CHAPTER XVII

A Disappearance

When Rupert returned to Marport next day, Burgh accompanied him.

The young squire of Royabay wished to give information to the

police regarding the guilt of Forge. But Clarence persuaded him

against doing so. "You'll only get me into a row," said he, in

his candid way. "You see I told a lie."

"You tell so many lies," said Rupert sharply, "I don't know but

what I ought to give you in charge."

"I guess not, seeing I saved your life last night."

"No. You're right there Burgh. But have you really anything to

do with this murder?"

"No, 'cept as how I told old Tung-yu last night."

"Just repeat what you said. I was so faint with the loss of

blood that I didn't gather half you said."

Burgh nodded. "You were pretty sick. I'd to help you back to

civilization, same as if you were drunk. If I hadn't, you'd have

been robbed and killed down that Bowery gangway."

Ainsleigh could not, but acknowledge that Clarence had acted

very well. He had saved him from the man who attacked him in the

street, and also, it was owing to him that the two had escaped

from the gang of Hwei. Finally Burgh had taken Rupert back to

the Guelph Hotel in Jermyn Street, when he was rather shaky from

the wound. It was much better this morning, but Ainsleigh looked

pale, and not at all himself. Still he did not grudge the

trifling wound--it was merely a scratch although it had bled

freely,--as the knowledge he had acquired, was well worth the

trouble. They had left the den in Penters Alley, some time after

midnight, and had returned safely to the West, where Rupert had

acted as host to Burgh. That was Clarence all over. Whenever he

did anyone a service, he always took it out of him in some way,

and but, for the dangerous position in which he found himself

would have quartered his carcase on Rupert for an indefinite

period.

"But there ain't no denying that I'm in a fix," said Burgh, as

the train drew near Marport. "That is, if you split Ainsleigh."

"No, I won't split on you. But if Forge is guilty he must be

arrested," said Rupert decisively.

"But I don't know if he strangled the old girl after all."

"You said he did, last night."

"Well I wanted to know the secret of that fan."

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "You know that the fan when

waved in a certain smoke--of which by the way you learned

nothing--reveals a hiding place which contains certain things

Tung-yu wants--"

"To ruin Lo-Keong," said Burgh quickly. "So I guess if I can

pick up that fan from old Forge, I'll yank in the dollars."

"Aren't you satisfied with what you have."

"This thousand. Oh that's all right. I cashed the cheque before

I joined you at the station--got it in gold so I can clear out

when it suits me. It's always as well to be ready to git."

"I suppose," said Ainsleigh dryly, "in your varied career, you

have had frequent occasions to 'git' as you call it."

"You bet. But git's slang American and good Turkish lingo, so

you've no need to sneer old man. 'Say, about Forge. What's to be

done?"

"I'll communicate with Rodgers and tell him what you say. If the

doctor is guilty he must suffer."

"My eye," said Clarence reflectively, "won't aunty be mad. Well

I guess this will square us: she won't play low down on me

again."

"Burgh, you're a blackguard."

"I am, that's a fact," said the buccaneer in no wise disturbed.

"But don't you say that in public or the fur'll fly."

"Pooh. You know I'm equal to you. But this story--"

"The one I told Tung-yu last night," grinned Burgh, "I'll reel

it out now, and you can sort it out as you choose. I believe

Forge to be the scragger of the old girl, because he had that

tie of yours."

"How did he get the tie?"

"I gave it to him," confessed Clarence candidly.

"Yes--I remember you said so last night. But I forget how you

explained the getting of it."

"Huh," drawled Burgh folding his arms. "You might call it

stealing old pard. Y'see Miss Pewsey--my old aunty that is--saw

Olivia--"

"Mrs. Ainsleigh, hang you."

"Right oh," continued Burgh imperturbably. "Well, aunty saw

Mrs. Ainsleigh pass the tie to you, and when you went to the

cloak-room she told me. I was real mad not knowing how things

were, as I wanted that tie for myself. I'd no notion of your

getting things made by the young lady I was sweet on.

"I wish you would leave out my wife's name," said Rupert

angrily, and wincing with pain, for his wound hurt him not a

little.

"I'll try: don't get your hair off. Well I cut along to the

card room--no t'wasn't the card room--the cloak-room, and saw you

standing by your coat, just hanging it up again."

"And you saw me put the tie in the pocket."

"I guess not: but I fancied you might have done so. Then I

waited outside while you yarned with the Chinese cove and

Tidman. After that I cut in and you know the rest."

"Up to the time I knocked you down. Well?"

"Smashing blow," said Burgh coolly, "you can use your hands

pretty well I reckon--but a six shooter's more in my line. Well,

when you cut, I lay down and saw stars for a time. Then I

thought I'd pay you out by annexing the tie."

"You didn't know it was there?"

"Thought it might be," rejoined Burgh coolly, "anyhow there was

no harm in trying. I found the tie, and went out with it,

thinking you be pretty sick when you found it gone. I went into

the card-room where old Forge was cheating I guess, and had a

yarn along o'him. He just roared when I showed him the tie, for

he hates you like pie."

"What's that?" asked Rupert sharply, "you are mistaken."

"I guess not. That old man would have been glad to see you

scragged, Mr. Ainsleigh. He asked me to let him have the tie--"

"What for?"

Burgh shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't say. But I let him have

it anyhow. I wasn't in a position to refuse. Y'see Ainsleigh I'm

not a holy Bill and--"

"And Forge knows a few of your escapades likely to land you

in--"

"Y'needn't say the word," interrupted Burgh in his turn,

"t'isn't a pretty one. But I guess Forge could make things hot

for me if he liked, so that was why I lay low when I saw the tie

round the old girl's throat. I guessed then. Forge had scragged

her and boned the fan. I asked him about it, and he lied like

billeo. Said he'd lost the tie, and never touched the old 'un.

Then he said if I made any fuss, he'd tell the police about--"

"About what?" asked Ainsleigh, seeing the man hesitate.

"Huh," replied Burgh, uncomfortably, "I guess that's my

business. I told you I wasn't a saint."

"I suspect you're a thorough paced gaol-bird."

"No, I ain't been in quod. Where I gavorted round, in the Naked

Lands, they don't shove a man in chokey for every trifle."

"Such as murder. Eh?"

"I haven't murdered anyone yet," confessed Clarence, easily,

"but one never knows. But I told about Forge last night, as I

wanted to get this thousand. Now I'll try for the fan, and see

if I can't get the fifteen thousand to come my way. If Forge

cuts up rough, I'll light out with what I have"--he slapped his

pockets--"for Callao," and he began to sing the old song:--

"On no occasion, is extradition,

Allowed in Callao."

"And I know a daisy of a girl out there," said the scamp,

winking.

Ainsleigh was too disgusted to speak. He felt that as he was as

big a ruffian as Burgh, to tolerate this conversation, and he

was relieved when the train steamed into Marport station. As

soon as it stopped he jumped out, and nodding to his companion,

he was about to take his leave, when Clarence stopped him. "Say.

You won't round on Forge till I get this fan business settled."

"I intend to write to Rodgers to-day," said Ainsleigh, tartly,

"bad as your aunt is, she shan't marry that scoundrel if I can

help it."

"But I only know Forge got the scarf as I told you. He mightn't

have scragged her y'know. He says he didn't."

"And relied on what he knows of you to keep things quiet. No,

Mr. Burgh, I intend to have the man arrested," and Rupert turned

away, while Clarence, apparently not at all disturbed, went away

whistling his Callao ditty.

Rupert drove to Royabay and was welcomed with joy by his wife.

She was much alarmed when she saw his condition, and was very

angry when he told of his danger. She made him lie down, and

bathed the wound, of which Rupert made light. "It's nothing,

dear," he said.

"It might be dangerous. There might have been poison on that

knife, Rupert. You know what the Chinese are."

"No, Olivia, I certainly don't. All this business of the fan and

the god Kwang-ho is most ridiculous."

"Tell me all about it," said Olivia, when she had placed a tray,

with tea and toast, before him.

"I shall do so at once, as I want your advice," and Rupert

related all that had occurred from the time of his meeting with

Clarence Burgh in the train on the previous night. Olivia

listened in silence. "Well," asked Rupert, drinking his tea,

"what do you think?"

"I think Mr. Burgh is a scoundrel."

"Anyone can see that!"

"And worthy of his aunt."

"Perhaps. She's a bad one that Miss Pewsey, but she may not know

what a rascal she has for a relative. And at all events, I can't

let her marry Forge. Do you believe he is guilty?"

"He might be," said Olivia cautiously, "but I would much rather

believe that Burgh gave the tie to his aunt and that she

strangled aunt Sophia."

Rupert laughed. "What a vindictive person you are dearest," said

he. "Miss Pewsey is bad but not so bad as that."

"I'd credit her with anything," said Olivia, who was truly

feminine in her detestation of Miss Pewsey. "She has insulted me

for years, and put aunt Sophia against me, and caused me to lose

the money."

"Well--well," said Rupert soothingly, "let us think the best of

her--she has her good points.

"Where are they--what are they? She is a--no," Olivia checked

herself and looked penitent, "I really must not give way to such

unworthy feelings. I'll try and think the best of her, and I

agree with you darling, that she must not marry Dr. Forge."

"Do you think I should write to Rodgers?"

"Certainly. The marriage must be stopped. Write to-day."

But Rupert did not write that day, for the simple reason that

the wound on his arm grew very painful, and he became delirious.

The doctor who was called in, said that there was poison in the

blood and then Olivia was alarmed lest Rupert should lose his

arm, and perhaps his life. However, the doctor was young and

clever and by careful treatment he drew out the poison and in a

few days, the young man's arm had resumed its normal condition,

and his brain again became clear. Then he wrote a letter to

Rodgers asking him to come down to Royabay on a matter connected

with the murder of his wife's aunt. After the letter had been

posted, Rupert went out for a walk with his wife, and strolled

round the grounds. As the two crossed the lawn admiring the

beauty of the day which was bright and clear and slightly

frosty, Mrs. Petley appeared, coming up the avenue. She made

straight for the young couple.

"Please Master Rupert, that gent's called again."

"What, Mr. Burgh?" said Olivia, and then in answer to her

husband's enquiring look she explained. "He has called for the

last three days, dear, since you were ill. I never told you, as

I thought it might worry you."

"And he just called to ask how you were. Master Rupert," said

the old housekeeper, "and never come nearer than the lodge, as

old Payne can testify. I told him you were out walking and he

asked if he could come in and see you."

"Certainly," said Rupert--then, when Mrs. Petley hurried away,

he turned to Olivia. "Burgh simply wants to find out if I have

communicated with Rodgers. He's frightened for his own skin."

Shortly Mrs. Petley returned with the information that Mr. Burgh

was nowhere to be seen. This did not trouble Rupert who thought

that the buccaneer (always of an impatient disposition) might

have grown tired of waiting. With Olivia, he strolled round the

grounds for thirty minutes and at length entered the ruins of

the Abbey. Here the first thing they saw, was Mr. Clarence Burgh

seated on a stone under the copper beech. He jumped up and came

forward, with his usual grace and invariable impudence.

"Glad to see you out again, Ainsleigh," said he taking off his

hat, "and you look well, Mrs. Ainsleigh--just like a picture."

"Thank you," replied Olivia, concealing her dislike with

difficulty, "you wish to see my husband I presume."

"Just for two shakes," said Clarence easily, "say old man, what

about Forge. Are y' going to' round on him?"

Rupert nodded, "I have written to Rodgers to-day. But I'll give

him this chance of escape--warn him if you like."

"Not me," said Burgh coldly, "every man for his own durned

skin--begging your pardon Mrs. Ainsleigh. I saw him while you

were trying for Kingdom Come, and told him that he'd the fan."

"What did he say?"

"Gave me the lie. Swore he'd been in the card-room between

eleven and twelve, and never saw the old girl. Said he'd had

enough of the fan, as it had nearly caused his death. Then he

said he'd split on me if I gave him away."

"But you told him, you did confess to the Chinaman."

"Oh that's all right. Forge don't care a red cent for their

telling the police. They won't engineer the biznai into the

courts. So long as they get the fan, they don't mind. Forge

knows they won't make the matter public, but now he's in mortal

fear, lest they should kill him."

"Thinking he's got the fan."

"You bet--on my evidence. Well," said Burgh calmly and with a

twinkle in his evil eyes. "I reckon old man Forge is in an

almighty fix. He's in danger of being knifed by Hwei--thanks to

me, and of being hanged for killing the old girl--thanks to

you."

Olivia's face expressed her disgust. "If you have heard all you

wish to hear, we'll go away," she said to her husband.

"Right oh," said Burgh. "Don't mind me. Pretty place y'have

here," he added looking round the beautiful cloisters, "that's

the place where they lynched the old monk I reckon. I've heard

that silly rhyme of yours, Ainsleigh. I guess you've fulfilled

one part."

"How so?" asked Rupert stiffly.

"About the marriage y'know. A poor Ainsleigh has wedded a poor

wife. So that's all right. Now I--"

"I must be going," interrupted Ainsleigh annoyed by the man's

glib talk, "have you anything else to say?"

"Only this. Forge is going to hitch long-side Aunt Lavinia

to-morrow, and if you run him in, she'll get left."

"All the better for her," said Ainsleigh calmly, "he's a bad

lot."

"That's so. Much worse than you think. He was the man who tried

to stab you in Penter's Alley."

"No."

"He was though. I saw his face under the lamp, as he let fly.

Then he cut and--you know the rest. But I'm off. My eye,"

Clarence chuckled, "what a shine there'll be to-morrow, when

Aunty gets left."

Burgh strolled away whistling, and Olivia expressed her disgust

at his free and easy manners. Rupert, reflecting on what

Clarence had told him of Forge's assault, resolved to be a fair

and open enemy. He decided to call on Forge and tell him that he

had written to Rodgers. Also, he desired to ask why he attempted

the second crime. Olivia approved, so Rupert went early next day

to Tidman's Avenue. The door was opened by Mrs. Bressy who was

wiping her mouth as though she had just been at the bottle,

which was probably the case. In reply to Rupert's enquiry for

her master, she told him that Dr. Forge had gone. "He went to

Londing, sir--larst night," said Mrs. Bressy.

"Did he leave any address?"

"No, Mr. Ainsleigh, he did not."

The inference was easy. Forge had bolted.

CHAPTER XVII

A Surprise

Rupert was much disappointed that Forge had not been arrested.

Apart from the fact that he thought the old scoundrel should

suffer for his dastardly crime in killing an inoffensive woman,

he wished to learn what Forge could reveal of his father's

death. The explanation already given, did not satisfy him, and

he suspected that the doctor knew more than he chose to admit.

But under pressure, and standing in danger of his life, he might

be induced to be more explicit. But, as the man, apparently

warned by Clarence, had disappeared, there was no more to be

said. And Forge had taken a large trunk, and all his loose cash,

so there was no doubt that he intended to keep away from

Marport.

Ainsleigh, much disgusted, went to seek Clarence Burgh at the

Bristol Hotel, but learned, that he also, had gone away. Much

perplexed the young man sought out Major Tidman, and laid the

case before him. The Major was much astonished at the recital,

and very angry to learn that Hwei and Tung-yu suspected him of

the murder. "But I guessed they did, from the fact of that

letter asking after the fan," said Tidman, pacing his room, much

agitated. "I hope Ainsleigh, they don't think I have it now, or

my life will not be worth a moment's purchase."

"No. You needn't worry. Burgh has fully convinced them, that

Forge has the fan."

"Then they'll make for him."

"No doubt, and perhaps that is why Forge cleared out. But I

don't understand why our friend Burgh should make himself

scarce."

"I do," said Tidman sitting down and wiping his bald forehead,

"he isn't a man with a clean past, and Forge knows about it.

It's just on the cards that, to revenge himself on Burgh for

having told Hwei about the fan. Forge has written to the police

giving an account of Master Clarence's delinquency."

"But, on the other hand, if Burgh warned Forge that I had

written to Rodgers, the doctor might forgive him."

"Not he. Forge is a bitter hater, and after all, Clarence would

only be trying to right, what he had put wrong. If he'd held his

tongue about the fan and the murder, there would be no need for

Forge to cut. As it is, I believe the doctor will make it hot

for our mutual friend."

"When did you see Burgh last?"

"At dinner last night. He said nothing about going away, and I

quite believed he would stop on. He's in good quarters here and

Miss Pewsey is paying the bill. But he took a small bag with

him, saying he was going up town for a few days, and left by the

nine evening train."

"Ah! He may come back after all."

"He may: but I doubt it. He doesn't want to face an inquiry. You

see he gave the tie to Forge and said nothing about it at the

inquest, so that makes him an accessory after the fact."

"But Burgh didn't know Forge's game."

"No. All the same he should have spoken out at the inquest.

Well, and what is to be done now?"

"Nothing. I'm sick of the whole business. But Forge told me that

this Mandarin, Lo-Keong, holds eight thousand pounds belonging

to my father. I intend to write for it."

Tidman looked doubtful. "I don't think you'll get it," said he,

"unless you produce the fan."

"Oh! I expect Forge has taken that away with him."

"Well then, Tung-yu and Hwei will be on his track, and I

shouldn't give much for his life."

"Wait a bit. He may get the money from Tung-yu."

"If he chances on Tung-yu's day. Queer start that," added the

Major musingly, "the red boy appeared when I just had my big toe

cut off and saved my life. It happened, much the same with you,

and Hwei lost his power, as he was getting ready to kill you. I

wonder these two scoundrels obey the god so slavishly."

"Oh, they are both afraid of the god," said Rupert, rising to

take his leave, "but I must get home. There's nothing more to be

discussed."

"Nothing," replied the Major chuckling, "unless it is about that

old cat's disappointment. I'll go up to St. Peter's church and

see how she takes it."

"Of course," said Ainsleigh lingering at the door, "it's her

wedding day. I expect she knows by this time, that Forge has

cut.

"I hope not," said the Major cruelly. "I wouldn't lose the fun

for something."

Rupert didn't agree with his callous view of the case, as Miss

Pewsey was a woman after all, although a bad one; and it would

be hard that she should suffer, what she would certainly regard

as a public disgrace. So Rupert avoided St. Peter's Church, and

went home again. Here he found Olivia with a letter.

"This arrived by the early post," she explained, "but you went

out so quickly, that I could not give it to you. Just look at it

Rupert, such beautiful writing."

"A foreigner's evidently," said her husband, looking at the

really elegant calligraphy. "They take more care than we do of

their pot-hook and hangers. Olivia." He started.

"What's the matter?"

Rupert put the envelope under her nose. "Smell it. Don't you

recognise the scent."

"No," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "it's a strange scent."

"Very, and was used to perfume the letter which Tung-yu sent to

Major Tidman. This may have to do with the fan again."

Olivia looked nervous. "I wish we could hear the last of it,"

she said. "It has caused enough trouble already. Open the

letter, dear."

Rupert did so and was more astonished than ever. "Here's an

unexpected development," he remarked, passing the letter to

Olivia, "Lo-Keong is in England."

Mrs. Ainsleigh read the few lines which stated that the mandarin

was stopping at a fashionable hotel in Northumberland Avenue,

and would do himself the honour of calling on the son of his old

friend in a few days. "He's come to see after the fan personally,"

said Olivia returning the letter. "I am glad."

"So am I," said Rupert quickly. "I'll now learn the truth about

my father, and see if I can't get that eight thousand pounds."

"Rupert, do you think Lo-Keong killed your father?"

"I can't say. Forge declared over and over again, that he died

of dysentery, and that Lo-Keong seized the money for the Boxers.

But I'll demand an explanation from the Mandarin."

"Will he give it?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh doubtfully.

"He'll have to," replied Rupert grimly, "and he'll have to give

the money back also. I don't care for Forge's cash, as a villain

such as he is, doesn't deserve any reward. But I want my own

eight thousand, and I'll have it."

"I hope so," sighed Olivia, "we could then pay off Miss Pewsey,

or rather Mrs. Forge, as she no doubt is by this time."

"No. Forge has bolted."

"What, on the eve of the wedding?"

"Yes. He cleared out last night. Either he fears being arrested

for the murder of your aunt, or he dreads lest Hwei should come

down to kill him for the sake of the fan. At all events he has

gone, and Miss Pewsey is no doubt waiting at the altar of St.

Peter's Church, for a bridegroom who will never come. But we

must attend to our own troubles, dear. I'll write to the

Mandarin to-day and ask him to visit us when it suits him. Or

else I can run up----"

"No," interrupted Olivia in a voice of alarm. "I won't have you

go away again, until this fan business is settled. I'm always

afraid of your falling into the hands of these Chinamen. I shall

ask Mr. Lo-Keong, to stop them searching for the fan."

"He can stop Hwei," said Rupert rising, "but Tung-yu is in the

employment of Hop Sing, the Mandarin's rival. Don't be afraid,

my dearest, I have been protected by Providence these many days,

and it is not likely that I'll come to grief. But I fear for

Forge and for Burgh, who has likewise bolted. Those two will

certainly get into trouble."

"It is wrong to say so," said Mrs. Ainsleigh with a sigh, "but I

_do_ dislike that man Burgh, and Dr. Forge also."

"Leave them in God's hands, dear," replied her husband gravely,

"if they have sinned, they will be punished. What we have to do,

is to learn if Lo-Keong will restore this money. I'll write,

asking him to come down to Royabay," and Rupert went to the

library forthwith.

It was an autumnal day with a promise of rain. Ragged clouds

drifted across a cold blue sky, and the wind was rather high.

Already many trees had shed their leaves, but the pine boughs

still bore their sombre burdens. Everything looked old and

miserable, and there seemed to lurk a premonition of evil

in the air. At least, Olivia thought so, as she stood at the

drawing-room window, looking out on to the terrace and down the

avenue, which could be seen from this point of view. Rupert was

in the library engaged on his letter to the Mandarin, and Olivia

was half inclined to join him. She felt weary, chilly and out of

spirits, and could not account for doing so.

"I'm the happiest girl in the world," she assured herself, "I

have married the man I love, and he adores me. He rescued me

from a miserable life, and is making me immensely happy. I

should certainly be in the best of spirits, yet----"

She stopped short at this point and her eyes became fixed, while

a colour flushed her somewhat pale cheeks. And no wonder. Up the

avenue, battling against the force of the wind, came Miss

Pewsey. She wore a bridal dress of white, a lace bonnet trimmed

with orange blossoms, and carried a bouquet of flowers. To see

this figure in such a dress walking under a sombre sky, between

dripping trees, and with the winds blowing furiously against it,

was a strange sight, and gave Olivia what the Scotch call "a

grue." Then she became indignant. It was insolent, she thought,

that this woman who had insulted her so often, who had made her

life miserable, who had robbed her of her inheritance and who

had tried to defame her character, should thus present herself.

On the impulse of the moment and in spite of wind, and of the

rain, which was beginning to fall, Mrs. Ainsleigh threw open the

French window and stepped out on to the terrace. It was in her

mind, to order Miss Pewsey away. She deserved little mercy at

Olivia's hands.

The noise made by the opening of the window made Miss Pewsey

raise her head, and then she came straight across the grass. As

she drew near, Olivia was struck with the tragic horror of her

face. She was always old in her looks, but now she seemed at

least a hundred. Her lips were white, her eyes red and with dark

circles under them; a myriad wrinkles ploughed her face, and her

usually bright eyes were dim and blood-shot. To see this weird

face under the bridal bonnet was at once grotesque and pathetic.

Without a word, Miss Pewsey climbed the steps gasping at every

step, and came directly towards Olivia. She passed her and

entered the room. Mrs. Ainsleigh came after in a whirlwind of

passion.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, "this is _my_ house."

"I am aware of the fact," said Miss Pewsey dropping into a chair

and shaking out her soiled and sodden bridal dress, "but it may

be mine before the end of the year. But don't let us quarrel,"

she went on in a piteous way, "I'm in trouble."

"What is it?" asked Olivia, who could guess.

"Theophilus has left me. Yes! Last night he went away leaving a

cold letter behind him which was to be delivered to me at the

altar. And it was," wept Miss Pewsey, "that old woman Mrs.

Bressy brought the note. It said that Theophilus has left me for

ever. And all my friends were there, and I was awaiting the

happy hour, then--then"--she broke down sobbing.

Olivia was touched. Miss Pewsey had always been her enemy, yet

there was something about the unhappy creature which called for

sympathy.

"I am sorry for your trouble," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, in a softer

voice.

"No," said Miss Pewsey drying her eyes with a very wet

handkerchief, "you can't be, I never liked you, nor you me."

"That is perfectly true, and you turned my aunt against me. All

the same I _am_ sorry, and anything I can do shall be done."

Miss Pewsey threw herself on her knees before her enemy, who was

thus heaping coals of fire on her head. "Then ask your husband

to leave my Theophilus alone," she whispered. "Clarence, who has

also gone, wrote to me, and said that Mr. Ainsleigh accused

Theophilus of the death of my dearest Sophia."

"What," cried Olivia, "does Mr. Burgh dare. Why he accuses Dr.

Forge, himself. Rupert certainly wrote to the detective Mr.

Rodgers, but Mr. Burgh has to substantiate his statement."

Miss Pewsey jumped up. "What," she said, much more her own evil

self, "did Clarence accuse my Theophilus? It's a lie--a lie. I

have kept silence too long--much too long."

"About what?"

"About the murder," screamed Miss Pewsey, "it was Clarence who

killed my Sophia--yes--you may look and look Olivia--but it was

Clarence himself. He took the tie from the coat-pocket. I told

him, you had given it to him, and--"

"But he gave it to Dr. Forge."

"He did not. Clarence took Sophia out on to the steps--at least

he appointed to meet her there, to tell her about the fan. Then

he strangled her, thinking your husband would be accused.

Theophilus came on Clarence when he was picking up the fan.

Sophia held it in her death grip, and it was some time before he

could get it loose. Theophilus came, and hearing steps, Clarence

ran away down to the beach. Then he returned to the ball-room by

the front of the hotel."

"But the fan?"

"Theophilus Forge has it," said Miss Pewsey, setting her face,

"and I expect he has taken it with him."

"Why didn't you tell this at the inquest."

"Because I didn't. Clarence is my own sister's son. I could not

see him hanged. He had to hold his tongue, although he wanted

the fan back again. But I insisted that Theophilus should make

the money out of it. This is Clarence's revenge. Because the fan

is kept from him he threatens Theophilus; oh Olivia, _do_ ask

your husband to leave the matter alone, I will give up that

mortgage--"

"I can do nothing," said Olivia, "it isn't in my husband's

power. He has written to Rodgers--"

"But he has not told him anything," said Miss Pewsey eagerly.

"No. He merely asked him to call."

"Then he shall see _me_, and I'll tell him of Clarence's

wickedness. But the fan--the fan--we'll get the money and

Theophilus will come back to be loved and respected. I don't

love him, but I see we can make a lot of money together. The

fan," said Miss Pewsey counting on her lean fingers, "the money

from Lo-Keong--the money of Sophia and--"

"Oh," cried Olivia in disgust, "go away you miserable creature,

and think of the hereafter."

Miss Pewsey gave a shrill laugh. "You can't help me, and your

husband can't help me, so I'll go. But when I come back here, it

shall be as mistress. I hate you Olivia--I have always hated

you--I--I--oh you"--she could utter no more, but gasping, shook

her fist and ran out of the window and down the avenue with an

activity surprising in a women of her years.

After dinner and while they were seated in the library, Olivia

told Rupert of Miss Pewsey's visit and accusation. He declined

to believe the tale. "If Burgh was guilty he wouldn't have

brought an accusation against Forge," he said, "as the doctor,

if this is true, knows the truth. And Forge, if innocent, would

not have cleared--"

While Ainsleigh was thus explaining, the door was burst open and

Mrs. Petley, white as chalk, rushed in. "The ghost--the ghost,"

said she dropping into a chair, "the monk--in the Abbey."

Anxious to learn if there was any truth in these frequent

apparitions reported by Mrs. Petley, Rupert left the swooning

woman to the care of his wife and departed hastily from the

room. Calling old Petley, he went out of the front door across

the lawn and into the cloisters. Petley, hobbled almost on his

heels with a lantern. The young man stopped at the entrance to

the cloisters, and listened. It was raining hard and the ground

was sopping wet. But beyond the drip of the rain, and the

sighing of the trees, no sound could be heard. Snatching the

lantern from Petley, Rupert advanced boldly into the open, and

swung the light too and fro and round about. He could see no

ghost, nor any dark figure suggestive of Abbot Raoul.

"Try the black square," piped the feeble voice of Petley,

behind.

With a shrug Rupert did so. He thought that the housekeeper was

mistaken as usual, and that the ghost was the outcome of her too

vivid imagination. Walking deliberately to the black square

where Abbot Raoul had been burnt three hundred years before, he

swung the light over its bare surface. In the centre he saw

something sparkle, and stooped. Then he rose with a cry. It was

a fan. Rupert picked it up, opened it, and looked at it in the

lantern light. There were the four beads and half a bead and the

green jade leaves. The very fan itself.

CHAPTER XIX

A Visitor

How came the fan there--and on the accursed square of ground

where no grass would grow? Rupert was not superstitious, yet his

heart gave a bound, and for the moment he felt sick. This fan

was the cause of much trouble in the past, it had cost one woman

her life, and it might yet claim another victim. With the fan in

his hand, and the yellow light of the guttering candle in the

lantern gleaming on its beauty, he stood stupidly staring,

unheeding the feeble piping of Petley's voice, as he peered in

at the ruined archway.

"What's the matter, Master Rupert?" questioned the old butler

with a shiver, "have you seen _It?_"

"No," said Rupert at length, and he hardly knew his own voice so

heavy and thick it was, "there's nothing to be seen."

A cry came from the old man. "Don't stand on that accursed

ground. Master Rupert," he said, almost whimpering, "and

to-night, of all times."

"Why to-night," said Rupert, retreating back to the arch.

"Any night," shivered Petley putting his hand on his young

master's arm and drawing him out of the cloisters, "it's not a

good place for an Ainsleigh to be in at night. The Abbot--"

"John, I don't believe in the Abbot."

"But Anne saw him--or It. She's not the one to tell a lie."

"Mrs. Petley is deceived in some way." Rupert considered a

moment, and thrust the fan into his pocket. In the darkness, and

because he turned aside the lantern light, old Petley had not

seen that anything had been picked up. "I'm going to search

round," said Rupert.

The butler gave a long wail as Ainsleigh broke from his grasp.

"No! no!" he cried, lifting his long hands, "not at night."

But Rupert, now quite himself, did not heed the superstitious

cry. He disbelieved in ghosts more than ever. Some flesh and

blood person had brought the fan, and recollecting Burgh's

story, and what Olivia had reported of Miss Pewsey's talk that

afternoon, he quite expected to find Dr. Forge lurking in the

cloisters. He would search for him, and when face to face, he

would demand an explanation. So Rupert swiftly and lightly,

walked round, holding the light high and low in the hope of

discovering some crouching form. And all the time Petley waited,

trembling at the door.

The rain fell softly and there was a gentle wind swinging the

heavy boughs of the pines, so that a murmurous sound echoed

through the cloisters like the breaking of league-long waves on

a pebbly beach. For at least half an hour Rupert searched: but

he could see no one: he could not even find the impression of

feet, sodden as was the ground. After looking everywhere within

the cloister, and in the Abbey itself, he brushed past the old

butler and walked down the avenue. Here also, he was at fault as

he could see no one. The gates were closed: but there was a

light in the small house near at hand. Ainsleigh knocked at the

door, and shortly old Payne, holding a candle, above his head,

appeared, expressing surprise.

"Has anyone entered the gates to-night?" asked his master.

"No sir. I closed them at five as usual. No one has come in."

There were no signs of the gates having been climbed, and the

wall which ran round the estate was so high and the top was

pricked with such cruel spikes, that no one could possibly have

entered that way. Old Payne insisted that no one had entered: he

had heard no voices, no footsteps, and seemed much perplexed by

the insistence of his young master. At length Rupert desisted

from making inquiries, being perfectly assured that he would

learn nothing. He returned up the avenue slowly to the mansion,

wondering how it came about, that Forge had entered the ground

and left the fan on the very spot where Abbot Raoul had been

burnt.

Mrs. Petley had recovered from her swoon and, with her husband,

had retreated to the kitchen. So, Rupert learned from Olivia,

and he then gave her a description of his finding of the fan.

She was very amazed and curious. "Show it to me," she said.

"Not just now, dear," replied Rupert walking to the door. "I

must ask Mrs. Petley first to explain what she saw."

"She declares it was Abbot Raoul."

"Pooh. Forge masquerading as the monk I expect. Though why he should

come here and bring this infernal fan I cannot understand. What is

the time, Olivia?"

"Nine o'clock," she replied, "we had dinner early."

"Yes. Well, I'll see Mrs. Petley. You need not say anything

about the fan, and as old John didn't see me pick it up, there

will be no difficulty with him."

"Why should there be any difficulty with him?" asked Mrs.

Ainsleigh.

"Your aunt was killed for the sake of the fan, and the person

who killed her must have been within these grounds to-night. I

want to keep the matter quiet, until I see Rodgers to-morrow.

Then I'll explain all, and place the fan in his hands."

"Then you think Dr. Forge has been here?"

"Yes--or Clarence Burgh. But, as they have left Marport, I don't

see what they have to gain by remaining in a place fraught with

so much danger to both.

"They can't both be guilty, Rupert."

"No. But Burgh declares that Forge strangled your aunt, and Miss

Pewsey lays the blame on her nephew. But I don't believe either

one of them. I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the

assassin is Major Tidman after all. He wanted the fan badly, so

as to get the money."

"But you were with him on the beach, between eleven and twelve."

"I was, and the evidence of Dr. Forge went to show that Miss

Wharf was killed between those hours. But suppose, Olivia,"

Rupert sank his voice and drew nearer. "Suppose Forge knew from

the condition of the body that your aunt had been killed

_before_ eleven, and had procured the fan from Tidman by

threatening to say so, in which case the Major could not have

proved an alibi."

"It might be so," replied Mrs. Ainsleigh, "but then the body

would have been found earlier."

"No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went

down those steps. Tung-yu certainly did,--but that was after the

crime was committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with

him. It is a very strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had

already killed the woman when he joined me on the beach to

smoke."

"Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed."

"He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the

circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he

had in Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would

make him uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can

talk of this later. I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert

disappeared.

The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the

cloisters to gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the

lantern with her. While stooping at the archway to see what she

could pick she heard, even through the moaning of the wind the

swish of a long garment. The sound brought her to her feet,

and--as she phrased it--with her heart in her mouth. The place

was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But never so

plain--oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her

apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my

head and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away,

Master Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its

wicked white face--"

"Did you see the face?"

"I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and

evil. I dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes

and then it went. I took the lantern and ran for the house for

dear life, till I burst in on you and the mistress. Oh, Master

Rupert dear, what did you see?"

"Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal

masquerading."

"No! No! 'Twas a ghost--oh dreary me, my days are numbered."

Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was

flesh and blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He

returned the lantern back to old John and told the couple to

retire to bed. They were both white and nervous and not fit to

be up. Then he came back to the drawing-room and found Olivia

seated by the fire reading. At the door Rupert paused to think

what a pretty picture she made in her rich dinner-dress--one of

Miss Wharf's gifts--and with one small hand supporting her

dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic of his

gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she

held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia.

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned,"

said he, "Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a

ghost, and declines that her days are numbered. As she is nearly

seventy, I daresay they are. But this fan"--he took it out of

his pocket.

"Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand.

But Rupert drew it away and spread out the leaves. "No, my dear,

I don't like you to handle the horrible thing. And besides, you

have seen it often enough in the hand of your aunt."

"Yes, but now there is an awful significance about it."

"There's blood--"

"Blood," cried his wife shuddering, "but she was strangled."

"I speak figuratively, my dear. This little trifle has cost one

life: it may cost more. I am quite sure Lo-Keong's life hangs on

this fan, or he would not be so anxious to get it back. It has a

secret, and I intend to learn what the secret is."

"Oh, you mean to wave it in the smoke," said Olivia remembering

what Rupert had told her of Tung-yu's speech.

"Yes I do. I want to see the invisible picture. Then, we may learn of

this hiding place which contains the things, Lo-Keong's enemies wish

to secure. I expect it is some treasonous correspondence."

"But, Rupert, the hiding-place will be in China. Lo-Keong would

not send papers of that kind to be concealed in England."

"It would be the safest place," replied Rupert dryly, "however,

I intend to try the experiment of waving this fan in the smoke."

"You don't know the kind of smoke?"

"I can guess the kind. Olivia do you remember that joss stick

which Mrs. Petley found in the Abbey."

"Yes--at the time she saw the ghost."

"Precisely. The ghost left that joss-stick behind on the first

occasion, and the fan on the second. Now I shouldn't wonder if

the fan had got into the hands of Hwei, and that _he_ was the

ghost."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Hwei confessed that he was lurking outside the Bristol

hotel to get a chance of killing Miss Wharf when she was lured

out by Tung-yu. That gentleman however played false. All the

same Hwei was here, and perhaps he came up to the Abbey--"

"Why?" asked Olivia looking perplexed.

"Ah, that I can't tell you. But I fancy the answer is to be

found in this fan, as soon as we see the picture."

"But the smoke."

"Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and

is apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that

he could wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret.

But he dropped the joss-stick and--where is it Olivia."

"I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me."

Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer.

She then returned with the Joss-stick in her hand, and gave it

to her husband, who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it

won't explode, Rupert," said Olivia nervously.

He stared. "Why should you think that?"

"Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like

a cracker with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's

dynamite--"

"Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are

afraid, go into the next room."

"No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to

bits, I'll be blown up with you."

They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the

match. It was distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia

started back, as her husband set the joss stick fizzling. She

was leaning forward in the chair with her dark head nearly

touching his fair hair. The joss stick smoked slowly and a queer

odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia sniffed. "Rupert,"

she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on that letter

of Tung-yu's."

"And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke,

which now began to curl up from the joss stick, "apparently the

Mandarin uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a

special scent dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never

understand Chinamen and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold

the stick while I wave the fan in the smoke."

Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless

article, Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly,

while her husband gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick

smoke. The joss stick fizzled and burned and gave out its queer

smell, which made both slightly dizzy. Every now and then,

Rupert looked at the enamelled side of the fan, where Tung-yu

said that a picture would appear. There certainly did seem

something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a blurred

outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh

continued waving, until the joss stick burnt down nearly to the

root. Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling

joss stick in the fender, and peered over his shoulder. She

uttered a cry when she saw the black outline of the picture, and

Rupert nearly echoed it. They were looking at a drawing of the

cloisters.

Yes--there were the cloisters of Royabay Abbey taken, as by a

camera, from the archway. The architecture was clear enough, and

the trees also. But the picture was merely evanescent, for as

the fan grew cold again the outlines vanished. However, they

knew that the hiding place of the presumed papers, was within

the cloisters of Royabay--but in what spot. Rupert laid down the

fan and propounded the problem to his wife. "The indications

would be more exact."

"Yes," replied Olivia thoughtfully, and picked up the fan, "I

suppose you are right, Rupert. It must have been Hwei who came

to the Abbey on the night my aunt was killed and dropped the

joss stick. Perhaps he came to see if he could find the hiding

place, without the aid of the fan."

"No," said Rupert, "Hwei is the servant of Lo-Keong, and

probably knew of the hiding place; whereas Tung-yu, who served

Hop Sing wanted the fan to learn about it. I expect had Tung-yu

bought the fan, he would have come here and found the papers and

then have cleared out to China to place them in his master's

hands and ruin Lo-Keong."

"Are you sure there are papers hidden?" said Olivia, fingering

the beads dangling from the thick yellow cord.

"I think so. It can't be gold or silver or jewels. However, what

we have to do is to find what is hidden. Then when Lo-Keong

comes down we can make a bargain with him. If he hands over my

eight thousand, I'll give him whatever we find."

"But how are we find the spot," said Mrs. Ainsleigh dreamily.

"Oh, Rupert," she added, "it's in one of the trees. Don't you

remember a tree was drawn at the side of the picture with a

white line down the trunk?"

"No, I didn't see that. I saw the four trees and the stump drawn

in the picture."

Mrs. Ainsleigh rattled the beads through her fingers. "Four

beads and half a bead," she exclaimed, "Rupert, those stand for

the four trees and for the stump."

"What makes you think so?"

"The half bead--that is the stump, and see, one of the beads is

of jasper, that might be the copper beech."

"By jove," Rupert jumped up, "I believe you are right."

"I am sure I am, and in the tree drawn at the side of the

picture which you did not observe, there was a white line down

the trunk."

"Well," said Rupert pondering, "perhaps whatever is hidden is

tied to a string or a chain and is dropped down the trunk of one

of the four trees--or perhaps in the stump."

"Not in the stump," said Olivia quickly, "for then the line

would be visible, while in the other trees it would be concealed

in the thick foliage. I fancy the line must be down the copper

beech trunk, as there is but one red bead."

"There is but one tree though--one copper beech you know," said

her husband. "I am inclined to think that to make things safer,

the hiding place must be in one of the green trees signified by

the jade beads. The question is, which tree is it?"

Olivia looked at the fan again, and as she did so started.

Rupert also raised his head. They heard the sound of wheels

scrunching the gravel outside, and wondered who was arriving so

late. The clock pointed to half-past ten. The servants had gone

to bed, so Rupert followed by his wife, who was rather nervous,

went to the door. When Rupert opened it he found himself facing

a tall handsome man in a fur cloak, and wearing a strange hat.

"Good evening," said the stranger in the best of English, "I

speak to Mr. Ainsleigh I think, I am the Marquis Lo-Keong."

CHAPTER XX

The Mandarin Explains

"I must apologise for this very late visit," said Lo-Keong, when

he was conducted to the drawing-room by his surprised host, "but

I must explain--"

"Not now. Marquis," replied Ainsleigh, giving his visitor the

rank which he claimed, "you must be weary and hungry."

"No. I am perfectly well, and enjoyed a meal before I left

London. If you will give my servants orders to take up my

luggage, and will then hear what I have to say, you will do

everything I desire."

Rupert went again to the hall to tell the two Chinese servants,

which Lo Keong had brought with him, to take the trunks up to

the bed-room which the Marquis would occupy. Then he went to the

back and made Mr. and Mrs. Petley rise. Both were disturbed when

they heard that a Chinese grandee was in the house. "I do hope

he won't bring trouble with him," said Mrs. Petley to her

husband. "I never could a-bear them things, since I saw that

creature who brought home the old master's baggage. And, Missus,

as is dead, couldn't bear him either."

"He was a cock-eyed man," said old John reflectively.

"Cock-eyed yourself," retorted the housekeeper who had a better

memory, "he was one-eyed, and a nice ugly thing he looked. Ah

well, as I always says, Abbot Raoul don't walk for nothing, and

this Chiner gentleman coming here, means trouble."

Old John who was much the same way of thinking himself, grew

annoyed by his wife's pessimism and told her to hurry up and

come to the kitchen. Then he went to see after the bed-room

which his master had selected for the untoward guest. Mrs.

Petley came down to find her kitchen in the possession of two

grave silent Chinamen who had lighted the fire and were boiling

water for tea. "Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Petley surveying both

with distaste, "the idear of these furreiners taking liberties,"

and she sniffed at the Far East.

Meanwhile, Rupert returned to the drawing-room and found the

Marquis paying attentions to his wife. Lo-Keong was a tall,

fine-looking man, grave and extremely polite. He had admirable

manners, and his clothes were of the finest. Olivia in her rich

dinner dress, felt quite plainly dressed beside this gorgeous

gentleman, who wore a jacket of rose-pink, a coat of grass green

satin, pale blue silk trousers, and thick-soled white green

shoes. He also had a glossy pig-tail woven with silk, and

carried a small fan--at which Olivia shuddered. Seated in a deep

arm-chair, he looked a potentate, quite out of place in that

sober English drawing-room. The Marquis was very affable, and

deferential to Mrs. Ainsleigh, who quite overcame her dislike to

Celestials after a few moments converse with this splendid

specimen of the aristocracy of Cathay.

"You are quite sure you won't have some refreshment?" she asked.

Lo-Keong waved his slim hand graciously. "I thank you, no," said

he, "and if you will allow me to explain myself, you can then

retire. I am ashamed of having called at this hour. But," he

looked at Rupert first and at Olivia afterwards, "my excuse is a

good one. I have seen Hwei--whom you know."

Ainsleigh shuddered. "Yes, and I don't retain any very pleasant

recollections of that gentleman," said he.

Lo-Keong laughed quietly, "Hwei is a true devotée of the god

Kwang-ho."

"I don't understand about that god," said Olivia.

"I have come to explain," said the Chinaman, "it is a great pity

I did not come before. You would then have had no trouble about

this," and he took up the famous fan which Olivia had tossed on

the sofa.

"Oh," the young couple looked at one another, and if they did

not say "oh," the expression of "oh"--an amazed "oh" was on

their faces.

Lo-Keong seemed to have his eyes everywhere, and took up the fan

as if it was the most natural thing it should be lying there.

"You understand," he went on in his calm well-bred voice. "I

have seen Hwei and he told me everything."

"About the murder?"

"About the murder, Mrs. Ainsleigh, and about the hunt for the

assassin; also about your husband's visit to London, and full

details concerning the folly of Tung-yu--my enemy's servant, who

related how the picture on this," he laid a long yellow finger

on the fan, "could be brought to light," his eyes wandered to

the fragment of the joss stick within the fender. "I observe

that you have been clever enough to see the picture."

"Yes," said Rupert, quite amazed at this penetration, "but how

do you know that?"

"Very easily. Hwei told me that he came to the cloisters one

night to see that all was well----"

"He knew of the hiding place then?" asked Olivia, eagerly.

"Certainly. I have always trusted Hwei, but Tung-yu did not

know, and hence his desire to procure the fan. Hwei was here on

the night poor Miss Wharf was killed, and dropped the joss

stick. You have been clever enough to make use of it. Well, now

you both know where the packet is?"

"The packet?"

"Of papers which mean my life--papers connected with the Boxers,

which the Mandarin Hop Sing would give much to possess."

"We know that the packet is hidden in a tree," said Rupert, "but

which tree we cannot guess."

"Ah," Lo-Keong slipped the beads through his fingers, "here is a

piece of jade with a gold band round it."

"The third bead----"

"Consequently the third tree. We will look for the packet, as

soon as I explain myself. The packet must be safe, as you have

the fan, and I know, Mr. Ainsleigh, you are my friend, as I was

the friend of your father before you."

"What," Rupert threw back his head. "I understood from Dr.

Forge, that you were my enemy."

Lo-Keong frowned. "Ah! he goes as far as that," said he, then

paused a moment. "I will explain."

Olivia would have interrupted, but he threw out a long arm in an

imperious manner, and began his story without further preamble,

playing with the fan all the time.

"My name," said the Marquis, "is Lo-Keong, and I am a native of

the province of Kan-Su----"

"Where the mine is," murmured Rupert.

"Exactly, Mr. Ainsleigh. My native town is on the Hwei River,

and not far from the mine your father bought----"

"Along with Dr. Forge."

"Pardon me, sir, but Dr. Forge did not buy it. He was merely a

servant of your father's. The mine was owned by your father

alone. I conducted the negotiations on behalf of the owner of

the land."

"But Forge says----"

"I can guess." Lo-Keong waved his hand coldly. "He blackens my

name to you, and lies about the mine. Always bad--always foul,

always a liar--that man must be killed. I have spared him too

long."

Olivia shuddered. "No Marquis," said she, "I beg that there may

be no more murders."

"Not in England, but when this Forge comes again to China," here

the Marquis smiled in a cruel way, but made no further remark.

The young people shuddered. He smiled benignly on them, and went

on with his story in a calm level voice.

"My respected parent was a merchant," said he calmly, "and he

gave me a fine education, of which, as you know, we think

greatly in the Middle Kingdom. I secured the Hanlin degree,

which is very high, and so became greater than my friend Hop

Sing, who failed. That success made Hop Sing my enemy. I

returned home, and Hop Sing made trouble. It is not necessary to

explain how," added the Marquis with another wave of his hand.

"But the trouble resulted in my leaving my parental roof, and

becoming a soldier with the Boxers who then conspired against

the Empress Dowager. But before I left my native town, I acted

as the middle man between a respected resident and Mr. Markham

Ainsleigh who desired to lease a gold mine on the Hwei River. I

left him in full possession of the rights to work the mine, and

Dr. Forge assisted him."

"Not as a partner?" asked Rupert breathlessly.

"By no means, Mr. Ainsleigh. Forge was a good doctor, but he

knew nothing about mining. He doctored the Coolies, and attended

to minor matters. Your father looked after the mine personally.

I understand he learned how to do so in California."

"Yes--He was there before I was born, but--"

"Permit me to continue, Mr. Ainsleigh. Well then, I left your

father in possession of the mine, and joined the Boxers. I rose

to be a leader, and afterwards returned to see my parents. At

that time the rebellion--for that it was--proved unfortunate, so

it was necessary that I should conceal myself. I took service

with your father as a foreman of the mine, and I can safely

say," said Lo-Keong with a certain show of emotion, "that your

father saved my life. I consider myself indebted to him, and now

I am indebted to his son."

"It is very good of you," said Rupert. "I need a friend."

"You have one in me," said the Marquis courteously. "But to

proceed, as the night grows darker. I was your father's friend,

Hop Sing was his enemy, and Forge sided with Hop Sing."

"But why did he do that?" asked Ainsleigh impetuously. "Forge

was at college with my father--they were great friends--"

"So Mr. Markham Ainsleigh thought. But Dr. Forge was greedy and

wished to have the mine to himself. Hop Sing, who had some

influence at the Imperial Court, promised to help Dr. Forge to

get rid of your father and secure the mine provided I was

ruined."

"And Forge acted this base part."

"He did," said the Mandarin quietly. "I may tell you Mr.

Ainsleigh that I was completely in your father's confidence. He

made a great deal of money out of the mine, and I arranged for

it to be turned into safe investments through a third person

whose name need not be mentioned. A large sum was placed out at

interest and all these many years the interest has been

accumulating. You will receive a handsome sum I assure you, Mr.

Ainsleigh."

"But," broke in Olivia perplexed. "Dr. Forge told my husband

that the whole amount was eighteen thousand, of which ten

thousand belonged to him and eight thousand to Rupert."

"Dr. Forge places the money obtained from the mine at a low

figure," said the Chinaman smiling, "what the amount is, I shall

tell you later. Meanwhile I must explain the intrigue which led

to your father's murder----"

"Ah," Rupert leaped to his feet, "then he _was_ murdered."

"He was--by the emissary of Hop Sing. Be calm, Mr. Ainsleigh, and be

seated. Your father died quietly enough by strangulation----"

"What. Was he killed in the same way as Miss Wharf?"

Lo-Keong bowed his stately head, "Yes, and by the same

person----"

"Tung-yu," cried Olivia starting to her feet in her turn.

"Exactly, Mrs. Ainsleigh. I know that Tung-yu strangled Mr.

Markham Ainsleigh, and I believe that he strangled your aunt."

Rupert sat down on the sofa and drew his wife down beside him.

"But Tung-yu was the man who was to buy the fan----"

"Quite so." Lo-Keong folded and unfolded the fan calmly. "You

know of the god Kwang-ho."

"Yes--but I can't understand----"

"Naturally," the Marquis laughed quietly, "that is a thing

beyond the comprehension of a Western barbarian--your pardon for

so calling you, Kwang-ho," went on the Mandarin, "is an ancestor

of mine who lived during the Ming dynasty. He was a sage, and

very famous, so I took him as my private god."

Olivia looked amazed and a little shocked. "A private god. I

never knew that anyone could have a private god even in China,"

she said.

"If you have read Roman history, Mrs. Ainsleigh, you will

remember the Lares and Penates, which were something of the same

kind. I was very unfortunate with the public gods of my country,

so I chose Kwang-ho to be my genius--my destiny. I had an image

made and offered him incense. It was, in fact what you might call

ancestral worship; only I looked upon Kwang-ho as one who could

control my destiny. I was right," said Lo-Keong emphatically, "for,

from the moment I sacrificed to Kwang-ho, my fortunes changed."

"In what way?" asked Rupert, wondering that a clever man like

this should talk so superstitiously.

"In every way. The priest of my new god Kwang-ho consulted the

deity and ordered that I should leave the Boxers and attach

myself to the party of the Empress Dowager, who was to be all

powerful in the future. I think," added Lo-Keong smiling

blandly, "that Kwang-ho was right in that. Who is so powerful as

my august mistress."

"True enough," admitted Ainsleigh impatiently, "but what has

this to do with the death of my father?"

"Patience, Mr. Ainsleigh. I arranged to leave the Boxers. We

were fighting for the Emperor, who was then being crushed by the

Empress Dowager. I had many papers showing my devotion to the

Boxer cause and to His Imperial Majesty. These papers I intended

to destroy: but remembering that some day the Emperor might

overcome the Empress, I decided to keep the papers. They would

show that I had worked for the Emperor, and thus my fortunes

would be secure should His Imperial Majesty reign alone. As

yet," added Lo-Keong with a shrug, "he has not reigned alone and

my august mistress still rules the destinies of the middle

kingdom."

"Ah. And if she got those papers?----"

"She would cut off my head," replied Lo-Keong quietly, "so now

you see why I thought it best to conceal them. I wished to

preserve the papers so as to keep myself in favour with the

Emperor, when he became supreme, and I wished to conceal them

from the Empress Dowager and her spies, while she ruled China.

You understand?"

"We do," said the young couple. "So you used the means of the

fan to tell where they were hidden?" asked Rupert.

The Mandarin assented. "I did. I spoke to your father about this

plan of concealment. I knew the papers would not be safe in

China, as the emissaries of Hop Sing would find them, and I

should be ruined, so on the suggestion of your father, I decided

to hide them in England."

"But why in the Abbey?"

"Mr. Markham Ainsleigh's suggestion, sir. He said that this

place had been in the possession of his family for years and

would likely continue to remain under the Ainsleigh--"

"Alas--alas," sighed Rupert.

"Not at all, sir," was Lo-Keong's brisk reply, "you will

have enough money to keep this place I assure you. But to

continue--your father, whose health was very bad, arranged to

take his money back to this place, and to take also the papers I

wished to hide. We arranged that they should be concealed in the

third tree and then I hit upon the plan of an invisible picture

on the fan with the assistance of the beads to identify the

hiding-place."

"But was that necessary when you knew the hiding-place?"

"I wished my heirs to benefit by my services to the Emperor

during the Boxer rising; and they were not to know of the

existence of these papers till I died. So you will understand--"

"Yes! It's very interesting, so please go on."

"Well while we were arranging these things Forge went to Pekin,

and got a concession to work the mine from the Empress through

the influence of Hop Sing. Meanwhile, I arranged to enter the

service of my Imperial Mistress, and left your father ill of

dysentery."

"Of which, according to Forge, he died."

"No," said the Mandarin decisively, "he was recovering. He had

the packet and the fan which he was to take to this place. Hwei

was to go with him, and design the invisible picture and hide

the packet. I went to see about letting your father have the

money which I had invested for him. All was ready and he was

winding up his affairs. Then the emissary of Hop Sing strangled

your father--"

"Tung-yu," said Rupert much agitated.

"I have already said that," replied the Marquis rather tartly,

"your father died, and Forge obtained the mine. But he did not

hold it long. I represented that Forge had obtained the death of

Mr. Markham Ainsleigh through Hop Sing. The Empress took my

view. Hop Sing was disgraced and I was promoted. Forge had to

leave China for the time being, but he came back several times.

I sent Hwei to this place with your father's effects and with

the fan. He concealed the packet and drew the picture. Your

mother was alive then, Mr. Ainsleigh, and Hwei showed her the

fan, though he did not tell her the secret."

"Ah," cried Rupert, "now I remember where I saw the fan."

"Yes," Lo-Keong nodded, "as a boy of five you may remember it."

"I certainly do. But Marquis, why did you not send my father's

money to my mother?"

"Ah. She died, and although I knew you were the heir and in the

guardianship of Forge who was your enemy I could do nothing. Hop

Sing got the upper hand again and I was in my turn disgraced.

Then Hop Sing learned about the papers, and about the fan being

the means of finding the hiding-place. He ordered Tung-yu to

find the fan. Hwei was bringing the fan back from England to me.

He was assaulted when he landed in China, but he luckily had

given the fan to a brother of his, so Hop Sing could not find

it. Then the brother was killed and a coolie, who knew nothing

of the fan, took possession of it. Afterwards, I wanted the fan.

Hop Sing told me what he suspected, so I applied to the god

Kwang-ho. The god declared, through his priest, that Hop Sing

was to come with me to the shrine. He did so, and thus, bitter

enemies as we were, we came for a time to be in peace."

"And then the arrangement was made?"

"Yes. The god said that an equal chance must be given to good

and evil. Hwei was appointed to find the fan for me, and to give

death to the person who had it. Tung-yu acted for Hop Sing and

was to give a reward of not less than five thousand pounds so

that the person who held the fan should be rich for life. Each

was to hold sway for twenty-four hours. I caused this to be

published in the Chinese newspaper in Pekin. The coolie heard it

and being fearful lest he should be killed, he kept the fan for

years and said nothing. Then Major Tidman--"

"Ah I know. He came to see how my father died."

"Quite so, Mr. Ainsleigh, and the coolie, knowing the fan was

connected with the death--for he afterwards went to Kan-su mine

and asked questions--gave the fan to the Major to get rid of it,

and--"

"And we know the rest," said Rupert rising. "Tidman gave it to

Dr. Forge, and he gave it to you--or rather you caused it to be

taken from him."

"No," said the Mandarin, "that is not true. I never saw the fan

till now. All these years I have never set eyes on it."

"But Dr. Forge said--"

"Whatever he said he speaks falsely," said Lo-Keong, "but it is

growing late, Mr. Ainsleigh, and I see that your wife is weary.

Let us retire and I shall tell you the rest of the story

to-morrow. But before I go to rest," added the Mandarin

decidedly, "I must assure myself that the packet is still in the

trunk of the third tree."

Rupert was quite ready and lighted the lantern. The two men went

to the Abbey into the pitchy darkness, and walked to the third

tree near the bare spot. Lo-Keong who seemed to be able to see

in the dark like a cat looked round, and laid his finger on a

huge oak. "This is the tree," said he confidently.

"But I can't very well see," said Rupert, "from which side do

you count?"

"From the left to right," explained the mandarin, "in these

robes, Mr. Ainsleigh, I cannot climb the tree, will you please

to do so. You will find the hollow trunk and the line. Pall it

up: the papers will be at the end. Bring them to me if you

please."

So speaking Lo-Keong took the light and Rupert although in thin

evening dress began to climb the tree. Luckily it was not

difficult as the branches hung low, but it was disagreeable on

account of the dripping wet. Every movement shook down much

moisture. However, the active young man disappeared in the

foliage and then felt round. He could not see, and came down to

get the lantern, which the Chinaman passed to him. Then he found

that the trunk of the tree was broken off, amidst the thick

branches, and that the centre was hollow. He espied a rusty thin

chain, and pulled it up. At the end there was a small box, which

he brought down. With an exclamation of joy Lo-Keong took it. It

opened easily in his hand.

"Gone," cried the Marquis in a voice of anguish.

He spoke truly. The box was empty.

CHAPTER XXI

Who is Guilty?

Next morning at the early hour of nine o'clock Orlando Rodgers

drove up to Royabay filled with curiosity. He had received

Rupert's letter which summoned him to come down on matters

connected with the murder, and he was eager to learn details.

Rodgers himself, had been unlucky. He had traced The Stormy

Petrel to the Thames near Rotherhithe, and had learned from the

Captain that two Chinamen had hired the boat for a couple of

days. They went down to Marport and had gone ashore early in the

evening. They came on board again after midnight, and then had

requested to be put ashore at Rotherhithe. The Captain confessed

that he had been paid well for the job, and thought--with a

wink--that there was no chance of his knowing his employers

again.