms with Frank.
The latter was a good-_natured_ man, with a bad _temper_. His wife's
temper was excellent; but her enemies, and indeed her friends, said she
was ill-_natured_. Though scarcely to be called an attached couple,
these two seldom found it worth while to quarrel, and so long as the
selfishness of each did not clash with the other, they jogged on
quietly enough. It was only when domestic affairs threw them together
more than common, that the contact elicited certain sparks, such
as crackled on occasion into what observers below-stairs called a
"flare-up."
To-day they happened to breakfast together. After a few "backhanders,"
and some rapid exchanges, in which the husband came by the worst, their
conversation turned on money-matters--always a sore subject, as each
considered that the other spent more than a due share of their joint
income. Complaints led to recriminations, until at length, goaded
by the sharpness of his wife's tongue, Mr. Lushington exclaimed:
"Narrow-minded, indeed! Paltry economy! I can tell you, if I didn't
keep a precious tight hand, and deny myself--well--lots of things.
I say if I didn't deny myself _lots_ of things, I should be in the
Bench--that's all."
"Then you are a very bad financier," she retorted, "worse than the
Chancellor of the Exchequer even. But I don't believe it. I believe
you're saving money every day."
He rose from his chair in a transport of irritation, the skirts of his
dressing-gown floating round him, like the rags of a whirling dervish.
"Saving money!" he repeated, in a sort of suppressed scream. "I can
only tell you I had to borrow five hundred last week, and from little
Sharon too. That doesn't mean getting it at three per cent.!"
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said she. "No gentleman
borrows money from Sharon."
"No gentleman!" he vociferated. "Upon my life, Mrs. Lushington, I wish
you would try to be more temperate in your language. No Gentleman,
indeed! I should like to know what you call General St. Josephs? I
fancy he is rather a favourite of yours. All I can tell you is, _he_
borrows money of Sharon. Lumps of money, at exorbitant interest."
"It's very easy to _say_ these things," she replied. "But you can't
prove them!"
"Can't I?" was his rejoinder. "Well, I suppose you won't doubt my
word, when I give you my honour, that he consulted me himself about a
loan from this very man. Three thousand pounds, Mrs. Lushington--three
thousand pounds sterling, and at two days' notice. Didn't care what he
paid for it, and wanted it; well, _I_ didn't ask him why he wanted it;
_I_ don't pry into other people's money-matters. _I_ don't always think
the worst of my neighbours. But you'll allow I'm right, I hope! You'll
admit so much at any rate!"
"That has nothing to do with it," replied his wife; and in this highly
satisfactory manner their matrimonial bicker terminated.
Mrs. Lushington, while remaining, in a modified sense, mistress of the
position--for Frank retired to his own den, when the servants came
to take away breakfast--found her curiosity keenly stimulated by the
little piece of gossip thus let fall under the excitement of a conjugal
wrangle. What on earth could St. Josephs want with three thousand
pounds? She had never heard he was a gambler. On a race-course, she
knew, from personal observation, that beyond a few half-crowns with the
ladies, he would not venture a shilling. He had told her repeatedly how
he abhorred foreign loans, joint-stock companies, lucrative investments
of all sorts, and money speculations of any kind whatever; yet here, if
she believed her husband, was this wise and cautious veteran plunging
overhead in a transaction wholly out of keeping with his character and
habits. "There _must_ be a woman at the bottom of it!" thought Mrs.
Lushington, not unreasonably, resolving at the same time never to rest
till she had sifted the whole mystery from beginning to end.
She felt so keen on her quest, that she could even have found it
in her heart to seek Frank in his own snuggery, and, sinking her
dignity, there endeavoured to worm out of him further particulars,
when Catamount was pulled up with some difficulty at her door, and
his master's card sent in, accompanied by a humble petition that the
early visitor might be admitted. Having darkened her eyelashes just
before breakfast, and being, moreover, dressed in an unusually becoming
morning toilet, she returned a favourable answer, so that Soldier
Bill, glowing from his ride, was ushered into her boudoir without delay.
Her womanly tact observed his fussed and anxious looks. She assumed,
therefore, an air of interest and gravity in her own.
"There's some bother," said she kindly; "I see it in your face. How can
I help you, and what can I do?"
"You're a conjuror, by Jove!" gasped Bill, in a paroxysm of admiration
at her omniscience.
"_You're_ not, at any rate!" she replied, smiling. "But, come, tell me
all about it. You're in a scrape? You've been a naughty boy. What have
you been doing? Out with it!"
"It's nothing of my own; I give you my honour," replied Bill.
"It's Daisy's turn now. Look here, Mrs. Lushington. I'm completely
puzzled--regularly knocked out of time. Read that. I can't make head or
tail of it."
He handed her the telegram, which she perused in silence, then burst
out laughing, and read it again aloud for his edification:--
"_Very strong Honey just arrived--bulls a-light on Bank of
Ireland--Sent by an unknown Fiend--fail immediately--Sell
Chief--consult a Gent, and strip Aaron at once--Do not lose a moment._"
"Mr. Walters must be gone raving mad, or is this a practical joke, and
why do you bring it here?"
"I don't think it's a joke," answered Bill ruefully. "I brought it
because you know everything. If _you_ can't help me, I'm done!"
"Quite right," said she. "Always consult a woman in a tangle. Now this
thing is just like a skein of silk. If we can't unravel it at one end,
we begin at the other. In the first place, who is Aaron? and how would
you proceed to strip him?"
"Aaron," repeated Bill thoughtfully. "Aaron--I never heard of such a
person. There's Sharon, you know; but stripping _him_ would be out of
the question. It's generally the other way!"
"Sharon's a money-lender, isn't he?" she asked. "What business have
_you_ to know anything about him, you wicked young man?"
"Never borrowed a sixpence in my life," protested Bill, which was
perfectly true. "But I've been to him often enough lately about this
business of Daisy's. We've arranged to get fifteen hundred from _him_
alone. Perhaps that is what is meant by stripping him. But it was all
to be in hard money; and though I know Sharon sometimes makes you take
goods, I never heard of his sending a fellow bulls, or strong honey, or
indeed, anything but dry sherry and cigars."
She knit her brows and read the message again. "I think I have it,"
said she. "'_Strip Aaron._' That must mean 'Stop Sharon.' '_Sell
the Chief_',--that's 'Tell the Colonel.' Then '_fail immediately_'
signifies that the writer means to cross by the first boat. Where does
it come from--Dublin or Roscommon?"
"Roscommon," answered Bill. "They're not much in the habit of
telegraphing up there."
"Depend upon it Daisy has dropped into a good thing. Somebody must
have left, or lent, or _given_ him a lot of money. I have it! I have
it! This is how you must read it," she exclaimed, and following the
lines with her taper finger, she put them into sense with no little
exultation, for the benefit of her admiring listener. "'_Very strange!
Money just arrived. Bill at sight, on Bank of Ireland. Sent by an
unknown Friend. Sail immediately. Tell Chief. Consult Agent, and stop
Sharon at once._ Do not lose a moment.' There, sir, should I, or should
I not, make a good expert at the Bank."
"You're a witch--simply a witch," returned the delighted Bill. "It's
regular, downright magic. Of course, that's what he means. Of course,
he's come into a fortune. Hurrah! hurrah! Mrs. Lushington, have you any
objection? I should like to throw my hat in the street, please, and put
my head out of window to shout!"
"I beg you'll put out nothing of the kind!" she answered, laughing. "If
you must be a boy, at least be a good boy, and do what I tell you."
"I should think I _would_ just!" he protested, still in his paroxysm of
admiration. "You know more than the examiners at Sandhurst! You could
give _pounds_ to the senior department! If you weren't so--I mean if
you were old and ugly--I should really believe what I said at first,
that you're a witch!"
She smiled on him in a very bewitching manner; but her brains were
hard at work the while recapitulating all she had learned in the last
twenty-four hours, with a pleasant conviction that she had put her
puzzle together at last. Yes, she saw it clearly now. The registered
envelope of which she found the address, in reverse, on Blanche's
blotting-paper, must have contained those very bills, mentioned in
Daisy's telegram. It had struck her at the time that the handwriting
was stiff and formal, as if disguised; but this served to account for
the mysterious announcement of an "unknown fiend!" She was satisfied
that Miss Douglas had sent anonymously the sum he wanted to the man
she loved. And that sum Bill had already told her was three thousand
pounds--exactly the amount, according to her husband's version, lately
borrowed by the General from a notorious money-lender. Was it possible
Satanella could thus have stripped one admirer to benefit another?
It must be so. Such treachery deserved no mercy, and Mrs. Lushington
determined to show none.
She considered how far her visitor might be trusted with this startling
discovery. It was as well, she thought, that he should be at least
partially enlightened, particularly as the transaction was but little
to the credit of any one concerned, and could not, therefore, be made
public too soon. So she laid her hand on Bill's coat-sleeve, and
observed impressively--
"Never mind about my being old and ugly, but attend to what I say.
Daisy, as you call him, has evidently found a good friend. Now I know
who that friend is. Don't ask me how I found it out. I never speak
without being sure. That money came from Miss Douglas."
Bill opened his eyes and mouth. "Miss Douglas!" he repeated. "Not the
black girl with the black mare?"
"The black girl with the black mare, and no other," she answered. "Miss
Douglas has paid his debts, and saved him from ruin. What return can a
man make for such generosity as that?"
"She's a trump, and he ought to marry her!" exclaimed the young
officer. "No great sacrifice either. Only," he added, on reflection,
"she looks a bit of a Tartar--wants her head let quite alone at her
fences, I should think. She'd be rather a handful; but Daisy wouldn't
mind that. Yes; he's bound to marry her no doubt; and I'll see him
through it."
"I quite agree with you," responded Mrs. Lushington, "but I won't have
you talk about ladies as if they were hunters. It's bad style, young
gentleman, so don't do it again. Now, attend to what I tell you. Jump
on that poor horse of yours; it must be very tired of staring into
my dining-room windows. Go to your agent, and send _him_ to Sharon.
Let your Colonel know at once. When Daisy arrives, impress on him all
that he is bound in honour to do, and you may come and see me again,
whenever you like, to report progress."
So Bill leapt into the saddle in exceedingly good spirits, while Mrs.
Lushington sat down to her writing-table, with the self-satisfied
sensations of one who has performed an action of provident kindness and
good-will.