MRS. HAXTON RECEIVES A SHOCK
Mr. Fenshawe, renewing his acquaintance with Arabic gutturals, and von
Kerber, walking apart with Mrs. Haxton, in order to learn how and when
she had received tidings of Abdullah, had eyes or ears for naught else.
Irene and Dick were thus given a few moments free from listeners, and
the girl was quick enough to grasp the chance.
"You know why we have come here?" she asked in a low tone, halting to
look back at the belt of tiny islets which secludes Massowah's larger
island from the open sea.
"Baron von Kerber told us at Marseilles," said Dick, wondering what new
development had chased from the girl's face the smiling interest of a
moment ago.
"'Us'?" she demanded, almost sharply.
"I should have said Captain Stump, Mr. Tagg, and myself."
"What did he tell you?"
"The remarkable history of a Roman expedition against the Sabaeans, of
a storm, a shipwreck, the burial of a vast treasure, and the ultimate
discovery of its hiding-place by means of a Greek papyrus found in a
tomb."
"That is what irritates me," said she, in a sudden gust of anger. "His
behavior is faultless, yet I am certain that he is acting in an
underhanded way. I have ventured to say as much to my grandfather, but
I cannot obtain a shred of actual fact to justify my suspicions. Indeed
Baron von Kerber is candor itself where the genuineness of the papyrus
is concerned. Did he endeavor to explain Mrs. Haxton's presence, or
mine?"
"When Captain Stump protested--before he had seen you,
remember--against ladies accompanying us, the Baron said that without
you the expedition could not proceed."
"Exactly. That is another bit of unconvincing accuracy. Mrs. Haxton has
always been an essential part of the scheme. I am here solely because I
did not think Mr. Fenshawe should be allowed to go alone--alone in the
sense that these people were strangers to him, while he was spending
many thousands of pounds for their very great benefit. There, again, I
find myself in a sort of verbal _cul de sac_. Under other circumstances
I should be delighted to take part in an adventure of this kind.
Grandad promised me two years ago that we should pass the present
winter in Upper Egypt. Unhappily, Mrs. Haxton introduced von Kerber to
him at a place in the Highlands where we were invited for the shooting.
The instant he heard of the legend on that wretched scrap of paper all
his old enthusiasm for exploration work revived, and he has followed
their plans blindly ever since."
"I hope you will forgive me if I express a somewhat contrary opinion,
Miss Fenshawe," said Royson. "Your grandfather did not hesitate to run
counter to the Baron's wishes to-day, for instance."
"Oh, that is nothing. Of course, with his experience of Egypt, he takes
the lead in such matters. What I want you to believe is this: Mrs.
Haxton, and not von Kerber, found that papyrus, or it came into her
hands by some means. She is the originator of the scheme. She sought to
be included in our friend's party at Glengarloch with the set object of
meeting grandad, whose interest in archeology is known to all the
world. She did not come across von Kerber by accident, but produced him
at the right moment. He is not a casual friend, met in Cairo, as she
pretends, but a man whom she has known for years. And, last in a list
of guessings which I know to be true, they both fear some discovery, or
interruption, or danger not revealed to us, which may prevent them from
obtaining the wealth they hope to gain. They are desperately poor, Mr.
Royson. They have mortgaged their credit to its utmost extent to enable
them to keep up appearances, and they dread some catastrophe which will
interfere with our search, though the only authority we have for the
existence of the Roman legion's loot is a scrap of scarcely
decipherable writing, which, though genuine enough, may be nothing
better than a madman's dream."
"Have you told Mr. Fenshawe these things?" asked Dick. His pledged word
to von Kerber interposed an awkward barrier against that complete
confidence which he would gladly have given to one who had so curiously
amplified his own doubts.
"Yes, everything, but he only laughs, and bids me remember that I am
not yet twenty. He says that there are stranger things buried beneath
the dust of Egypt than all the learned societies have succeeded in
revealing. He is quite content that the cruise of the _Aphrodite_
should be a wild-goose chase so long as the evidence of the papyrus is
proved to be false. And that is my chief stumbling-block. Perhaps you
do not realize that, to an antiquarian, the search yields as keen
pleasure as the find. The cost of this expedition is a matter of no
consequence to my grandfather, and I repeat that, under other
conditions, I should regard it as a most enjoyable and memorable
excursion. But these two people have made me nervous, and that is why I
was determined they should not get rid of you at Suez, because I felt
that I could trust you with my doubts and fears, and look to you for
help should an emergency arise. Otherwise, Mr. Fenshawe and I would be
at their mercy."
"You can count on me to the end," said Royson earnestly, "but I would
ask you not to forget that the officers and crew are all Englishmen,
and, from what I have seen of them, they would never lend themselves to
any undertaking which meant actual treachery to their employers."
"That, of course, is excellent so far as it goes," was the tart
response, "but I am also aware that our enterprising Baron has very
adroitly bound all of you to secrecy, and exacted a promise of
faithfulness to his interests. The result is that not even you, Mr.
Royson, told me anything about the attack made on him at Marseilles--"
This counter-stroke was unexpected, and Royson glanced at her with some
degree of embarrassment.
"He persuaded us that if the incident came to your knowledge it might
alarm you needlessly," he broke in, "and that sounded quite reasonable."
"Exactly. You are beginning to appreciate the pitfalls which awaited me
when I tried to convince my grandfather that he should not credit every
statement made to him. Baron von Kerber is the most plausible of men.
He never tells a downright untruth. Indeed, he speaks the absolute
truth, but only a part of it. Fortunately, my maid heard of your
prowess in routing the Baron's assailants. You at once became a hero
among the sailors, which, by the way, was only fit and proper if you
are destined to fill the rôle played by your distinguished ancestor."
A quiet little smile chased the shadows from her face, and Dick flushed
as he recalled the wild words of that wonderful night in the canal.
"Tagg must have been talking," he managed to say. "Please tell me what
you have heard, Miss Fenshawe."
"Nothing beyond the fact that our Austrian friend was set upon by some
highway robbers while driving from the station to the ship at a late
hour, and that you and Mr. Tagg happened to be near, with disastrous
results to the Marseillais. Does your bond permit you to carry the
story further? What did really happen?"
"There was a rather one-sided fight, because Tagg and I took them by
surprise, but the Baron escaped uninjured, or nearly so."
"Did they rob him, then?"
"I meant that he sustained a couple of slight cuts, and therein you
have another valid reason for his anxiety that the affair should not
reach your ears."
Though her own manner was imperious enough, Irene was manifestly
surprised at the annoyance apparent in Dick's voice. She did not
realize that he was wroth because of the check imposed by the promise
exacted in London. If he told her of the theft of the papyrus, and
explained the few details he possessed with regard to von Kerber's
declared enemy, he would only add fuel to the distrust already planted
in her heart. That would achieve no tangible good, while no casuistry
would wipe away the stain on his own honor. So here was he, burning
with desire to assure her of his devotion, forced into silent pact with
the very conspiracy she was denouncing.
She attributed his sudden gruffness to a distaste for hearing his
exploits lauded.
"At any rate, you now understand my motive for speaking so plainly, Mr.
Royson," she went on. "You may feel bound by your arrangement with the
Baron, and I have no fault to find on that score, but I am quite,
certain, since I have learnt who you are, that you will not lend
yourself to any discreditable plan which may be in the minds of the
remarkable pair who are now looking at us, and wondering, no doubt,
what we are discussing so earnestly."
Royson saw that von Kerber and Mrs. Haxton were awaiting them at the
door of the post-office, but the personal allusion to himself, which
Miss Fenshawe had dropped, in parenthesis as it were, into her
concluding sentence, demanded a question.
"Will you enlighten me on the interesting point of my identity, then?"
he asked rapidly.
"Oh yes. I take it that your Port Said letter was opened and read. Mrs.
Haxton is skilled at jumping to conclusions, I fancy. She said she
recognized your name at Marseilles--when the telegram arrived, you
know--but, if that were so, it is strange that she should keep the
knowledge to herself until all of us were at dinner after leaving Port
Said. I also can add two and two occasionally, and I have not the
slightest doubt that something in your letter gave her the necessary
clue. Was she mistaken?"
"In what?"
"In the belief that you are the nephew of a baronet, and his heir?"
He laughed pleasantly. After years of indifference, his birthright was
pursuing him with a certain zest.
"You could not have chosen a better example of those half-truths you
complain of," said he. "I admit that my uncle is Sir Henry Royson, but
his heir he vowed I should not be when last we met. Yet the letter you
speak of was from his solicitor, and it held out a vague suggestion of
possibilities which, to put it mildly, would make Mrs. Haxton a
remarkably good guesser."
A silence fell upon them as they neared the others. Irene disdained to
use any subterfuge, and Royson was far too perplexed to branch off into
a new conversation meant for the general ear. Mrs. Haxton and the
Austrian also broke off their talk. They were about to enter the
post-office when Mr. Fenshawe came out.
"Here you are," he cried. "Lots of letters and newspapers. Take them,
Irene, and sort them out. The Baron and I must hurry to the Governor's
house. We can read our correspondence at the hotel."
Von Kerber had evidently profited by his stroll with Mrs. Haxton. He
raised no objection, but went off at once with the older man. Irene
managed to open the bulky, string-tied package entrusted to her. She
gave Mrs. Haxton several letters, and added to Royson's already
bewildered state by handing him three, two being directed to him in his
right name and the third bearing the superscription "Richard King, Esq."
He knew that Miss Fenshawe had noticed the alias, and took it as a
kindly act that she passed no remark on it. He was equally well aware
that Mrs. Haxton was alive to the fact that there were letters for him.
Stump, who made his appearance at the moment, added a whiff of
awkwardness when he saw the envelopes in Dick's hands.
"Hello!" he growled, "you've bin pretty spry. Letters, eh? How did you
work it?"
"I am not able to tell you," was the frank answer. "Evidently some one
in London discovered the yacht's route long before I knew it myself."
"That's funny," said Stump, with a hint of doubt in the exclamation.
"It is probably a simple enough matter if it were cleared up," said
Irene off-handedly. "The _Aphrodite's_ ports of call are quite open to
the knowledge of any person who takes the trouble to inquire at Mr.
Fenshawe's residence. Mr. Royson will find, no doubt, that his friends
followed that course when he failed to let them know whither the vessel
was bound. But it is too hot to stand here in the sun. Let us go to the
hotel and look through our budget in comfort."
When opportunity served, Dick glanced at his unexpected mail. The two
letters for "Royson" were from Forbes. They bore different dates. The
first stated that Sir Henry Royson was seriously ill, and had given
urgent instructions that his nephew was to be brought to his bedside.
"I have reason to believe," wrote the lawyer, "that your uncle has
sustained some shock, perhaps arising from the sudden receipt of
intelligence hitherto withheld from him, and I would fail in my duty if
I did not urge you to cast aside all other considerations and return to
England at once."
The second letter was even more explicit. "The person from whom I have
received information of your whereabouts," said Mr. Forbes, "has called
on me to-day, and the facts he has laid before me demand your earnest
consideration. He is assured that the treasure-hunting expedition you
have joined is a compound of piracy and rascality, in which Mr.
Fenshawe is a dupe, having been misled by a man who has incurred the
gravest suspicion of felony. The Italian Government is taking steps to
procure this person's arrest, and, whether or not the charges brought
against him be substantiated, it is an assured thing that the movements
of the _Aphrodite_ will be watched, with a view towards the armed
prevention of any landing from her in Italian territory. You must know
that I have the strongest grounds for this statement, or I would not
dare place my opinion in writing. If you think it will serve any useful
purpose, I authorize you to show this letter to Mr. Fenshawe, only
stipulating that I am giving him a friendly warning (which will soon be
verified by events) and that my name must not be used in any
investigation he may choose to make. It may help you to arrive at a
right decision if I tell you that I have traced you with the help of
Lieutenant the Hon. John S. Paton, of the Coldstream Guards, who saw an
advertisement I inserted in the _Times_, and gave me the date of a
carriage accident in Buckingham Palace Road, in which you seem to have
displayed the courage and resource that might be looked for in one of
your family. Inquiry showed that the carriage was Mr. Fenshawe's, and
one of my clerks, after visiting Mr. Fenshawe's house, was accosted by
a man who was able to prove that he had accurate knowledge of your
movements. I am told that he is writing Mr. Fenshawe fully by this
mail, so, in any event, I feel confident of your early departure from
Massowah, believing, as I do, that Mr. Fenshawe will not continue to
lend his name to an undertaking of bad repute."
The third letter, that addressed to "King," was from a Mr. William
Fielding, "Confidential Inquiry Agent," who revealed himself as Mr.
Forbes's informant. He wrote in similar strain to the solicitor, and
added: "I have directed the envelope to you in the name under which you
shipped on board the _Aphrodite_, though I am aware that a telegram
sent to you at Marseilles in your proper name reached you. If you will
kindly seek a private interview with Mr. Fenshawe, and tell him how a
man named Alfieri, with others, attacked Baron von Kerber at
Marseilles, and robbed and wounded him without any subsequent protest
on his part, you will help in undoing a great wrong."
Royson was sitting in the balcony veranda on the first floor of the
Hôtel Grande del Universo when his astonished eyes skimmed rapidly
through these letters. Scarce crediting his senses, he read them again,
word by word, striving to extract from their cryptic sentences that
hidden meaning which lay beneath. Outspoken as the solicitor was, he
had evidently left unsaid the major portion of the strange story within
his ken. The new correspondent, too, might or might not be the man whom
Dick had seen in Hyde Park and at Charing Cross Station. But the same
curious guardedness was apparent in each missive. The lawyer dealt in
generalities; the private detective merely asked for the corroboration
of a single detail in the statement which, doubtless, awaited Mr.
Fenshawe's perusal among the letters now piled on a table by the side
of Miss Fenshawe's chair.
At the thought, Dick turned and looked at Irene. She was smiling at
some quip or bit of lively news in a closely-written sheet. Near her,
Mrs. Haxton was engaged more deeply. The letter clasped in her long
slender fingers was as obviously a business document as Irene's was the
crossed and interlined product of a feminine pen overflowing with
gossip. Stump was leaning on the railing of the veranda, contemptuously
heedless of the efforts of half a dozen vendors of carpets, ostrich
feathers, fruit, sweets, and Abyssinian curios, who had gathered in the
street beneath and were endeavoring vociferously to secure his
patronage for their wares. So Dick had leisure to think out a line of
action, and he saw no reason to dispute the soundness of the advice
given him by Mr. Forbes. If the owner of the _Aphrodite_ were
unknowingly lending himself to an illegal quest, it was the duty of an
honest man to warn him. The agreement with von Kerber stood in the way
perhaps. In that case, it must be terminated. Such a resolve was rather
bitter to the taste, but it was unavoidable. To travel home by the next
mail steamer from Aden would be a tame ending to an adventure that
promised so well in its initial stages. And what of his vow not to
desert the girl who had placed her faith in him? Well, he would best
serve her by opening Mr. Fenshawe's eyes to the character of his
associates, for Dick had no manner of doubt that Mrs. Haxton was the
leading spirit in the plot of which the millionaire was the "dupe,"
according to the lawyer.
But Royson had found adversity a hard task-master. He had learnt early
the lesson that a man who takes a leap in the dark should at least jump
from firm ground, and when he asked himself what was the definite
charge he would prefer against von Kerber his logic was brought to an
abrupt halt. In plain English, he depended on a few words in the
solicitor's letter, and these, in their turn, were probably inspired by
the one-sided statements of the Austrian's avowed enemy, Alfieri. This
consideration brought him back to the starting-point in his review of a
puzzling situation. Fielding, whoever he might be, had done the right
thing in placing his case before Mr. Fenshawe by letter. It would serve
to clear the ground, and give scope for the interference of one who
really had no cause of complaint against von Kerber.
"Anyhow," reflected Royson, smiling at the queer manner in which many
opposing interests helped to entangle him in a mesh of difficulties, "I
need not rush my fences. Let Fenshawe read his letter, and, above all
else, let me seek counsel from his granddaughter. Then, by happy
chance, I may hit on the right line." When a young man does not want to
deprive himself of the company of a nice young woman, he may be
depended on to argue himself into a state of mind which does not demand
such a sacrifice.
At that instant Irene rose and told Captain Stump that she agreed with
him--a scrutiny of the chattering mob in the street was more to her
taste than a description of the frocks worn at the last court ball.
Dick pocketed his letters, and would have joined them had he not
noticed that Mrs. Haxton was bending forward in her chair and examining
the mixed pile of correspondence on the table. There was no grave
significance in the action, because a number of magazines and
newspapers were mixed with the heap, and these were more or less common
property. But Royson, knowing of the existence of one document of
exceeding importance, acted on the principle that if opportunity makes
the thief Mrs. Haxton's reputation should remain unsullied that day if
it lay in his power. He lit a cigar, wheeled his chair slightly, and
sat facing her, at a distance of ten or twelve feet. The open railing
of the veranda was half as far away on his right and on Mrs. Haxton's
left. Through the narrow rails they both could see the opposite
pavement, with its dun-colored throng of natives and the gloomy
interiors of several small shops, while the white walls and
close-latticed windows of the upper stories seemed to be bleaching
visibly in the slanting rays of a fierce afternoon sun.
Mrs. Haxton, apparently giving no heed to Royson, glanced listlessly at
the wrappers and postmark. The task seemed to prove uninteresting. Soon
she selected a periodical, and was about to open It when a remark from
Irene caught her ear.
"That Italian standing in front of the grain-dealer's place seems to be
rooted to the ground with astonishment at seeing strangers in the
hotel," said the girl, turning her smiling face towards her companion.
"Them Dagos is impident pups at times, miss," replied Stump, his red
eyes no doubt meeting the man's stare with a fixity that might have
disconcerted most gapers.
"Does he know you, do you think? I happened to see him coming along the
street, and as soon as he saw us he stood stock-still. He has been
gazing up here now for the past two or three minutes."
"I've booted a rare lot of I-talians in my time," said Stump. "I
wouldn't be a bit surprised if he was some loafer I'd helped across a
ship's gangway at Genoa or Naples."
"But, captain," laughed Irene, "that man appears to be a superior
class."
"Bless yer heart, miss, that's nothin'. By the cut of his jib I'd rate
him as a fiddler, an' I remember once, at Brindisi, I was pointed out
two counts an' a markee among the coal-heavers."
Naturally enough, Mrs. Haxton and Dick looked for the person whose
singular behavior was under discussion. Though they had no difficulty
in finding him, it was impossible that they themselves could be seen
with any degree of clearness. The railing and the deep shade of the
veranda shielded them effectually. The Italian, a man of middle height,
with a finely-molded face and soldierly aspect, a man whose bearing
went far to prove that Stump's general estimate of a great nation was
apt to be wrong, was certainly very much taken up with the appearance
of the two figures leaning over the balcony. But Royson had scarce time
to note his main characteristics when he heard Mrs. Haxton utter a
queer gasping sob. It seemed to him that she had only just succeeded in
smothering a scream. Her cheeks suddenly became ashen gray, and her
tightly compressed lips were bloodless. All her beauty fled, as the
tints of a rose die under certain varieties of chemical light. Her eyes
dilated in an alarming way, and lines not visible previously now
puckered the corners of her mouth.
Owing to the Babel of tongues in the street, neither Irene nor Captain
Stump knew how terribly the mere sight of the staring Italian had
affected Mrs. Haxton. It came to Royson with a flash of inspiration
that this man must be Alfieri, that the woman had recognized him, and
that she feared him with a mortal dread.
He sprang upright and went to her.
"What is it?" he asked, neither raising nor lowering his voice
sufficiently to attract attention. "Are you ill? Shall I call Miss
Fenshawe?"
She lifted an appealing hand, and tremblingly essayed to drop her veil.
Her languid insolence had vanished with her good looks. For the moment,
she was a broken and despairing woman.
"No, no," she murmured, and the anguish in her voice would have aroused
sympathy in a nature far less impressionable than Royson's. "If you
could help me, and all of us, try and find Baron von Kerber, and tell
him--tell him--I sent you with the message that there is one here whom
he must not meet. Oh, what shall I say to make him understand?"
"May I tell him that Alfieri is in Massowah?"
Dick almost regretted the words when he witnessed their tremendous
effect. She was on the very brink of hysteria, and the suddenness of
her collapse was painful.
"You--you, too, know Alfieri?" she gasped, looking at him in a very
agony of terror.
"I am sorry if I have added to your alarm. I did not mean to do that,
Alfieri is unknown to me, but I heard his name at Marseilles, when he
attacked the Baron."
The pity he could not withhold seemed to give her new strength.
"An attack!" She whispered. "At Marseilles! Oh, why was I not told? But
you will find him, at the Governor's house! It is not far--on the
seaward point.... The hotel people will supply a guide.... Baron von
Kerber and Alfieri must not meet here. If they do meet, we shall lose
everything.... Tell the Baron to go on board the yacht, no matter what
Mr. Fenshawe says. Do you understand? It is a matter of life and death.
Slip out into a back street, so that Alfieri may not see you.... I will
watch from here. Go, for Heaven's sake. Let nothing delay you."
She was incapable of further explanation. Dick feared she would faint
if he waited another second.
Hence, when Irene turned to say that Mr. Fenshawe and the Baron
appeared to be paying a prolonged visit to the Governor, she found that
Mrs. Haxton was sitting alone, with her veiled face propped on her
hands, while, so malicious was fate's decree once more to Royson, that
he was then hastening through malodorous lanes and crowded slums in
order to save from threatened peril the very man whose downfall offered
the only visible means by which he could bend his own frail fortunes in
the direction that looked best to him.