When John Thorpe left Virginia in search of Mr. Harris, he found him
in conversation with Sam, at the foot of the piazza steps. Above them,
on the piazza, was seated Mrs. Harris.
"I understand," remarked Mr. Harris to Sam, "that there was another
man in the cabin, but somehow he escaped."
"There was another man there," replied Sam, "but he went down through
a trap door in the floor, Uncle."
"Did he drown," questioned Mr. Harris.
"Oh, no! The logs raised the floor of the cabin about a foot above the
water. He got away between them and swam ashore. We didn't find it out
until he had made good his escape."
It was then Mr. Thorpe addressed Mr. and Mrs. Harris. It being the
first opportunity presented to perform a duty, that was clearly
incumbent on him, and without further hesitation, he said: "Mr. and
Mrs. Harris and Sam, who heard me abuse Mr. Corway on this ground last
Wednesday night, I wish now to recall what I then said. If an entire
misapprehension of facts can be an excuse for the animosity with which
I then spoke, I am anxious to apologize for my behavior, as
circumstances have made me aware how unjust were my aspersions. I
regret that Mr. Corway is not present to receive my apology and to
shake hands with him, for there is not a man in Oregon for whom I have
greater respect."
Mr. Harris was unable to conceal his gratification at the sudden
ending of an unpleasant dilemma, and exclaimed: "John, I heartily
congratulate you on the agreeable termination of an ugly affair."
"Dear me! I am really delighted," added Mrs. Harris, who, having
gotten up from her chair at the first few words uttered by John
Thorpe, and leaning forward on the piazza railing, stared at the men
below in rapt attention. And Sam joined in the general joy by
exclaiming, with a broad grin and a whirl of his hat: "Whoop! Let's
celebrate the burial of the hatchet, eh, Auntie."
"How vulgar," quietly remarked Mrs. Harris, as she straightened up,
and with severity plainly graven on her face, said: "Sam, I desire a
word with you after dinner."
"Ya-ah! May good digestion wait on appetite, eh Auntie! I guess so,"
replied Sam, with a roguish twinkle of his eye and the inimitable side
movement of his head.
"Dear me," continued Mrs. Harris, "I may as well be resigned to the
inevitable, for I fear the 'Texas brand' will never groom out."
"I must go home," exclaimed Mr. Thorpe. "My impatience to meet
Constance is consuming me. Mrs. Harris and gentlemen, pray pardon my
haste," and, lifting his hat, he withdrew.
Then Sam related in detail the bath and discovery of Jack Shore at the
jail.
"Fact, Uncle," he continued, "a regular fiend."
"What! Jack Shore, of the Securities Investment Association!"
exclaimed Mr. Harris, with surprise.
"The same identical chap, Uncle."
"Dear me; who was his confederate?" questioned Mrs. Harris.
"We have yet to discover, but suspect a certain person well known to
you."
"Whom do you suspect?" sharply demanded Mrs. Harris.
"A much-honored member of society," replied Sam, with fine sarcasm.
"But we must have his name," insisted Mrs. Harris. She was promptly
supported by Mr. Harris, who said: "By all means, we must know who he
is."
"My Lord Beauchamp!" Sam answered, with emphasis.
"Dear me," gasped Mrs. Harris. "What a shock!" and then, recovering
herself, she repeated doubtfully: "Lord Beauchamp an imposter?"
"He's a villain anyhow, Auntie!" exclaimed Sam. "The same 'gent' who
ran me down when I was tracking the Dago up there near the City
park--thought he put me out of business."
"What proof have you that he is an imposter?" demanded Mrs. Harris,
sternly.
"Yes, proof, proof! That is what we want!" exclaimed James Harris,
visibly agitated.
"To satisfy himself the detective cabled our Ambassador at London to
make inquiry. This morning he received a reply." And so saying, Sam
took from his pocket an envelop containing a cablegram and handed it
to Mr. Harris, with the remark: "Uncle, the detective turned it over
to me at noon."
Mr. Harris took from the envelop the cablegram, and adjusting his
eyeglasses, read aloud:
"There's only one Lord Beauchamp in England's peerage, and he, with
whom I am personally acquainted, was at the embassy yesterday."
It was signed "White."
Then Mr. Harris looked over the paper in his hand--over the eyeglasses
into nothingness, with an expression on his face of deep chagrin, and
in a low voice, as though muttering to himself, indiscreetly said:
"Damn the luck! The fellow is into me for ten thousand dollars."
The words had scarcely escaped from his lips when Mrs. Harris, her
eyes staring with astonishment, sharply exclaimed:
"Ten thousand dollars! Why, James Henry, you must have been
hypnotized!"
It caused Sam to smile, and remark with a look of reproach: "Auntie!"
"He came to me with a plausible story and many regrets, unexpectedly
ran short of funds; produced a cablegram purporting to come from his
brother, the Duke Villier, only yesterday, authorizing him to draw for
two thousand pounds. To oblige him I indorsed the draft, went with him
to the bank, and it was immediately honored. I will phone for a
policeman at once," and Mr. Harris turned away to put his purpose into
effect, when Sam intercepted him.
"Stay, Uncle; I have taken upon myself the duty of swearing out a
warrant for his arrest, and in order there shall be no possibility of
his escape, I have arranged with detectives, having Jack Shore in
charge, to identify and arrest him."
"James, do not wait a moment!" impatiently exclaimed Mrs. Harris.
"Have him arrested at once."
"Auntie, he cannot escape the officers, who are concealed, waiting
signal," Sam assured her.
And then, as if fate had so ordered, the object of their anathemas--in
the company of Hazel, complacently sauntered from the tennis lawn,
and, rounding the angle of the house, suddenly appeared close to the
group.
"It was so stupid of me. I am sure your lordship did not enjoy the
game at all," said the girl. It was at that game of tennis that Rutley
found opportunity to propose marriage to Hazel, for he believed that
she was so disappointed at Corway's disappearance, and which he took
care to insinuate was through cowardice, and that she was so impressed
with his rank, wealth and manners, that it would be easy to persuade
her; but he found the girl repelled his advances so firmly and
decisively that he at once abandoned the idea of attempting to entice
her to elope, and abruptly ended the game. And so, because of his love
for this girl, he had delayed his purpose to escape from the city, and
jeopardized his chances accordingly.
When Rutley's eyes first rested on James Harris, he involuntarily
started at the change in his looks, but though seemingly perturbed for
an instant, his self-possession never really deserted him. Straight on
to the broad steps he strode with a suavity of manner quite in keeping
with his usual phlegmatic bearing. Whatever distrust or apprehension
may have troubled his thoughts, no exterior indication was visible.
His face was impassive and inscrutable as the "Sphinx." His nerves
were steel, his acting superb.
"I find in Miss Brooke an expert tennis player," he said, addressing
Mrs. Harris, who was leaning forward, her hands resting on the rail,
staring at him.
"It's an outrage, sir! A damned outrage!" explosively exclaimed Mr.
Harris, who was unable to control his indignation.
Still unperturbed, Rutley turned to Mr. Harris and said: "I quite
agree with you, Sir, for the scandal is deplorable, and Corway should
be punished." Turning to Mrs. Harris, he continued:
"Indeed, Mrs. Harris, you Americans seem to excel in most everything
where skill and brains are essential."
There was not a flaw or tremor in his voice to betray an uneasy mind
or prescience of a coming storm. It was then, however, he realized
that something was wrong, for he noticed that they were looking coldly
at him. Slowly drawing himself up with a haughty bearing, he carefully
adjusted the monocle in his left eye and turned slowly about as he
stared at each of them, and said in slow, sharp, biting accents:
"It's deuced--draughty--don't--che--know!"
"Yes, quite chilly, isn't it, old chappie! I guess so!" declared Sam,
patronizingly.
"I demand, sir, the return of ten thousand dollars that you swindled
me out of yesterday," said Mr. Harris, with indignation flushing his
face.
"And I demand, in the name of the law, ten thousand dollars that you
stole from--a--George Golda, while in the scow-dwelling night before
last," said Sam.
Still unperturbed, Rutley merely shifted his eyes from one to the
other without moving his head or a muscle of his body, much in the
manner of an automaton, and answered with a drawl:
"Aw, a money swindle! And a--a--theft of money from a scow-dwelling!
Really, gentlemen, this is--a--a--a--deuced good joke!" And then he
laughed, laughed in a shrill, screechy falsetto key, unnatural, and
chilling as an icy breath from the Arctic.
"This is no joke, sir, as you will soon realize."
"You have been detected. Your villainy is exposed, and your damned
rascality is at an end," said the irate Mr. Harris.
"For twenty years in the pen at Salem, eh, old chappie!" said Sam,
with a grin of satisfaction.
"Curse the luck," muttered Rutley to himself. "What a fool I was not
to have vanished last night. It's deuced ugly, don't-che know," he
continued aloud, in the same cutting accents. "Let me warn you,
gentlemen, there is a limit to one's forbearance!"
"You are a cheat, a villain, an imposter!" fumed Mr. Harris. "And
there is the proof," and he flourished the cablegram in Rutley's face.
"You are imposing on the public under the cloak of an assumed title,
and unless you immediately hand over to me ten thousand dollars I
shall give you into custody."
"Of the officers of the law, eh, Auntie?" and as Sam uttered the last
words, up went his right hand extended straight with the index finger
pointing aloft.
It was the signal agreed upon for the officers to appear, and
forthwith they emerged with Jack Shore between them, and Smith
following, from a vine inclosed arbor, partially concealed by a group
of trees a few rods down the hill.
Pretending not to notice the approach of the officers and their
prisoner, Sam grinned at Rutley and banteringly said:
"Come now, own up, you intentionally put me 'out of business' with the
automobile. But it was a bungled job, wasn't it, old chappie?"
Rutley yielded not an iota of his haughty bearing. Totally
unsuspecting the near approach of the officers from behind, he
directed a frigid, steady, contemptuous stare at his accusers, and
with an air of puzzled understanding, said:
"What is the meaning of this insult to my honor? I again warn you,
gentlemen, of your liability for libel."
"Law is a venturesome sport, my lord," ironically exclaimed Sam. "Let
me introduce Mr. George Golda"--
Rutley leisurely turned and stared at Jack.
--"Alias, Jack Shore," continued Sam, with a laugh.
"Well, my poor man. What is your mission?" interrogated Rutley.
Jack stared steadily at Rutley, but kept silent.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," derisively laughed Rutley. Then turning to the
group, said: "What new joke is this, gentlemen?" Again he turned
toward Jack in pretense of a closer scrutiny.
That Rutley was surprised was quite evident, and he stepped forward
with some object in view. Mr. Harris seemed to imagine some purpose in
Rutley's movement, and stepping in front of him, said: "Hold, your
little game is up!"
"I guess so," quickly added Sam, who stood ready to assist.
Realizing he was at bay, Rutley recovered his self-possession as
quickly as he had lost it.
Again he laughed in that high-pitched, screechy key of ineffable
disdain. "He, he, he, he," and turning to Mr. Harris said,
sarcastically: "The idea! You, a retired merchant, a successful
business man; experienced in the qualities of keen perception, of fine
discrimination, of the most perfect discernment and adroitness, to
support this outrage," and he waved his hand toward Jack. And again
drawing himself up erect, haughtily fixed his cold gray eyes steadily
on Mr. Harris, and continued in a drawl: "It's deuced ugly, don't-che
know; deuced ugly, by Jove."
While Rutley had been speaking, Virginia appeared on the scene. "Ha,
Virginia," sharply called out Mrs. Harris, and she beckoned to her to
hasten. "Now we shall prove his villainy."
"Ha, ha," sneered Rutley. "Now you shall realize how foully you have
slandered me. The lady will prove that I am Lord Beauchamp."
As Virginia approached near, Mrs. Harris being unable to contain her
impatience, again addressed her: "Virginia, dear! Can you enlighten us
as to that man's identity?"
Rutley tried to catch her eye, and at last, having succeeded, lifted
his eyebrows meaningly, then nearly closed his eyes as he fixed on her
a stare of glittering concentration.
"Madam," he ejaculated significantly, "beware! These gentlemen and
ladies have dared to question my right to the title of Lord Beauchamp,
and I have assured them that you know me, of course you do, and will
tell them so." His manner was confident and insinuating, but he had
over-rated his power of hypnotic influence over the girl.
She looked at him steadily, in which freezing haughtiness, contempt
and pity were commingled. Her fear of him had passed. She did not
falter now.
"Yes, I know you; and you are known to all present, but, unhappily,
not as thoroughly as you are known to me."
"Who is he?" demanded Mrs. Harris.
"Beware!" cautioned Rutley, "for what you say you must prove in a
court of law."
Defiant, the girl spoke, her enunciation clear and faultless. "His
name is Philip Rutley, and he is masquerading as my Lord Beauchamp for
fraudulent and unlawful purposes."
"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Rutley, sarcastically. "Delightfully refreshing,
gentlemen."
"Oh!" came from Hazel, and then, as if doubting the announcement,
exclaimed: "But the color of Rutley's hair is on the pumpkin order."
"When the dye is washed out it will be on the pumpkin order again,"
laughed Sam.
"He of the investment company?" questioned Mrs. Harris, with a puzzled
expression of countenance.
"The very same chap, Auntie," said Sam.
"Dear me, such ingratitude!" and Mrs. Harris looked disgusted. "Why,
the rascal promised never to return if we would not prosecute him."
"He, he, he, he, how very funny," derisively laughed Rutley, in that
high-pitched, screechy falsetto key he was so well trained in, and at
times he nervously stroked his Vandyke beard.
"I shall at once bring an action at law against you for malicious
libel," upon which he started to pass Mr. Harris. His purpose was
understood and frustrated by Sam, who promptly seized him by the
collar. "I guess not!"
"Well done, Sam!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris.
"Take your hands off!" demanded Rutley, who began to scuffle violently
with Sam.
"Hold him fast, Sam," cheerfully encouraged Mr. Harris, who rushed to
Sam's assistance, followed by Smith.
"I guess so."
At that moment, by a dexterous movement, Rutley slipped out of his
coat, swiftly turned, and exclaimed:
"Damn your eyes, take that," and violently struck at Sam, who adroitly
dodged the blow, dropped the coat and squared up to him.
"I'm your huckleberry; I guess. Good time to square that little
run-down now. Come down the hill out of the sight of the ladies."
"I'll go wid yees," volunteered Smith. "Sure, an' I'll see fair play,
an' may the divvil take me lord."
Mr. Harris picked up Rutley's coat and there fell out of one of the
pockets two packages of banknotes. He let the coat fall and picked up
the packages. Flourishing them about his head, he laughed--"Ha, ha, ha,
ha."
The detective turned to Jack and said, quietly: "You wanted the proof:
there it is," and he pointed to the money held by Mr. Harris. "He will
be pinched, but Mr. Thorpe is to secure his release."
"Why, there are twenty thousand dollars here!" exclaimed Mr. Harris,
examining the packages of money.
"Now you believe me, don't you?" said the detective to Jack.
"Yes," replied Jack, "you were right," and then he stepped forward
alone, close to Rutley, and with a sneer on his face, confronted him.
"So, my noble partner! You gave me the kiss of 'Judas' for ten
thousand shekels, eh?"
Rutley was amazed, but maintaining his imperturbability, exclaimed:
"You propound a riddle, my poor man. I don't know you."
"Ha, ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack, bitterly. "The riddle should be plain
with the key in your keeping. But I know _you_, me Lord Beauchamp,
alias Philip Rutley. Now, damn you, take the medicine your treachery
awards you."
Rutley straightened up, his mortification was very great. Naturally
astute, shrewd and alert, for once he had been caught napping. With
distended, staring eyes, he whispered, aghast: "Jack, Jack," and then,
recovering himself, composedly said: "A--my poor fellow, you are
mistaken; I don't know you," and then he swung himself about and
laughed in that peculiar, high-pitched key--"He, he, he, he; he must be
crazy."
"Crazy, eh!" and Jack laughed low, hoarsely and derisively. "Ha, ha,
ha, ha. The detective told me you had sold me for the reward offered
for recovery of the child, but I would not believe him. Now! I know he
told the truth. For the proof is there," and he pointed to the money
in the hands of Mr. Harris. "The proof that you betrayed your
partner"--
"You lie! You lie! Damn you, you lie!" exclaimed Rutley bitterly, as
he swiftly turned to Jack, and then muttered to himself: "Ye Gods, I
have been trapped by a fluke." Then, with marvellous nerve, declared:
"Oh, this is preposterous; I will immediately bring some friends and
prove that you malign me," and so saying he turned to move off.
"Detective Simms, he is your man; arrest him!" said Mrs. Harris.
On seeing his chance of escape lessening every moment Rutley abandoned
all idea of further defense, and made a grab for his coat.
Quick as was his action, he could not outmaneuver Sam, who promptly
threw himself upon Rutley's back, and locked his arms about him,
pinioning him as in a vice. And while in that position the detective
slipped on the handcuffs.
On releasing him, Sam turned with a broad grin of satisfaction to his
aunt--"How is that for the Texas brand, eh, Auntie?"
He got for his answer a smile, and an exclamation that pleased him
immensely. "Splendid, Sam."
"The neatest bit of work done since his partner tried to find a soft
spot on Carbit strait pavement," added Smith, with a look of
admiration.
In the meantime Mr. Harris had been examining the packages of money,
turning them over and over, looking first at one and then at another.
Of a sudden his face lit up with a smile, as he exclaimed: "Why, this
is mine; the identical package that he obtained from the bank on my
indorsement. I can swear to it. But this?" And he looked meaningly at
Virginia.
"It looks like the package of notes I gave the Italian for Dorothy's
ransom," she replied.
"He never sold me after all," muttered Jack, who became painfully
astonished on hearing Mr. Harris declare that Rutley had obtained one
of the packages of money from the bank on his indorsement. And as the
plan by which he was tricked into betrayal of his accomplice became
evident, his chagrin deepened to grief. He turned to Rutley and said,
brokenly: "Phil, I take it all back," and then he muttered absently as
he realized the futility of regret. "But it is too late--I have been
tricked into a confession."
"The jig is up," replied Rutley. "I shall take my medicine like a
man."
"That money must remain in the custody of the police until the court
decides for the owner," said the detective.
"Certainly," affirmed Mr. Harris, who handed him the two packages.
"This one is mine, and contains ten thousand dollars. And this
contains a like amount and belongs to Miss Thorpe. I shall apply to
the court for restitution tomorrow," remarked Mr. Harris.
"Very well, sir. Now please hand me that coat and we will go," said
the detective.
Mr. Harris picked up the coat and handed it to the detective.
"Keep it, old man," advised Rutley, with lofty disdain. "Keep it as a
memento of how you were once charmed by one of England's nobility," he
laughed derisively.
"I will have no gift from a thief," indignantly exclaimed Mr. Harris,
as he handed over the coat. "Officers, away with them."
"Good-bye Charles, Reginald, De Coursy, West-ma-coate Cosmos, me Lord
Beauchamp. Fare thee well," said Sam, with a grin.
It was at that time that the little Scotch terrier began to sniff at
Jack's trouser legs inquisitively. The dog had wandered near him,
attracted by the sound of his familiar voice, and though it evidently
scented something intimate, could not recognize his former master in
the changed appearance resultant on his enforced bath. And so the dog
sniffed and sniffed while the glint of its upward turned eyes
ominously resented any friendly overture.
Jack had noticed the dog about, and now that it was sniffing at his
leg, he softly spoke to it, saying: "Good-bye, Snooks," whereupon to
his surprise the dog growled at him. Again he said, soothingly: "Good
bye Snooks," putting out his hand to fondle it, but the dog, in one of
those singularly unsympathetic moods rare to its nature, would have
none of him, and barked at him furiously.
It was the finishing stroke to his shame and degradation. "An outcast,
a stranger, so low I have fallen that my own dog barks at me."
"Come along," urged the detective to Rutley and Jack. But Rutley
halted and turned to Hazel, with the same marvellous air that had won
for him confidence in critical moments of "my lord's" career.
"Ta, ta, pet," said he, in his softest blandishment to Hazel. "That
was a ravishing kiss you gave me in the conservatory awhile ago. Ta,
ta," and he threw her a kiss with his free hand and followed it with a
tragic scowl at Sam.
"The horrid man," indignantly exclaimed Hazel.
"Good-bye, Virginia," and he smiled patronizingly at her. "You
'peached' on your pal, but rogues do that sometimes. Tra-la."
"Officer, away with them," ordered Mr. Harris, with disgust.
"Get a move on, old chappie," said Sam.
"Come along," urged the detective.
But Rutley balked, and looking at Mrs. Harris, laughed, the same
high-pitched, uncanny laugh he had used previously.
"I had almost forgotten you, Auntie," he drawled in his most suave and
engaging manner. "You know that it is bad form to take one's leave
without saying 'adieu,' and believe me," and he again laughed, "I
thank you for your lavish reception in honor of the fake lord."
"Officer, away with them," stormed Mr. Harris.
Though Rutley was forced away a step or two he still kept his eyes
fixed on Mrs. Harris, and managed to hold his ground long enough to
add, ironically: "Adieu, Auntie! Ta, ta!"
"March yees blackguards, march," said Smith, pushing the men along.
"How very rude! I have never had anything so scurrilous said to me
before in my life."
"He wasn't a real lord, Auntie. Only tried to act like one, eh, I
guess so," and Sam inwardly chuckled at the balm he offered for her
discomfiture.
"Sam, you had better assist the officers to the railway station,"
suggested Mr. Harris.
"Oh, quite to my fancy, Uncle!" and Sam immediately proceeded after
the detectives and their prisoners.
The silence that fell on the group as they watched the prisoners move
down the hill was broken by Hazel, who, turning to Mr. Harris, said:
"It was clever of Sam. Indeed, Uncle, it seems to him is due the honor
of breaking the spell of a pretender."
"I am satisfied now that my lord will serve a 'spell' with his partner
in the state penitentiary," replied Mr. Harris.
"A fate that deservedly overtakes adventurers and imposters," remarked
Mrs. Harris.
"And a most pungent warning to the frantic race society runs to
entertain titled swindlers!" added Mr. Harris, gravely.
At that moment Sam hurriedly reappeared and approached Mr. Harris, who
hastened to meet him. "What is wrong, Sam?" "Has he got away?" was the
anxious inquiry.
"I guess not, Uncle," replied Sam, who seemed excited, and then
nodding his head toward the river, said, in an undertone. "Something
out of gear down there. A boy just told me a woman was wading in the
water trying to find her drowned baby--and--and I thought"--
"What! Who do you think she can be, eh? It cannot be"--And they
exchanged significant glances.
Sam tapped his head impressively. "The boy said she plunged her hands
in the water, talked queer, and heard her call 'Dorothy.'"
"If it should be her! Good God! And John must be hereabouts, too. Let
us go to her at once. Quietly, make no fuss. Come along," and Mr.
Harris turned hastily.
"What is the trouble now, James?" called out Mrs. Harris.
"No time," was all the satisfaction she got, and the two hastened down
to the shingle.
"Dear me! Something serious has happened, I am sure!" and seeing a boy
standing irresolute on the walk, addressed him:
"Here boy, do you know what is going on down there?"
"A crazy woman," the boy answered, drawing near. "She's wading in the
river."
"Poor thing!" sympathetically exclaimed Mrs. Harris. "What is she
wading in the river for? Did you hear her speak?"
"Yes'm, a little; but I was afraid and didn't stay but a minute. I
came up to phone the police."
"Dear me! What did the poor creature say?"
"She said her baby was drowned. I'm pretty sure she called it
Dorothy."
An agonizing shriek of "Constance!" broke from the three women
simultaneously, and horror and consternation was depicted on every
countenance.
"Almighty Heaven!" exclaimed Virginia, whose face had blanched at the
news. "She has followed me here. I'll get some wraps, for poor
Constance must be chilled through and through," and with that she
hastened into the house.
"Virginia, dear!" Mrs. Harris called after her, "you will find wraps
in my room."
Hazel had already started toward the river, and noting the girl's
impatience, she went on: "Hazel and I will not wait for you."
As Mrs. Harris followed after Hazel, she kept muttering: "Dear me!
What a shock! What a shock to one's nerves!"