"I wonder if General Sadgrove and Mr. Forsyth are lunatics?" Sybil
Hanbury purred softly, after joining in the chorus of thanks which
greeted a superb rendering of Strelezki's "Arlequin" on the long disused
grand piano in the tapestry-room. This apartment was more cozy and
homelike than the vast white drawing-room at Beaumanoir House, but it
was quite large enough for isolated conversations.
The uncomplimentary confidence was made into the shell-like ear of Mrs.
Talmage Eglinton, who, faultlessly gowned by Worth, was sitting apart
with her nominal hostess in the embrasure of an oriel window. The Duke
was hovering near the piano, and Forsyth was talking to Mrs. Sadgrove
and Mrs. Sherman. The General was not present, having excused himself
from coming straight from the dining-room on the plea of having a letter
to write.
Sybil's disjointed remark--for it followed a discussion on French
cookery--caused a sudden twist of the ivory shoulders towards her, the
swift eagerness of the movement being discounted by the languorous stare
of slowly interested surprise. There was a hint of resentment, perhaps
also a trace of alarm, in the wheeling of the decolletee shoulders; in
the stare these emotions were corrected into a mild desire to hear more
of such a sweeping surmise.
"Lunatics--those two!" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton exclaimed, in
well-modulated astonishment. "That's what you English call rather a
large order, isn't it? What makes you say so?"
"Hush! My cousin is trying to persuade Miss Sherman to sing," replied
Sybil. "Wait till she has begun, and I'll tell you. It's too funny to
keep to one's self."
For two days now the house-party at Prior's Tarrant had been increased
by the elegant addition of Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, and on the surface
matters were pursuing their normal course. The Duke had received his
latest guest with a democratic courtesy none the less cordial because of
her floridly expressed note, which in the stress of other preoccupations
he had forgotten altogether. He had a vague idea that the General had
wished the vivacious American to be included because she was a fellow
countrywoman of the Shermans, and that was quite enough to ensure his
good-will towards her.
This view was so far from being the right one that Mrs. Sherman and
Leonie had only succeeded in being coldly polite to the latest arrival.
Mrs. Sadgrove, with an inkling that the beautifully dressed but too
effusive American was an important factor in her husband's schemes, was
more outwardly complacent, but it was reserved for Sybil to shower upon
Mrs. Talmage Eglinton special civilities which had ended, after two days
only, in their becoming constant companions, if not bosom friends. If
the handsome visitor wanted to walk in the park or to be shown some
object of interest in the gardens, Sybil was always at hand to accompany
her; and if it rained, as it had done all this day, she spent hours in
entertaining her in her own rooms.
As for Forsyth, Sybil deserted him entirely; and as the other ladies
abstained from discussing personal topics before the unpopular guest,
there had been no making known beyond the small circle who knew it
already of the new secretary's engagement to his employer's cousin.
Singularly enough, this was one of the very few subjects which the girl
did not touch upon in her confidences to her new friend.
Presently the importunities of the Duke, backed by a general murmur of
request, prevailed, and Leonie began a quaint old melody in a clear
contralto that at any other time would have held Sybil an enthralled
listener. As it was, she took instant advantage of the rippling flood of
sound that filled the room to resume her talk, though for the moment the
continuity was not apparent.
"Beaumanoir House was burgled the other night, and we caught a man
trying to get into my cousin's bedroom," she whispered.
"No. Really? I--I saw nothing in the papers," replied Mrs. Talmage
Eglinton in even tones, but with another turn of the white shoulders and
a sudden shading of her eyes the better to watch the fair narrator's
face.
"That was because the Duke let the man go--didn't want any fuss just
after coming into the title; and quite reasonable, I call it," Sybil
proceeded. "And that's where the fun comes in. Mr. Forsyth insists that
my cousin is the proposed victim of some diabolical plot, anarchist or
otherwise, and he took General Sadgrove into his confidence. The old
gentleman, as you may not be aware, was a sort of policeman in India,
and is cracked on finding out things. Naturally, to one of that
temperament, the mystery Mr. Forsyth chose to make out of a vulgar
attempt at robbery was like a spark on tinder, and the General caught on
at once. They're both fairly on the job--as amateur detectives, you
know--and they think they've got a clue."
"How truly interesting! And the clue?"
"Of the most remote kind--not even arrived at, _a la_ Sherlock Holmes,
by inspecting cigarette ashes. It seems that Mr. Forsyth--who, by the
way, had been to leave a card on you--met the Duke at the Cecil, coming
away from the suite of a Mr. Ziegler. He chose to think that my cousin
was looking agitated, whereas he was only tired after his voyage. Mr.
Ziegler, therefore, if you please, has fallen under the ban of suspicion
from these wiseacres, and is supposed to be murderously inclined towards
the poor Duke. Even the mischief of some wretched boy in playing tricks
with the train he traveled by the other night is attributed to this
probably harmless Mr. Ziegler."
"And his Grace--does he also attribute these things to the same
quarter?" asked Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, scarcely with the breathless
interest due to such tremendous doings. She had a way of opening her
eyes wide when putting a question--a mannerism which had the effect of
creating doubt whether she was intensely eager or only bored.
"He thinks it all nonsense--same as I do," Sybil made answer. "He has
told these over-clever gentlemen to leave the thing alone, and I expect
if he finds out what the General is up to that he'll turn them both out
of the house and give Mr. Forsyth his dismissal. Of course, you won't
say anything--will you?--because I'm only a poor relation, and I can't
afford to offend people."
"I am discretion itself. What is General Sadgrove up to, dear?" was the
reply.
Sybil's pretty mouth bent close to confide the startling fact that the
General was going to London in the morning with the intention of
bearding Mr. Ziegler in his den--otherwise, in his rooms at the Cecil.
If he should be refused permission to see Ziegler, or, seeing him,
should be unable to satisfy himself of his respectability, he was going
straight on to Scotland Yard to impart his suspicions to the
authorities. Sybil sketched the carrying out of this amazing programme
and its probable consequences with much animation and ridicule, but her
hearer's interest tailed off into undisguised indifference, ending in a
deliberate yawn.
"What a very stupid affair!" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton murmured. "Do you
know, it has made me quite sleepy, and--and I think I'll go to bed. I
have started a real, clawing, hammering headache. Shouldn't wonder if I
am not laid up to-morrow."
Nodding a good-night to the others, she rose and swept from the room,
followed by Sybil, who, profusely sympathetic, insisted on accompanying
her to her own apartments. At the door of the latter a dark-eyed,
slender woman, in a black dress with broad white collar and cuffs, was
standing. This was Rosa, the French maid, on whose services Mrs. Talmage
Eglinton professed herself entirely dependent.
"One of my headaches, Rosa. The pink draught--quickly!" cried the
incipient invalid, and pausing on the threshold she bade an affectionate
good-night to her girlish admirer. "I am not really ill--only a little
run down," she assured her. "I do _hope_ I shan't have to keep my room
to-morrow."
The brilliant vision of Parisian elegance having vanished into the room,
Sybil made her way downstairs, and in the hall encountered General
Sadgrove, who wore a light overcoat over his evening things and a gray
felt hat. He was engaged in wiping the wet from his patent-leather shoes
with his handkerchief, but looked up on Sybil's approach, and, removing
his hat, went on with his occupation.
"Still raining?" said Sybil, carelessly.
"Like the very--I mean, like it used to in the monsoon," the General
checked himself.
No more passed, except a slight raising of the old soldier's eyebrows
and a corresponding droop of one of the lady's eyelids. The General
having restored the gloss to his footgear and doffed his overcoat, they
went on with linked arms to the tapestry-room, where, however, the party
shortly broke up, the ladies to retire for the night, and the men to go
to the smoking-room. The Duke remained but a short time, leaving the
General and Forsyth with the playful remark that he was growing quite
bold after two days' immunity, and hoped they would not sit up all
night--which was exactly what one or other of them had been doing ever
since they came to Prior's Tarrant, and, moreover, what they intended to
do for the present.
"Sybil has done her part," said the General, as soon as he was alone
with his nephew. "And I have prepared Azimoolah to be on the lookout for
results. He tells me that the men in the dog-cart were outside the park
wall again last night, and that there was the same exhibition of a red
lamp in that infernal French maid's window."
"An abortive attempt at communication?" asked Forsyth.
"That or something worse," replied the General. "It may only be that the
woman inside wants to confer with her confederates without; or it may be
that the red lamp is a signal to them not to approach any nearer or try
to get into the house. I incline to the latter being the explanation, as
on each occasion the men in the cart have driven off immediately on
seeing the red lamp, and there has been no attempt at short or long
flashes, or any sort of code talk, Azimoolah tells me. In either case,
it points to those beauties upstairs being aware that you and I are on
guard, and that any attempt on their part to give admission to outsiders
would be frustrated."
"But if she knows that a watch is being kept, surely madam will not dare
to leave the house?" suggested Forsyth, in the tentative tone that was
necessary to preserve his uncle's good humor.
"If she does, it will show that she's cornered, and that Sybil's guess
has hit the bull's eye," said the General, adding, with a significant
grimace, "a preparatory headache has been started already. You had
better go to bed and leave me to see to the commencement of the cure."
Two hours later Azimoolah Khan, lying flattened out like a huge lizard
on the parapet of the terrace, and thanking Allah that the rain had
ceased, suddenly pricked up his ears and thanked Allah again that the
time for relieving his cramped limbs had come. At first his ears were
the only part of his body affected by the slight sound he had heard, but
some thirty seconds later, keeping the rest of him motionless, he
goggled his eyes round to one of the ground-floor windows and
saw--seeing in the dark was one of his accomplishments--a female figure
turn from it and flit along the terrace towards the steps leading down
to the park. Waiting till the figure had gained the lower level, he slid
from the parapet and gave noiseless chase.
The woman in front spared no precaution to guard against pursuit. She
stopped many times and listened; she doubled on her tracks; and as soon
as she reached the woodland belt she proved to be an expert in the art
of taking cover. But she had to do with probably the most wily exponent
of woodcraft at that moment in England, and her pursuer was never at
fault. Dark as the night was, Azimoolah never lost her for an instant.
With sinuous movements that never caused a twig to crack, the lithe
Pathan was always creeping, gliding, dodging close behind, till he
stopped within ten paces of the park wall, and from the shelter of an
oak trunk watched his quarry nimbly climb the obstacle. No sooner had
she disappeared than he swung himself to the top of the wall, and peered
over just as a horse broke into a trot on the other side.
Piercing the gloom, his keen sight distinguished the shape of a
fast-receding rubber-tired dog-cart, in which three figures were seated;
and, having fulfilled his mission, he dropped back to the ground. In a
few minutes he was on the terrace again, hissing like a cobra outside
the smoking-room. General Sadgrove opened the French casement.
"The daughter of Sheitan came from the fifth window, and has gone away,
even as the sahib predicted, in the cart with two men," Azimoolah
reported.
"Which road did they take?"
"To the left--the Senalban road, sahib."
"St. Albans, eh? Then she's going to catch the 3.15 up night mail,"
muttered the General. "Well, good-night, old _jungle-wallah_. You've got
your orders," he added, closing and bolting the window.
The next morning there were two absentees from the
breakfast-table--General Sadgrove, who by overnight arrangement had
breakfasted by himself, so as to be driven to Tarrant Road in time for
the nine o'clock train to town, and Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, who was
confined to her bed by a bad headache. The news of the indisposition was
imparted to Sybil by the maid Rosa at her mistress's door, and was
accompanied by a regretful but firm refusal of admission to the patient.
"Madame is so _desolee_ not to receive you, ma'amselle, but she 'ave ze
malady too strr-rong for speak even with her dearest friend," was the
ultimatum which sent Miss Hanbury from the door with a doleful face,
which somehow took quite a different expression when she had turned the
corner.
For some mysterious reason her aloofness from her lover vanished that
morning, and she and Forsyth were on the best of terms. They spent two
hours together wandering in the park, where in one of the more remote
glades Azimoolah flitted up to them from the bushes, and, regarding
Sybil with awe-struck veneration, made a deep salaam and was gone. The
Duke, who had given his word of honor to the General not to go beyond
the park gates, passed the time partly with his bailiff and partly
strolling with Leonie in the gardens and glass-houses. The friendship
between Beaumanoir and his beautiful guest, so promisingly begun on
board the _St. Paul_, seemed to have lost ground. Though he was much in
her society, he avoided intimate topics, and often puzzled her with a
hastily averted look of wistful tenderness in strange contrast to his
assiduous but commonplace hospitality.
Half an hour before luncheon General Sadgrove, returning on foot from
the station and looking five years older for his run up to London, met
the two young couples, who had now joined forces, as they were entering
the mansion. Forsyth gave his uncle an anxious glance of inquiry, but
the old man passed him by unheeding, and addressed the Duke in a tone of
icy formality.
"I shall be obliged if your Grace will give me five minutes in the
library on a very urgent matter," he said, adding, with significant
emphasis, "_I have been with Mr. Ziegler this morning._"
Beaumanoir, gone all pale and tremulous, made a palpable effort at
self-control as he replied:
"Come into the library by all means, General. But I am afraid you will
find me quite as reticent as I am sure Ziegler was."
The interview lasted till long after the luncheon gong had sounded, and
when at length the Duke and the General entered the dining-room two
pairs of watchful eyes observed that their relative attitudes had been
reversed. The General's usually impassive face was working so painfully
that Mrs. Sadgrove half rose from her chair at sight of her husband,
checking herself with difficulty; while the Duke bore himself almost
jauntily, and began chaffing Sybil about her devotion to Mrs. Talmage
Eglinton, who was still, by latest bulletin from Rosa, "suffering ze
grand torments" and unable to leave her room.
The afternoon passed without external signs that the house-party was
living on the verge of an active volcano. But as it was growing dusk
Forsyth, at the risk of being late for dinner, took a solitary walk in
the direction of a certain stile, by which the Prior's Tarrant pastures
were approached by a short cut across fields from Tarrant Road railway
station. He arrived at the stile in the nick of time to give a helping
hand to Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, who had just reached the spot from the
opposite direction. The hour was the one when the guests at the house
might be expected to be dressing for dinner, and it also tallied with
the arrival of a London train at the station; but neither alluded to
these incidentals of such an obviously chance meeting.
"I trust that your headache is better," said Forsyth, politely.
But the headache, he was assured, was rather worse than better. The
sufferer averred that she had slipped out an hour before, to go for a
quiet walk in the meadows in the hope of obtaining relief; but the
remedy had been of no avail, and all that remained was to go back to
bed.
"Won't you walk back with me?" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton added, devouring
the young Scotsman's healthy, good-looking face with eyes of invitation.
"I don't seem ever to get you alone nowadays."
"I am very sorry, but I have to go a little further," replied Forsyth,
and, raising his hat, he passed on. But it was a very little way further
that he had to go, for at the end of the first meadow he turned and
followed in the lady's wake back to the mansion, catching, as he did so,
a glimpse of Azimoolah moving stealthily in the bushes at the side of
the path.
That night the post-bag which one of the Prior's Tarrant grooms conveyed
to the office in the village contained a letter addressed to "Clinton
Ziegler, Esqre.," at the Hotel Cecil, couched thus:
"_The gentleman interviewed in the Bowery, New York, by Mr.
Jevons on your behalf has reconsidered the matter, and is now
prepared to carry out his commitment. He is so shaken by recent
occurrences that he does not feel up to coming himself till he
has received assurances, but his secretary will call at the
hotel on Monday for instructions, which please hand to the
secretary in writing and carefully sealed._"