THE POWER OF THE HERB.
It had been Prelice's intention to ask Ned about his love for
Constance Rover before leaving the Grange, but on second thought he
resolved to wait until he learned more concerning the murders before
putting Shepworth in the witness-box. Nevertheless, he was somewhat
upset to think that his best friend was entangling himself with a
married woman. Prelice was no prude, and had not been a Sir Galahad
himself; all the same, he did not think that Ned was acting rightly.
Of course, the case was a hard one, since the two truly loved one
another. Constance had been sacrificed on the family altar, and to a
man who took advantage of her sacrifice to play the tyrant as much as
he dared. The poor woman was very unhappy, and it was to be presumed
that the man who loved her was unhappy also. It said a great deal for
Shepworth and Mrs. Rover that they had not long ago defied
conventionality and eloped. Since they had not gone this length,
Prelice argued that they were trying to bear their several burdens as
honourably as possible. But how long would such endurance last?
According to Shepworth himself, Mona knew of his love for Constance,
since he had explained the same when the pretended engagement was made
to save the girl from Jadby's wooing and Sir Oliver's persecution. But
Prelice, in the first flush of his love, shrank from questioning her
about so distasteful a subject; and on her side, Mona was loyally
silent, until Ned chose to speak. Thus it came about that, although
Prelice met his friend at breakfast, he made no remark about this very
private business, and Shepworth did not volunteer an explanation.
Rather did the conversation turn on the unexpected appearance of the
lost will; and Martaban explained his future actions. These included
an immediate journey to London with Mrs. Blexey, who had to make an
affidavit as to the authenticity of the document.
Under these circumstances, as Shepworth could scarcely remain at the
Grange when both Martaban and the housekeeper were absent, he arranged
to go to London with them by the ten o'clock train. Prelice would fain
have lingered in those delicious gardens with Mona, but as he knew her
views, he kept to his determination. However, when the trio drove away
to Hythe, Prelice had a golden hour or so all to himself, and very
wisely made the most of it. It was with great regret that he took his
way to the station at Hythe and to the train which was to bear him
miles away from his goddess. But the memory of the last kiss which she
gave him cheered his somewhat despondent mood all the way to Charing
Cross. And on stepping on to the platform of the metropolitan station
Prelice shook off his dreams, and addressed himself to the task in
hand.
As the day was fine, and Prelice, as usual, felt the need of exercise
to tame his exuberant spirits--which had quite recovered during the
journey--he walked to New Bond Street, and somewhere about three
o'clock found himself reading a brass plate inscribed "Madame Marie
Eppingrave." And afterwards he entered a narrow and dark passage, to
mount a steep flight of stairs, and finally came to the second floor
of the building, where the fortune-teller received clients.
A dark-complexioned lad of fourteen, dressed in white robes, with a
blue scarf round his waist, received the new-comer, and informed him
that Madame Marie was engaged for ten minutes or so. Prelice therefore
sat down, and glanced over some papers lying on a round table. These
mostly dealt with occult matters up to date, and he speedily grew
tired of reading much which he could not understand. The room was
small and commonplace, and even ugly in its adornments. The table
aforesaid, a few cane chairs, and an old horse-hair sofa completed the
furnishings, and two dingy uncurtained windows overlooked Bond Street.
There was nothing of the mystical about this very ordinary apartment,
and Prelice concluded that Madame Marie certainly did not spend her
earnings on magical frippery in order to impress those who called
upon her. After a glance round he spoke to the lad, who was seated
cross-legged at the door, and asked him if he was a Hindoo.
"No," answered the boy in very good English, and with a flash of
snow-white teeth; "I come from the South Seas."
"Indeed," answered Prelice in his turn, and somewhat astonished. "Has
your mistress been in the South Seas?"
"Yes, sir. She brought me from Tahiti, but I want to go back again."
Prelice reflected. Tahiti was the home of Captain Jadby, and the
former haunt of Sir Oliver Lanwin. He wondered if Madame Marie had met
the baronet there. But the lad was not likely to know that, so he
asked him another question. "Does your mistress know Captain Felix
Jadby?"
The effect on the boy was somewhat strange. He leaped to his feet, and
muttered some words in his native tongue, which apparently were not
complimentary to the captain, judging from the savage expression of
his face. "Madame does know him," he said at length, "and he comes to
see her here very often. I don't like him. He kicked me. I would kill
him if I were in Tahiti, but here----" The boy shrugged his shoulders,
to show that the English law was much too particular.
"Madame loves the captain, and wants to marry him," went on the boy,
apparently so carried away by his hate that he said more than was
wise, considering his dependent position, "but he loves another,
and----" Here the sound of the inner door opening made the lad aware
of his folly in speaking secrets to a stranger. He cringed, and caught
Prelice's hand. "You will say nothing to her?" he implored.
"No, no," Prelice assured him, and slipped half-a-crown into his hand;
"but later you must tell me more. I also dislike Captain Jadby."
"I'll tell you what I can to harm him," said the boy viciously. "He
kicked me and struck me--me, the son of a chief. But don't tell her,"
he added, pointing with a trembling hand to the inner door; "oh, my
soul, don't tell her, for she can send the spirits to torment me."
The young man promised again, thinking that the lad in a way was
somewhat like Caliban in his fear of spirits, and looked upon Madame
Marie as a sort of female Prospero, who could have him pinched black
and blue. But he had little time to think about this new ally, who
might be of assistance in undermining Jadby's schemes; for a lady,
fashionably dressed, and holding a handkerchief to her face, emerged
from the inner room. The lad showed her out, and Prelice waited for
his reception. A silver bell sounded within, and the boy returned to
point meaningly at the door, laying his finger on his lips in token of
silence. Prelice nodded reassuringly, and stepped into the shrine.
If the approach to this holy of holies was commonplace, the shrine
itself certainly was not. Prelice beheld a room of no great size
furnished very oddly--that is to say, it was not furnished in the
ordinary acceptation of the word. The ceiling was painted a dull red,
and a plain carpet of the same hue was spread over the floor. Two
windows looking on to Bond Street were filled in with painted glass,
representing various mystical signs, and the four walls were hung with
lustreless black stuff, which made the place look like a chapel during
a funeral service. But the odd thing was that the red carpet was
strewn with perfectly white cushions, and there was neither table nor
chair. Tall pillars of black marble stood in the four corners, each
bearing a glass ball on its summit, and between the windows was placed
a bronze tripod, in which smoked a perfumed fire. What with the dim
religious light, the black walls, the red carpet, and the snowy
cushions of silk, Prelice felt somewhat dizzy. All this theatrical
parade was evidently designed to produce a confusing effect, and
unseat as much as possible the reason and judgment of Madame's dupes.
Annoyed that he should give way so easily, the young man pulled his
wits together, and looked at the priestess who had conceived this
artful _mise en scène_.
Madame Marie, clothed in a long white silk robe, made perfectly plain,
knelt--Japanese fashion--on a cushion in front of the tripod, and with
her back to the painted windows. She was a stout, heavy-looking woman,
of apparently no great height, with a colourless face, very large and
smooth, and with masses of snowy, silvery hair, which tumbled down her
back in waves of white. What her figure might be Prelice could not
judge because of the robe, but he noted that her hands were slender
and beautiful, and also ringless. Indeed, she did not wear a single
ornament of any description, and kneeling perfectly motionless, with
closed eyes, looked like an idol carved out of alabaster. It was
cleverly done, and Prelice, the sceptical, could quite understand how
the majority of people yielded to the carefully prepared spells of
this managing woman. But it was when Madame Marie opened her eyes that
Prelice became aware of the true secret of her power over weaker
minds.
These were large and blue and clear, looking from under white eyebrows
in a penetrating way, fathomless as the sea, and as mysterious.
Prelice met this mystical gaze calmly, but felt his skin prickling,
and his will power growing weak. Aware that the seeress was trying to
hypnotise him, as she doubtless hypnotised her other clients, the
young man concentrated his will to meet and baffle hers. For some time
they stared at one another, Prelice looking down from his height, and
Madame Marie gazing upward from her cushion. Then the woman closed her
eyes again with a somewhat annoyed expression.
"You are not a weak man," she said in a deep melodious voice, like the
sound of a mellow bell.
"No," answered Prelice calmly; "I am not!" And he sat down
cross-legged on a cushion directly in front of the sibyl.
"Then why do you come to me?" she asked, looking at him steadily;
"only weak persons wish to know the future. The man who is strong and
self-willed and sceptical, as you are, need learn nothing of the
future, which lies in his own hands."
"In the hands of God rather," corrected Prelice. "Do you know who I
am?"
"You are Lord Prelice."
"How do you know?"
"I might say by magic, but you would not believe that. I always suit
myself to the nature of those I meet, therefore I shall give a
commonplace explanation. I saw you in Court, when you gave evidence
during the trial of Miss Chent for murder."
Prelice nodded. "I might have guessed that. Do you know why I have
come?"
Madame Marie folded her hands calmly before her, and replied equally
calmly. "You have come to solve the secret of the murders."
"That is a very clever guess, and I rather think that you can solve
the secret, Madame."
"Why should you think so?" she asked with absolute calmness.
"You gave the Sacred Herb to Sir Oliver."
"I did. The Sacred Herb of Easter Island--but I need not explain to
you, since you heard what Dr. Horace said in Court. The herb induces
trances, and Sir Oliver wished to go into a trance by its aid. I
therefore gave him a few twigs."
"Why did Sir Oliver wish to go into a trance?"
"He desired to explore the Astral Plane, if you understand that----"
"I quite understand; I have studied Theosophy. Well?"
"There is nothing more to be said," rejoined Madame Marie, with a
little shrug, which hinted at French blood. "He went into a trance,
and while his spirit was absent from his body he was murdered."
"Who by?"
"I can't tell you. Even with my powers, and they are great, I am not
permitted to know who killed Sir Oliver Lanwin. It was his Karma, and
he had to bear it, since he reaped only as he sowed. The Karma of his
murderer has nothing to do with me, therefore my sight is veiled, and
I cannot read the truth; and if I could," added the woman with
emphasis, "you must be aware, if you have studied the occult, that I
would not be permitted to tell without permission from those who
rule."
"The Lords of Karma?" asked Prelice, wondering if she was talking in
earnest, or merely wriggling out of an awkward position.
Madame Marie bowed solemnly. "I see you understand somewhat; but may I
ask you to be more open with me regarding the purpose of your visit.
You can hardly have come to accuse me of these crimes?"
"No," said Prelice, studying her face carefully; "I think that you are
innocent. Let us leave the murders alone for the moment; I want you to
help me"--he paused to add effect to his next words--"with Captain
Felix Jadby."
The woman's hands moved restlessly, and she began to lose her calmness
when the name was pronounced. "I know nothing about Captain Jadby
beyond the fact that I met him at Lanwin Grange; but he is not guilty
of Sir Oliver's death, if that is what you mean."
"Oh dear me, that is not what I mean at all," rejoined Prelice in his
most airy manner, and resolving to be very plain; "but the fact is
that Captain Jadby is my rival."
Madame Marie rose as though moved by a spring, and he then saw that
she was little, but tremendously dignified. "Your rival!" she
repeated, and her marble-white face became crimson with angry blood.
At length he had managed to break through her calculated calm. "I
understood that Miss Chent was engaged to Mr. Shepworth?"
"Oh, the whole world knows that," replied Prelice, still airy in his
manner, "but that was merely an official engagement to prevent Jadby
from worrying Miss Chent. Sir Oliver was in favour of the engagement
with Jadby, for reasons----"
"I know those reasons--I know that Felix," she let slip the name,
forgetting that she had disclaimed intimacy--"that Felix is his son."
"His illegitimate son," said Prelice with emphasis.
"Yes, by the daughter of a chief to whom he was married in native
fashion, Lord Prelice. Of course, Captain Jadby," she had the name
stiffly by this time, remembering her slip, "came home to look after
his interests, and wished to marry another woman; forgetting," cried
Madame Marie, beginning to pace the room, "that he was engaged to
marry another woman--myself, Lord Prelice--myself."
Remembering what the native boy had said, Prelice expressed no
surprise, but rapidly resolved to work on her jealousy. "I
congratulate Captain Jadby more than I do you," he remarked gravely.
"Oh, I know that he is not a good man," she cried, now quite the
woman, and kicking several cushions out of the way; "but I loved him,
I have always loved him, and he owes much to me. He promised, when we
met in the South Seas, that he would make me his wife. Not that I am
young or beautiful, but because he found in me--so he said--a good
comrade. I gave him the money to come home and see his father, and to
secure his inheritance if possible. But he saw that girl, and loved
her. Oh, how I hate that girl who stole his heart."
"You need not," said Prelice very dryly. "Miss Chent dislikes Jadby
immensely, and pretended to be engaged to Shepworth so as to escape
his clutches, otherwise Sir Oliver might have worried her into
consenting to a marriage which she hated; but Jadby came down the
other evening to Lanwin Grange, and knows now that the engagement was
a false one. What he does not know," ended Prelice emphatically, "is
that Miss Chent is now engaged to me."
"To you!" Madame Marie stopped in sheer surprise, then went on pacing
the room, talking half to herself. "But why should I be astonished? I
saw her look at you in Court; I noted how you glanced in her
direction. I told Jadby that you loved her, and that she loved you."
"Oh, you couldn't be certain," cried Prelice blushing.
"I have occult powers which enable me to read hearts," said Madame
Marie coldly, "believe, or disbelieve, as you like."
"I shall believe if you will read my heart now."
"There is no need of my exercising occult powers for that," she
replied, waving her beautiful hands; "you wish to learn the truth
about the murders so that Miss Chent's name may be cleared and Felix
thwarted."
"Yes," said Prelice coolly; "you are right. And you can help me to
clear Miss Chent's name, to discover the truth, as I can help you to
marry Jadby."
"How can you do that?"
"By marrying Miss Chent myself."
Madame Marie nodded, and thought, pressing her hands to her head. "I
can help you by the power of the herb," she said rapidly. "Listen. I
shall go into a trance, induced by the herb. Do whatever I say, but do
not attempt to waken me. Simply listen to what I say, and then leave
the room. I shall send my spirit to seek out the truth; but first,"
she said, slipping down on to the cushion again, "tell me how much you
know."
Prelice saw no objection in being thus clear. Even if Madame Marie
wished to work against him--and seeing that her love for Jadby was at
stake, he did not think that she would--all that he told her would do
little to harm his own schemes. He therefore made no demur, but
detailed everything from the time Lady Sophia had first drawn him into
the case by sending him to the New Bailey. Madame Marie listened
intently, nodding at intervals.
"It is useless for Felix to strive," she said when he ended, and with
an air of triumph; "the fate of yourself is mingled with that of the
girl. You love so speedily now, because you loved before, in previous
incarnations. Her Karma is your Karma. Felix can never marry her, nor
can Mr. Shepworth marry her, even if he did not love Mrs. Rover."
"Pardon me," cried Prelice quickly; "I made no mention of Mrs.
Rover beyond the fact that she wore the green domino and the
scarlet-embroidered dress. And she, as I explained, is innocent. You
have no right to talk of Mr. Shepworth's love for a married woman."
"Lord Prelice," said Madame Marie quietly, and moved towards the wall,
"my knowledge of these affairs is greater than you imagine. Mrs. Rover
has consulted me, and Felix learned--how it matters not--that she
loved Mr. Shepworth. However, we can talk of these things another
time. I will go into a trance, and search in Alexander Mansions for
what I can find, only, as I said, after I have spoken and have become
silent, leave this room at once. In due time I shall come out of the
trance, when the power of the herb is exhausted."
Prelice nodded in silence, and Madame Marie, drawing aside a portion
of the black hangings, revealed a small recess. From this she took
some purple leaves, and moving towards the tripod, threw them on the
perfumed fire. "Lie down on your face," she commended, "else the fumes
will send you into a trance. Quick! The smoke rises."
It certainly did, in a thick white cloud. Madame Marie stood over it,
letting the odour flow into her nostrils. Not wishing to experience
the power of the herb, as he had witnessed its results before, Prelice
lay full length on the red carpet. The smoke was circling so high up
that he could not breathe it, although a sickly whiff of tuberose
perfume came to his nostrils. Perhaps the draught sweeping from under
the door neutralised the powerful scent at this lower level; but be
this as it may, Prelice lay perfectly flat, and, as in a dream, heard
Madame Marie speak after the manner of the tranced in an unemotional
voice, and very distinctly.
"I leave this room," she said in her mellow tones. "I rise high. I
pass across London; the streets are under me. I see the Park, and now
I poise above Alexander Mansions. I sink; I pass through the roof; I
am in Mrs. Rover's flat."
"Search for the dress," commanded Prelice softly.
There was a pause, and then the calm voice sounded again. "I search in
Mrs. Rover's room. The dress she wore is there in a wardrobe together
with a green domino."
"Search for another dress," said Prelice, risking the chance; "another
dress of the same style."
Again there came a pause. "I am searching!" said the voice, and a
silence ensued. For quite two minutes it endured; then Madame spoke
again, still with the same awful calmness. "A man's dressing-room--in
the flat across the landing. I see a cupboard, in which many clothes
are hanging up. Men's clothes they are. Behind them is a green domino
with a scarlet-embroidered dress sewn to it."
"Who wore it?" asked Prelice, his heart beating.
"I cannot tell. It is not permitted by the Powers."
Then came a long silence.