EXIT TCHIGORSKY
It seemed to have been tacitly agreed by Geoffrey and Marion that
nothing could be gained by telling Vera of the danger that she had
escaped. Nothing could be gained by a recital of the dastardly attempt
on the previous evening, and only another terror would be added to the
girl's life. And, Heaven knows, they all had terrors enough.
On the other hand, Vera had made up her mind to say nothing to the
family generally as to her startling adventures. Of course, Geoffrey and
Ralph Ravenspur would have to know, but the rest were to be kept in the
dark.
Vera's white face and serious air were accounted for by the headache
from which she was palpably suffering. Some of the others understood,
and they were full of silent sympathy.
"It is nothing," said Vera. "A walk along the cliffs will soon set me
right." As she spoke she looked at Geoffrey significantly. He knew
immediately that the girl had something important to say to him. He
slipped outside and Vera followed him. Not till they were out of sight
of the house did she speak.
"Dr. Tchigorsky is still about?" she asked.
"Yes, dear," Geoffrey replied. "As a matter of fact, he is hiding in
Uncle Ralph's room. He has his own reasons for so doing, but the reasons
are to remain a profound secret. I ought not to have told you. You are
not to tell any one."
Vera gave a sigh of relief.
"I promise that," she said. "And I am exceedingly glad to hear that Dr.
Tchigorsky is safe. I was not sure whether I had not seen his murder."
Geoffrey regarded Vera in amazement.
"Why, you were in your room all night," he cried. "You were----"
He was going to say "drugged," but he pulled himself up just in time.
Vera told her story without further preamble. It was a thrilling story
and none the less so because simply told.
"I don't profess to understand it," Vera concluded. "I tell it to you
just as it happened. On the whole, I thought it as well to keep the
information to myself. I dare say that Dr. Tchigorsky can solve the
problem."
"He shall have a chance," said Geoffrey. "I'll tell him after luncheon.
But I should not tell a soul else this, Vera."
"I had no intention, Geoffrey. And now, hadn't we better go back and say
good-bye to Mrs. May. She is leaving the house directly."
Mrs. May did leave the house in the course of the morning, all smiles
and blandishments. She had a particularly tender word and squeeze of the
hand for Geoffrey, whom she pressed in a whisper to come and see her
before long.
"I will," Geoffrey replied. "You may rely upon that."
It was with a feeling of intense relief that he was rid of her. It
seemed hard to believe that the smiling polished woman of the world, the
_dernière cri_ of Western civilization, should be one and the same with
the fanatic princess of the fanatical East.
There was something wild and bizarre about the very suggestion. There
was one last smile for every one but Marion, who had not appeared, and
Mrs. May was gone.
Geoffrey made his way up to his uncle's room. There he found the two
friends smoking. Tchigorsky looked at him from behind a cloud of thin
smoke.
"You have news, my young friend," said Tchigorsky. "I see it in your
eyes."
"I have the most important news," said Geoffrey, "only it does not
convey any impression to me. It is a discovery of Vera's. She had a fine
adventure last night. She was not sure whether or not she had seen your
murder, Tchigorsky."
"Say on," Tchigorsky said calmly. "Say on, my boy."
Geoffrey said on accordingly. He fully expected to surprise his hearers,
and he was not disappointed. Every word he said was followed with rapt
attention.
"And now can you explain it?" Geoffrey asked eagerly.
"To me the explanation is perfectly clear," Tchigorsky replied. "Last
night I told you that there were two other parties to the vendetta now
in England, and that it was necessary to get them into the net before we
close it. That is no longer necessary, for the simple reason that these
two men are dead--drowned."
"Do you mean that they perished with that stranger last night?"
"Certainly, I do. A fine determined fellow, whose death I cannot
sufficiently deplore. And he had his vengeance upon his foes. If he
perished, they perished also."
"But who was he, Tchigorsky?"
"The other man--my fellow-countryman, Voski. Don't you remember my
telling you how the princess spoke of him? He has been hunted down at
last. They lured him here and destroyed him under the pretence that I
wanted to see him. My presumed servant had only to mention my name, and
the thing was done."
"But why bring him here?"
"Because the place is so quiet. Because they wanted to give their
mistress, the princess, a pleasant surprise. I don't suppose she knew
they were coming."
"But the light in the corridor?"
"That was a curious and useless coincidence. The light in the corridor
was mine. I was looking for something. Neither of those miscreants was
ever in the house at all. At the same time they had naturally been
informed where I was. To-day they would have gone to their mistress with
the pleasing news that they had despatched Voski. I am certain they were
saving the news for her."
"What shall you do about it?" asked Geoffrey.
"I shall not do anything at present," Tchigorsky replied. "I have a
little idea that may work out to our advantage later. Meanwhile nobody
knows of the tragedy and nobody is to know. This afternoon you are going
out fishing in a boat, but in reality you are going to look for their
bodies. If you can find them all----"
"We are certain to find them all," Ralph interrupted. "They will be
carried round Gull Reef on the spit of sand under the caves and
deposited on the beach, whence the tide ebbs at four o'clock to-day. I
have not lived here all my life for nothing. We shall find those bodies
within a yard of where I say."
"And bring them up the cliff," Geoffrey shuddered. "Ugh!"
"You will do nothing of the kind," Tchigorsky said coolly. "Bring Voski,
of course, but you are to bury the two ruffians in the sand. It will be
easy to do so, and pile some rocks over them afterwards."
Geoffrey ventured to suggest that such a course might end disastrously,
the officers of the law not to know of it. Tchigorsky waved the
suggestion aside contemptuously. It was no time for nice points like
these.
"Those foul creatures are dead, and there is an end of it," he said.
"What can it matter whether there is an inquest held on them or not? If
it is, then there will be an end of my scheme. I say you must do this.
The future happiness of the family depends upon it. It is also of the
utmost importance that Princess Zara does not know of the death of her
miscreants."
Geoffrey nodded. He began to see daylight. And, after all, the
concealment of these bodies was no crime.
"What do you say, Uncle Ralph?" he asked.
"Say that Tchigorsky is right," Ralph croaked; "Tchigorsky is always
right. When we get Voski's body, what shall we do with it?"
"Lay it out in the corridor, where I can get a look at it," said
Tchigorsky. "For the present I do not exist--at least, so far as this
house is concerned. All you have to do is to follow my directions."
The strange pair set out on their excursion in the afternoon. It was a
long pull from the village to the cliffs, but it was accomplished at
length. The boat was run aground at the least dangerous spot and Ralph
and Geoffrey set out along the sands. The former's step was as free and
assured as that of his younger companion.
"Ah," Geoffrey cried, "you are right. There they are."
"I knew it," Ralph replied. "See if they are injured."
Geoffrey steeled himself to his gruesome task. The three men lay side by
side as if they had been placed so by human hands.
As far as Geoffrey could judge, there were no signs of violence on the
bodies of either of the natives. They lay by each other, their faces
transfixed with rage and horror.
Beyond doubt, these men had been drowned, sucked down by the strong
current and then cast up again by the sea as if in cruel sport.
"No hurts on either," Geoffrey muttered.
"It is possible. Look at the other one."
Geoffrey did so. He saw a face fixed with a grim smile, the smile of the
man who can meet death and knows how to punish those who injure them.
The face was seared and criss-crossed just like Tchigorsky's and Ralph
Ravenspur's; indeed, with its strange disfigurement the dead Russian
would have passed for Tchigorsky.
The face was black and swollen from an ugly bruise in the forehead. Had
not he known the truth, and had any one told Geoffrey that Tchigorsky
lay there, he would have believed it.
A spade had been placed in the bottom of the boat, and with it two deep
graves were dug in the sand. Into them the bodies of the Orientals were
cast; the sand was made smooth again, and a layer of heavy rocks laid on
the top. The body of the Russian was conveyed to the boat and thence to
the house.
There was nobody to see the mournful entry. All the family were on the
terrace. A startled servant or two came forward and gave the necessary
assistance to convey the body to the dimly lighted corridor.
"Go to the village and fetch the constable," said Geoffrey. "We have
found a dead body on the beach."
The servant went off; the gallery was deserted. In a few minutes the
family would be in the house again, and the story would have to be told.
Tchigorsky looked cautiously from his hiding place.
"Is the coast clear?" he asked.
"Perfectly clear," said Geoffrey.
Tchigorsky came forward. For a long time he examined the body. The
regret on his face was tempered by a gleam of grim satisfaction.
"It is very like you," said Geoffrey.
"It is me," Tchigorsky whispered. "You are to recognize it as me. The
idea is that I fell over the cliffs in the darkness and was drowned. I
will explain later. Somebody comes."
Tchigorsky darted off as Marion appeared. She looked white and agitated.
"Another horror," she said. "Sims just told me. Who is it?"
"I regret to say it is Dr. Tchigorsky," said Ralph. "He must have walked
over the cliff in the darkness. See here."
Marion bent over the body with a shudder.
"Poor fellow," she said tenderly. "Tchigorsky beyond a doubt."
Ralph turned away, as if in grief. But the grin on his face was the grin
of Mephistopheles.