E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Annie McGuire, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 26063-h.htm or 26063-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/0/6/26063/26063-h/26063-h.htm)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/0/6/26063/26063-h.zip)
A COIN OF EDWARD VII.
by
FERGUS HUME
* * * * * *
Popular Novels by Fergus Hume
THE SECRET PASSAGE
The _Albany Evening Journal_ says: "Fully as interesting as his former
books, and keeps one guessing to the end. The story begins with the
murder of an old lady, with no apparent cause for the crime, and in
unraveling the mystery the author is very clever in hiding the real
criminal. A pleasing romance runs through the book, which adds to the
interest."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE YELLOW HOLLY
_The Philadelphia Public Ledger_ says: "'The Yellow Holly' outdoes any
of his earlier stories. It is one of those tales that the average reader
of fiction of this sort thinks he knows all about after he has read the
first few chapters. Those who have become admirers of Mr. Hume cannot
afford to miss 'The Yellow Holly.'" 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
A COIN OF EDWARD VII.
_The Philadelphia Item_ says: "This book is quite up to the level of the
high standard which Mr. Hume has set for himself in 'The Mystery of a
Hansom Cab' and 'The Rainbow Feather.' It is a brilliant, stirring
adventure, showing the author's prodigious inventiveness, his well of
imagination never running dry."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE PAGAN'S CUP
_The Nashville American_ says: "The plot is intricate with mystery and
probability neatly dovetailed and the solution is a series of surprises
skillfully retarded to whet the interest of the reader. It is
excellently written and the denouement so skillfully concealed that
one's interest and curiosity are kept on edge till the very last. It
will certainly be a popular book with a very large class of readers."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE MANDARIN'S FAN
_The Nashville American_ says: "The book is most attractive and
thoroughly novel in plot and construction. The mystery of the curious
fan, and its being the key to such wealth and power is decidedly
original and unique. Nearly every character in the book seems possible
of accusation. It is just the sort of plot in which Hume is at his best.
It is a complex tangle, full of splendid climaxes. Few authors have a
charm equal to that of Mr. Hume's mystery tales."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
* * * * * *
[Illustration: "HE SAW THE FIGURE OF A WOMAN LYING FACE DOWNWARD ON THE
SNOW."--_Page 45._]
A COIN OF EDWARD VII.
A Detective Story
by
FERGUS HUME
Author of
"The Mystery of a Hansom Cab"; "The Pagan's Cup";
"Claude Duval of 95"; "The Rainbow Feather," Etc.
G. W. Dillingham Company
Publishers New York
Copyright, 1903, By
G. W. Dillingham Company
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE CHRISTMAS TREE 7
II. AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 16
III. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 26
IV. THE CHURCHYARD 37
V. AFTERWARDS 46
VI. THE CASE AGAINST ANNE 55
VII. OLIVER MORLEY 65
VIII. THE IRONY OF FATE 74
IX. A STRANGE DISCOVERY 84
X. ON A FRESH TRAIL 96
XI. PRINCESS KARACSAY 106
XII. MRS. PARRY'S TEA 118
XIII. MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS 129
XIV. TREASURE TROVE 139
XV. AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 148
XVI. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 159
XVII. PART OF THE TRUTH 169
XVIII. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT 180
XIX. THE CLUE LEADS TO LONDON 190
XX. MANY A SLIP 'TWIXT CUP AND LIP 201
XXI. A STORY OF THE PAST 212
XXII. OLGA'S EVIDENCE 223
XXIII. MARK DANE 233
XXIV. A RAT IN A CORNER 245
XXV. A CATASTROPHE 259
XXVI. THE END OF THE TROUBLE 272
CHAPTER I
THE CHRISTMAS TREE
Two old ladies sat in the corner of the drawing-room. The younger--a
colonial cousin of the elder--was listening eagerly to gossip which
dealt with English society in general, and Rickwell society in
particular. They presumably assisted in the entertainment of the
children already gathered tumultuously round the Christmas tree,
provided by Mr. Morley; but Mrs. Parry's budget of scandal was too
interesting to permit the relaxing of Mrs. McKail's attention.
"Ah yes," said Mrs. Parry, a hatchet-faced dame with a venomous tongue
and a retentive memory, "Morley's fond of children, although he has none
of his own."
"But those three pretty little girls?" said Mrs. McKail, who was fat,
fair, and considerably over forty.
"Triplets," replied the other, sinking her voice. "The only case of
triplets I have met with, but not his children. No, Mrs. Morley was a
widow with triplets and money. Morley married her for the last, and had
to take the first as part of the bargain. I don't deny but what he does
his duty by the three."
Mrs. McKail's keen grey eyes wander to the fat, rosy little man who
laughingly struggled amidst a bevy of children, the triplets included.
"He seems fond of them," said she, nodding.
"Seems!" emphasised Mrs. Parry shrewdly. "Ha! I don't trust the man. If
he were all he seems, would his wife's face wear that expression? No,
don't tell me."
Mrs. Morley was a tall, lean, serious woman, dressed in sober grey. She
certainly looked careworn, and appeared to participate in the
festivities more as a duty than for the sake of amusement. "He is said
to be a good husband," observed Mrs. McKail doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure of nothing where men are concerned. I wouldn't trust one of
them. Morley is attentive enough to his wife, and he adores the
triplets--so he says; but I go by his eye. Orgy is written in that eye.
It can pick out a pretty woman, my dear. Oh, his wife doesn't look sick
with anxiety for nothing!"
"At any rate, he doesn't seem attentive to that pretty girl over
there--the one in black with the young man."
"Girl! She's twenty-five if she's an hour. I believe she paints and puts
belladonna in her eyes. I wouldn't have her for my governess. No, she's
too artful, though I can't agree with you about her prettiness."
"Is she the governess?"
Mrs. Parry nodded, and the ribbons on her cap curled like Medusa's
snakes. "For six months Mrs. Morley has put up with her. She teaches the
Tricolor goodness knows what."
"The Tricolor?"
"So we call the triplets. Don't you see one is dressed in red, another
in white, and the third in blue? Morley's idea, I believe. As though a
man had any right to interest himself in such things. We call them
collectively the Tricolor, and Anne Denham is the governess. Pretty? No.
Artful? Yes. See how she is trying to fascinate Ware!"
"That handsome young man with the fair moustache and----"
"The same," interrupted Mrs. Parry, too eager to blacken character to
give her friend a chance of concluding her sentence. "Giles Ware, of
Kingshart--the head of one of our oldest Essex families. He came into
the estates two years ago, and has settled down into a country squire
after a wild life. But the old Adam is in him, my dear. Look at his
smile--and she doesn't seem to mind. Brazen creature!" And Mrs. Parry
shuddered virtuously.
The other lady thought that Ware had a most fascinating smile, and was a
remarkably handsome young man of the fair Saxon type. He certainly
appeared to be much interested in the conversation of Miss Denham. But
what young man could resist so beautiful a woman? For in spite of Mrs.
Parry's disparagement Anne was a splendidly handsome brunette--"with a
temper," added Mrs. McKail mentally, as she eyed the well-suited couple.
Mrs. Parry's tongue still raged like a prairie fire. "And she knows he's
engaged," she snorted. "Look at poor Daisy Kent out in the cold, while
that woman monopolizes Ware! Ugh!"
"Is Miss Kent engaged to Mr. Ware?"
"For three years they have been engaged--a family arrangement, I
understand. The late Kent and the late Ware," explained Mrs. Parry, who
always spoke thus politely of men, "were the greatest of friends, which
I can well understand, as each was an idiot. However, Ware died first
and left his estate to Giles. A few months later Kent died and made
Morley the guardian of his daughter Daisy, already contracted to be
married to Giles."
"Does he love her?"
"Oh, he's fond of her in a way, and he is anxious to obey the last wish
of his father. But it seems to me that he is more in love with that
black cat."
"Hush! You will be heard."
Mrs. Parry snorted. "I hope so, and by the cat herself," she said
grimly. "I can't bear the woman. If I were Mrs. Morley I'd have her out
of the house in ten minutes. Turn her out in the snow to cool her hot
blood. What right has she to attract Ware and make him neglect that dear
angel over there? See, yonder is Daisy. There's a face, there's charm,
there's hair!" finished Mrs. Parry, quite unconscious that she was using
the latest London slang. "I call her a lovely creature."
Mrs. McKail did not agree with her venomous cousin. Daisy was a
washed-out blonde with large blue eyes and a slack mouth. Under a hot
July sky and with a flush of color she would have indeed been pretty;
but the cold of winter and the neglect of Giles Ware shrivelled her up.
In spite of the warmth of the room, the gaiety of the scene, she looked
pinched and older than her years. But there was some sort of character
in her face, for Mrs. McKail caught her directing a glance full of
hatred at the governess. In spite of her ethereal prettiness, Daisy Kent
was a good hater. Mrs. McKail felt sure of that. "And she is much more
of the cat type than the other one is," thought the observant lady, too
wise to speak openly.
However, Mrs. Parry still continued to destroy a character every time
she opened her mouth. She called the rector a Papist; hinted that the
doctor's wife was no better than she should be; announced that Morley
owed money to his tradesmen, that he had squandered his wife's fortune;
and finally wound up by saying that he would spend Daisy Kent's money
when he got it. "If it ever does come to her," finished this amiable
person.
"Did her father leave her money?" asked Mrs. McKail.
"He!" snapped the other; "my dear, he was as poor as a church mouse, and
left Daisy only a hundred a year to live on. That is the one decent
thing about Morley. He did take Daisy in, and he does treat her well,
though to be sure she is a pretty girl, and, as I say, he has an eye."
"Then where does the fortune come from?"
"Kent was a half-brother who went out to America, and it is rumored that
he made a fortune, which he intends to leave to his niece--that's Daisy.
But I don't know all the details of this," added Mrs. Parry, rubbing her
beaky nose angrily; "I must find out somehow. But here, my dear, those
children are stripping the tree. Let us assist. We must give pleasure to
the little ones. I have had six of my own, all married," ended the good
lady irrelevantly.
She might have added that her four sons and two daughters kept at a safe
distance from their respected parent. On occasions she did pay a visit
to one or the other, and usually created a disturbance. Yet this
spiteful, mischief-making woman read her Bible, thought herself a
Christian, and judged others as harshly as she judged herself leniently.
Mrs. McKail was stopping with her, therefore could not tell her what she
thought of her behavior; but she privately determined to cut short her
visit and get away from this disagreeable old creature. In the meantime
Mrs. Parry, smiling like the wicked fairy godmother with many teeth,
advanced to meddle with the Christmas tree and set the children by the
ears. She was a perfect Atê.
Giles said as much to Miss Denham, and she nervously agreed with him as
though fearful lest her assent should reach the ears of Mrs. Parry.
"She has no love for me," whispered Anne. "I think you had better talk
to Daisy, Mr. Ware."
"I prefer to talk to you," said Giles coolly. "Daisy is like her name--a
sweet little English meadow flower--and I love her very dearly. But she
has never been out of England, and sometimes we are at a loss what to
talk about. Now you?"
"I am a gipsy," interrupted Anne, lest he should say something too
complimentary; "a she-Ulysses, who has travelled far and wide. In spite
of your preference for my conversation, I wish I were Daisy."
"Do you?" asked Ware eagerly. "Why?"
Anne flushed and threw back her head proudly. She could not altogether
misunderstand his meaning or the expression of his eyes, but she strove
to turn the conversation with a laugh. "You ask too many questions, Mr.
Ware," she said coldly. "I think Daisy is one of the sweetest of girls,
and I envy her. To have a happy home, a kind guardian as Mr. Morley is,
and a----" She was about to mention Giles, but prudently suppressed the
remark.
"Go on," he said quietly, folding his arms.
She shook her head and bit her lip. "You keep me from my work. I must
attend to my duties. A poor governess, you know." With a laugh she
joined the band of children, who were besieging Morley.
Giles remained where he was, his eyes fixed moodily on the ground. For
more than five months he had fought against an ever-growing passion for
the governess. He knew that he was in honor bound to marry Daisy, and
that she loved him dearly, yet his heart was with Anne Denham. Her
beauty, her brilliant conversation, her charm of manner, all appealed to
him strongly. And he had a shrewd suspicion that she was not altogether
indifferent to him, although she loyally strove to hide her true
feelings. Whenever he became tender, she ruthlessly laughed at him: she
talked constantly of Daisy and of her many charms, and on every occasion
strove to throw her into the company of Giles. She managed to do so on
this occasion, for Giles heard a rather pettish voice at his elbow, and
looked down to behold a flushed face. Daisy was angry, and looked the
prettier for her anger.
"You have scarcely spoken to me all night," she said, taking his arm; "I
do think you are unkind."
"My dear, you have been so busy with the children. And, indeed," he
added, with a grave smile, "you are scarcely more than a child yourself,
Daisy."
"I am woman enough to feel neglect."
"I apologize--on my knees, dearest."
"Oh, it's easy saying so," pouted Daisy, "but you know Anne----"
"What about Miss Denham?" asked Giles, outwardly calm.
"You like her."
"She is a very charming woman, but you are to be my wife. Jealous little
girl, can I not be ordinarily civil to Miss Denham without you getting
angry?"
"You need not be so _very_ civil."
"I won't speak to her at all if you like," replied Ware, with a fine
assumption of carelessness.
"Oh, if you only wouldn't," Daisy stopped--then continued passionately,
"I wish she would go away. I don't like her."
"She is fond of you, Daisy."
"Yes. And a cat is fond of a mouse. Mrs. Parry says----"
"Don't quote that odious woman, child," interrupted Ware sharply. "She
has a bad word for everyone."
"Well, she doesn't like Anne."
"Does she like anyone?" asked Giles coolly. "Come, Daisy, don't wrinkle
your face, and I'll take you out for a drive in my motor-car in a few
days."
"To-morrow! to-morrow!" cried Daisy, her face wreathed in smiles.
"No. I daren't do that on Christmas Day. What would the rector say? As
the lord of the manor I must set an example. On Boxing Day if you like."
"We will go alone?"
"Certainly. Who do you expect me to ask other than you?"
"Anne," said Daisy spitefully, and before he could reply she also moved
away to join the children. Giles winced. He felt that he was in the
wrong and had given his little sweetheart some occasion for jealousy. He
resolved to mend his ways and shun the too fascinating society of the
enchantress. Shaking off his moody feeling, he came forward to assist
Morley. The host was a little man, and could not reach the gifts that
hung on the topmost boughs of the tree. Giles being tall and having a
long reach of arm, came to his aid.
"That's right, that's right," gasped Morley, his round face red and
shining with his exertions, "the best gifts are up here."
"As the best gifts of man are from heaven," put in Mrs. Parry, with her
usual tact.
Morley laughed. "Quite so, quite so," he said, careful as was everyone
else not to offend the lady, "but on this occasion we can obtain the
best gifts. I and Ware and Mrs. Morley have contributed to the tree. The
children have their presents, now for the presents of the grown-ups."
By this time the children were gorged with food and distracted by many
presents. They were seated everywhere, many on the floor, and the room
was a chaos of dolls, trumpets, toy-horses, and drums. The chatter of
the children and the noise of the instruments was fearful. But Morley
seemed to enjoy the riot, and even his wife's grave face relaxed when
she saw her three precious jewels rosy with pleasure. She drew Anne's
attention to them, and the governess smiled sympathetically. Miss Denham
was popular with everyone save Daisy in that happy home.
Meantime Giles handed down the presents. Mrs. Morley received a chain
purse from her affectionate husband; Mrs. Parry a silver cream-jug,
which she immediately priced as cheap; Mrs. McKail laughed delightedly
over a cigarette-case, which she admitted revealed her favorite vice;
and the rector was made happy with a motor-bicycle.
"It has been taken to your house this evening," explained Morley. "We
couldn't put that on the tree. Ha! ha!"
"A muff-chain for Daisy," said Giles, presenting her with the packet,
"and I hope you will like it, dear."
"Did you buy it?" she asked, sparkling and palpitating.
"Of course. I bought presents both for you and Miss Denham. Here is
yours," he added, turning to the governess, who grew rosy, "a very
simple bangle. I wish it were more worthy of your acceptance," and he
handed it with a bow.
Daisy, her heart filled with jealousy, glided away. Giles saw her face,
guessed her feeling, and followed. In a corner he caught her, and placed
something on her finger. "Our engagement ring," he whispered, and Daisy
once more smiled. Her lover smiled also. But his heart was heavy.