AN UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR.
Everyone was greatly excited over the great jewel robbery, especially
as it had taken place at the house of so celebrated a person as
Caprice, and numerous were the conjectures as to the discovery of the
thieves. When, however, it became known that the lady in question
declined to allow an investigation to be made, and was apparently
contented to lose five thousand pounds' worth of diamonds, the
excitement grew intense. What was her motive for acting in such a
strange way? All Melbourne asked itself this question, but without
obtaining a satisfactory answer. Reference was made to Kitty's
antecedents in connection with the Midas poisoning case, and the
public were quite prepared to hear any evil of her, particularly as
her career since then had been anything but pure.
The name of Villiers was mentioned, and then it transpired that
Villiers had been seen outside her house on the night of the robbery
It was curious that another crime should have happened where these
two, formerly implicated in a murder case, should have come together,
and disagreeable rumours began to circulate. Then, by some unexplained
means, the opinion of Naball became known regarding his assertion that
Caprice had stolen the diamonds herself. Here was another mystery. Why
on earth should she steal her own jewels? One theory was that she
required money, and had sold them for this purpose, pretending that
they were stolen, in order to satisfy the lovers who gave them to her.
This was clearly absurd, as Caprice cared nothing for the opinion of
her lovers, and, moreover, the donors of the diamonds were long since
dead or ruined, so the idea of the detective was unanimously laughed
at. But then the fact remained, she would not allow an investigation
to be made; and how was this to be accounted for? One idea was mooted,
that Villiers had stolen the diamonds, and she would not prosecute him
because he was the husband of the woman who had been kind to her. In
this case, however, she would have easily got back her jewels by a
threat of prosecution, whereas they were still missing. Other
solutions of the problem were offered, but they were unsatisfactory,
and Melbourne settled itself down to the opinion that the whole affair
was a mystery which would never be solved.
Keith and Ezra had both been puzzled over the affair, and offered
Kitty their services to unravel the mystery, but she curtly dismissed
them with the remark that she wished the affair left alone, so they
had to obey her, and remain in ignorance like the rest of the public.
Affairs thus went on as usual, and the weeks slipped by with no
further information being forthcoming.
Meanwhile, "Prince Carnival" was still running to crowded houses, and
Kitty appeared nightly, being now a still greater attraction on
account of the robbery of which she was the heroine. She had fulfilled
her promise to Keith, in seeing Mortimer about the chances of
production for "Faust Upset." The manager was doubtful about the
success of the experiment of trying Colonial work, and told Kitty
plainly he could not afford to lose money on such a speculation.
"It's all stuff," he said to her when she urged him to give the young
men a chance; "I can get operas from London whose success is already
assured, and I don't see why I should waste money on the crude
production of two unknown Colonials."
"That's all very true," retorted Caprice, "and, from a business point
of view, correct; but considering you make your money out of Colonial
audiences, I don't see why you shouldn't give at least one chance to
see what Colonial brains can do. As to crudity, wait and see. I don't
want you to take the opera if it is bad, but if you approve of it,
give it a chance."
In the end Mortimer promised, that if he approved of the libretto and
music, he would try the piece at the end of the run of "Prince
Carnival," but put "Eblis" in rehearsal, in case his forebodings of
failure should be justified. When, however, the first act was finished
and shown to him, he was graciously pleased to say there was good
stuff in it, and began to be a little more hopeful as to its success.
So Keith worked hard all day at his employment, and at night on his
libretto, to which Ezra put bright, tuneful music. With the usual
sanguine expectations of youth, they never dreamt of failure, and
Keith wrote the most enthusiastic letters to his betrothed, announcing
the gratifying fact that he had got his foot on the lowest rung of the
ladder of fame.
As to his uncongenial employment at the pawnshop, he strove to conquer
his repugnance to it, and succeeded in winning the approval of old
Lazarus by his assiduous attention to business. He attended to the
books, and, as time went on, the pawnbroker actually let him pay money
into the bank, so great had his confidence in the young man become. He
increased Keith's salary, and even then chuckled to himself over his
cleverness in retaining such a clever servant at so low a price.
Though his business was ostensibly that of a pawnbroker, he was in the
habit of conducting very much more delicate transactions. In his dingy
little den at the back of the shop he sat like a great spider waiting
for flies, and the flies generally came in at a little door which
led from the room into a dirty yard, and there was a kind of narrow
right-of-way which gave admittance to this yard from the street.
By this humble way many well-known people came, particularly at
night--the fast young man who had backed the wrong horse, the
speculative sharebroker, and the spendthrift society lady, all came
here in quest of money, which they always got, provided their security
was good, and, of course, they paid an exorbitant percentage. Lazarus
had dealings with all sorts and conditions of men and women, but he
was as silent as the grave over their affairs, and no one knew what
secrets that dirty old Hebrew carried in his breast. Of these
nocturnal visitors Keith saw nothing, as he left at six o'clock, after
which Isaiah shut up the shop, and the front of the house was left in
profound darkness, while business went on in the little back room.
It was now a fortnight since the robbery, and the nine days' wonder
having ceased to amuse, people were beginning to forget all about it.
Keith still lived in East Melbourne with Ezra, and on going home one
night was surprised to find a letter from the manager of the Hibernian
Bank, which informed him that the sum of five hundred pounds had been
placed to his credit. Stewart went next day to find out the name of
his unknown benefactor, but the manager refused to tell him, as he had
been pledged to secrecy. So Keith returned to Ezra in a state of great
perplexity to talk over the affair. They sat in Ezra's sitting-room,
and discussed the matter late at night with great assiduity, but were
unable to come to any conclusion.
"You don't know any one who would do you a good turn?" asked Lazarus,
when he heard this news.
"No--no one," replied Keith. "I haven't a single relative in the
Colonies, and no friend rich enough to give me so much money--unless
it were your father," with a sudden inspiration.
"He!" laughed Ezra scornfully; "he'd as soon part with his blood. Why,
I asked him to give me some money so that I could marry, and he
refused. What he wouldn't do for his son he certainly would not do for
a stranger."
"It's very queer," observed Keith meditatively. "It can't be Caprice?"
"Not likely; she needs all her money herself," said Ezra. "Besides, I
hear she's been rather hard up of late. I suppose Fenton will soon go
broke, and then, _Le roi est mort, vive le roi_."
"What a pity she goes on like that," said Keith, regretfully. "I like
her so much."
"Yes, and she likes you," retorted Ezra pointedly. "Don't you get
entangled in the nets, or you'll forget all about the girl at
Sandhurst. Does she know you're engaged?"
"No."
"I wouldn't tell her if I were you," said the Jew significantly, "or
she'll withdraw the light of her countenance, and then it will be all
up with our burlesque."
"Pooh, nonsense," replied Stewart, with an uneasy laugh. "I wonder
who'll be Fenton's successor?"
"Yourself."
"Not I. I'm not far enough gone for that. Besides, I've no money."
"True, except your anonymous five hundred, which would be nothing to
Caprice. So, as she wants money, I expect it will be old Meddlechip."
"But he's married."
"True, O Sir Galahad," retorted Ezra sarcastically; "but he's an
unholy old man for all that--she'll ensnare him, and we'll see how
long it will take her to break the richest man in the Colonies."
"Oh, the deuce take Kitty Marchurst and her affairs," said Keith
impatiently. "I want to know who sent me this money?"
"Better not ask," murmured Ezra. "Curiosity is a vice. Remember Adam
and Eve, Bluebeard's wife, etcetera. Take the goods the gods bestow,
and don't try to find out where they come from; but now you are rich,
you'll be giving up the shop."
"No, I'll stay on for a time till I find that the five hundred is
really and truly mine. Who knows, some day it may take to itself
wings and fly."
"It certainly would with some young men," said Ezra; "but I don't
think you are that sort."
"You are right. I want to save up all my money for Eugénie."
"Ah! you are going to marry her?"
"When I get rich. Yes."
"You won't marry her if Caprice can help it."
"Why?" disbelievingly.
"Because she's fallen in love with you, and her love, like the gifts
of the Danaes, is fatal.
"Rubbish. I'm not a child. Caprice will never take my heart from
Eugénie."
"Hercules," remarked Ezra musingly, "was a strong man; yet he became
the slave of a woman. Solomon was a wise man--same result. My friend,
you are neither Hercules nor Solomon, therefore--"
Keith departed hurriedly.