Miss Burton arrived home on a Monday by a mid-day train; her attentive
brother met her at the station. She was one of those girls who look
smart and neat under the most trying circumstances. Although it was a
long journey, she bore no signs or stains of travel.
"When does Jack arrive, not too soon, I hope?" commented George, as he
assisted her into a cab, and sat down beside her.
"He wanted to come down to-night, but I vetoed that," responded the
girl. "I told him people might put two and two together. He will get
here mid-day to-morrow. I shall meet him casually in the High Street.
He is going to bring Murchison along with him. And I shall give them an
impromptu invitation to dinner."
"I don't know that I am very keen on having Murchison to dinner,"
remarked Mr Burton in rather a growling tone.
Miss Burton shrugged her shoulders. "And, perhaps, of the two, I am
less keen than you are. But we have got to play it pretty quiet down
here, till the whole lot of us clear out. Better to let Murchison come.
He is pretty suspicious, as it is, but if we shut him out, he'll be
more suspicious still."
Mr Burton chuckled in a grim fashion.
"Well, our inquisitive friend, the whole lot of them as a matter of
fact, can't do you much harm now. You've got him tight enough. And
I'll say this for him, he's a bit soft and all that sort of thing, but
he'll always play the game."
The girl did not reply for a moment, then she spoke in a voice that was
low and soft:
"Yes, he's a dear little chap, he'll always play the game."
"He can afford to," was the rather ungracious comment. Clearly Mr
Burton was not in one of his best moods to-day.
Mr Pomfret returned from his short leave on the following day, and at
once sought his friend.
"Glad to be back, old man, got fed-up with London," he cried cheerfully.
His excuse for his visit was that he had to go up to see his aunt's
solicitors, on some pressing affairs which the old lady had entrusted to
him, after her temporary recovery from her dangerous illness.
Now Murchison was pretty quick. He already had a shrewd suspicion that
Jack had been making a great many surreptitious visits to Rosemount,
that Hugh had been asked there now and again as a blind. And when he
happened to be present, he had noticed that Jack and Norah had taken
very little notice of each other. Jack had cultivated the brother, and
left his friend to entertain the attractive young woman. In itself,
this rather obvious attitude was suspicious. It confirmed his
impression that there was a private understanding between the young
people, and that they were throwing dust in his eyes.
He had already put two and two together, with regard to the concurrent
absences. Mr Burton, meeting him in the High Street two days after
Norah's departure, had told him his sister was paying a visit to a
married relative who lived at Brighton. He would have not believed Mr
Burton on his oath.
And Jack had taken his few days' leave, with the ostensible object of
attending to his aunt's affairs.
Hugh was pretty certain that the silly young ass, as he affectionately
designated Jack in his own mind, had arranged to meet Miss Burton for a
day or two in London, in order to enjoy her society, free from
interruption or espionage. Of course, he was far from guessing the
truth. He would not have thought Pomfret capable of any such daring
action.
Jack had just expressed himself fed-up with London, and yet his
demeanour was jubilant and hilarious. Of course, Hugh could not dream
his attitude was that of the exultant bridegroom, almost intoxicated
with the knowledge of having gained his heart's desire. There had been
a couple of lunches, perhaps a couple of dinners with a theatre thrown
in. The buoyant Jack was living on these blissful memories.
Later in the day, the two men walked down the High Street, of course in
accordance with a pre-arranged plan decided upon by the artful lovers.
The first person they met was Miss Burton, sauntering along slowly; Miss
Burton, now Mrs Pomfret, as fast as the ecclesiastical law of England
could make her.
She welcomed them with her ready and charming smile. "What strangers we
are," she cried gaily. "And how nice to meet my only two friends in
Blankfield."
Pomfret did a little finessing on his own. "I have been away for a few
days, too," he explained glibly. "Had to go up to London to look after
some business of my poor old aunt's; only got back by the mid-day
train."
"Did you enjoy your visit?" inquired Hugh of Norah, with that stiffness
which he could never quite dissociate from his manner when addressing
either brother or sister.
"Yes and No," was the answer. "On the whole, I had quite a good time,
but I am not sorry to get back to Rosemount, and my little household
gods. Knowing you both has made such a difference to my life here."
She was laying it on a little bit thick, Hugh thought, and he fancied
she looked more at Pomfret than himself, as she said it. But he made a
suitable and courteous reply.
She was just about to turn away, when a sudden thought seemed to strike
her.
"As Mr Pomfret and I have been such wanderers, would it not be nice to
celebrate our return? Will you both come to dinner to-night, and we can
relate our experiences?"
Pomfret jumped at the invitation, and Hugh had to follow suit. As a
matter of fact, he was rather eager to go. They were both playing their
parts very well, but he was quite convinced they _were_ playing a part.
He was more certain about Jack than about her. Jack had been a bit too
glib, had over-acted, as it were. They had met in London, if only for a
few hours; he would have bet a thousand pounds on that.
Jack declared that he would walk back to Rosemount with Miss Burton. He
did not now care a farthing what members of Blankfield Society he met.
Very shortly, the army would know him no more, and he would take up a
new life with this fearless girl whom he had married on the sly.
Hugh strolled on, and looked in at the various shops. The High Street
happened to be rather empty on this particular afternoon, the _elite_ of
Blankfield Society had not yet turned out for its usual promenade.
Turning away from a jeweller's shop window, where he was inspecting some
sleeve-links, he was confronted by a tall, sturdily built man of about
fifty years of age, who raised his hat.
"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Murchison?" he
inquired politely.
Hugh directed a swift glance at him. He was not exactly a common
person, on the other hand he was certainly not a gentleman. There was
something military in his bearing; he might have been a retired
Sergeant-Major.
"That is my name," answered Hugh a little curtly. "And who are you,
please?"
The tall man took a card from his waistcoat pocket and presented it.
"Those are my credentials, sir."
Hugh ran his eye over it swiftly. He saw the name, Davidson, a common
one enough, and, in the corner, Scotland Yard. Why the deuce should
this agent of the police want to accost him? And how did he know his
name was Murchison?
"I think you are acquainted with a family of the name of Burton, brother
and sister they call themselves, who live at a house a little way out
called Rosemount?"
"Of course I know them, that is to say, in a casual sort of way."
Needless to say that Murchison had never been more surprised in his
life. "Why are you asking these questions?" Mr Davidson darted a keen
glance up and down the comparatively empty High Street. "This is rather
an exposed place in which to talk, but I have something to tell you
which I am sure you will be interested to listen to. I am staying at
the `Anchor,' in a side street from this. If you will do me the honour
to follow me, I can take you into a private room there, where we shall
not be observed nor overheard."
Like a man in a dream, Hugh found himself following Mr Davidson to the
"Anchor," one of the second-class hotels in the town. He was quite sure
that this tall, military looking person was going to clear up the
mystery of the couple whom Blankfield, in its wisdom, had refused to
visit, and whose acquaintance he owed to a random meeting at a tea-shop.
There were only one or two idlers in the entrance-hall of the hotel,
which was of what is known as the "Commercial" kind. Murchison was glad
to find that he did not seem to attract their observation, as he rapidly
crossed over to where his new acquaintance was standing in a rather dark
corner.
Davidson piloted him into a little sitting-room which opened out of a
long narrow passage. He rang the bell, and ordered refreshments with
the manner of a man who was acquainted with the usages of polite
society.
It would be quite safe to say that Hugh, the heir to a great fortune,
brought up in the lap of luxury, an aristocrat by adoption, if not
exactly by birth, had never found himself up till now in such an
environment. He could not truthfully declare that it was an experience
he wished to repeat.
Still, he could blame nobody but himself, his foolish action in taking
up with a couple of persons whom Blankfield, in its superior worldly
wisdom, had decided to ignore. As he was in for it, and nothing could
undo the past, it was better to go through with it. Let him accommodate
himself to the situation, drink his whisky-and-soda in this dingy little
parlour of a second-rate hotel, and treat the detective with genial
courtesy.
After the first mouthful of his drink, Davidson began to explain.
"Of course, sir, I quite understand this is not the sort of thing or the
sort of place to which you are accustomed," he said, waving a
deprecatory hand round the shabby little parlour. "But in this
particular case, I and my friend--that friend I may say at the moment is
elsewhere taking his observations--wanted to lie low. It didn't enter
into our scheme to put up at a swagger hotel, and run the risk of
gossip. It might have reached the ears of those we are after, and
scared them off." Hugh listened attentively. There was something very
serious in the wind now, and the dwellers at Rosemount were as yet
unaware of what was impending.
His surprise expressed itself in the direct question which he shot at
the detective: "I take it you are here to arrest them, then?"
"One of them, the man," corrected Mr Davidson, quietly; "we know a good
deal about the girl, but we have no evidence that implicates her beyond
the fact of her association with him, and from our point of view that
means nothing in a Court of Law."
"What is his offence?" asked the startled Hugh.
"Forgery," was the laconic answer. "He belongs to a pretty well-known
gang, and we have had our suspicions of him for a long time now, but he
was devilish clever and cunning. Several of his pals were caught, but
it was always difficult to rope him in. We shouldn't have got him now
but for the fact of one of his pals peaching. And even now, although
the evidence is strong enough for us, I doubt if it is strong enough to
get him more than a comparatively light sentence. If he can lay hold of
a clever counsel, and there will be some money at the back of him, if
not a great deal, he won't come off so badly."
So Mr Burton was a criminal, and had been living in Blankfield on the
proceeds of his nefarious calling. The rich uncle in Australia who had
left him a comfortable fortune was a myth.
"I suppose he has been on the `crook' all his life?" queried Hugh.
"Ever since he has come under our observation," was the reply of the
detective. "Before he joined the present gang, a few of whom we have
collared from time to time, card-sharping was his lay. Once he rented
an expensive flat in Paris, and I believe made a tidy bit out of it.
That is where the young lady first appeared upon the scene."
"But how long ago is that? She doesn't look more than twenty."
"I know," said Mr Davidson. "She looks wonderfully young, that is one
of her assets. As a matter of fact I should say she was twenty-four at
the least. The Parisian episode occurred about five years ago, making
her nineteen at the time. He was there about twelve months, at the end
of which time he got an introduction to the forging gang, and chucked
the cards in favour of a more remunerative game."
"She acted, I suppose, as a decoy and confederate?"
"So I am given to understand. She very seldom played herself, but used
to signal the opponents' cards to him."
"What a precious pair," groaned Hugh. He had long been doubtful of
them, but he had never anticipated this.
"Now, Captain Murchison, there is a little question I want to ask you,"
said the detective briskly, after a brief pause. "My pal and I only
arrived here yesterday, but we have not been idle, we have picked up a
good deal. We have discovered that nobody in Blankfield visits them,
except yourself and another officer, a Mr Pomfret. That is true, is it
not?"
"Quite true," assented Murchison.
"You frequently go to their house together. But perhaps I may be
telling you something you don't know when I say that Mr Pomfret more
frequently has gone alone."
"I have had my suspicions some time," was Hugh's answer.
"Now tell me, please; I suppose in the evenings you played cards, or
roulette, or some game of chance. I thought so. Did you lose much?
Had you any suspicions they were rooking you?"
"On my first visit, a suspicion that they might do so crossed my mind.
But nothing of the sort was attempted. I should say that, up to the
present, my friend and I stand a bit to the good. Evidently, that was
not their object."
"Clearly," assented the shrewd detective, "they had a deeper game than
that on. They wanted to catch this young friend of yours for a husband,
and failing that, to entrap him, so that they could blackmail him on the
threat of a breach of promise case."
"It looks as if that was their object."
"Now, Captain Murchison, may I ask you if your friend is a man likely to
fall into the trap? I saw him in the High Street this afternoon with
you: and if I may say so without offence, he doesn't give me the
impression of a very strong or self-reliant person."
Hugh shook his head. "I fear he is very weak, very impulsive, very
emotional, a ready prey for a designing woman."
"Have you any idea how far the thing has gone?"
To this question Hugh could only reply in the negative. His one hope
was that the foolish boy had seen her so often that there was no
necessity to write incriminating letters.
"Well, Captain Murchison, my object in asking you to grant me an
interview was two-fold. In the first place, I wanted to know if there
had been any card-sharping. Then, as I am aware you go to the house, I
wished to tell you that I and my friend are going to take him to-night.
It might happen that you would be going there, and of course, you will
not want to be on the stage when we play our little comedy."
"We have promised to go to dinner to-night. She asked us both when we
met her this afternoon."
"And of course now, you will not go. I will take him before
dinner-time, so you need not send round any excuses."
Poor Hugh felt very miserable. What he especially shirked was having to
tell this sordid narrative to Pomfret. He expressed to the detective
his shrinking from the unwelcome task.
"I quite understand, sir, but it's got to be done," replied the
detective, firmly. For a few seconds after he had spoken, he seemed to
be thinking deeply. Then he came out with a startling proposition.
"Look here, Captain Murchison, something has just occurred to me. I am
not sure whether you will think it a good plan. Just now I thought it
would be better for you not to be there. But if this young gentleman is
so gone on the girl, it might make a deeper impression on him, bring
home to him more strongly the sense of her unworthiness, if he were
actually present at the scene. And it would spare you any painful
explanations, beforehand. Afterwards you can tell him or not, as you
please, about our interview here."
Hugh made a gesture of disgust. "You propose that we should carry out
our original intention of dining there and of sitting at the table of a
criminal? I don't think I could bring myself to it."
If Mr Davidson did not quite agree with the young man's scruples, he
was open-minded enough to see the matter from Hugh's point of view.
"I quite understand, sir. But I think I can manage it all right. You
say they dine at eight. Get there with your friend a quarter of an hour
before. I will be there with my friend at five minutes to, before the
dinner is served. You then won't have to sit at his table, you see."
Hugh was still hesitating. Mr Davidson proceeded to clinch his
argument.
"You see, sir, it will be so much better for Mr Pomfret to see with his
own eyes and hear with his own ears. When he has seen us clap the
darbies on Burton, and listened to what I can tell him about the girl--
you can just give me a lead there, if you don't mind--I think he will be
cured of his calf-love on the spot. As far as he is concerned, we want
to make a swift and sudden cure, to kill his affection at once."
Yes, on the whole, after a little further reflection Murchison was
disposed to fall in with this new suggestion. Pomfret, however deep his
infatuation, could not resist the evidence of his own senses. He would
be much more strongly impressed than by a mere bald narration of the
facts as conveyed to his friend by the detective.
So it was settled. Hugh would bring Pomfret to Rosemount at twenty
minutes or a quarter to eight. At five minutes to, Davidson and his
colleague would present themselves to execute their painful errand.
"Just a word before I go," said the young man as he turned towards the
door. "Is the man's name really Burton, or only an alias?"
"That is his real name. Of course he has had aliases. His family, I
understand, are respectable people of the lower middle-class. He was
the black sheep, born with crooked and criminal instincts."
"And the girl, is she really his sister?"
"On that point, I have no positive information," replied Davidson. "She
has passed as such ever since the Paris days. But I should very much
doubt it. I am informed that they are very unlike in manners and
appearance, that he is a rough sort of fellow, while she would pass
anywhere for a lady."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hugh went back to the barracks, more than rejoiced at the fact that the
detective seemed to have appeared on the scene in the very nick of time.
If marriage was contemplated as the result of this clandestine wooing,
what a terrible tragedy would be averted from the unlucky Pomfret!