AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY
The Shah's Rooms were the latest sensation of frivolous London, and
had lasted for six months with undiminished success. The building
contained a number of rooms, and entertainments to suit all classes.
There was a variety theatre with three performances daily, bars
without number, billiard tables, lawn-tennis courts, a sawdust
football ground, a motor and bicycle track, and a large hall for
wrestling and boxing. But the glory of the Shah's Rooms was The
Desert, as the conception was original and excellently carried out by
clever workmen and designers.
This was a vast expanse of real sand, covering several acres, and
bounded on all sides by painted scenery of tropical sky and arid
rocks, and occasional cities, and one or two pyramids. Here and there
was an oasis of palms with real grass and real trees and real water,
and with spotlessly white supper tents erected for the accommodation
of gay parties. Caravans of camels and horses and donkeys took bands
of pleasure-seekers from oasis to oasis, or into the desert itself, to
dine at one of the Bedouin encampments. For entertainment, there were
mirages, skilfully managed with magic-lanterns, and forays of wild
Arabs. Story-tellers relating the "Arabian Nights" could be hired,
singers could be obtained, dancing girls could be engaged, and eastern
fortune-tellers were frequently employed to read the future by means
of sand diagrams. It was all very new and very amusing, and very
fantastical, so it was little wonder that the Shah's Rooms were
crowded nightly. They would be deserted when the novelty wore off, but
just now fashionable London was delighted with a sham life in a sham
East.
Anthony and Clarice arrived about nine o'clock, and went at once to
the great dancing saloon, where a masked ball was in progress. Clarice
had again assumed Ferdy's evening dress, and Ackworth was astonished
to see how closely she resembled her brother, when tricked out in
masculine attire. As Anthony knew much more of the ways and means of
midnight London than was good for him, he had taken Clarice to a
costumier's shop in Drury Lane, and there they had procured the
necessary dominos for their adventure. That of Ackworth was merely one
of black silk, plain and unpretentious, but Clarice wore a red cloak
with a bunch of loose white ribbons on the breast, so that Osip might
recognise her. Gazing at the dancers and dresses, the two looked
vainly for the purple domino with gold stars, but such a costume was
nowhere to be seen. Then Clarice reminded her companion that the
meeting was to take place in the Desert, so hither they bent their
steps, and, pending the arrival of Osip, they partook of a hasty
supper. Both were hungry, for the hurry of getting up from the country
had left them no time to eat.
"What am I to do when Osip comes for you?" asked Anthony.
"Remain here," answered Clarice, looking round. "I won't go out of
sight, I promise you."
"If you do, I shall follow," said Ackworth, resolutely. "I am not
going to let you remain alone with a known murderer. And I have
brought this!"
Clarice looked sideways, and saw that he was holding a heavy army
revolver under the folds of his domino. "You won't require to use it,"
she said, hastily. "If Osip means anything by asking for this meeting
with Ferdy, it is, that he wishes to escape. He will, therefore, not
try to hurt me in any way."
"You can't trust such a scoundrel," said Ackworth, quietly, "and if
you go out of sight I follow--remember that."
They were seated under a tent on the extreme verge of the Desert, and
between them was a small Turkish table, upon which stood a tray heaped
with Eastern food. When the coffee came it was close upon ten o'clock,
and Anthony lighted a cigarette; also he offered one to Clarice, who
took it, smiling.
"I thought you did not like me to smoke?" she said.
"Nor do I. But you must keep up your character of Ferdy, and he is
rarely without a cigarette in his mouth. Look at the mirage."
It was extremely pretty, for on the far horizon, out of the air
seemingly, grew a delicate ethereal vision of spires and temples and
embattled walls, all white and glorious against a blue sky, quivering
with heat. But Clarice was too restless to be tempted with such
pleasures, and walked out of the tent, while Ackworth settled with the
Arab attendant. Here and there she looked in vain for the purple
domino, but could see no sign. The Desert was filling rapidly, and
there was much laughter and much talking. Camels paced about in a
stately manner, the troupes of Bedouins were performing their raids
and displaying wonderful horsemanship, and from the near tents came
the chatter of merry people, enjoying the unaccustomed food. Shortly
Anthony, adjusting his mask, joined her, and they stood watching for
the coming of the man who was so ardently wanted by the police. In a
few minutes Ackworth touched Clarice's arm, and drew her attention
silently to a couple of men in evening dress, and unmasked, who were
walking towards an oasis some distance away. Clarice nearly betrayed
herself by a feminine scream of surprise, when she beheld Sir Daniel
Jerce arm in arm with Barras, the lawyer.
"What does that mean?" she asked, in a low, astonished voice.
Anthony shrugged his square shoulders. "There's nothing remarkable
about that," he said, lightly. "Jerce, I suppose, feels the need of a
little excitement after his hard work, so comes here."
"It's not the kind of place I should expect him to visit," said Miss
Baird, staring after the retreating figures; "and with Mr. Barras,
too, who is the driest and most uninteresting of men. I should not
have thought that he would go in for amusement of any kind."
"Humph! Barras, like Jerce, may have two sides to his character."
"The sides we don't know of, scarcely seem to be respectable,"
retorted the girl, who felt uneasy at the sight of the two men. "I
wish you would follow them, Anthony," she added, as Jerce and his
companion entered the central oasis, "and learn why they are here."
"I don't see what good that would do, my dear. Besides, I wish to keep
an eye on you and Osip."
"Hush! Don't mention his name. There may be spies about. I wonder when
he will come?"
Anthony glanced at his watch. "It wants two minutes to ten," he
remarked, quickly. "We had better go to the Omar Khayyám palm."
"I go alone," said Clarice, hastily. "If he"--she did not mention the
name--"sees me with you, he won't address me. Where is the palm you
speak of?"
"In the central oasis," said Ackworth, pointing; "see--the golden palm
on the verge. But don't disappear into the oasis, Clarice, or I'll
come after you. Get that chap to converse where I can see you from
this tent. I'll smoke and have a drink, and keep an eye on you both."
Clarice nodded, and, leaving Anthony to re-seat himself at the Turkish
table, she walked slowly towards the golden palm, which was some
distance away. It was an artificial tree of gigantic height, and
nearly touched the glass roof which shut in the fairy Desert. Under it
she saw already waiting a man clothed in a purple domino glittering
with gold stars. He stood smoking a cigar, and gazed at the mirage,
now enveloped in rosy colours.
"I am here," said Clarice, touching him on the arm.
The man wheeled quickly, and looked searchingly at her. "A red domino
with a white favour," he said, softly. "Will you please remove your
mask, Mr. Baird?"
Anticipating this, the girl had already loosened the strings, and the
next moment Osip--if it was Osip--found himself staring into the face
of the individual he took to be Ferdy. As he gave a nod of
satisfaction, Clarice spoke to him in her turn. "Will you now remove
your mask?" she asked, replacing her own.
The man glanced round, and seeing that no one was sufficiently near to
examine him closely, he slipped off his mask. Clarice beheld a thin
face woefully scarred, especially on the cheeks. The criss-cross mark
had been entirely obliterated, and no one, at a casual glance, would
have recognised Osip as he had been. It did great credit to Mrs.
Dumps' powers of observation that she had so rapidly guessed--and on
the stage, too--that the acrobat who played the chrysalis was the
assassin so anxiously sought for.
"Are you satisfied?" asked Osip, replacing his mask.
"I suppose you are the man," said Clarice, trying to appear calm, but
shivering a little as she thought of what her companion had done,
"only I don't know you by sight, remember."
"Didn't Mrs. Dumps tell you last night?"
"Yes. But how she recognised you without the criss-cross mark I cannot
say," replied Clarice, quietly.
"Oh, trust a woman to jump to conclusions," said Osip, coolly. "It
might have been my lean figure, or the shape of my head, or my general
air, that she knew me by. But I certainly congratulate Mrs. Dumps on
her cleverness. But you are wrong in saying that you do not know me by
sight. You saw me in the High Street of Crumel."
Clarice suddenly recollected that Ferdy had noticed the man in grey,
and had told Jerce about him. "It was only a passing glance," she
protested. "I should never have remembered you."
"Ah, you are not a woman," said Osip, thoroughly imposed upon by her
disguise and manly bearing. "But we cannot speak here; someone might
overhear, and I have to be careful," he ended with a slight laugh.
"Ugh!" said Clarice, and shuddered.
"Why do you do that?" asked Osip, suddenly and curiously. "Granted
that I am--what I am. Are you any better, Mr. Baird?"
Clarice felt as though cold water was running through her veins. "What
do you mean?" she faltered.
"I think you know what I mean," retorted Osip, "but we will camp in
the Desert, where there will be a wide space round us, and no one can
come within ear-shot without being seen. Come."
He led the way towards the sandy track, beckoning to a picturesquely
attired waiter to follow. Clarice cast a look in the direction of
Anthony, who was watching at his tent door, and followed. In a short
space of time, the sham Arab attendant--he was a Bavarian--had spread
a carpet, and had arranged pillows. He also placed a Turkish stool in
the middle, and waited for orders. The scarred man reclined on one set
of pillows, and signalled to Clarice that she should recline on the
other, which she did. "Will you have some Turkish coffee and a
narghile?" he asked; "we must be strictly Eastern here, you know."
Clarice accepted, although she secretly doubted if she could smoke a
narghile, and shortly the attendant brought them what was wanted. Then
he went away, and Miss Baird found herself smoking and drinking in
company with a scoundrel who had killed eight people. She shivered
again, as the waiter retreated, and they were left comparatively
alone. Osip noticed it.
"Is it the cold air, or my company?" he asked, jeeringly.
"Your company," said Clarice, tartly.
"Oh, then, like doesn't draw to like. I should think after what you
have done, Mr. Baird, you would be less scrupulous."
"You dare to accuse me of murdering--"
"Ta! Ta! Ta! Don't let us have any heroics, please. Do you think that
if I did not hold your life in my hand I would risk being here with
you, and so running the chance of capture. We are in the same boat,
Mr. Baird, and if I am hanged for murder, you will swing beside me, I
promise you."
It took all Clarice's self-control to keep herself quiet. After all,
Ferdy really was guilty of murder, and she had only to learn how he
had contrived to escape from the locked room. Osip apparently knew all
about it, and she impatiently awaited his recital. But had she not
been masked, he would have observed the pallor of her face, and
perhaps his suspicions would have been aroused. As it was, he quite
believed her to be her brother, and talked on leisurely. Owing to
their solitary position, no one could approach within hearing
distance, without being seen by the watchful Osip.
"Of course I know why you did murder him," said Osip, in a low and
rapid voice, "that is, you were coerced. But what power has Jerce over
you to make you commit such a crime?"
"Jerce!" Clarice dropped the snaky twist of her narghile. This was the
last name she expected to hear.
"Yes," snapped Osip, imperiously. "Oh, you needn't try to hide his
doings. Ever since Frank Clarke betrayed me on his death-bed--the
scoundrel--I have been watching Jerce."
"But why did you search him?" asked Clarice, perplexed.
Osip raised himself angrily on his elbow. "You _will_ pretend
ignorance," he said, sharply, "when you know quite well that Frank
Clarke gave Jerce the gold box containing the stamp. I searched Jerce
to find it, and he had not got it on him. I did not know what had
become of it, but now I am certain that he gave the stamp to you, so
that you might impress the Purple Fern on Horran's forehead, and so
make the police believe your murder was of a piece with the other
crimes."
"You are quite wrong," said Clarice, keeping her nerves in a wonderful
manner, considering the terrible communication. "The gold box was
found on the terrace, where you had dropped it."
"I did not drop it. Jerce must have guessed why I was searching him,
and have flung it aside. Where is the gold box now?"
"Jerce took it to Scotland Yard."
"A clever and daring villain," said Osip, bitterly, "and the stamp?"
"I--I don't know where it is. It was not in the box?"
"No. Jerce had removed it previously, and had given it to you. What a
fool he was to carry the box about with him. When did he give the
stamp to you?"
"He never did."
"What's the use of denying things?" cried Osip, angrily, and striking
with his clenched fist on the table. "You were seen in Horran's
bedroom, after two o'clock in the morning, impressing the Purple Fern
on the body of your victim; and that was after Clarke had fled, Mr.
Baird. I expect just as you killed Horran you heard Clarke coming, and
so concealed yourself. When the parson went away, afraid lest he
should be accused, you, no doubt, came out from your hiding-place and
stamped the forehead. Then you returned to your own room, and
pretended innocence."
"Who told you this?"
"Zara Dumps told me. After last night, she knew who I was, as her
mother told her. I went to her rooms to-day, and she wanted to have me
arrested. But I told her that I would accuse her of killing Horran,
for I knew that she accused Clarke, and had been near The Laurels
about the time of the murder."
"How did you know that?"
"I learned it from Clarke himself. Yes! I went down secretly and in
disguise to Crumel after the murder, to learn what had become of the
stamp, and saw Clarke. He could not denounce me, as I told him that
his son Frank was concerned in the murders with me. Zara not only told
Prudence, so as to break off the marriage with you, but she also told
Clarke himself. When I learned that Zara had been near the house at
the time of the crime, I saw her to-day, and made her confess."
"She only saw Clarke," said Clarice, bravely. "She never told me that
she had seen me. I saw her last night."
"Zara told you as much as she thought proper," said Osip, in sharp
tones, "but I made her confess the rest. After Clarke had gone away
she stole up to the window and saw you, and what you were doing. I
think also," added Osip, scathingly, "that she mentioned how you had
concealed the stamp."
"She did?" muttered Clarice, wondering if Zara had betrayed her
disguise. But Osip's next words reassured her.
"Of course she did. You wanted to get out of marrying her, and she was
forced to make use of her knowledge to make you consent. I understand
how she coerced you; but how did Jerce?"
"He did not."
"Yes, he did. You never murdered Horran of your own free will. Jerce
wanted money, I suppose?"
"Jerce has plenty of money."
"No doubt. He earns a lot, and he borrows a lot, and he steals a lot,
Mr. Baird. Why do you try to stand up for Jerce? I have been watching
him for weeks, and I have been making enquiries in all sorts of
quarters. I know much that goes on, owing to the faculties I have, for
discovering things people would rather were kept quiet. Jerce, to the
world, is a genial philanthropist, and a famous physician. But you
know, as I know, that he is one of the fastest men in London, and a
complete scoundrel, and under the rose has spent no end of money on
worthless women. His pretended visits to Whitechapel were all bosh. He
really went on the spree. I wonder he has not been found out long ago.
You must have found him out, living in the same house with him, Mr.
Baird. Did Jerce make you murder Horran, or did Barras?"
"Barras?" said Clarice, still more surprised, and wondering how much
of this was true. The whole story seemed too terrible to be believed.
"Barras is quite as bad as Jerce, as I happen to know. I am going to
see that lawyer, and utilise my knowledge of his shady doings, to make
him part, Mr. Baird. England is getting too hot for me, so I intend to
leave the country. But Barras and Jerce are in league in some way.
Barras is Horran's lawyer, so their league may have something to do
with the property."
"Perhaps it has," murmured Clarice, white as a corpse under her mask.
She felt that it would be impossible to sustain her manly character
much longer under these accumulated horrors.
"Pah!" said Osip, scornfully, as he rose to his feet. "What is the use
of pretending? You know everything, as I do. I don't care if you did
murder Horran, as I commit murders myself, and have a fellow-feeling
for such daring. In fact, I rather admire you, Mr. Baird, and if I
could remain in England I should propose a partnership, since my
partners are dead. There's heaps of money to be made with the Purple
Fern yet, you know."
"What a villain you are!" cried Clarice, involuntarily.
"Pooh! You say that because you are new to the criminal business. I am
no more a villain than a swindling stockbroker in the city, or one of
your pious, chapel-going hypocrites who sweat those they employ. You
must get rid of your conscience, if you want to succeed, Mr. Baird,
although I admit that you have made an excellent start. It was a
clever idea to use the Purple Fern stamp, to shift the murder of
Horran on to my shoulders. I know that I am accused, but _you_ know
that I am innocent."
"Of this crime, perhaps, but not of others."
"Of four others," said Osip, politely. "I murdered four people, Clarke
murdered one, and our third partner, who was hanged, poor chap, killed
the remaining two. I invented the Purple Fern Murder Syndicate, so I
had to do most of the work."
"Stop! Stop!"
"No. I must try and harden you, as I have taken a fancy to you, for
your boldness and for your cleverness in using the stamp to implicate
me. It's a pity we can't start the Syndicate again, with you and Jerce
and Barras. Upon my word," said Osip, musingly, and lighting a cigar,
"it would be a splendid idea, and no one would suspect. We made heaps
of money, you know, Mr. Baird. Some of the people we killed were put
out of the way by the desire of relatives, who paid very largely for
the crimes. I have saved money myself, but have not enough. Clarke--or
Exton, as he called himself--was a spendthrift, and indulged in
swagger things. You remember the gold box--a neat design, but risky,
wasn't it? Clarke's idea--poor ass."
"And the stationery?" asked Clarice, recollecting the superfine paper
upon which the letters had been written.
"Clarke's also, but I rather approved of that, as I like to do things
neatly. Of course, you saw the stamped fern I sent to your guardian,
Mr. Baird. It was a hint that he should look out, as I guessed that
Jerce, having the stamp, intended business. I also sent the letter to
Ackworth, forbidding him to marry your sister, unless he wanted to see
you in the dock."
"Why did you do that?"
"I wanted to make Miss Baird--your sister--think that Jerce was mixed
up with the Purple Fern business, as I guessed that she would
recognise the paper of the stamped fern and the paper of my letter to
Ackworth to be the same. You see, I have been trying all along to get
at Jerce, and learn why he wished Horran killed, and how he managed to
make use of you. Besides, I want money. Jerce has money, and so has
Barras. I will get large sums from both, as soon as I can prove that
they are mixed up with Horran's murder. You committed it, so you must
confess all. If you don't, I'll leave England, but before leaving I'll
send a note to Scotland Yard telling the truth. Then both you and Zara
will be arrested."
"She is innocent, as I am."
"Oh, she is innocent, of course," said Osip, easily, "but I dare say
the police can build up a case against her, since she was near the
scene of the crime, and practically saw you commit the murder. She
could be brought in as an accomplice after the fact, you know."
"Did she--did she-see me--commit the crime?" stammered Clarice,
hoarsely. "Well, no; but she saw you stamp the corpse, and--"
"Stop! for heaven's sake stop!" cried the girl, and, sick with fear
for her miserable brother, she fell forward on the Turkish table, and
on her outstretched arms, not insensible, but nearly so. By this time
the Desert was crowded with people, and many were wandering aimlessly
here and there near at hand. Camels were grunting, mules squealing,
Arabs shrieking, nautch-girls were dancing, and the busy, glittering
life of pleasure hummed everywhere with feverish persistency. Osip,
rather amazed at what he took to be Baird's unmanly weakness, was
about to stoop and raise "him," when he saw Ackworth running rapidly
forward. He did not know the soldier, but saw that some man was
bearing straight down on him. "A trap--a trap," said Osip, with a
glare at Clarice, and she overheard.
"No! no!" she gasped, with a last effort, "but I am a woman--Baird's
sister!"
"Damn!" breathed Osip, thoroughly taken aback, and casting one fearful
look around at the people, whose attention was now attracted, he
slipped away amongst the crowd. Anthony raced up, breathless.
"What has he done? Let me give the alarm. He must be----"
Clarice clutched his arm desperately, and raised herself to her feet.
"No, no! for my sake--for Ferdy's--for--" and then she fainted in
earnest.
"The heat--the heat," said Ackworth, sharply, to an officious
attendant. "My friend--ill-health--delicate boy. I'll look after him.
Get out, clear the way, damn you."
And the crowd, accepting the natural excuse, fell back.