John's work of that night was commended highly by Dacent Smith. For his
discovery of the japanned box had put the department in possession of
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's code and a score of letters evidently part of a
secret correspondence conducted with a camp for officers, and with Kurt
von Morgen, whose "plans for escape were progressing nicely"!
The great man commended this achievement. But, like John, he felt pity
for Beecher Monmouth, who had fallen so easy and gullible a victim to
his wife's treachery. In regard to Cherriton's suspicions of John he
took a serious view.
"I think, Treves," he said, leaning back in his chair, "we shall have to
remove Cherriton from the scene. He appears, from what you tell me, not
to have confided his suspicions of you either to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth
or to von Kuhne. It is unfortunate that he chanced to be appointed by
von Kuhne to watch Heatherpoint. But I don't think we can blame
Lieutenant Parkson for letting out the fact that you were for a brief
period attached to that fort. Nevertheless the position is one that
must be handled swiftly and effectively."
He suddenly smiled at John.
"You have done very well up to now, Treves," he said. "But I should not
like your career to be suddenly cut short when there are big things
ahead. We have safely got rid of Lady Rachel Marvin in Pitt Lunan
Hydro, where she can enjoy the company of other fools of her own sort,
and will be unable to endanger any more of our forces by loose gossip."
He paused, then went on: "The virtual suspension of the Habeas Corpus
Act was a god-send to us in the handling of dangerous social fools like
Lady Rachel. We could do still more than we do at present, Treves, if
every one who knew of suspicious persons or suspicious gossip would only
let us know. If members of the public would take the trouble to write a
letter to their favourite newspaper the information would always reach
us, and would enable us to keep watch on a good many suspicious
characters who would otherwise escape us."
"The trouble is," said John, "the members of the public do not
understand either the power of the German spy system in this country or
the wideness of its extent."
"Exactly," nodded his chief. "Who, for instance, would suspect Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth, the beautiful and wealthy wife of a well-known member
of Parliament? But, to my mind, persons like Lady Rachel Marvin are just
as dangerous to us as the actual German spies who pick up their
information."
John went away from Dacent Smith's bachelor abode that night full of
intense curiosity as to what Mrs. Beecher Monmouth would do in the
immediate future. If, however, he thought that the death of her husband
would check her activities he was speedily disillusioned. For
immediately after the funeral of the late politician, Mrs. Beecher
Monmouth, looking beautiful in her widow's weeds, departed for the Isle
of Wight. The funeral of Beecher Monmouth had been an impressive public
affair, and there had been much commiseration for the tragically
bereaved young widow. It was only natural, therefore, that after so
terrible a shock she should wish to withdraw herself from the public
gaze. Rooms were engaged at an hotel at Newport, and Mrs. Monmouth, in
deepest widow's weeds, made the journey accompanied by her maid Cecily.
She arrived at Newport on the twenty-fourth of the month, and the
proprietor of the hotel, who knew of her bereavement, received her with
a grave and discreet cordiality. He himself showed her to the parlour
which had been allotted to her, and assured her that he would do all
that was in his power to make her stay as quiet and reposeful as he
possibly could.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth thanked him cordially. That night she dined in
the retirement of her little parlour, but on the following evening it
was discovered that her chimney smoked a little. She therefore decided
to take her dinner in the public dining-room. As the chimney in her
sitting-room had never smoked before, the proprietor of the hotel was a
little puzzled. Nevertheless he prepared for her a table in a quiet
corner of the dining-room downstairs. Here, accompanied by Cecily, her
confidential maid, who placed her chair for her and then departed, the
newly-bereaved widow took her meal. The only other diners in the room
were four young officers, who sat at a table in an opposite corner.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, in her simple and costly black dress, immediately
engaged their attention. They respected her sorrow, however, and,
despite the evident admiration of one of them, who thought her possessed
of the most beautiful profile he had ever seen, Mrs. Monmouth did not
encounter from the young men a single glance. When dinner was at an end
she rose gracefully, and, carrying her novel, went upstairs to her
apartments. When the door had closed upon her the four young officers
became animated in a surprising manner.
"By gad!" exclaimed one, "she's a dashed fine-looking woman, and young,
too."
"A dashed sight too young for Beecher Monmouth, I should think,"
remarked another. "What a rotten thing to happen to her. I wonder what
made him shoot himself."
They speculated upon Mrs. Beecher Monmouth and her tragedy for some
minutes, then rose to go.
In the meantime Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had reached her sitting-room.
Strange to say, the fire no longer smoked. She turned swiftly to the
sallow-skinned Cecily.
"Cecily!"
"Yes, madame."
"Go downstairs and find out which of those young officers was Lieutenant
Parkson, of Heatherpoint Fort. You know how to find out?"
Cecily looked at her knowingly.
"Yes, madame."
Presently Cecily returned.
"Lieutenant Parkson, madame, was the one with the black hair and the
little black moustache who sat facing you."
"Thank you, Cecily," said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. "Did you discover when
he was coming again?"
"He and his friends have engaged the same table for to-morrow night,
madame."
"Thank you." Mrs. Beecher Monmouth lit one of her Russian cigarettes,
flung the match into the fire, and, relapsing into a chair at the
hearth, began to smoke quietly. "I shall dine downstairs at the same
time to-morrow, Cecily," she said.
"Very good, madame."
The next night the four young men were already seated at their table
when Mrs. Beecher Monmouth entered the old-fashioned dining-room,
followed by Cecily. This time Lieutenant Parkson caught the full view
of Mrs. Monmouth's beauty for the first time. Her fine eyes met his,
lingered for a moment, then turned away. After that the young man
watched her during the entire meal. He watched her as she moved away.
She carried herself superbly.
For some minutes, unheeding his companions' conversation, Parkson looked
at the vacant place she had occupied. He remained absorbed in thought
until something gleaming caught his eye on the carpet, within a yard of
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's vacated chair. Parkson saw this object, left his
seat, and discovered it to be a small gold cigarette-case.
He took it up quickly and examined it with a good deal of interest. On
the gold surface of the case the letters "A.B.M." were outlined in small
rubies. For a minute the young man hesitated, holding the article in
his hand; then suddenly he made up his mind what to do. He determined to
seize advantage by the forelock.
Excusing himself to his friends, Parkson hurried out of the room. He
had determined upon a course which would enable him to make her
acquaintance. The single glance Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had rested upon
him when entering the room gave him courage. At the door of No. 9,
which was her sitting-room, he knocked quietly. A low voice bade him
come in.
Then Parkson, embarrassed despite his boldness, stepped into the room.
"I beg your pardon for intruding upon you, but I think you dropped this
cigarette-case in the dining-room."
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth looked at him, then at the case, and came quickly
to her feet.
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed. She accepted it from his fingers and smiled
at him, looking steadily into his eyes. "I am so grateful to you," she
said. "I cannot," she lied, "tell how I came to drop it!"
Parkson bowed, and was moving towards the door.
"Not at all," he murmured.
"You know, the servants," went on Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "are sometimes
so dishonest in these hotels."
"Quite so," answered Parkson clumsily. Then he noticed that Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth had opened the cigarette-case and was holding it
towards him. There were four buff-coloured cigarettes in its interior.
"Won't you give me the pleasure of accepting one of them? I am afraid
it is the only reward you will permit me to offer you, Mr.----"
She paused, looking questioningly at him.
"My name is Parkson."
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth uttered a pleased exclamation; her face wreathed
itself in smiles. For a devastated widow she looked at that moment
particularly light-hearted.
"Oh, how very nice that is. Then you must know my cousin, Captain
Cherriton?"
"Yes," said Parkson; "I've met him a number of times here." His tone
conveyed to her swift intelligence the fact that Captain Cherriton was
not high in his favour. She looked at him seriously.
"I am afraid he was not the best of company for you."
At that moment Cecily, who had been conveniently absent from the room,
entered with coffee upon the tray.
"You will please bring another cup, Cecily. I am sure Captain
Parkson----"
"Lieutenant Parkson," corrected the young man.
"Lieutenant Parkson will join me."
Five minutes later Lieutenant Parkson was comfortably seated in a chair
on the opposite side of the hearth. He was consuming one of Mrs. Beecher
Monmouth's buff-coloured cigarettes, and was very much at home drinking
some of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's after-dinner coffee. After the first
few minutes he gathered together his natural self-possession. He was
generally at home where women were concerned, and he was intensely
susceptible to feminine beauty. At that particular moment he was
flattering himself that he was making a good impression upon this rich
and beautiful young widow. It occurred to him that she was, in the
circumstances, unduly cheerful, but he attributed this to his own good
company. The fact that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had cunningly put him in
this frame of mind was, of course, unknown to him. His own social
position was quite a modest one, and this _tete-a-tete_ with a woman of
Mrs. Monmouth's importance and aristocratic connections flattered his
vanity.
"Do you know, Mr. Parkson, I don't look upon you as a stranger in the
least. You are a friend of my reckless cousin, and, therefore, we are
in a sense mutually acquainted."
"It is very nice of you to say so," acknowledged Parkson.
In her amiable presence he began to grow expansive, until suddenly Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth, as it were, appeared to recollect her tragic
widowhood. She dismissed him very neatly, but before he went away they
shook hands, and she thanked him again. He could feel her fingers warm,
vibrant, and vital in his. Her brilliant eyes held his for a moment;
then she permitted him to depart.
Cecily came into the room when he had gone.
"You can take away the cups, Cecily," said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "and
to-morrow night, in addition to coffee, you will provide whisky and
liqueurs."
"Very good, madam."
"Glasses for two," announced Mrs. Beecher Monmouth.
Within four days of her arrival at her hotel Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had
completely enchained the susceptible young officer. Parkson was amazed
at his own success, yet perhaps not so much amazed after all. He began
to see himself as a newly fledged Don Juan, a dog, a daring and romantic
fascinator of women.