ON A FRESH TRAIL
If Giles Ware had not been desperately in love and desperately anxious
to find Anne Denham, he would scarcely have gone to Paris on such a
wild-goose chase. The postmark on the letter showed that she was, or she
had been, in the French capital; but to find her in that immense city
was like looking for a haystack in a league-long desert. However, Ware
had an idea--foolish enough--that some instinct would guide him to her
side, and, therefore, as soon as he recovered sufficiently to travel he
crossed the Channel with Trim. He left Rickwell about three weeks after
his interview with Morley. Time enough, as he well knew, for Anne to
change her place of residence. But he trusted to luck.
For quite a fortnight he explored the city, accompanied by the faithful
old servant. Trim had sharp eyes, and would be certain to recognize Anne
if she came within eyesight. But in spite of their vigilance and
observation, the two saw no one even distantly resembling Anne.
Certainly if Giles had gone to the authorities, who take note of all who
come and go, he might have been more successful. But knowing that Anne
was wanted by the English police, he did not dare to adopt this method.
He was forced to rely entirely on himself, and his search resulted in
nothing.
"It ain't no good, Master Giles," said Trim for at least the tenth time;
"we've lost the scent somehow. Better go back to London. I don't want
you to be ill over here, sir, with nothing but foreign doctors to look
after you."
"I shan't leave Paris until I am certain that she is not in the place,"
declared Ware resolutely.
"Well, sir, I don't know how much more certain you wants to be. We've
tramped them bullyvardes and Chamy Elizas till our feet are near
dropping off. You're looking a shadow, Master Giles, if you'll excuse an
old man as nursed you when you were a baby. She ain't here. Now I
shouldn't be surprised if she were in London," said Trim wisely.
"What, in the very jaws of the lion? Nonsense!"
"Oh, but is it, sir? I always heard it said by them as knows that the
jaws of the lion is the very last place any one expects to find them."
Trim did not state what "them" he meant. "If she went back to Rickwell
she would be safe, especially if she laid up in some cottage and called
herself a widder."
"Trim, you've been reading detective novels!"
"Not me, sir; I ain't got no time. But about this going back----"
"We'll go back to-morrow, Trim," said Ware, with sudden resolution. And
Trim joyfully departed to pack.
It just struck Giles that after all Trim might be right, and that having
thrown the police off the scent by going abroad in the yacht, Anne might
return to London. She might be there now, living in some quiet suburb,
while the police were wasting their time corresponding with the French
authorities. Moreover, Ware thought it would be just as well to learn
what Steel was doing. He had charge of the case and might have struck
the trail. In that case Giles wanted to know, for he could then avert
any possible danger from Anne. And finally he reflected that he might
learn something about Anne's friends from the people at the Governesses'
Institute where Mrs. Morley had engaged her. If she returned to London
it was not impossible that she might have gone to hide in the house of
some friend. Any one who knew Anne could be certain that she was not
guilty of the crime she was accused of, and would assuredly aid her to
escape the unjust law. So thought Giles in his ardor; but he quite
forgot that every one was not in love with Anne, and would scarcely help
her unless they were fully convinced of her innocence, and perhaps not
even then. Most people have a holy horror of the law, and are not
anxious to help those in danger of the long arm of justice.
However, Giles reasoned as above and forthwith left Paris for London. He
took up his quarters in the Guelph Hotel, opposite the Park, and began
his search for Anne again. Luckily he had obtained from Mrs. Morley the
number of the Institute, which was in South Kensington, and the day
after his arrival walked there to make inquiries. It was a very forlorn
hope, but Ware saw no other chance of achieving his desire.
The Institute was a tall red-brick house, with green blinds and a prim,
tidy look. He was shown into a prim parlor and interviewed by a prim old
lady, who wore spectacles and had a pencil stuffed in the bosom of her
black gown. However, she was less prim than she looked, and had a
cheerful old ruddy face with a twinkling pair of kindly eyes. In her
heart Mrs. Cairns admired this handsome young man who spoke so politely,
and was more willing to afford him the desired information than if he
had been elderly and ugly. Old as she was, the good lady was a true
daughter of Eve, and her natural liking for the opposite sex had not
been crushed out of her by years of education. Nevertheless when she
heard the name of Anne she threw up her hands in dismay.
"Why do you come here to ask about that unfortunate girl?" she demanded,
and looked severely at Giles. Before he could reply she glanced again at
his card, which she held in her fingers, and started. "Giles Ware," she
read, drawing a quick breath. "Are you----"
"I was engaged to the young lady who was killed," said Ware, surprised.
Mrs. Cairns' rosy face became a deep red. "And you doubtless wish to
avenge her death by finding Miss Denham?"
"On the contrary, I wish to save Miss Denham."
"What! do you not believe her guilty?"
"No, Mrs. Cairns, I do not. Every one says she killed the girl, but I am
certain that she is an innocent woman. I come to ask you if you can tell
me where she is."
"Why do you come to me?" Mrs. Cairns went to see that the door was
closed before she asked this question.
"I thought you might know of her whereabouts."
"Why should I?"
"Well, I admit that there is no reason why you should--at least, I
thought so before I came here."
"And now?" She bent forward eagerly.
"Now I think that if she had come to you for refuge she would get help
from you. I can see that you also believe her guiltless."
"I do," said Mrs. Cairns in a low voice. "I have known Anne for years
and I am certain that she is not the woman to do a thing like this. She
would not harm a fly."
"Then you can help me. You know where she is?"
Mrs. Cairns looked at his flushed face, at the light in his eyes. In
her shrewd way she guessed the secret of this eagerness. "Then you love
her," she said under her breath. "You love Anne."
"Why do you say that?" asked Giles, taken aback. He was not prepared to
find that she could read him so easily.
"I remember," said Mrs. Cairns to herself, but loud enough for him to
hear, "there was a Society paper said something about jealousy being the
motive of the crime, and----"
"Do you mean to say that such a statement was in the papers?" asked Ware
angrily, and with a flash of his blue eyes.
"It was in none of the big daily papers, Mr. Ware. They offered no
explanation. But some Society reporter went down to Rickwell; to gather
scandal from the servants, I suppose."
"Off from Mrs. Parry," muttered Giles; then aloud, "Yes?"
"Well, this man or woman--most probably it was a woman--made up a very
pretty tale, which was printed in _The Firefly_."
"A scandalous paper," said Ware, annoyed. "What did it say?"
"That you were in love with Anne, that you were engaged to Miss Kent,
and that to gain you as her husband Anne killed the girl."
"It's a foul lie. I'll horsewhip the editor and make him put in an
apology."
"I shouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Ware," said the old lady dryly.
"Better let sleeping dogs lie. I don't believe the whole story
myself--only part of it."
"What part, Mrs. Cairns?"
"That part which says you love Anne. I can see it in your face."
"If I can trust you----"
"Certainly you can. Anne is like my own child. I believe her guiltless
of this terrible crime, and I would do anything to see her righted. She
did not kill the girl."
"No, I believe the girl was killed by a nameless man who came to
Rickwell from some firm of solicitors. I don't know why he murdered the
poor child, no more than I can understand why Anne should have helped
him to escape."
"You call her Anne," said Mrs. Cairns softly.
Giles flushed through the tan of his strong face.
"I have no right to do so," he said. "She never gave me permission. Mrs.
Cairns, I assure you that there was no understanding between Miss Denham
and myself. I was engaged by my father to Miss Kent, and we were to be
married. I fell in love with Miss Denham, and I have reason to believe
that she returned my love."
"She told you so?"
"No, no! She and I never said words like that to one another. We were
friends; nothing more. Miss Kent chose to be jealous of a trifling gift
I gave Miss Denham at Christmas, and there was trouble. Then came an
anonymous letter, saying that Anne wished to kill Daisy."
"A letter, and said that?" exclaimed Mrs. Cairns in surprise. "But I
can't understand it at all. Anne had no enemies, so far as I know. No
one could hate so sweet a girl. Her father----"
"Did you know her father?" asked Ware quickly.
"No; but she often spoke of him. She was fond of her father, although he
seems to have been a wandering Bohemian. He died at Florence."
"I wonder if he really did die."
"Of course. He--but it's a long story, Mr. Ware, and I have not the
time to tell it to you. Besides, there is one who can tell you all about
Anne and her father much better than I can. The Princess Karacsay. Do
you know her?"
"I have seen the name somewhere."
"Probably on a programme," said Mrs. Cairns composedly. "Oh, don't look
so astonished. The Princess is really a Hungarian aristocrat. She
quarrelled with her people, and came to England with very little money.
To keep herself alive she tried to become a governess. Afterwards,
having a beautiful voice, she became a concert singer. I hear she is
very popular."
"How should she know about Anne--I mean Miss Denham?"
"Because if there is any woman to whom Anne would go in her distress, it
would be the Princess. She met Anne here while she was a governess, and
the two became great friends. They were always together. I do not know
where Anne is, Mr. Ware. She did not come to me, nor has she written;
but if she is in England the Princess will know."
"Do you think she would tell me?" asked Giles eagerly.
"I really don't know. She is romantic, and if she learned that you loved
Anne she might be inclined to help you. But that would depend upon Anne
herself. How is she disposed towards you?"
For answer Giles related the episode of the foreign letter, with the
drawing of the coin and the one word "Innocent." Mrs. Cairns listened
quietly, and nodded.
"Evidently Anne values your good opinion. I think you had better tell
all this to the Princess." She hastily wrote a few lines. "This is her
address."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
"And, Mr. Ware," added the old lady, laying a kind hand on his arm, "if
you hear about Anne, come and tell me. I hope with all my soul that you
will be able to save the poor child."
"If human aid can prove her innocence, you can depend upon me," was
Ware's reply. And taking leave of Mrs. Cairns, he left the Institute
with his heart beating and his head in the air.
Giles was glad that his good fortune had led him to meet this true
friend of the woman he loved. He was also glad that he had been so open
with her about his passion, else she might not have sent him to the
Princess Karacsay. As the name came into his mind he glanced down at the
paper, which he still held. The address of Anne's friend was "42,
Gilbert Mansions, Westminster." Giles resolved to lose no time in
looking her up. She would be able to tell him where Anne was, and also
might be able to explain the mystery of Anne's life in general, and her
conduct at Rickwell in particular.
For there was some mystery about Miss Denham. Ware was quite certain on
that point. She had said that her father was dead, and circumstances
pointed to the fact that her father was alive and was the nameless man
who had appeared and disappeared so suddenly. Then there was the strange
episode of the anonymous letter, and the queer reference therein to the
Scarlet Cross. Also the fact that the yacht in which Anne had fled was
called _The Red Cross_. All these things hinted at a mystery, and such
might in some indirect way be connected with the death of Daisy Kent.
Anne had not killed her; but since she had aided the murderer to escape
she must have condoned the crime in some way. Ware shuddered as he
looked at the matter in this light. What if Anne knew something about
the matter after all? The next moment he put the thought from him with
anger. Anne was good and pure, and her hands were clean from the stain
of blood. Such a woman would not--could not commit a crime either
directly or indirectly. When he saw her he would ask for an explanation,
and once she opened her mouth all would be made plain.
Arguing thus with himself, Giles wrote a letter to the Princess Karacsay
and asked for an interview. He mentioned that he had seen Mrs. Cairns
and that the old lady had furnished him with the address. Also, he said
that his wish in seeing the Princess was to ask for the whereabouts of
Miss Denham. Having despatched this note, Giles felt that he could do no
more until he received a reply.
But he was too restless to remain quiet. It occurred to him that he
might look up Steel and learn what fresh discoveries had been made in
connection with the Rickwell crime. He went to New Scotland Yard and
asked for the detective, but learned to his surprise and vexation that
the man was out of town and was not expected back for a week. No one
could say where he had gone, so Giles had to satisfy himself with
leaving a card and promising to call again.
The next day he received a note from the Princess Karacsay asking him to
come the next evening at nine o'clock. She said nothing about Anne, nor
did she volunteer any information. She simply appointed an hour and a
place for the interview and signed herself Olga Karacsay. Giles felt
that she had been intentionally curt, and wondered if she intended to
give him a civil reception. After some thought he decided that she meant
to be kind, although the note read so coldly. He would go, and perhaps
during the interview she might be persuaded to help him. After all, she
must know that he had been engaged to marry the dead girl, and
fancied--as Mrs. Cairns had done--that he wished to have Anne arrested.
The following evening he arrayed himself with particular care and drove
in a hansom to Westminster. The cab stopped before a great pile of brick
buildings near the Abbey, and when Giles had dismissed it he entered a
large and well-lighted hall with a tesselated pavement. Here a porter
volunteered, on ascertaining his business, to conduct him to the door of
the Princess Karacsay's flat, which was on the first floor.
Giles was admitted by a neat maid-servant, who showed him into a
picturesque drawing-room. A tall woman in evening dress was standing
beside the window in the twilight. Giles thought her figure was familiar
and recognized the turn of her head. He uttered a cry.
"Anne," he said, stretching his arms. "Anne, my dearest!"