Richard Keene placed his cue upon the floor, and leaning upon it, looked
straight at me and said--
"Yes. It is quite true that I'm in this house under false colours. But
do you think it will be to your advantage, Mr Woodhouse, to quarrel
with me?"
"I only know that your presence here is unwelcome to certain members of
Lord Stanchester's household," I exclaimed. "And I should consider it a
very wise course if you excused yourself and left."
"Why should I?" he asked triumphantly. "I'm really enjoying myself here
very much. The Earl gives his guests plenty of sport."
"And you, on your part, are making sport of an innocent woman!" I said,
with rising anger at the fellow's defiance.
"I suppose Lady Lolita has told you something, then?" he remarked.
"Lady Lolita has told me of your merciless attitude towards her," I
said. "I am quite well aware of your secret communications with Lady
Stanchester," I added. "And it is plain to me in what direction your
efforts are directed."
He started again, looking at me as though uncertain how far my knowledge
of his past extended. Then he slowly stroked his short-cropped beard.
"In other words then the two women have betrayed me--eh?" he observed
thoughtfully in a harsh mechanical voice, as though speaking to himself.
"Not in the least," was my answer. "They dare not betray you--that you
know quite well. But my affection for Lady Lolita, to which you
referred just now, has caused me to make certain inquiries with somewhat
curious results. Therefore, I tell you plainly, Mr Keene, that if you
are not desirous of exposure you had better leave Sibberton before noon
to-morrow."
"And if not?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.
"If not, I shall go to his lordship and tell him your real name."
He laughed in my face.
"Well, that's exactly what would bring matters to a head," he declared.
"Perhaps, after all, it would be best if he did know--for I could then
reveal to him, and to the world, a truth that would be both ugly and
startling. Tell him who I am, if you wish, but before doing so, is it
not better to carefully consider all the eventualities?"
At that instant Lolita's maid Weston opened the door, apparently looking
for her mistress. Her eyes met Keene's, and I saw a look of mutual
recognition. But in an instant the young woman closed the door again.
Keene made no remark, but I saw surprise and apprehension written upon
his sun-bronzed features.
"Then, in a word, you refuse to relieve these ladies of your presence?"
I said in a firm tone.
"I refuse to obey any paid servant of Lord Stanchester," was his
insulting response.
"But if you recollect the manner in which you first visited Sibberton--
as a hungry tramp who drank beer at the _Stanchester Arms_--you must
admit that your presence here is, to say the least, suspicious. You
entrusted to Warr a letter to Lady Lolita--and village publicans will
gossip, you know."
"What, has that fellow been talking--surely not?" he exclaimed quickly.
"I only speak from my own knowledge--not from hearsay."
He took a long draw at his cigar, looking me calmly in the face, as
though undecided how to act. At last, after full deliberation, he said,
in a much more conciliatory tone--
"Really, Mr Woodhouse, I don't know, after all, whether either of us
will gain anything by being antagonists. We both have our own ends to
serve. You love Lady Lolita, and wish to--well--to save her; while I,
too, have an object in view--a distinct object. Why cannot we unite in
a friendly manner?"
"Against whom?"
"Against those who seek to bring ruin and disgrace upon the woman you
love."
"But you are her enemy," I said. "How can I join you in this affair?"
"Ah, there you are quite mistaken. She, too, is mistaken. True, I was
once her enemy, but circumstances have changed, and I am now her
friend."
"Is your friendship so prone then to being influenced by every adverse
wind that blows?" I asked, by no means convinced of the genuineness of
his proposals.
"Of course you hesitate," he remarked. "And perhaps that is only
natural. Let us, however, call Lady Lolita into consultation."
This suggestion of his I readily acted upon, and ringing for a servant
told him to find her ladyship at once, and ask her whether she could
make it convenient to see me for a moment in the red room on business
connected with next day's shooting luncheon.
Then we put down our cues and together walked through the long corridors
to the old wing of the great mansion, to the red room, a small boudoir
to which visitors never went, and where I knew that we might exchange
confidences in secret.
I switched on the electric light, and standing together in the small
old-fashioned apartment, furnished in crimson silk damask of a century
ago, and red silk upon the walls, we anxiously awaited her coming.
At last we heard her light footstep in the corridor, but she halted upon
the threshold, utterly taken aback at sight of my companion. She had
avoided him studiously all the evening, and was of course, unaware of
our present intention.
"I regret very much to call your ladyship here," Keene commenced. "But
it seems to have become imperative that Mr Woodhouse and I should, in
your presence, arrive at some understanding."
Though radiant in dress, her beautiful face was pale to the lips, and
her thin hands trembled nervously.
She advanced slowly without a word, like a woman in a dream, and
stepping up behind her I closed the door and locked it.
"I must explain, Lady Lolita," said Keene, "that had I known you were
returning here I should have left before your arrival, for I have no
desire to thrust upon you my presence, which I know must, having regard
to the past, be most unwelcome. However, we have met, and I am a guest
here in your home. Further circumstances compel me to remain here for
some time longer, therefore I am anxious that we should thoroughly
understand one another."
"I received the letter handed me by Warr, the innkeeper. It was
sufficiently explanatory," she remarked in a hard unnatural voice,
standing with her hand upon the chair back, and looking straight into
his calm countenance.
"We may, for the present, disregard that letter," he said. "You will
recollect what I said to you confidentially in the hall an hour ago.
You admitted that you reciprocate Mr Woodhouse's affection, and you
declared that he was your friend."
"And so I am," I maintained.
"Exactly. Indeed, as far as I can ascertain, it seems that he is a most
devoted friend. It is for that very reason that I have asked you to
come here and listen to what I have to say."
"I am all attention," she responded blankly, with that inertness born of
despair. "My enemies have combined to crush me--that I know."
"Well, first let me tell you, Lady Lolita, that although I have shown
myself antagonistic in the past, my convictions have now become changed,
and I regret all that I may have done to cause you pain and injury. If
you can really I forgive, will hold out my hand in friendship," and he
stretched forth his hand to her as pledge of his sincerity.
At first she hesitated, unable to believe that the man whom she had
regarded as her bitterest enemy should have become so completely, and so
suddenly her friend. Like myself, she could not at first bring herself
to put perfect faith in him. Yet, in a few moments, seeing his evident
earnestness, she took his hand, and allowed him to wring hers in genuine
friendship.
"Very well," he said in a gratified tone. "That is the first step. The
second is to admit to you that while I am ready to render you assistance
instead of hounding you down to destruction, as I had intended, I have
also a motive--one that must remain my own secret. Mr Woodhouse, here,
no doubt regards my return, my actions, and my arrival as guest in this
house as suspicious. I admit that all the circumstances are exceedingly
remarkable, and require an explanation--which perhaps you will give him
later. But what is so immediately important is the course of action
which we shall pursue, now that I am united to assist you."
"But do you really mean to act on my behalf, Mr Keene?" asked my love
eagerly, as though a new future were opened out to her by the man's
suggestion.
"I have given my hand as pledge," was his reply. "There is an
allegation against you--a fact of which I presume Mr Woodhouse is
aware. And your bitterest enemy--one who, by a word, could free you--is
a woman."
"Willoughby--I mean Mr Woodhouse--has told me. It is Marigold."
"Yes. And she refuses to speak. Our efforts must be made towards
compelling her," he said.
But in that moment I recollected how the Countess had defied him, and
threatened him with a terrible exposure. Of what?
"And Marie Lejeune? Where is she?" inquired Lolita.
"She has disappeared, it seems. At least I don't know where she is at
this moment. For the present we need not be concerned about her. We
have to deal with a shrewd and clever woman, whose future depends upon
your future. If you live she must die,--if you die, she will live."
He spoke the words with slow distinctness, his eyes fixed upon her,
watching the effect of his utterances.
"How can I live?" she asked, in a low hoarse voice. "You know
everything--you know my peril."
"True. I know everything," was the man's reply. "I know, too, how you
have suffered I know how Mr Woodhouse, loving you as he does, must also
suffer. Believe me, Lady Lolita, although I am but a rough man unused
nowadays to the ways of good society, I am not altogether devoid of
sympathy for a woman, and that sympathy will cause me to guard the
secret of your affection. I wish you to consider that, in me, instead
of an enemy, you have a sincere friend. I am fully aware of the
exposure which Mr Woodhouse might make to George, but it would not only
be against my interests, but against yours."
"Yet it would bring Marigold to her knees to beg forgiveness," my love
remarked.
"Yes. But surely you know that woman well enough to be aware that her
vengeance would fall heavily upon you--that you would be hurled to ruin
and disgrace before she herself would give way and fall."
"I believed her to be my friend," was Lolita's remark.
"You only believed as others believe. There are many persons to whom
she acts the false friend--her husband not excepted. You have only to
sit in the smoking-rooms of certain London clubs in order to hear the
expression of public opinion regarding her. The clubs always know more
facts about a man's wife than her own husband."
"Well," I exclaimed, "what is your advice? How shall we act?"
Even now I was not altogether convinced of Keene's good-will. The
horror and fear in which Lolita had formerly held him somehow clung to
me, and I could not help suspecting that this man who had struck up an
acquaintance with George in the wilds of the Zambesi, and had come so
boldly among those whom it was his intention to unmask, was now playing
us false.
Yet in word and manner he was perfectly open and straightforward.
"Have patience, Lady Lolita," he urged. "Mr Woodhouse will assist me
in this very difficult piece of diplomacy that we are about to
undertake. Had it not been for the fact that our friend here
unfortunately gave Marie Lejeune warning that night in Chelsea, when the
police were waiting to trap her, we should have had no necessity for
this present scheming. The truth would then have been revealed and the
guilty would have gone to their just punishment."
"I know! I know!" I cried. "It was foolish on my part. But I
believed I was acting in Lady Lolita's interests. I see, however, that
I made a mistake--a fatal mistake."
"We must rectify it," he said. "Her ladyship has been frank with me
concerning your mutual affection, and I will not stand by and see her
hurled to her grave by the dastardly schemes of her enemies. You
admitted to me that you discovered upon the body of Hugh Wingfield a
certain paper in cipher. Will you not allow me sight of it?"
"A paper in cipher!" gasped my love, glancing at me. "Was that found
upon him?"
"Yes," was my reply. "I discovered a paper in a woman's hand, and
written in the chequer-board cipher."
"And the keyword was what?" she inquired in breathless eagerness,
turning her great blue eyes to mine.
"Ah! I haven't any idea of the keyword," I admitted.
"Then you haven't been able to make it out!" she remarked, breathing
more freely. "You don't know to what it refers?"
"No," I responded frankly. "I am in ignorance. But if you will remain
a moment I'll go to my room and fetch it."
"You need not," was her reply. "It is quite unnecessary."
"Why?"
"Well, because I chance to know what is contained in it, and that there
was nothing of importance."
Did she imply that she had written that secret message herself? I
glanced at her countenance, and somehow became convinced that she was
still bent upon the concealment of the truth, a conviction that was both
irritating and tantalising.
Mystery had succeeded mystery, until I admit that I was now overcome by
blank bewilderment.