"Stent was at last impressed, and agreed that we must leave Forest View
as quickly and secretly as possible. Stent and the other maid--Lord
Wrenwyck had left us by then--travelled in the van. I drove Mr Monkton
in the motor by a roundabout route--I may tell you I am an expert
driver. My destination was supposed to be the house of the confederate
where he had first been taken.
"The game was now in my hands, and I knew I could play it. I drove to a
different place altogether, some miles from London. I had, fortunately,
plenty of money with me. We stayed at an hotel for the night. Next
morning we came up to London and took up our quarters in a small inn at
Hampstead."
"What did you do with the car?" asked Wingate.
"We left it at a garage close to the hotel where we stayed the first
night, promising to come back for it in a couple of hours. There, no
doubt, it is still."
"And the next step when you got to London?" was Wingate's next question.
"Owing to the cessation of the drugs, Mr Monkton's faculties were
swiftly restored. He was weak and ill from his long confinement, but he
could think clearly. His first impulse was to come home at once. I
dissuaded him from this till he had gone to Smeaton and sought his
advice. I felt also it was imperative to get rid of Stent and Bolinski
in case they meditated further mischief. It happened that the means
were in my power, means which I should not have used except in an
extreme case. Information in my possession, which I placed at the
disposal of Scotland Yard, enabled the authorities to arrest them on a
criminal charge. That you have heard, or will hear."
She paused a moment, and Sheila spoke.
"You drove up to Chesterfield Street the other night with a companion."
"Your father. He was longing to come back, and to humour him I
suggested we should come for a few minutes as far as the house."
"And the portrait of Lady Gladys that was sent me? That was my father's
idea, of course. And to make sure, you sent that young woman to tell me
what to do. But I had guessed before she came."
"That young woman was a friend of mine, who knows nothing about the
general circumstances. I simply made use of her for this particular
purpose."
There was a long pause. Wingate was the first to break it. He had no
kindly feelings towards this woman who was ready to betray her old
associates when it suited her own interests. Still, he could dissemble
better than Sheila.
"You have cleared up all except one thing, Mrs Saxton. What of the
Italian who died at Forest View, and the man Whyman who disappeared
after Smeaton's visit to him at Southport?"
"They were both members of a rather wide fraudulent partnership which
included Stent and Bolinski. Roselli was evidently seized with remorse
on his deathbed, and, much to Stent's chagrin, conveyed a message in
Italian which the young man Franks in his turn conveyed to Smeaton. Had
Stent guessed the nature of that message, he would have found some means
to keep Franks out of the house. In consequence of my information, the
police are searching for Whyman now."
This extraordinary woman was, by now, perfectly calm and collected.
What her inmost feelings were, it would be impossible to guess, but
apparently she felt no shame in avowing that she had betrayed her old
friends.
There was an embarrassing silence till she spoke again. "I have now
concluded my story. If there is nothing more you wish to ask me, I will
go."
Sheila rose, her face cold and hard. "Nothing more, Mrs Saxton. My
father will, of course, reward you for the help you gave him, as you
have put it yourself, at the eleventh hour. He has no doubt arranged
that with you already. You will understand that now I want him to
myself."
"I quite understand." Without another word, she bowed and left the
room, her bearing not devoid of a certain dignity, which might, or might
not, have been the result of callousness.
Left to themselves, Sheila breathed a sigh of relief. "The air is
sweeter for her departure," she said simply.
Then she knelt down again, and laid one hand tenderly on her father's
shoulder. The other she extended to Wingate, and drew him towards her.
"Father, dearest," she said in her sweet, low voice, "I have a secret to
tell you, and I could not tell it on a better night than this. Austin
and I love each other. You do not know what he has been to me during
this terrible time. You will let us be happy?"
Very gentle and kindly was the smile that met her upturned face.
"My darling, you are the dearest thing on earth to me. Could I refuse
you anything on such a night as this?" He turned to the young man.
"Austin--give me your hand."
He placed it in Sheila's, and drawing his daughter to his breast, kissed
her. "Dearest, I wish you to follow where your heart leads you. And I
think you have chosen well."
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