A NEW IDEA
"And now you know where the real Lady Josceline Justice is," said Farish
M'Kissock drearily, almost as if the savour of his overwhelming revenge
on all who had wronged him had cloyed already. "The girl you have
here--"
"Never mind about her," Captain Dove interrupted hoarsely, and darted a
quick, furtive glance at Slyne, who looked very much as if he had just
been struck on the back of the head with a hammer. "What are you going
to do about it? That's all we want to hear from you."
He had been scarcely less overcome by that most calamitous disclosure
than was his unhappy accomplice. And he did not doubt for a moment that
Farish M'Kissock was speaking the truth; although until then he himself
had been almost convinced that Sallie must indeed be the dead Earl of
Jura's daughter. That possibility had been proven so perfectly probable
that even the Court of Chancery had accepted it for a fact. But now--
The sudden and cataclysmic collapse of all his own prospects along with
hers had spurred Captain Dove's momentarily stunned faculties into a
perfect frenzy.
"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded again, imperatively,
since the other was slow to answer.
"I need do nothing more--to thwart your fine schemes," said Farish
M'Kissock quietly: "for--they will fail. Although it matters little to
me now who may rule here, since the last of the old brood lies dead and
unburied in Africa; and she was fond of me, too, as I was of her. 'Twas
a notable revenge that I took on _them_-all! And I think ye'll allow
that I've settled old scores handsomely with the both of you two as
well.
"You might maybe murder me yet, to still my tongue, as you're thinking,
but that would end as ill for yourselves, and I'm not here for long
anyhow. There's nothing in this world or the next that will avail you
against me now, and--"
His voice died away, wearily. He was gazing into the flickering flames,
brooding over his own desperate memories.
"I might murder you, as you say, and in self-defence at that, Farish,"
replied Captain Dove, in a tone that he was striving to make more
friendly. "But--how would it be if we went partners instead? What's the
use of cutting your nose off to spite your face? There's surely enough
here for all of us. And your share would more than make up to you for--"
The gaunt wreck in the armchair beside the fire broke into a low,
mocking laugh.
"It's to close my account with you that I'm here, Captain Dove," said he
implacably, "and not to open a new one."
Captain Dove, his face distorted with impotent fury, darted another
devilish look at Slyne, but Slyne was still sitting motionless, staring
at the ex-Emir, like one in a trance. Captain Dove glanced again at the
stooping figure on the other side of the fireplace, set one foot firm on
the floor, and leaped at his enemy like a wild beast.
Farish M'Kissock fought fiercely, with a strength surprising in one of
his enfeebled appearance, had almost succeeded, indeed, in freeing
himself from the old man's vice-like grip before Slyne at last awoke
from his lethargy and, of mechanical instinct, came to Captain Dove's
assistance. The two of them soon got him down, and then Captain Dove
lashed his wrists and ankles securely with a strong fishing-line
snatched from a rack on the wall.
"This way with him now," he panted, and, drawing aside a blind panel in
the wainscot of the near wall, disclosed a low, wide opening, toward
which he pulled their prostrate prisoner by the heels. And together they
bundled the groaning body down a steep flight of dry stone steps, into
an unlighted cell at one side of the dark tunnel below.
"He'll be safe enough in there," said Captain Dove vindictively, as he
held up the match he had struck while Slyne, with fumbling fingers, drew
its rusty iron outside bolt across the door of the cell. "And it will be
easy to get him down the tunnel to the water-gate, too."
"Can anyone get in by the water-gate?" asked Slyne in a breathless
whisper.
"I have the key in my pocket," Captain Dove answered shortly, and drew
the blind panel back into place as they regained the gun-room together.
There, he made at once for the half-empty decanter upon the table. But
Slyne sat down before the fire again, with bent head, as if utterly
crushed.
It was self-evident that he had come to believe implicitly in Sallie's
right to the new identity he had bestowed upon her, had never doubted
that the proofs on which that belief had been based were anything but
genuine. He could scarcely doubt now that Captain Dove had hoodwinked
him from first to last, that Farish M'Kissock's story was the real truth
of the matter. And, thus in a moment confronted with the ruinous outcome
of his credulity, he could not yet bring his mind to bear on anything
but the utter eclipse of all his own golden dreams.
"And so--that fellow Carthew will be Earl of Jura," he said suddenly,
and looked up at Captain Dove with a hell of hate aflame behind his dull
eyes. "And you've been lying to me all along," he said, in a still,
dispassionate voice.
Captain Dove, back in his own chair, better pleased with himself, paused
to consider before replying. He had been investigating the pantry and
found out how Farish M'Kissock had come there.
"You're wrong, both times," he at length remarked. "I've told you
nothing that wasn't the truth. All I've said about Sallie, I can prove
up to the hilt. And, anyhow, you've been managing the whole business.
You've told me often enough not to butt in! You can't blame _me_ for any
mistake that's been made.
"And, what's more," he went on, marshalling his ideas, "it remains to be
proved that there _has_ been any mistake. You're surely not going to
take the mere word of a fellow like Farish for that--a mutinous second
mate I had to maroon to get rid of him. Anyhow, if you're going to lie
down and die at his orders, I'm not. D'ye see?"
Slyne drew a shaky hand across a damp forehead. He was obviously all
unstrung.
"You didn't cast any doubt on his story," he muttered.
"There was no need," declared Captain Dove. "Let him disprove yours
first. It was you who discovered who Sallie should be. I had no idea
whose daughter she was--and neither had she. You and Jobling it was who
put two and two together and made out four. I don't believe
Farish--M'Kissock, as he calls himself now--could better that."
"Don't you believe what he said?" asked Slyne.
"Not me," lied Captain Dove. "The man's mad, that's what's the matter
with him. He's probably made the whole thing up, just to get even with
us, and knowing that we could do little more than contradict it. But--he
didn't know that we have the Chancery Court behind us now. And that
makes all the difference. We've won--and he's lost. D'ye see?
"I was scared at first, I'll admit--when he walked in. It was that
infernal 'white lady' tale of yours that upset me. But--_you_ don't
believe in ghosts! What's wrong with you is sheer funk."
But even that insult seemed to have no immediate effect on Slyne, and
Captain Dove got up, growling.
"Here," said he. "Drink this down--and try if you can't muster even a
little Dutch courage."
Slyne swallowed, still without a word in retort, the dose of spirit
which the old man had poured out for him; and that seemed to restore a
little his crippled self-confidence. Some faint spark of hope that all
might not yet be lost seemed to have sprung up in his heavy heart. His
benumbed brain was apparently beginning to work again. He sat up, with
an effort.
"But--how are we to carry on here?" he asked, in a tone which told how
very feeble his faith was. "If any such story gets to the ears of--"
"It will get no farther than it has gone," declared Captain Dove with
assured emphasis. "If Farish hasn't told that old hag of a sister of his
yet, it stays between you and me. We'll make sure of her silence--and
his. That will be easy enough."
Slyne sank back into his chair again, and scowled. He did not affect to
misunderstand his companion's sinister promptings.
"Will you undertake to look after them, then?" he stipulated, with dire
distaste, after further consideration.
Captain Dove in his turn took time to cogitate over that selfish
suggestion. He had no intention whatever of helping Slyne at his own
hazard. On the contrary, he had already made up his mind to get rid of
Slyne at the same time as the other two. But, of course, it was only
politic to pretend a little reluctance.
"All right," he agreed at length. "I'll look after them. But you must
lend me a hand, if it's necessary. There's no one else I can trust, and
we're both in the same boat now. You must lend me a hand, if it's
necessary."
"And what about Carthew?" Slyne demanded, recovering himself by degrees
under the old man's most matter of fact example. "If he should get any
inkling--"
"Oh, don't _make_ difficulties!" growled Captain Dove.
"What's to hinder our settling his hash the same way as the others?
There are only the three of them in our way. We'll make a clean sweep.
We'll get him up here--we'll send him word that Sallie would like to see
him, and--the rest will be easy."
"But, good God!" cried Slyne, "how are you going to account for their
disappearance? It's madness--"
"Farish is mad, all right," said Captain Dove reflectively. "Which will
account for whatever happens to him and his precious sister. If they
were both found with broken necks at the foot of this infernal rock,
who's going to make us responsible? And, as for that fellow Carthew, if
we can't explain away his disappearance we'll deserve to lose
everything, Slyne.
"Damn it, man! What are you afraid of! Are you going to throw up the
sponge just before the fight's won!"
"If we _were_ once clear of the three of them, that would leave us
perfectly safe," said Slyne, in a voice that was not very steady. "But
what if Mrs. M'Kissock knows already--"
"We'll ring for her now and find out," answered Captain Dove with savage
decision. "If she seems to know more than she should--she can keep her
infernal brother company until Brasse comes ashore."
He rose, and had almost reached the bell-push beside the mantel when the
door opened and the Marquis of Ingoldsby walked into the room, looking
much less imbecile and more of a man in his splashed breeches and boots
and spurs.
Captain Dove glared at him.
"Howdy do, Captain Dubb," said his lordship, politely, after peering
through his eye-glass at Slyne. "Glad to see you again. Lady Josceline
told me I would probably find you here, and--I want to talk to
you--about her."
He let his eye-glass drop and helped himself to a brandy and soda. Slyne
was staring at him. Captain Dove was dumb.
"I've just been askin' her to marry me," his lordship remarked, after
slaking his thirst. And, as he paused to light a cigarette, "The devil
you have!" exclaimed Captain Dove, considering that idea.
"She said she couldn't," Lord Ingoldsby mentioned, straddling across the
hearth-rug, his hands on his hips, disregarding Slyne's presence
entirely now. "But--she wouldn't tell me why. And I thought I'd ask you,
don't y'know. So far as I can understand, you're her nearest livin'
relative--her stepfather, or godfather, or somethin' of that sort, what?
And I thought that maybe you wouldn't mind talkin' over the matter with
me."
Captain Dove scratched his head. He could see that Slyne was watching
him very closely. It had no doubt flashed through Slyne's mind as
through his own that here was a providential by-path of escape, for him
at least, from his present predicament; that, if all else went askew,
Sallie might prove profitable enough, to him at least, as the
Marchioness of Ingoldsby. For had not Mr. Jobling stated that the young
man before the fire was one of the wealthiest peers in England or
elsewhere.
"I don't want to over-hurry her, y'know," said the noble marquis, "and,
maybe, I've been a bit sudden. But I've been huntin' high and low for
her ever since I last saw her, and--here I am, don't y'know. So I
thought I'd ask her."
"Didn't you hear me tell you in Monte Carlo that Lady Josceline is
engaged to marry me?" Slyne broke in, with a sudden access of anger,
since Captain Dove still seemed to have nothing to say.
"That's so," said Captain Dove slowly. "She's engaged to this
gentleman--on conditions."
Lord Ingoldsby screwed his eye-glass into his face and gravely regarded
Slyne again.
"But she's not married to him yet," said he. "And--it's a woman's
privilege to change her mind. Besides, if her engagement is only
conditional--"
"We needn't discuss it just now," Captain Dove put in with unusual
diplomacy. He could see that Slyne was liable to explode dangerously at
any moment.
"All right, then," said Lord Ingoldsby in a tone of great determination.
"I'll just have to do the best I can for myself." And, having finished
his light refreshment, he strolled off again, taking not the slightest
notice of Slyne's very obvious indignation.
As soon as he was safely out of earshot, Slyne fell foul of Captain
Dove, who listened patiently enough to all he had to say.
"But I'm _not_ interfering," said the old man. "All that sort of thing
lies between you and her, Slyne. If you can get her to marry you right
away--"
"Of course I can--if you back me up," Slyne declared wrathfully. "And
you've got to do that now, Dove--for your own sake. We're both in the
same boat, remember,--and if it upsets, we'll both drown. I'll make
quite sure of that.
"So--we'll get hold of Sallie now before the thing goes any further--and
settle that question for good."