THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK.
It was big news, which meant more than at first sight appeared, since
the implication was of depths below depths and veils behind veils. To
be quite plain, the unexpected flight of the fortune-teller, for it
was nothing else, hinted at the truth of Towton's suspicions. Had
there been nothing but the mere assault Diabella could have faced that
and could have even counted upon the Colonel doing nothing, since an
unbiassed witness was lacking. The flight was not caused by the
incident which had taken place in the Bond Street rooms, but by the
fear that something dangerous might peep out from behind it. And what
could this something be--on the grounds of Diabella's story and the
Hindoo's attempted strangling--but a dread lest The Spider should be
traced?
"I am perfectly certain that you are right, Towton," said Vernon,
sitting sideways on the table and swinging his legs. "Only the fear of
her connection with that blackmailing scoundrel being traced could
have scared her into disappearance."
"She has really gone?"
"Really and truly. Remember, she had three days to make herself
scarce, but so afraid was she lest you should take action that she
decamped on the morning of the second day."
"How decamped?" questioned Towton, laying down his pen.
"She sent the Hindoo to surrender the lease. Bahadur his name is."
"The native who tried to choke me?"
"No; the doorkeeper. I was precise to ask if he was lean or stout.
The lean one came to surrender the lease."
"And his name is Bahadur. Well, that's something worth knowing. But
how did you get your informant to talk, and how did you find any
person in authority to explain matters?"
"That was easy." Vernon slipped off the table and into a chair. "I
called on the plea of wanting my fortune told by Diabella. Instead of
Bahadur opening the door a neat little maid-servant made her
appearance and informed me that Diabella had retired from the
business, which had been taken over by a certain American prophetess.
I asked to see the lady, and I did."
"You don't think she was Diabella unmasked?"
"Not from your description. You told me Diabella was tall; this woman
was short, and the voice, instead of being metallic, as you described
it, was rather musical, although disfigured by a Yankee twang. This
new sorceress, from New York City, as she told me she was, could never
have spoken English without the twang."
"It might have been assumed."
"Not it. I can tell the true from the false," said Vernon
emphatically. "Mrs. Hiram G. Slowcomb is a genuine American,
sure enough. Besides, her ideas of surroundings and those of
Diabella differ. The last desired weird decoration and furniture,
a mask, an Egyptian dress, Oriental attendants, and so forth.
Mrs. Slowcomb's idea is that people should not be frightened, but
should have their future told in a motherly, old-fashioned way amidst
rural-fireside-granny-scenery. She intends, so she told me, to
transform the Egyptian rooms into the semblance of a rustic cottage
interior, with a cat and a humming tea-kettle, rafters with strings of
onions, and flower-pots on the ledges of Bond Street windows turned
into casements. It's rather a clever dodge," reflected Vernon, "as
people will be at their ease directly and so will talk freely and
listen comfortably."
"And Mrs. Hiram G. Slowcomb herself?"
"A motherly old thing in a mob cap and a stuff dress with a voluminous
apron and a woollen shawl over her shoulders. I daresay she has
dressed for the old cottage interior part, for she was seated in a
wooden chair which didn't fit in with the Memphis decorations, and
knitted a homely stocking."
"What did she tell you about Diabella?"
"Very little, because she knew very little."
"Do you believe that?" asked the highly suspicious Colonel.
Vernon shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone tells such lies nowadays that
I never believe anyone. But Mrs. Slowcomb seemed to be genuine enough.
However, I'll soon prove that, as I intend to have her watched by a
man upon whom I can depend. I shall learn in that way if she has
business relations with our masked friend."
"What did she tell you?" asked Towton again.
"Well, it seemed that she heard about Diabella wishing to retire from
business and went to see her. Diabella denied that the rumour was
true, but promised Mrs. Slowcomb the first refusal of the rooms and
goodwill, though how one can transfer fortune-telling clients beats
me. However, Mrs. Slowcomb retired and left her address--somewhere in
Pimlico, where she was wasting her talents on maid-servants and
suburban people. Diabella sent Bahadur to her there and the lease was
duly transferred for a sum of money. I believe Bahadur took Mrs.
Slowcomb to the City and interviewed the landlord's lawyer. However,
it was all done fair and square."
"But Diabella must have signed the consent to the transfer?"
"So she did, under the name of Isabella Hopkins, which may or may not
be her real name. At all events, she took the rooms as Miss Hopkins
and signed that name on the transfer. Mrs. Slowcomb never saw
her--at least, without the mask. She was as you saw her when Mrs.
Slowcomb called at the rooms, and didn't show in the lawyer's office."
"But the lawyer must have seen her?"
"Well, he did, and I went to see him. He's a stiff old buckram
creature, who declined to impart anything about Miss Isabella Hopkins
as he wanted to know why I wished to know; and, of course, on the face
of it, you can see, Towton, that I couldn't gratify his very natural
curiosity."
"But why not, if we are to catch Diabella?"
"We haven't got enough grounds to go upon," said Vernon, shaking his
head. "I think it is best to let her fancy we don't suspect anything
and then we may be able to capture her unawares. She's connected with
The Spider, if not that gentleman himself, I am sure, and your visit
and behaviour, which led to the strangling attempt, have given her a
fright. But if we keep silent her suspicions will be lulled and she
may reappear."
"Surely not."
"Oh, I think so. Fortune-telling is an invaluable way of learning
secrets, and Diabella must be very useful to The Spider, or to
herself, if she is him. She won't surrender her position without a
struggle. It's too paying all round, my dear fellow."
"But she did surrender it."
"Only because she lost her head for the moment and thought you might
bring the police on the scene for the assault. That would lead to
unpleasant questions being asked, which might result in heaven knows
what revelations. Fortune-tellers are not in good odour since the
campaign of a certain halfpenny paper against them."
The Colonel leaned back in his chair, reflecting, while Vernon rose to
walk up and down the room for the purpose of stretching his long legs.
He lighted a cigar and went on talking lightly.
"You never saw such a heap of clever dodges as this Diabella has to
impress the weak-minded. Those mummies--they are all faked, by the
way--have reeds inside them leading to their mouths, and Diabella, by
pressing on the arms of her state chair, could send a stream of wind
along to make them squall."
"And they did squall," said Towton musingly. "I never heard such a
devilish row in my life. What else?"
"Oh, some arrangement by which when the room was darkened the interior
of the painted walls were illuminated to reveal the Egyptian figures
as walking and sitting skeletons. Then there's an apparatus to make
thunder, and flashlights for lightning, to say nothing of ingeniously
arranged draughts calculated to make anyone's hair rise in the
necessary darkness when he or she felt a cold breath fanning him or
her. I wonder Diabella didn't send her clients stark, staring mad."
"It sounds like a fraudulent spiritualistic medium, Vernon, and only
confirms my suspicions that Diabella was not a genuine occultist."
"But do you really believe anyone has such powers?" asked Vernon
curiously.
"I really do," said the Colonel promptly, "strange as it may appear.
In India I have seen too much of the Unseen to doubt. There are
certain gifted people who can see and who can control forces of which
the average person knows nothing. Oh, yes, I believe, and--but what's
the use of talking? I can never make you believe, and I don't want
to."
Vernon shrugged his shoulders again and buttoned up his coat. "As you
say, it doesn't matter," he answered. "However, Diabella has vanished
with her two satellites, so there's nothing more to be done at
present."
"You give up the hunt?"
"I said, at present. No. I shall lie quiet until Diabella reappears."
"She won't, if she's wise."
"She will--if she's daring, and I shrewdly suspect that she is."
"Do you believe her to be this Spider?"
"I do, and I don't. I really can't say. But if not the rose, she is
near the rose. All I can assert with safety, Colonel, is that if we
can lay hands on this witch in grain we'll learn who murdered poor
Dimsdale."
"God grant that."
"Amen! to that pious prayer," was Vernon's reply as he left the room.
Towton duly finished his letter of inquiry to Venery, of Singapore,
and having posted it went cheerfully about his usual business of
pleasure--that is, as cheerfully as a man in love well could do. At
the Colonel's age love was rather a serious matter, since he had taken
the disease badly, as is invariably the case with middle aged men.
Some individuals constantly let their emotions trickle out to expend
themselves in trifling love affairs, amusing for the moment; others
dam up the passions for years until they burst through the barrier, to
sweep everything before them irresistibly. Colonel Towton was one of
the latter. But, not being entirely blinded by his late-born
infatuation, he did not deem Ida perfection, as a hot-headed youth
would have done, and he foresaw that, as Mrs. Towton, she would need
guidance and firm control. Hitherto, for want of both, she had run
wild; but the materials were there, out of which, as Towton put it to
himself, he could build a model wife. That she was frivolous, rather
than strong-minded, was a point in her favour, as the Colonel desired
to mould wax rather than to hammer iron. So if Ida only consented to
marry him he hoped for a calm and contented domestic existence,
undisturbed by aggressive romance. And with his home-loving,
self-controlled nature, Towton infinitely preferred the outlook from
an unemotional point of view.
As to the money, he cared little for the possible loss of that,
although he could not deny but what Ida's yearly thousands would have
come at the right moment to effect improvements on the Bowderstyke
estate. Towton was too prosaic and level-headed to despise the power
of the purse, but on the other hand he was not at all grasping, and
was quite satisfied to marry a girl with no dowry but her beauty and
sweet nature. All the same, he intended to inform himself fully of the
truth by inquiring, as he had done, from the man Diabella had
mentioned as her authority. The Colonel had no notion of letting Ida's
money benefit Lady Corsoon if he could help it. Of course, if it was
proved to be legally hers he would be the first to see that she had
her rights. On the other hand, should Ida turn out to be Dimsdale's
daughter, Towton made up his mind that the ten thousand a year would
be joyfully used for the improvement of his family property. With
these thoughts to employ his mind he waited very patiently in
London, considering that he was a man of actions rather than a
dreamer of dreams. Later on, when Vernon had coaxed Diabella from her
hiding-place, Towton intended to travel to Bowderstyke-to see his
beloved. He had every belief that during his absence Vernon could
manage the affair which interested them both so greatly.
For the next few days the Colonel saw nothing of Vernon, but, while in
the tablinum of the Athenian Club, he unexpectedly came face to face
with Mr. Maunders. The scamp looked singularly handsome, and was
dressed carefully, as usual; but the sight of a snake would have been
more pleasing to the worthy Colonel. He did not like Maunders, and,
moreover, resented him as a somewhat dishonourable rival, for no one
could respect a man who pointedly wooed two women at one and the same
time. Towton therefore nodded coolly and crossed to the central table
to pick up a Service Magazine. As he did so Maunders sauntered to his
side and slipped into a chair near to that one which the Colonel had
taken.
"Have you had any news of Miss Dimsdale?" asked Maunders amiably.
"No," retorted Towton, opening his magazine as a hint that he wished
to be left alone.
"She is still in Yorkshire with Miss Hest," persisted Maunders.
"So I understand," was the stiff reply.
"I believe she will remain there for one month."
"Possibly she will."
Maunders was not discouraged. "Have you any message for her," he
asked.
"Why do you ask?" demanded the Colonel, sitting up abruptly.
"Because Francis Hest--you know, the brother of Miss Dimsdale's
friend--has asked me down to Gerby Hall. I am going there at the end
of the week for a few days. I thought you might have a message for
Miss Dimsdale."
"There is such a thing as the post," said Towton, exasperated by the
young man's cool assurance. He took up the magazine again, then
hesitated and threw it on the table. Averse as the Colonel was to
discuss his private affairs with anyone, and least of all with
Maunders, whom he so frankly hated, he felt that he ought to take
advantage of this chance to learn exactly what was Maunders' attitude
towards Ida. "Am I to understand that you are engaged to Miss
Dimsdale?" he asked sharply.
"Why should you think that?" asked Constantine negligently.
"Why, indeed! Considering that one day you profess to be paying
attentions to Miss Corsoon and the next pay your addresses to Miss
Dimsdale. But as you are going down to Gerby Hall it looks as though
you inclined to marry the latter young lady."
"No," said Maunders indolently and looking at Towton through
half-closed eyelids. "I am going to see Francis Hest, who is a friend
of mine. But I daresay Miss Hest and Miss Dimsdale find it dull, so I
may be able to amuse them a trifle."
"I am quite sure of that," said Towton sarcastically; "your social
qualifications are well known. But I asked you if you were engaged to
Miss Dimsdale."
"No, I am not, nor am I likely to be."
This was good news, but Towton could not be sure if Maunders was
speaking honestly. "Then you intend to marry Miss Corsoon?" said the
Colonel.
"I do. But I don't see why you should trouble yourself about my
private affairs," said Maunders, insolently cool.
"It was not I who sought this interview. But as you chose to speak to
me I have every right to mention a subject which concerns us both."
"And concerns Vernon also."
"Precisely," said Towton with great emphasis. "It is useless to
disguise the fact, Mr. Maunders, that we are rivals, and----"
"Pardon me, no," interrupted the young man quickly. "I have been
refused by Miss Dimsdale, so the field is open to you."
"Ida refused you?" muttered the Colonel stupefied. "Strange, is it
not?" replied Maunders lightly, "but such is the case. I asked her to
marry me and she hinted at a previous attachment. I presume she
meant-----"
Towton threw up his hand and coloured through his bronzed skin. "We
will not mention names, if you please."
"I don't mind. But you know how the land lies--so far as I am
concerned, that is. But you will have to reckon with Francis Hest."
"Miss Hest's brother?"
"The same. Francis and Frances--twins, with twin names, you might say.
She is devoted to this more than brother, and wishes him to marry
money."
"Do you mean to say that Miss Hest has taken Miss Dimsdale down to
Gerby Hall so that she may meet Mr. Hest?"
"Yes. He's not a bad-looking fellow: exactly like his sister, who is
handsome in an imperial way, as you have seen. In fact, if you see
Frances you have seen Francis. The brother isn't very well off, as he
has spent all his available cash in philanthropic works, and
constructing some confounded dam to supply water to several villages
has nearly ruined him. Miss Dimsdale's money will therefore come in
very acceptably. But I fear Hest will waste it in helping the poor;
he's ridiculously crazy about doing what he calls good."
"It's ridiculous," muttered the Colonel crossly. "Miss Dimsdale
doesn't know this man Hest."
"Frances will see to that. Now that Miss Dimsdale is at the Hall she
will have every opportunity of seeing him. Miss Hest will throw them
together on every occasion. Upon my word," Maunders rose and stretched
himself, "were I you, Colonel, I should go down to Gerby Hall and look
after matters."
"Thanks for your advice," said Towton picking up the magazine again,
"and good-day to you, Mr. Maunders."
"This is what comes of my trying to help you," observed the young man
with a shrug. "I do what I can and you throw my philanthropy in my
face."
"No! no!" Towton's conscience smote him, for really Maunders had done
him a distinct service, and also he had announced that Ida had refused
him, which was excellent news. "I thank you for what you have told me.
It is probable that I shall go down to Gerby Hall at the end of the
week."
Maunders nodded. "I may meet you there," he yawned, and sauntered away
with a bored air, which was rather overdone. As a rule he was alert
and full of life, so it looked as though this languor was assumed for
some purpose, and not a good one, if the man's selfish nature was to
be taken into account.
It wanted three days to the week-end, so Towton really intended to
take the northern journey. He had never trusted Miss Hest, and it was
quite probable that as she had discouraged the wooing of both himself
and Maunders her intention was to secure the heiress for her too
philanthropic brother.
Of course, if Towton could prove to the twins that Ida had no money it
was possible that no further plans would be laid to entrap her. Money
was what Francis Hest required for his lord-of-the-manor schemes, and
money was what the sister desired to secure for him. But, considering
that Frances did not get on well with her brother and that they rarely
met, it was strange that she should be so anxious to serve him;
unless, indeed, the two had come to an agreement that if Francis
married the supposed heiress Frances should share the income. On the
whole Towton thought it would be just as well to go down to The Grange
for a week or so and pay a neighbourly visit to Gerby Hall. He would
at least learn how much of Maunders' tale was true, and perhaps might
induce Ida to accept him, since she had refused his handsome rival.
"Gad! I'll go down on Saturday," decided the Colonel.
And it happened that before Saturday he received a letter which made
him even more anxious to visit his family seat. It came from Ida, and
she pointedly asked him to come down and see her. Amongst other
things, she wrote that Francis Hest had gone away and that she had
only seen him twice at Gerby Hall. "Frances and her brother don't get
on well together," went on Ida in her letter, "and are rarely
together. When he is in she is out, and _vice versâ_, like the little
old man and woman in the weather cottage. I only saw Francis for a few
minutes each time and I don't like him much, although he greatly
resembles Frances. But he is more gloomy and is quite a misanthrope.
Nor do I like Frances so much as I did, as she seems inclined to take
the upper hand with me, and wants me to do exactly as she wishes.
Lately she has been urging me to marry Mr. Maunders, and told me that
he was coming down to stop for a time. Besides, there is a
housekeeper, Miss Jewin, who is a double-faced woman, I am sure, and
looks quite dangerous. She fell in ecstacies over a photograph of Mr.
Maunders, which he gave Frances, and told me, presumptuously, that she
thought we made a handsome couple. In fact, I don't like this place at
all, and I wish you would come down and stand by me."
At this point the Colonel laid down the letter to think. Apparently
Maunders was lying when he stated that he did not wish to marry Miss
Dimsdale, and that Frances wished to secure the heiress for her
brother. He told one story, and Ida another; and of the two Towton
preferred to believe that of the girl. The letter went into general
details about the beauty of the country and the dismal gloom of the
Hall. Towton gathered indirectly that Miss Hest was keeping a close
watch on Ida, and that the girl was beginning to resent this
over-emphatic influence. In fact, throughout the letter there sounded
a note of alarm, as though Ida was both uncomfortable and uneasy. She
certainly pointedly asked Towton down to stand by her, and when he had
finished the epistle he was quite decided about travelling by the
Saturday train as he had arranged. But the contradictory stories told
by Ida and Maunders puzzled him greatly. More than ever he mistrusted
Miss Hest, who seemed to be playing a deep game for the winning of
Ida's fortune. But the Colonel chuckled to think of her disappointment
when she learned that Ida was not entitled to the money, always
provided that Diabella had spoken the truth.
As two heads are better than one, and as Towton was working in consort
with Vernon, he promptly sought out his friend and laid the letter
before him. Also he detailed what had taken place in the tablinum of
the Athenian Club between himself and Maunders. Vernon heard the
Colonel's narrative with great attention, then gave his opinion after
some reflection.
"There is some devilry under all this," he said, laying a finger on
the letter, "and Miss Hest seems to be working in conjunction with
Maunders. He says one thing and Ida another, so it is difficult to
know exactly how matters stand."
"I believe Ida."
"Well, on the whole, so do I. I think," Vernon paused, then added
abruptly, "I don't trust Maunders, you know."
"Neither do I."
"In that case, let us act exactly opposite to the way in which he
suggests."
"How do you mean?" questioned the Colonel doubtfully. "Maunders wants
you to go to Yorkshire. As he is going himself he would naturally want
a clear field, if indeed Miss Hest is supporting him in this design on
Ida's fortune. Therefore he has some reason--and you may be sure that
it is a bad one--to get you down."
"I can look after myself," said Towton sturdily.
"Quite so; but we have to look after Ida. Don't go to Yorkshire."
"But Ida wants me to go. See how urgent her letter is."
"I understand. All the same, I think it wiser for you to remain."
"Until when?"
"Until I can corner Diabella," replied Vernon, and ended the
conversation.