DISCLOSES A MILLIONAIRE'S SECRET
So heavily was the yacht rolling that I was compelled to hold firmly,
lest I should lose my balance and roll down upon the deck.
My foothold was insecure, and the sight which presented itself as I
peered within was so unexpected and startling, that in the excitement
of the moment I loosened my grip, and narrowly escaped being pitched
down headlong. From my position I unfortunately could not obtain a
view of the whole interior, the ventilator being open only a couple
of inches; but what I saw was sufficient to unnerve any woman.
The cabin was lit brilliantly by electricity, but the walls, instead
of being panelled in satinwood, as were most of the others, were
decorated in a manner more rich and magnificent than in any other
part of the vessel. They were gilt, with white ornamentation in
curious arabesques, while upon the floor was a thick Turkey carpet
with a white ground and pattern of turquoise blue. The effect was
bright and glaring, and at the first moment it occurred to me that
the place was really a lady's boudoir. There was another aft, it was
true, but this one had evidently been intended as a lounge for female
guests. As I looked down, old Benjamin Keppel himself passed into
that part of the cabin within the zone of my vision. His hat was
off, displaying his scanty grey hair, and as he turned I caught a
glimpse of his face. His countenance, usually so kind and tranquil,
was distorted by abject fear; his teeth were set, his cheeks grey and
bloodless. Both anger and alarm were depicted upon his rugged
countenance. His appearance was mysterious, to say the least; but it
was another object within that room which held me in speechless
wonderment.
Near where he stood, lying in a heap at his feet, was a dark-haired,
handsome woman, in a white silk robe--a stranger.
The old millionaire, with a sudden movement, flung himself upon his
knees, and touched her face caressingly. The next instant he drew
back his hand.
"Dead!" he gasped, in the thick voice of a man grief-stricken.
"Dead! And she did not know--she did not know! It is murder!" he
gasped, in a terrified whisper. "Murder!"
The wind howled about me weirdly, tearing at my clothes as if it
desired to hurl me into the raging sea; while the yacht, steaming on,
rose and plunged, shipping huge seas each time her bows met the angry
waves.
For some moments the strange old man bent over the woman in silence.
I was puzzled to discover her identity. Why had she been kept
prisoner in that gilded cabin during the cruise? Why had we remained
in total ignorance of her presence? I alone knew our host's secret.
We had a dead woman on board.
Keppel touched the woman again, placing his hand upon her face. When
he withdrew it, I saw that blood was upon it. He looked at it, and
shudderingly wiped it off upon his handkerchief.
At the same instant a voice, that of a man, sounded from the opposite
side of the cabin, saying:
"Don't you see that the ventilator is open up above? Shut it, or
somebody may see us. They can see down here from the bridge."
"Think of her," the old man exclaimed, in a low voice. "Not of us."
"Of her? Why should I?" inquired the gruff voice of the unseen.
"You've killed her, and must take the consequences."
"I----" gasped the old man, staggering with difficulty to his feet,
and placing both hands to his eyes, as though to shut out from view
that hideous evidence of his crime. "Yes," he cried, in an
awe-stricken tone, "she is dead!"
"And a good job, too," responded the unseen man, in a hard and
pitiless tone.
"No," cried Keppel angrily. "At least respect her memory. Remember
who she was!"
"I shall remember nothing of this night's work," the other responded.
"I leave all memories of it as a legacy to you."
"You coward!" cried Keppel, turning upon the speaker, his eyes
flashing. "I have endeavoured to assist you, and this is your
gratitude."
"Assist me?" sneered his companion. "Pretty assistance it's been! I
tell you what it is, Benjamin Keppel, you're in a very tight place
just now. You killed that--that woman there, and you know what the
penalty is for murder."
"I know!" wailed the white-faced, despairing man.
"Well, if I might be permitted to advise, I'd make a clean sweep of
the whole affair," said the man.
"What do you mean?"
"Simply this: we can't keep the body very long in this cabin without
it being discovered. And when it is found, well, it will be all up
with both of us. Of that there's but little doubt. I suggest this.
Let us make at once for one of the Italian ports, say Leghorn, where
you will land to transact some important business, and I'll land
also. Then the _Vispera_ will sail for Naples, to which port you
will go by rail to rejoin her. On the way, however, the vessel
disappears--eh?"
"Disappears! How? I don't understand."
"Is blown up."
"Blown up!" he cried. "And how about the guests?"
"Guests be hanged!"
"But there are eleven of them, beside the crew."
"Never mind them. There are the boats, and no doubt they'll all take
care of themselves. Fools if they don't."
"I should feel that I'd murdered them all," the old man responded.
"In this affair we must save ourselves," declared the unseen man,
very firmly. "There has been a--well, we'll call it an ugly
occurrence to-night, and it behoves us to get clear out of it. If
the _Vispera_ goes down, the body will go down with it, and the sea
will hide our secret."
"But I cannot imperil the lives of all in that manner. Besides, by
what means do you suggest destroying the ship?"
"Perfectly simple. Just give orders to Davis in the morning to put
in at Leghorn with all possible speed, and leave the rest to me.
I'll guarantee that the _Vispera_ will never reach Naples." Then he
added: "But just shut that infernal ventilator. I don't like it
being open."
Old Keppel, staggering, reached the cord, and in obedience to his
companion's wish closed the narrow opening with a sudden bang. The
woodwork narrowly escaped coming into contact with my face, and for
some moments I remained there clutching at my unstable supports, and
rudely buffeted by the gale.
As at any moment I might be discovered, I made haste to lower myself
again to the deck, though not without difficulty, and then cautiously
returned to my own cabin.
I had been soaked to the skin by the rain and spray, but though still
in my wet things, I sat pondering over the mysterious crime I had
discovered.
Who was that unseen man? Whoever he was, he held old Benjamin Keppel
in his power, and to his diabolical plot would be due the destruction
of the _Vispera_, and the loss of perhaps every soul on board.
He had suggested an explosion. He no doubt intended to place on
board some infernal contrivance which, after the lapse of a certain
number of hours, would explode, and blow the bottom out of the yacht.
Whoever that man was, he was a crafty villain. Providentially,
however, I had been led to the discovery of the scheme, and I did not
mean that the lives of my fellow-guests, or of the crew, should be
sacrificed in order to conceal a crime.
A vision of that white dead face recurred to me. It was a face very
handsome, but to my remembrance I had never seen it before. The
mystery of the woman's concealment there was altogether
extraordinary. Yet it scarcely seemed possible that she should have
remained in hiding so long without a soul on board, save Keppel,
being aware of her presence. She had been fed, of course, and most
probably the steward knew of her presence in that gilded deck-house.
But she was dead--murdered by an inoffensive old gentleman, who was
the very last person in the would I should have suspected of having
taken human life.
And why had he stroked her dead face so caressingly? Who, indeed,
was she?
My wet clothes clung to me coldly and clammily. I now exchanged them
for a warm wrap, entered my berth, and tried to rest. Sleep was,
however, impossible in that doomed ship, amid the wild roaring of the
tempest and the thunder of the waves breaking over the deck above.
Once it occurred to me to go straight to Ulrica and tell her all I
had seen and heard, but on reflection I resolved to keep my own
counsel, and narrowly watch the course of events.
The mystery of the hidden man's identity grew upon me, until I
suddenly resolved to make a further endeavour to discover him. The
voice was deep and low, but the roaring of the wind and hissing of
escaping steam had prevented me hearing it sufficiently well to
recognise whether it was that of one of our fellow-guests. I slipped
on a mackintosh, returned to the deck, and crept towards the cabin,
wherein reposed the remains of the mysterious woman in white. But
soon I saw that the light had been switched off. All was in
darkness. The guilty pair had gone below to their own berths.
Through the whole night the storm continued, but the morning broke
brightly, and the tempest, as is so frequently the case in the
Mediterranean, was succeeded by a dead calm, so that when we sat down
to breakfast we were steaming in comparatively smooth water.
"Have you heard?" said Ulrica to me, after we had been exchanging our
sleepless experiences. "Mr. Keppel has altered our course. He has
some pressing business to attend to, so we are going into Leghorn."
"Leghorn!" exclaimed Lord Eldersfield at my elbow. "Horrid place! I
was there once. Narrow streets, dirty people, primitive sanitation,
and a sorry attempt at a promenade."
"Well, we don't stay there long; that's one comfort," said Ulrica.
"Mr. Keppel is going ashore and he'll rejoin us at Naples."
I looked down the table and saw that the face of the old millionaire
was pale, without its usual composure. He was pretending to be
busily occupied with his porridge.
"Are we going on straight to Naples, Keppel?" inquired Eldersfield.
"Certainly," answered our host. "I much regret that I'm compelled to
take you all out of our original course, but I must exchange some
telegrams with my agent in London. We shall be in Leghorn to-night,
and if you are all agreed, you may sail again at once."
"I'd like to see Leghorn," declared Ulrica. "People who go to Italy
always leave it out of their itinerary. I've heard that it is quite
charming in many ways. All the better-class Italians from Florence
and Rome go there for the bathing in summer."
"Which, I fear, isn't much of a recommendation," observed his
lordship, who was, I believe, Ulrica's pet aversion.
"The bathing itself is declared by all the guide-books to be the best
in Europe," she answered.
"And the heat in summer greater than in any other place on the
Continent of Europe. Its imports are rags from Constantinople and
codfish from Newfoundland. No wonder its scents do not all come from
roses."
"Certainly not. Of course, if you know the place you are welcome to
your own opinion. I don't know it."
"When you do, Miss Yorke, you'll share my opinion. Of that I feel
certain," he laughed; and then continued his meal.
The question was shortly decided by vote whether the _Vispera_ should
remain at Leghorn or not. By the majority of the guests, Leghorn was
supposed to be merely a dirty seaport, and although I, who knew the
place well, tried to impress upon them that it possessed many charms
not to be found in other Italian towns, it was decided that the yacht
should only remain there a day, and then go straight on to Naples.
This decision was disconcerting. I had to prevent the trip
southward, and the problem of how to do so without arousing suspicion
was an extremely difficult one to solve. If the vessel sailed from
Leghorn, then she was doomed, together with every soul on board.