A CURIOUS DISCOVERY
It was now quite two months since the death of Colonel Carr, and all
this time Robin had been in London. He had written to Herrick telling
him he felt so much better that he would not go abroad. "I have a new
idea for a novel," wrote Joyce, "and now that I have the leisure, I
intend to throw myself heart and soul into it. I still keep on my
flat." Herrick therefore determined that his first visit should be to
the little man.
Stephen and the doctor took up their abode in the Guelph Hotel in
Jermyn Street. It was the first time the young man had been in London,
and the novelty and excitement of town life, did much to dispel the
grief he felt for the death of his step-mother. It was not that he
regretted her the less, but he was sensible enough to see that it was
foolish to weep over an irremediable misfortune. He therefore took
Herrick's advice and threw himself with ardour into fitting himself
out with a complete ward-robe for the first time in his life. The
doctor took him to the best West-End shops, instructed him in the
topography of the fashionable locality, and when Stephen was fairly
set going, found time to attend to his own business.
He first went to his house in West Kensington, and saw that it was all
right. Then he called upon the young practitioner who had nursed his
practice while he was away, and made him an offer to sell it. The
young doctor who had only lately started in the district was overjoyed
at the chance as Jim had got together a fair number of patients.
Herrick made the terms of purchase as light as possible, and spread
the payment over a considerable time. Dr. Grant asked two days for
consideration, as being poor it was necessary he should see his way
how to pay the money. At once Jim consented to this, and after
finishing this necessary business, he went off to Robin's flat. The
arrangement and discussion with Grant had taken up the best part of
the afternoon, and it was close upon seven when Herrick found time to
see his friend. At first he hesitated, and half made up his mind to
put it off until the next day. But as he was in the neighbourhood, he
finally decided to go, and sent a wire to Marsh that he would not be
home until ten o'clock. He intended to ask Joyce for a meal, making
sure that he would be welcome. Yet strange to say, Robin was not so
hearty as Herrick expected. Perhaps he had not got over his anger at
the desertion of the doctor; but after his last letter Jim could not
think that such was the case. In spite of their severance, Herrick
still wished to keep an eye on Robin knowing that he was foolish in
many ways. Therefore when Joyce showed a disposition not to invite him
to stay, Herrick at once determined that he would remain. There was a
reason at the back of this confusion, and Herrick in the interests of
a weak man, resolved to find out what it might be. Seeing that he was
bent on remaining, Robin made the best of what he evidently considered
a bad job, and became more of his old self.
"You are not looking so well, as your letter led me to hope Robin,"
said Herrick, when the two were smoking in the study.
"I am in the best of health," said Robin quickly. "But of course I
have been working hard at my book, and that takes it out of a chap."
"Read me some of the chapters," said Herrick, who once had been a kind
of literary adviser to the author.
Robin shook his head uneasily. "Not until the book is done," he
said. "I want you to get an impression as a whole. This will be my
master-piece. Besides," he added glancing at the clock, "we might be
interrupted. At half past seven a friend of mine is coming to dinner."
"I hope my unexpected coming will not upset your arrangements Joyce?"
"Of course not--how can you think so?" said Robin with an air of
constraint that did not escape Herrick. "You are always welcome. Will
you stop the night? I can put you up."
"No! I must get back to Marsh. I am his companion and doctor for the
time being. A very good billet I assure you Robin."
"What about your practice?" asked Joyce.
"I am now selling it to Grant. It is such a small practice that it is
not worth my while to stick to it as against an assured income of a
thousand a year."
"Is that what Marsh gives you?"
"Yes! I do not mind telling you Robin as you are such an old friend.
But do not mention this to anyone else. I stay with Marsh for three
years. In this way I shall be able to save money and buy a practice in
a better part of the town. It is a wonderful bit of luck."
"It is indeed, and I congratulate you," replied Robin cheerfully and
shaking his friend by the hand. "Marsh must be well off to be able to
afford your companionship at that price."
"Yes! He has been left about eight thousand a year more or less by
Colonel Carr, his late uncle. But that is his business Robin. We will
not talk about it."
"Have they yet found out who killed Colonel Carr?"
"Not yet. Of course it is supposed that Frisco killed him; but the man
has disappeared. When he is caught we shall know the truth. You read
the case Robin. What do you think?"
"It seems as though that man were guilty," replied Joyce slowly, "but
I am not prepared to offer an opinion. The fact is I am so busy with
my book that I have put all these horrors out of my head. By the way,
what about your Southberry Helen?"
"Miss Endicotte? Oh, I have seen a good deal of her."
"And you are still in love?"
"Not very passionately perhaps. But I think a respectable affection is
better to marry upon than a wild romantic adoration that will not
resist the wear and tear of life. I hope some day if Miss Endicotte
will allow me, to marry her--that is when I have a good practice. But
if another man more worthy of her comes along, why--"
"Ardent lover!" laughed Joyce. "If you really felt any passion you
would not contemplate with equanimity the idea of an intruder. I
believe you like that little journalistic girl better."
A kind of dull anger stirred in the doctor's breast at hearing Bess so
flippantly alluded to. But he saw that Joyce did not mean any harm, so
turned off the remark with a laugh. "She is a charming young lady
Robin. But she is better as a comrade than she would be as a wife."
"A comrade is what you want," said Joyce shrewdly. "Your luke-warm
affection will not win you the love of a woman."
"Perhaps not. However we shall see," Herrick was annoyed, for he felt
there was some truth in this remark. He was glad when a ring came to
the door and interrupted a conversation which was rapidly getting
unpleasant to him. "There's your friend. Who is he?"
"A Mexican called Don Manuel Santiago."
"Humph! It it not often one foregathers with that nationality in
London. Where did you meet him?"
"At the Apollo Club, Johnstone introduced me to him. Here he is. I
think you will like him."
Herrick was not so sure. He had met with Mexicans on their native
heath and did not like the breed. However as the man was the guest of
Joyce, he felt compelled to behave at least politely. All the same
knowing Robin's weakness in picking up doubtful acquaintances, he
determined to be observant of the Mexican.
"Dr. Herrick, Don Manuel Santiago. And this Señor, is my very best
friend."
The little dark man clicked his heels together, foreign fashion, and
bowed politely. Herrick looked at him from head to foot in one swift
glance, and made up his mind that the man was a rogue, an adventurer,
if nothing worse. He was not tall, and he was very lean. His face was
swarthy; he had a hook nose, a black moustache, and a pair of restless
shifty dark eyes. Accurately dressed in an evening suit, he wore too
much jewellery. Yet for all this he did not look vulgar. There was a
somewhat dangerous air about him. Herrick watching his face intently
made up his mind that Don Manuel was a half caste Indian.
"I am pleased to meet you Señor," said Don Manuel in good English but
with a foreign accent. "Dr. Herrick? Ah! I know the name."
"Indeed!" said Dr. Jim, looking surprised. Robin also shared his
astonishment, and expressed it.
"Why, Santiago you did not tell me you knew Herrick!" said he, as they
took their seats at table.
"Did I not?" replied the Don carelessly. "Ah! that was no doubt
because his name was never mentioned between us. But if I am not
mistaken," said he addressing himself directly to Jim, "you were
concerned in that strange case of my friend Colonel Carr."
Herrick almost bounded from his seat. That here of all places and in
so unexpected a way, he should meet with a stranger who knew Carr, was
like fiction. Had the incident occurred in a novel, he would have put
it down as a freak of imagination on the author's part. Yet the thing
had happened in real life and to himself. "Was Carr a friend of
yours?" he asked.
"Twelve years and more ago," replied Santiago quietly, "we knew one
another intimately in Mexico."
"Mexico!" muttered Herrick, recalling what Bess had said about
Frisco's tales of North and South America, "not in Peru?"
"We went to Peru together--on an expedition."
"What sort of an expedition?" asked Joyce eagerly.
"To make our fortunes. That is the sort of expedition we all are bound
to undertake."
Herrick thought of Colonel Carr's money. Was he on the point of
learning sufficient of the man's wild life in the Americas, to reveal
what his secret was? "Did you succeed?" he asked.
"I did not--the Colonel did. Afterwards he returned to England, and I
lost sight of him. When I came over six months ago, I heard of him,
and intended to pay him a visit. But I put it off and off and
off--until--" he made a rapid gesture, "poor Carr! His was a sad end."
"An unexpected one," said Herrick fixing his eyes on the man. "Did you
know his servant, Frisco?"
"No!" replied Manuel calmly. "Frisco was after my time, or before it;
I forget which."
Somehow Herrick felt instinctively that this was a lie. According to
Bess the ex-sailor had been with Carr throughout his wandering life.
It was incredible that if such was the case (and Jim preferred to
believe Frisco rather than Santiago)--that Frisco should not have gone
on to Peru. He would be needed on an expedition such as Manuel spoke
of.
"Were you treasure-hunting" asked Jim.
Don Manuel nodded "Yes! The Peruvians buried a lot of gold and jewels,
at the time of the Conquest. Carr got wind of a hiding place from some
one--an Indian I believe, and induced me to go with him to Peru. I was
doing nothing at the time, so I went."
"Carr found the treasure?"
"I believe so. Colonel Carr was rich was he not?"
"Very rich," chimed in Joyce. "Do you remember Herrick, how astonished
we were at the magnificence of that house?"
"I remember," said Herrick curtly. The interruption did not please
him, as he wanted particularly to hear what Santiago had to say. "But
Señor Manuel, if you started on this search together, how was it that
you do not know for certain if Colonel Carr was successful?"
Don Manuel's face grew black and his eyes flashed. "If you would know
the reason Señor, Colonel Carr was a devil!"
"Ha!" said Herrick with a short laugh. "That is no news."
"We shared the expenses of the expedition, we were to share the
profits; but Carr treated me shamefully. The treasure was said to be
concealed beyond Cuzco--where it does not matter. I know, but I do not
intend to tell. I fell ill at the first stage of the journey after we
left Cuzco and were amongst the mountains. What did Carr do? He left
me to the care of the Indians, and pushed on himself. That was the
last I saw of the devil. For two years I was held captive amongst the
Indians and barely escaped with my life. I hunted for Carr when I got
to Callao; but he had disappeared. I traced him to Mexico. He vanished
from Vera Cruz. I was worn out and ill. I went back to my own family,
and all these years I thought nothing about the Colonel. But chance
brought me to England, and chance led me to hear where Colonel Carr
was settled. As I said I would have seen him to reproach him for his
treachery, but----" Don Manuel shrugged--"he is dead. That is the
end."
"A strange story, and not creditable to Carr," said Herrick wondering
if all this was a lie. "Who was it told you where Colonel Carr lived?"
"I did not," said Joyce on whose face Jim's eyes rested for a moment.
"I knew nothing of this until this moment."
"Where I heard the name Señor, can be of little interest to you," said
the Don with a sneer. "It was in London. I tell you no more."
"I do not want you to tell me anything," retorted Herrick the blood
rushing to his face. "So far, I am interested in your story, but if
you choose to be silent, you are at liberty to do so."
"Pardon," said Manuel humbly, "I did not intend to provoke your
anger," but as he spoke there was a nasty glitter in his eyes, "I
cannot tell you who gave me the information without breaking
confidence with a friend."
Herrick grunted, but he said nothing. Santiago was evidently a
dangerous little devil. For all he knew the Mexican might have had
something to do with the murder. Of all strange circumstances that
Herrick had stumbled upon this surely was the strangest! To find the
man who knew of the past of Colonel Carr, in the company of Robin
Joyce.
As the meal was now at an end, the three adjourned to the study where
they began to smoke. Herrick had his pipe, Joyce a cigarette, and
Manuel produced one of those long lean Mexican cigars, that only a
hardened smoker can enjoy. As he bent forward over the spirit lamp,
Jim saw by the touch of grey on his temples and the wrinkles down
the side of his neck that the man was much older than he had
thought. At the first glance Santiago looked--if you wanted to be
disagreeable--say thirty-five. Herrick was now sure he was over fifty.
But the man was in wonderfully good condition. Having noticed him at
the table Jim saw that he was both abstemious and temperate.
For some reason not apparent, Manuel desired to ingratiate himself
with Herrick, and tried by picturesque talk to banish the disagreeable
impression he had made by his last remark. He told the most wonderful
stories of his adventures by land and sea. According to his own
account he had lived a life of hair-breadth escapes. South America he
knew from Quito to the Horn, and had explored the unknown portions at
the risk of his life. He had been captive to Indians, he had been
tortured--Herrick noted that his left ear was missing--and he had been
almost frozen while ascending Chimborazo. Then he had hunted for
treasure, fought for it with knives when it was found, and by his own
confession had more than one death to his account. All this he told in
vivid picturesque language and with a wonderful command of the English
tongue. Herrick complimented him on his capabilities as a linguist.
"Oh, I know seven or eight languages," said Manuel boastfully "not to
speak of Indian dialects. I have been all over Europe. Yes, Señor, when
I made money--and I have made a great deal--I came always to Europe to
spend it. That I did royally. Oh, they know me in every capital. Of all,
give me Vienna. Oh, Señor, I am known on the Prater."
"And to the police no doubt," thought Herrick; but for his own private
reasons did not give vent to this opinion. He said aloud, "I suppose
Don Manuel, you were not surprised to hear of Colonel Carr's death."
Santiago flashed a quick glance at the imperturbable countenance of
the doctor. "Oh, but I was," said he "to escape all the dangers of the
tropics, and then to die in a quiet little English village. Strange!
To be sure though," added Manuel with another glance, "he brought his
murderer with him. And Frisco was capable of anything!"
"Oh!" put in Herrick sharply, "I thought you did not know Frisco!"
"Nor did I Señor," said Santiago covering his mistake with wonderful
swiftness "but I heard of him. He was a devil worse than Carr, if that
can be possible. They were attached to one another but quarrelled--Oh,
yes, Señor I assure you they quarrelled. Once over a game of cards, Carr
slashed Frisco across the face."
"Oh, that was it, was it?" murmured Herrick as he recalled the
criss-cross slash on Frisco's face which had been described to him. "A
queer couple. What was Frisco's real name?"
"I do not know," snapped Manuel with a surprising curtness considering
his late voluble talk. Shortly he took his leave, with a politely
expressed hope that he would meet Herrick again. When the Mexican was
gone, Joyce turned eagerly to his friend and asked what he thought of
him. "If you want to know my real opinion, he is a thorough little
blackguard. Cut him Robin, or you will get into trouble."
"I don't see why I should. He is a decent fellow. His only vice is
gambling. He would sell his shirt to gamble."
"Humph! Looks a card-sharper. Where does he gamble principally?"
"In a club down in Pimlico,--the Parrot Club. Very few people know
about it. But the play is very high?"
"Oh. So you met Santiago there," said Herrick lazily.
But Joyce saw the trap and avoided it. "No! I told you I met him at
the Apollo Club--that is respectable enough I hope? And Archy
Johnstone introduced him to me. He is decent, isn't he?"
"Oh, I have nothing to say," replied Herrick with a yawn, putting on
his coat, "only, if that man gets you into trouble don't blame me. He
will probably induce you to gamble and all your new income of five
hundred a year will go once and for all."
A peculiar expression swept across Joyce's face and he opened and shut
his hands nervously. However he held his tongue, and having said
good-night Herrick went away, sorry to see that his friend was in such
bad company. He regarded Don Manuel as a rook and Joyce as a pigeon.
But he knew the little man well enough to know that his interference
was vain. Joyce could be as obstinate as a mule at times.
When he got back to the Guelph Hotel it was close on eleven. All the
same Stephen was sitting up for him over a meditative pipe. The sight
of his honest handsome face was quite a relief to Herrick after the
crafty looks of Manuel. And truth to tell, Joyce had fallen also in
Herrick's estimation; for as a man he could not compare with Marsh.
Not for the first time Dr. Jim began to think there was something sly
and evil about Robin. Hitherto, he had been too much taken up with the
man's nerves to think much of his moral character. But after this long
absence he saw plainly that Joyce was deteriorating rapidly. The
company he had been in this very night proved it, if there were any
truth in the saying that birds of a feather flock together.
"Hullo Stephen!" said Herrick taking off his coat, "why did you not go
to bed man? Sitting up all alone, like a maid on the Eve of St.
Agnes."
"I did not want to go to bed until you came home," said Stephen, "you
know I always like a chat. Have some whisky?"
"Thanks. Shove over the tobacco-jar. Well Marsh, I have arranged about
the sale of my practice. It's all right."
"I am delighted. You are sure you do not mind giving it up?"
"Not for a thousand a year," replied Herrick with a laugh. "I never
made so much in all my medical life. Not to mention the delights of
your society. What have you been doing?"
"Shopping mostly. Then I called in on Frith and Frith to talk about
business. I heard of your friend Joyce there."
"The deuce you did!" said Jim wheeling round. "I have just been dining
with him, and I do not think he is improved. Frith and Frith are his
lawyers I know. How did his name crop up?"
"In the course of my talk about the Colonel's business."
Herrick stared. "What do you mean?" he asked roughly.
"Well, you will be rather astonished," continued Marsh lighting his
pipe, "but the fact is Colonel Carr allowed Mrs. Joyce, the mother of
your friend an income of five hundred a year."
"No!" said Herrick, and thought that this was just the sum Robin said
he had been left by his mother's will.
"Yes! Why, I do not know. Nor could Frith tell me. The Colonel never
called to see Mrs. Joyce; he never wrote her a letter. But he directed
Frith to pay her an annuity of five hundred pounds."
"An annuity? Then it ceased at her death?"
"Of course. The son gets nothing. The reason Frith mentioned it, was
that he wished to know if I had found anything amongst my uncle's
papers likely to show why the annuity had been paid, and whether it
ought to be continued to the son."
"Queer!" said Herrick. He remembered that Robin had told him that he
had interviewed the lawyers and had been informed of his income. Why
had Robin told a lie? "I suppose," said the doctor after a pause,
"that Frith did not take it upon himself to promise Joyce the
continuance of this annuity?"
"Certainly not," replied Stephen, "he had no right. Of course I told
him that I knew nothing about the matter and would not pay anything to
Joyce. Still--as he is your friend?--"
"Never mind that. I don't want you to pay him anything. Did Joyce call
to see Frith do you know?"
"A week after his mother's death. He has not been since. They told him
then that he need not expect any more money."
"A week after his mother's death," related the doctor "and it was two
months later we were on that walking tour! Did not Joyce call to see
Frith somewhere about the twenty-fourth of July?"
"No! It was towards the end of April he called. He has not been near
them since. You look rather pale, Herrick."
"It's nothing," replied the doctor. "I have had rather a turn, that's
all."