"What is the good of crying over spilt milk?" he asked. "The thing is

done, and there's an end of it. As I told you before, I gave up my

sea-faring life for the sake of my mother. I knew it was a risk, but I

thought that when I bought this practice I should have been in a

position to pay the debt off when it became due. I should never have

borrowed the money at all if I had not been definitely told that I could

renew the bill when it became due."

"Ah, they are all like that," Vardon said. "And now they have turned

over your business to another firm who really want the money. They

won't wait an hour, you may depend upon it. They will sell you up, and

what balance remains will go in lawyer's costs, half of which these

sharks will share. You see, they have everything to gain and nothing to

lose by crushing you; in fact, if you went with the money now they would

be rather disappointed than otherwise."

"Oh, I can see all that," Wilfrid said gloomily. "But why do they part

with my bill like this?"

"I give that up," said Vardon. "I suppose you don't happen to have made

an enemy of either of these men? You haven't had any personal

correspondence with them, or anything of that kind?"

"Nothing of the sort, my dear fellow. I can't understand it at all.

And as to an enemy, why----"

Wilfrid broke off abruptly. A sudden uneasy suspicion filled his mind.

Vardon's shrewd eyes were turned upon his face interrogatively. He

waited for Wilfrid to speak.

"I dare say you will think it rather far-fetched," Mercer said

presently, "but I have an enemy in the person of Mr. Samuel Flower, the

ship-owner, whom, strange to say, I have been attending professionally.

Of course, I am telling you all this in confidence, Vardon. Do you

happen to remember a rather sensational case in which one of Flower's

ships, the _Guelder Rose_, was mixed up? There was a mutiny amongst the

crew, and I had a considerable hand in it. I was the ship's doctor, you

understand. Between ourselves, it was a shocking bad case, and if

Flower had had his deserts he would have stood in the dock over it.

Instead of that, I nearly found _myself_ in the dock. I managed to keep

out of the way, and as I had never seen Flower, I thought I was safe.

It was strange that I should have been called in to see him the day

before yesterday, but he did not appear to recognize me, and I thought

it was all right. I foolishly let slip a remark that I had been a

ship's surgeon at one time, and I am sure now that it aroused Flower's

suspicions, for he was on the alert at once. Mind you, he asked no

further questions, and I thought it was all right. Now it occurs to me

that Flower might be at the bottom of this trouble of mine, for it is

the sort of thing he would delight in."

"That he would," Vardon exclaimed. "Flower is just that type of man.

Of course, I ought not to say so, but he is a thorough-paced rascal, and

I am not the only man in the neighbourhood who knows it. I should not

be surprised if you are right. I am only too sorry that I can't help

you."

Wilfrid sat there thoughtfully. He did not appear to hear what Vardon

was saying. Then he jumped suddenly to his feet and brought his fist

crashing down upon the table.

"There is no longer any doubt about it," he cried. "I ought to have

remembered it before. When I was in Flower's study the night before last

there was a letter just begun lying on the table. I remember now that

it was addressed to Darton and Co., no doubt in connexion with this very

transfer. More than that, the letter was headed '_Re_ Mr. Wil----' and

there the letter broke off. You may depend upon it, that this 'Mr.

Wil----' was meant for Mr. Wilfrid Mercer, and this is the result of the

scheme. That man Cotter got all the information by telephone; in fact,

Flower told me that he had been telephoning to London. And I am afraid

that is not the worst of it, Vardon. You see, some time before I came

here I met Miss Beatrice Galloway, and I don't mind telling you that I

hoped some day to make her my wife. Of course, I had not the remotest

idea that she was connected in any way with Samuel Flower, or probably I

should have attempted to restrain my feelings. But she knows that I

care for her, and I feel pretty sure that she cares for me. And when I

was saying good-bye to her the night before last in the drawing-room at

Maldon Grange, Flower came in, and--and----"

"You needn't go into details," Vardon smiled. "As an engaged man, I can

imagine the rest. It is plain what Flower intends to do. He has found

you out, and he means to drive you away from Oldborough. Most men would

have forbidden you the house and commanded the lady to have no more to

do with you. But that is not Flower's method. What you have to do is

to fight him. If you had this money, do you think you could manage to do

it? I mean, is this the only big debt you have?"

"The other matters are pinpricks," Wilfrid said. "If I could get this

sum I dare say I could pull through. But the time is short, and I

haven't a single friend in the world worth a sixpence."

"It might be managed," Vardon said cautiously. "I don't say it will,

mind you. There is just a chance. I have got a client in Castlebridge

who does a bit in this way, and possibly he may take up your security.

You will find him rather expensive, but he is honest, and as long as he

sees you are making a genuine attempt to pay him off, will not worry

you. As I told you just now, I am going into Castlebridge by the 9.15

train, and you had better come with me and see my client for yourself.

I shall probably get my business finished by a quarter past ten, and

then we will go round and call on the old gentleman."

"I cannot say how much I am obliged to you," Wilfrid said gratefully.

"I shall only be too pleased to go with you. I will have no peace till

this matter is settled."

It was a little after half-past nine when Wilfrid and his companion

reached Castlebridge, and made their way through the crowded streets

towards the wooden structure which had been erected by the Imperial

Circus Company for their winter season.

"We will go in and watch the performance for half an hour," Vardon

suggested. "By that time I believe my client will be disengaged. I

don't care much for this class of entertainment, but it is better than

loafing about in the cold streets. I'll leave a message at the box

office to say in what part of the house I am to be found when my man is

ready for me."

The performance was typical of its kind. The packed audience followed

the various items with rapt attention. There were the usual ladies in

spangles and short skirts, riding barebacked and jumping through paper

hoops; the gorgeous ring-master and the inevitable clowns; the flare of

lamps and the pungent smell of sawdust. To Wilfrid the whole thing was

slow and monotonous to the last degree, and he was glad when one of the

attendants whispered something in Vardon's ear.

"Come along," the latter said. "I see you want to get out of this. My

man is waiting in the office at the back of the stables."

They soon reached the office, where three individuals were lounging, two

of whom went out directly Mr. Vardon came in. The remaining figure was

a gigantic negro fully six feet six in height, who grinned as Vardon

came forward.

"My client," Vardon whispered. "Wait outside, Mercer."

Wilfrid made no reply. In Vardon's client he recognized the negro he

had seen near Maldon Grange.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE*

The discovery did not startle Mercer as much as it otherwise might have

done. There had been so many strange events during the last two days

that an incident like this was trifling by comparison. Still it had its

bearing upon the central mystery, and Wilfred was not disposed to

underrate its importance. He wondered why he had not connected the

negro of the night before with the Imperial Circus, for the big negro

was the kind of man to be attached to this sort of undertaking. And

this having been established it followed logically that the strange

little men were to be identified with the circus also. Wilfrid felt

glad he had come. He had forgotten about his own affairs in the

excitement of the moment.

"I hope you won't mind," he whispered hurriedly to his companion, "but I

should rather like to hear what takes place between you and your

interesting client. I know the request is unusual, but I have the

strongest reasons for making it, as I will explain to you presently."

"Well, it is irregular," Vardon said dubiously. "Still, there is no

great secret about the matter. The negro is charged with an assault, and

I have been asked to defend him. You can sit down and smoke a cigarette

and hear as much or as little as you like."

Fortunately the negro's English was good enough. Probably he had been

in the country for a long time. He stated his case clearly, and, so far

as Wilfrid could gather, he relied for his defence on an alibi.

"It was like this, sir," he said. "There were a lot of soldiers over

here from the barracks last night, and most of them had been drinking.

Mr. Gordon, he stood it as long as he could, and then the men were

offered their money back to leave. The noise got worse and worse till

at last we were obliged to turn them out. They say that I followed them

down the road and struck one of them, who is now in hospital, so violent

a blow that he fell and hurt his head. They say that there was no cause

for me to do this at all. I say that they made a mistake, because I was

away from the circus on business last night and did not get back till

half-past eleven. If you will ask Mr. Gordon he will prove that what I

say is true."

"In that case, there is an end of the whole business," Vardon said

cheerfully. "I should like to have a few words with Mr. Gordon."

The negro hesitated and appeared to be confused.

"Must we do that, sir?" he asked. "You see, I was away on very

important business. I had to go and look for two men who were missing.

If I am asked questions about them I shall not be able to answer. But I

am telling the truth, sir, when I say that I was away last night, and

Mr. Gordon will tell you the same thing."

Wilfrid could have told Vardon so, too, but he held his tongue. It was

singular that circumstances should have placed him in a position to

prove the truth of the negro's words. It was strange, too, that the

African should have been so eager to conceal his movements on the

previous evening. Vardon listened impatiently.

"But that is all nonsense," he said. "You don't seem to understand what

a serious position you are in. A man in hospital is badly hurt. He

declares that he gave you no provocation whatever, and he has a score of

witnesses to prove that your attack was brutal and uncalled for. If you

can't prove beyond a doubt that you were elsewhere last night, you will

be committed to take your trial at the Assizes, and at the very least

you will not get off under two years' imprisonment. In any case, the

_alibi_ will be a difficult one to establish; all the more because

negroes of your size are not to be found wandering about in every

country road. Now, are you alone here? Have you any fellow-countrymen

in the circus?"

"Two," the Ethiopian replied. "Only two besides myself. But the others

are men just about the usual size, and they were in the stable all the

time."

"That is rather awkward," Vardon murmured. "Still, as we are not very

far from Chatham, where there are sailors of all kinds, it is possible

that one of your own countrymen about your own build might have been

coming along at the time. As those fellows were all more or less

intoxicated some insulting remarks might have been made. Still, it is

in your own hands. And unless Mr. Gordon comes forward and speaks for

you, your position is by no means a safe one."

The negro began to comprehend now. He glanced uneasily at the face of

his lawyer.

"I'll go and see, sir," he said.

He came back presently with a large, florid-looking individual, loudly

dressed and smoking an exceedingly strong cigar. The pattern of his

clothing proclaimed the man, as also did his white bowler hat, which was

jauntily cocked on the side of his head. Wilfrid hardly needed to look

at the man to recognize him as the individual who had been driving the

dogcart near Maldon Grange the night before. Indeed, Wilfrid would have

been surprised to see anybody else.

"This is Mr. Gordon, sir," the negro said.

"Quite at your disposal," the proprietor of the circus said floridly.

"This poor chap of mine seems to have got himself into trouble. But

whatever those drunken scamps say, Sam is innocent, for the simple

reason he wasn't here last night. He was out on important business for

me; in fact, we were out together. It is rather a nuisance because I

don't want our errand to become public property, as it had to do with

two of my troupe who had absconded. We have only been in England two or

three days and within twenty-four hours those fellows took French leave.

A great nuisance it is, too, because they were down for a turn which

would have packed the circus for the next month to come. And I give you

my word for it, I picked up those two fellows at Marseilles where they

were absolutely starving. And after costing me thirty or forty pounds

between them, they go off and leave me in the lurch like this. Still, I

can speak plainly enough now because they have vanished again. I

thought I had them safe and sound last night, but those chaps are

slippery as eels. I am not going to trouble any more about them and

I'll just cut my loss and let them slide. And now, sir, I am prepared to

go into the witness-box and take my oath that Sam here was with me in my

cart ten miles from Castlebridge at the moment when the assault was

committed. Is that good enough?"

Wilfrid could have testified the same had he chosen to do so, but it was

not for him to speak then. He had learnt a great deal the last ten

minutes. He had learnt that the two mysterious men who had caused such

commotion at Maldon Grange were foreigners who had been members of the

circus troupe. It was obvious, too, why they had signed an agreement

with Gordon. They had been eager to come to England, and for that

reason had jumped at Gordon's offer. Perhaps they had ascertained that,

sooner or later, the wanderings of the circus would bring them in more

or less close contact with Samuel Flower. An absence from the circus the

night before was easily explained. But after being brought back again

to Castlebridge why had they disappeared in this extraordinary fashion?

Beyond all doubt they had made up their minds to murder Samuel Flower,

but their work was far from being accomplished. Therefore, why had they

gone? Were they following Flower? Had they already discovered that he

had gone to London where he was likely to remain for the next few days?

Wilfrid would have liked to ask the negro and his employer a few

pertinent questions, but, perhaps, it was wiser not to do so for the

present. He sat there quietly until Vardon intimated that he did not

require the negro any longer, seeing that he had in Mr. Gordon a witness

who was sufficient for his purpose. As the African left the office

Wilfrid followed. Without arousing the negro's suspicions he might, by

two or three promiscuous questions, learn something of the two men of

whom he was in search. The negro was walking along at the back of the

circus, where most of the lamps were extinguished now, save an

occasional naphtha flare near the spot where the men were attending to

the horses. It might have been Wilfrid's fancy, but it seemed to him

that the African glanced cautiously about him from time to time as if

afraid of being followed. Mercer made a wide sweep into the darkness of

the field, then waited to see what was likely to happen. He was

rewarded for his diligence, for the negro stopped under a tree and

proceeded to light a cigarette. The evening was calm and still so that

the match flared brightly and steadily. In the narrow circle of light

stood another figure in evening dress, his coat unbuttoned. Just for an

instant the circle of light fell upon his face and Wilfrid had no

difficulty in recognizing the features of Samuel Flower. Then the match

died away and the gloom became all the deeper. By the time that Wilfrid

had thought it prudent to creep up to the tree, Flower and his companion

had vanished. Which way they had gone Wilfrid did not know. Not that

it much mattered. Still, the discovery was worth making and Wilfrid

returned to the circus in a thoughtful frame of mind. He was passing

through the office again when a hand was laid upon his arm. He turned

abruptly.

"Swan Russell!" he exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here! I thought you

were at the other side of the globe."

*CHAPTER XIV*

*RUSSELL EXPLAINS*

The stranger was a lean, spare man with not an ounce of superfluous

flesh. He looked like a man that did not know the meaning of fatigue.

His face was brown and tanned; his keen grey eyes looked out under bushy

brows; the outline of a stubborn chin showed under a ragged moustache.

Swan Russell had the air of one who has seen men and things, and his

aspect did not belie him. For the rest, he was an adventurer to his

finger tips, always ready to take his life in his hands, always eager

for anything that promised excitement and danger. He had been first on

the field in many a gold rush. He had a keen nose for locality where

money is to be made. And yet, despite his shrewdness and energy, he had

always remained a poor man. Perhaps it was his very restlessness, his

inability to stay in one place long, that kept him in a condition

bordering upon poverty.

"It is strange you should be here to-night," Wilfrid said.

"Not in the least," the other replied, "because I came on purpose to

look for you. I found out in Oldborough that you had come here with Mr.

Vardon, and then I elicited the fact that you were somewhere about the

circus. Isn't it rather funny you should find yourself settled down

within a stone's throw of Samuel Flower's house?"

Wilfrid started. Whoever he met, or wherever he went now, it seemed

that Flower's name was doomed to crop up.

"What do you know about him?" he asked.

"Quite as much as you do," Russell retorted, "and perhaps a little more.

Oh, I haven't forgotten about that mutiny on the _Guelder Rose_. If I

recollect, you had a lucky get-out there. Flower is not the man to

forgive a thing of that sort, and if he could not have obtained evidence

to convict you, he wouldn't have had the slightest hesitation in buying

it. In the circumstances, wasn't it rather risky to settle down here?"

"Well, you see, I didn't know," Wilfrid explained. "I had no idea that

Flower had a place in the country. Besides, I thought the whole thing

was forgotten. It is two years ago, and so far as I know, Flower made

no attempt to trace me. What will you think when I tell you that he is

actually a patient of mine?"

"Oh, I am aware of that," Russell said coolly. "I have not been hanging

about during the last three or four days for nothing. I was amused when

I heard you had been attending Flower. Did he recognize you--I mean, did

he recognize you from your name? I know that you have never met."

"He did not recognize me at first," Wilfrid said; "indeed, the whole

thing might have passed only I was fool enough to let out that I had at

one time been a ship's doctor. Then he gave me one glance, but said

nothing. I began to believe that it was all right till this evening,

when I had an unpleasant reminder that it was all wrong."

"Would you mind telling me?" Russell asked. "Mind you, I am not simply

curious. I want information."

"Why not?" Wilfrid said despondingly. "You are an old chum of mine and

you might just as well know what will be common property in Oldborough

in two or three days. That scoundrel has got me in his clutches and

means to ruin me without delay. But perhaps I had better tell you how

things stand."

"So that's the game?" Russell said, when Wilfrid had finished his

explanation. "Well, let the fellow do his worst. You were never cut

out for a country doctor and the sooner you chuck it and come back to

London the better. I want a friend to help me. I want a friend to rely

upon. And that is the reason why I came to see you. You will never

make bread and cheese in Oldborough, and you are wasting time there. If

you will throw in your lot with me, it will go hard if I can't show you

how to make fifty thousand pounds during the next three months."

"And where are the fifty thousand pounds?" Wilfrid asked cynically. "It

sounds too good to be true."

"The fifty thousand pounds, my dear chap, are at present in Samuel

Flower's pocket accompanied by just as much more, which, by all the

rules of the game, belong to me. I have been robbed of that money as

surely as if my pocket had been picked by that rascally ship-owner. He

left me without a feather to fly with; indeed, I was hard put to it to

manage to get my passage money from the Malay Peninsula to London. But I

have given him a fright. He knows what to expect."

Swan Russell chuckled as if something amused him greatly.

"But is there a chance of getting this money?" Wilfrid asked.

"My dear fellow, it is a certainty. I don't say there is no danger,

because there is; but that is just the thing that would have appealed to

you at one time. Besides, you needn't chuck up your practice. You can

run up and down to London as I want you and leave the good people at

Oldborough to believe that you have been called away on important

consultations. Besides, if you will join me in this venture, I may be

able to find you the money to pay Flower off."

"When do you want me to start?" Wilfrid asked.

Russell's reply was to the point.

"To-night," he said. "I want you to come to town by the half-past ten

train. We shall be in London a few minutes past eleven, and unless I am

mistaken, there is work for you at once. Now don't hesitate, but do what

I ask you and you will never be sorry for it. You can get Vardon to

call at your house when he gets back to Oldborough and explain to your

mother that you have been called away on urgent business. I will find

you a bed and the necessary clothing, and unless anything very, very

pressing turns up, you can be back in Oldborough by breakfast time."

Wild as the suggestion was it appealed to Wilfrid. There were no

patients in a critical state to require his attention, he reflected

bitterly. And anything was better than sitting impotently at home

waiting for the end which he believed to be inevitable. On the other

hand, there was the desperate chance of something turning up; some way

of tapping the golden stream which should render him independent of

Samuel Flower. He held out his hand.

"Very well," he said. "I'll come with you. If you'll give me half a

minute I'll ask Vardon to call at my house."

Vardon came out of the office of the circus at the same moment, and

without going into details Wilfrid proceeded to explain.

"I hope you won't think it rude of me," he said, "but Swan Russell is an

old friend and it is in my power to do him a service. Will you tell my

mother that I shall not be back till to-morrow? And perhaps you will

call upon your client and see what you can do for me in the matter of

that loan. It is possible that when I come back from London I shall be

in a position to find the money myself."

"All right," Vardon said cheerfully, "anything I can do for you, I

certainly will. But if you are going to catch your train you haven't

much time to lose."

Mercer and his companion walked quietly down to the station. Wilfrid

would have strolled casually on to the platform, but Russell held him

back.

"You'll just keep in the shadow till the last moment," he said. "I have

very particular reasons for not being seen here and one of these reasons

you will see for yourself. One can't be too careful."

Wilfrid asked no further questions. He was content to leave matters in

Russell's hands until the latter was ready to explain. He began to

understand the necessity for caution presently, when, amongst the steady

stream of passengers trickling into the station, he saw the familiar

form of Samuel Flower.

"There he goes, the beauty," Russell murmured. "Look at the scoundrel.

Isn't he the very essence of middle-class respectability? He might pass

for a churchwarden or the deacon of a chapel. Of all the scoundrels in

the city of London there is not a more noxious specimen than Samuel

Flower. I believe that if you gave that chap the chance of making a

thousand pounds honestly, or a mere sovereign by defrauding a widow or

an orphan, he would choose the latter. And the luck he has had, too!

Where would he be now if the whole facts of that _Guelder Rose_ business

had come to light? What would become of him if a single ship's officer

had survived the wreck of the _Japonica_? But I'll bring him down,

Mercer; I'll beat that ruffian to his knees yet. And I have got the

information, too, if I can only complete it. My only fear is that the

other vengeance may reach him first."

"You allude to the matter of the string with five knots, I suppose?"

Wilfrid asked.

A look of surprise crossed Russell's face.

"What on earth do you know about that?" he asked.

"You forget that I was in the Malay Archipelago myself," Wilfrid

responded. "You seem to have forgotten the tragic death of the white

man I told you about. Besides, I was in Flower's house at the very

moment when he received his warning in a registered letter, and that

letter came from Borneo."

Russell chuckled.

"Come along," he said. "We have cut it quite fine enough. You can tell

me the rest in the train."

*CHAPTER XV*

*THE REAL THING*

They found a carriage to themselves which they entered as the train was

starting, secure in the knowledge that they would be uninterrupted till

Victoria Station was reached.

"Now tell me your story," Russell suggested.

"I think I am going to tell you more than you expect," Wilfrid smiled.

"But I will begin at the beginning, from the moment that I entered

Flower's house. I was sent for in a hurry, because the great man had

cut his hand and he was frightened to death, as people of his class

always are. I suppose you know that he has a niece, Miss Galloway,

living with him?"

"Yes, I know that," Russell said with a grin. "On the whole, I should

say you are a lucky individual. But go on. Don't mind my chaff."

"Well, there was nothing much the matter with his hand, as you may

imagine. I'll come to the registered letter episode presently, but I

want to tell you first how it was that Flower's accident came about.

Miss Galloway was sitting in the conservatory and she distinctly saw a

man place his arm through a broken pane of glass and try to unlatch the

door. She called to her uncle, who gave chase, but the man had vanished

leaving no trace behind him. It was in hurrying after him that Flower

fell and cut himself. He was sitting waiting in the conservatory for

me, when Miss Galloway introduced me and told me about the incident that

had startled her so much. She went on to say that the man was fishing

for the latch with a loop of string, whereupon Flower broke in in his

elegant way and declared that the whole thing was a pack of nonsense.

By way of proving her theory Miss Galloway picked up the piece of string

which had fallen from the man's hand inside the doorway and handed it to

her uncle. I suppose you can give a pretty good guess what sort of

string it was."

Russell smote his hand vigorously on the cushions.

"You don't mean to say it was _the_ string?" he shouted. "The string

with five knots? That would be too good to be true."

"It is true all the same," Wilfrid went on. "And if you have been

hanging about Castlebridge for the last three or four days you have

wasted your opportunities, for during that time an attempt has been made

upon Flower's life, and if I hadn't been at hand he would have been a

dead man now. And what is more, up till last night the two mysterious

individuals I told you of, were members of Gordon's company."

"Stop! stop!" Russell cried. "You are going too fast. If you wanted to

surprise me you have more than succeeded."

The train was drawing up to the platform at Victoria before Wilfrid had

finished his recital. Russell's cheery manner had vanished. His face

was grave and thoughtful. They waited in the carriage till everybody

else had left the train, then Russell dodged across the platform and

hailed the nearest cab.

"I am going as far as my rooms in Bloomsbury," he said. "Then I will

get you to don a suit of dress clothes which ought to fit you fairly

well, as we are rather alike in build; with your overcoat on top nobody

will notice anything peculiar. And then we shall go out for an hour or

two."

"Isn't it rather late for an entertainment?" Wilfrid asked.

"For an ordinary show, yes," Russell proceeded to explain. "But this is

a function quite out of the common. It is a supper and fancy dress

dance given by the proprietors to celebrate the opening of the New

Dominion Theatre. Everybody will be there; in fact, there will be a

couple of thousand people at one time or another on the stage, and the

house will be filled with privileged spectators, of whom you and I will

be two. You will be interested to know that Samuel Flower and Miss

Galloway are among the invited guests. But all that is by the way. I

don't mind admitting that I am very much disturbed by the information

you have given me. I knew Flower had made bitter enemies abroad. I

knew vengeance would overtake him sooner or later, but I hoped that his

time would not be yet. You see, I am candid. I don't care whether he

lives or dies, so long as he remains on this planet long enough for me

to get my money out of him. So we have every reason to protect Flower

for the present. I am very glad I met you. I am very glad after all

that you settled in Oldborough. There must be a sort of Providence in

these things, Mercer."

Wilfrid smiled grimly. It was rarely that Russell spoke like this.

They drove on in silence till his quarters were reached, and, after

partaking of a hurried meal, Wilfrid struggled into a dress suit of

Mercer's which might have passed for his own. There was nothing to wait

for, and as the night was fine and it was not a far cry to Kingsway, the

two set out on foot. They soon reached the theatre where a tremendous

crowd had already gathered. A long stream of carriages was filing

slowly up to the portico and an equally long stream of well-dressed

people was pushing into the vestibule. It was a slow process. Wilfrid

allowed himself to be carried along with the tide until the grand

staircase was reached. It was up this staircase that the guests

proceeded, a temporary entrance being made for the spectators who were

to fill the body of the house. Wilfrid turned to speak to his

companion, when he noticed that Russell appeared to be deeply engrossed

in one of the pictures on the wall. At the same moment, Wilfrid, to his

delight, saw that Beatrice Galloway was standing just behind him. In

front of her, pushing on in his dogged fashion, was Samuel Flower.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Wilfrid whispered.

The girl's face flushed with delight; then as the colour died out of

Beatrice's cheeks Wilfrid noticed that she seemed grave and troubled.

There were lines under her eyes, too, which he had never remarked

before.

"Are you not well?" he asked.

"Oh, I am well enough," Beatrice said with a touch of despondency in her

voice, "but I am a good deal worried. Do you know it is strange that

with all our wealth and all our entertaining we seem to have no real

friends."

"I am sure you have one," Wilfrid said reproachfully.

"I had forgotten that one for the moment," Beatrice said with a quick

flash of gratitude in her eyes. "I don't know whether I ought to

confide in you or not, but I must tell somebody. Can you contrive to see

me before you leave to-night? I understand that the spectators will not

remain after supper. You can manage to be here at midnight? I could

run downstairs under pretence that I wished to see a friend in the

theatre. I can't think of any better way."

"I will stay here all night if necessary," Wilfrid said resolutely.

"Let us say just here at midnight."

The pressure of those behind drove them apart so that Beatrice was lost

to view round the bend in the staircase. Wilfrid had passed in to the

theatre itself, but Russell lingered.

"Ours are about the only two seats left," he explained, "and they are in

one of the front rows in the stalls. I have my own reasons for staying

here till most of the guests have arrived. A man I know promised me, if

he could, to get us on to the stage after dancing began. At any rate,

it is worth waiting on the off-chance of seeing him. So that was Miss

Galloway you were talking to, eh? Why wasn't she in fancy dress? I can

understand Flower coming in ordinary evening attire; I can't imagine his

being so frivolous as to get himself up as a courtier or anything of

that kind."

Wilfrid made no reply for the simple reason that he was not listening.

He was too concerned about Beatrice to think of anything else. He was

shocked to see what a change so short a time had brought about in the

girl's appearance. He wondered what she could have to worry her.

Therefore it was, that the stream of people in all sorts of grotesque

and fancy dresses passed him as if he were in a dream. They came

flowing along, laughing and chattering, all the favourites that have

done duty over and over again ever since fancy dresses were first

invented. Some were beautiful, some frankly ugly, and hardly one

realistic. Russell kept up a constant stream of criticisms, to most of

which Wilfrid replied more or less vaguely.

"You can't say that about that little man yonder," he said presently.

"It is funny that he should be made up like an inhabitant of Borneo when

our heads are full of the Malay Peninsula. Whoever dressed him was an

artist and understood what he was doing. That is the man I mean, going

up the stairs with the tall lady in yellow."

Russell looked in the direction pointed out by Mercer. He grabbed an

opera-glass which some one had left on the table by his side. He turned

eagerly to Wilfred.

"Made up be hanged," he whispered excitedly. "That man isn't made up at

all. He is the real thing, my friend. It seems to me that the plot is

thickening."

*CHAPTER XVI*

*THE YELLOW HAND*

It was not difficult to watch the slender figure of the stranger as he

made his way leisurely up the staircase. In the ordinary course Mercer

would have hardly recognized him at all. There were hundreds of people

there in all kinds of the extravagant fancy dress which one usually

associates with theatrical enterprise. But the more Mercer looked at

the little man the more convinced was he that the stranger was not

disguised at all. He was slight and slender, his dress-clothes fitted

him to perfection, and he wore the air of a man who was accustomed to

that kind of thing. As to his head it was small and lean, his skin

glistened like polished parchment, his dark, restless eyes were turned

from side to side, though he did not appear in the least degree excited.

"He interests you?" Wilfrid asked.

"Why, certainly," Russell replied. "I should have thought that he would

interest you, too, knowing all you do know. Now who should you say that

fellow is, and where do you suppose he comes from? Take your time."

"Well, I should say that he is an Asiatic of some kind," Wilfrid

replied. "And a full-blooded one at that. If he did not look so much

at home in his dress-clothes and on such easy terms with his

surroundings I could imagine him to be the head of some savage tribe or

another. I can see him in his warpaint with his braves around him. But,

of course, that is all nonsense, Russell. Whatever nationality the

fellow belongs to, he is an educated man, and they don't breed that kind

in the Malay Archipelago."

"Now that is just where you make the mistake," Russell answered. "There

are certain islands in the Malay Archipelago which have never been

explored by white men yet. Of course, I am not speaking of

orchid-hunters and that kind of people, but I know for a fact that in

North-eastern Borneo there are one or two tribes who come very near the

level of our modern civilization. But we don't want to discuss that at

present. Still, I was personally acquainted with one chief whose two

sons were being educated at English public schools. Perhaps I will tell

you his history later. Meanwhile, I don't mean to lose sight of our

friend. Let's push boldly inside and chance it. I know two or three

officials connected with the theatre, and they will help me if they can.

Ah, there is Franklin, the very man I want to see. Come along."

Swan dragged his companion eagerly up the stairs and laid his hand on

the shoulder of a florid man in front of him. As the other man turned

his face, there was no occasion to ask his profession. He had stage

manager written all over him.

"Don't stop to ask questions," Russell said. "This is my friend, Wilfrid

Mercer. We had invitations for the front of the house to-night; in

fact, you were good enough to get them for us. As things have turned

out, it is more or less essential that we should become your guests for

the time being. Can't you rig us up in something in your

property-room?"

"You were always a queer sort," the stage manager said with a smile. "I

suppose it is no use asking you what mischief you are up to now? Oh, I

can smuggle you in right enough, especially as certain guests have

failed us at the last moment. If you will come with me I will rig you

both up in some sort of fancy dress. Only it seems hard that I should

be kept out of the joke. Come this way."

"You shall know all about the joke in good time," Russell said grimly.

"For the present, all I want you to do is to leave us severely alone. I

suppose we could mention your name if any awkward questions were asked."

The stage manager replied good-naturedly enough, and some half an hour

later Russell and his companion were roaming about the flies, mixing

unconcernedly with hundreds of well-known people who appeared to be bent

upon enjoyment. Meanwhile, the little yellow man had vanished.

"Oh, we shall see him sooner or later," Russell said cheerfully. "Did I

tell you what the programme is? There is to be a kind of variety

entertainment on the stage and then the theatre will be closed and

supper partaken of at separate tables on the stage. After that the

floor will be cleared for dancing and those who don't care for the

'light fantastic' will amuse themselves in the body of the theatre. I

think we had better separate and I will meet you here when the signal

for supper is given."

Mercer glanced at the clock and saw that the hour was close upon twelve.

The time had gone more quickly than he had expected, and if he were to

catch Beatrice Galloway he would have to go at once. A well-known opera

quartette was occupying the stage to the exclusion of everything else,

so that it was easy to steal down the stairs to the vestibule. A few

young couples had secreted themselves behind the palms and flowers. It

was some time before Mercer could make out the form of Beatrice seated

alone. She looked up as he accosted her and he was not sorry to see

that she failed to recognize him. He was got up like one of the Three

Musketeers and the upper part of his face was masked.

"I'm afraid you have made a mistake," the girl murmured.

"Indeed, I have not," Wilfrid said. "You did not expect to see me like

this, but my friend, Swan Russell, has managed this quick change. On the

whole, I am glad not to be recognized, because I can speak the more

freely to you without arousing the suspicions of Mr. Flower."

Beatrice glanced uneasily at her companion.

"But why should you be afraid of him?" she asked. "Surely you have done

no wrong to him. On the contrary, he has every reason to regard you as

one of his best friends."

"It should appear so," Wilfrid said thoughtfully, "but, candidly, do you

think your uncle is friendly towards me?"

It was some time before Beatrice replied. She glanced down with a

troubled expression on her face.

"Really, I don't know," she confessed. "I don't feel sure of anything

lately. And my uncle is so changed. He is so different to everybody,

even to me. He is afraid of something. I am certain some great

disaster hangs over us. It is all the more trying and nerve-destroying

that I have not the remotest notion what it is. I don't know why I am

here to-night, for instance. I don't know why I have been dragged away

from Maldon Grange. We have always been very good friends, or I should

hesitate before I spoke as freely as this to you. And now I am going to

ask you a question which I hope you will answer candidly. Do you think

this mystery has anything to do with the attempt to rob Maldon Grange

the other night?"

Wilfrid endeavoured to devise some plausible reply. Nothing could be

gained by telling the girl the truth. On the other hand, she might be

still more disturbed.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you," he said.

"Do you mean that you won't tell me?" Beatrice asked.

"I think you can trust me," Wilfrid went on. "I think you can allow me

to know what is for the best. I must ask you to have patience for the

present, to rest secure in the knowledge that whatever happens no harm

will come to you. And why worry yourself with these things at such a

time as this? You ought to be enjoying yourself like the other guests.

There is no suggestion of tragedy in this brilliant scene?"

Beatrice leaned towards her companion.

"I am not so sure of it," she whispered. "At first I enjoyed it

immensely. I had never seen anything like it before, and the brilliancy

of the scene carried me quite out of myself. And yet I cannot help

feeling that the trouble is here; in fact I have seen it for myself. Do

you remember the night I sent for you when my uncle was hurt? I told you

all about that skinny hand pushed through the broken piece of glass and

how the hand was fishing for the latch with a piece of string. You

haven't forgotten that?"

Wilfrid shook his head. He was not likely to forget Beatrice's story.

"But what connexion is there between that hand and such an assembly as

this?" he asked.

"Because I have seen the hand here," Beatrice went on in the same

intense whisper. "Half an hour ago one of my friends came up to me with

the offer of an ice, and we went into one of the refreshment rooms.

There were a lot of men crushing round the bar, most of them drinking

champagne and laughing and chattering. I was gazing about in a

thoughtless kind of way when three men came in together and asked for

champagne. One was a little man with his back turned towards me, and I

could not see his face. One of his companions with a chaffing remark

leaned over the counter and took a glass of champagne, at the same time

telling his diminutive companion that he had been saved the humiliation

of standing on a chair to get it. And then as the little man's hand was

stretched forward I recognized the yellow claw that I had seen groping

for the latch in the conservatory."

*CHAPTER XVII*

*THE DIAMOND MOTH*

"But you couldn't identify it," Wilfrid said, speaking as coolly as he

could. "You don't mean to tell me that it was the same hand? You

couldn't swear to it?"

"Perhaps not," Beatrice admitted. "But to all practical purposes it was

the same hand, though the arm was hidden in a black sleeve and the

whitest of cuffs. But you can imagine how the incident disturbed me. I

pressed forward as eagerly as I could, but at that moment somebody had

finished singing on the stage and there was a rush of men into the

refreshment-room, so that I was prevented from pursuing my

investigations. But I am frightened, Wilfrid. The thing seems to have

taken my courage out of me. I wish you would try to find out if there

is a man here like the one I have described."

Wilfrid muttered something in the way of a promise, though he knew that

he had not very far to go to find the man that Beatrice spoke of. Then

there was a tramping of feet overhead, the orchestra was playing the

audience out of the theatre, and already an army of sweepers and

cleaners had taken possession of it. There was a swift scattering of

guests, and then, as if by magic, the stage was transformed into a huge

supper-room and the guests were being ushered in by the stewards.

"Let me take you in," Wilfrid pleaded. "That is, of course, if you have

no other partner."

Beatrice made no demur; indeed, she was thankful to have Wilfrid by her

side. Already most of the guests had assembled on the stage. There were

scores of little tables, flower-decked and shaded with pink lamps, which

formed an exceedingly pretty picture. Towards one side, under a box,

Wilfrid could see a table still unoccupied, and to this he piloted his

companion.

"This is a slice of luck," he said. "Let us hope we can have this to

ourselves so that we may have a long, cosy chat that will disperse all

your fears. A glass of champagne will make a different girl of you."

A waiter bustled up to the table and Wilfrid gave his orders. A moment

later and two guests came across the stage towards the table. One was a

tall woman whom Wilfrid recognized at a glance as a well-known actress,

the other was no less a person than the little yellow man in evening

dress who had so startled Russell earlier in the evening. All the colour

left Beatrice's face. She grasped her companion's arm helplessly.

"They are coming here," she whispered. "Oh, I am sure they are coming

here. What shall we do?"

"Courage," Wilfrid said coolly. "We can't prevent them from sitting at

the same table, seeing that they are the guests of the management as

well as ourselves. So that is the man you were speaking about? He

looks harmless enough. Don't be silly, Beatrice. Try to behave as if

nothing had happened."

The girl recovered herself with a powerful effort. She even smiled as

the handsome actress made a half-apology for intruding at the table.

"I think we know one another," she said. "Of course we do. I recollect

some friends bringing me to your delightful place, Maldon Grange. You

are Miss Galloway?"

"You are Miss Marcombe," Beatrice said a little coldly. "I recollect

you now."

"That's all right," the actress laughed. "Let me introduce my friend,

Mr. Uzali. Mr. Uzali calls himself a Borneo chief or something of that

kind, though how he manages to look after his duties there and spend six

months of the year in England is beyond my comprehension. I daresay you

will tell me it is no business of mine."

Uzali bowed with the utmost self-possession. Disturbed as she was

Beatrice did not fail to notice this. She was struck with the charm and

grace of the Malay's manner.

"You see, I was brought up in this country," he said, speaking perfect

English. "My country is more or less of an unfortunate one, and my

father was an enlightened man. That is why he sent me to school and

college in England. No doubt he had dreams, poor man, that some day or

other I should come into my own again. But that time has passed for

ever."

To Beatrice's surprise she found herself at the end of ten minutes

chatting gaily and freely with the stranger. She noticed from time to

time how his dark eyes were turned upon an ornament which she wore about

her neck. It was a diamond pendant, consisting of a moth, in dark

enamel, the wing set in diamonds. The other wing was gone, as indeed

was part of the body. Beatrice was bound to notice Uzali's curiosity.

"Do you admire my moth?" she asked.

"It would be impossible to do anything else," Uzali said gravely. "The

workmanship is unique. You see, I am interested in that kind of thing;

indeed, I have made a study of them all my lifetime. Perhaps you are

acquainted with the history of that moth? Do you know where it came

from?"

"Indeed, no," Beatrice confessed. "It conveys nothing to me, but it has

a fascination for me and I wear it frequently."

"And you don't know where it came from?"

"No, except that my uncle gave it to me."

Uzali's eyes flashed and he looked down at his plate which he appeared

to be studying gravely.

"You are fortunate in the possession of such an uncle," he said. "I

wonder if I have the honour of his acquaintance."

"That is probable," Beatrice said frankly. She had lost all her fears.

"So many people know my uncle. He is Mr. Samuel Flower, the shipper."

Uzali said nothing. Sitting close by him, watching him carefully,

Wilfrid noticed a sudden flush across the Malay's cheek and how the dark

eyes turned to purple.

"The name is familiar to me," Uzali said, "but then there are so many

people whom I know. So it never struck you to ask your uncle the

history of that pendant? Now what should you say if I could produce the

missing half?"

Beatrice looked up eagerly, her lips parted.

"How very curious!" she said. "But you are joking."

Uzali bowed gravely, then produced a small green packet from an inside

pocket, from which he drew a small folded piece of wash-leather; and

this being undone disclosed what appeared to be an engraved diamond in

the shape of an insect's wing.

"We do strange things in my country," he said with a queer smile. "We

have priests and learned men whose philosophy is far beyond anything

that one knows of in the West. Not that I claim these powers myself,

oh, no. That is quite another matter. But I think you will be

satisfied if I prove to you that this is the missing portion of your

pendant. Mr. Mercer shall be umpire if you like, and we will leave him

to judge. Perhaps you would not mind removing your pendant for a

moment."

Beatrice complied. She was quite excited now. All her strange fears had

fallen from her. With trembling fingers she removed the pendant from

its slender gold chain and laid it on the tablecloth. Wilfrid reached

over and fitted the broken pieces together. He could see that they

matched to a nicety.

"Not the slightest doubt about it," he exclaimed. "These two pieces once

formed one jewel. Now whom does it belong to? Mr. Uzali, do you claim

the whole thing? Are you going to hand over your half to Miss

Galloway?"

"I wasn't thinking of doing either for the moment," Uzali said coolly.

"But I am going to ask Miss Galloway to trust her portion into my hands

so that I can get the ornament mended, when I hope she will allow me to

send her the jewel intact. All I ask in return is that Miss Galloway

will inquire of her uncle how the moth found its way into his hands."

"Perhaps you know already," Beatrice smiled. But Uzali was not to be

drawn. He shook his head.

"I do not claim any occult powers," he said. "I merely said that there

are wise men in my country who possess them. And now, if you will be

good enough to give your portion of the moth to me I will let you have

it in a few days restored to its original beauty."

Beatrice hesitated. Yet, why not comply? The request had been made

tastefully and in good faith. It was a graceful thing to do and her

moth had always fascinated her. She handed her portion to Uzali with a

smile.

"It is exceedingly good of you," she said, "and I am obliged by your

kindness. I am equally justified in handing my half of the treasure

over to you----"

"But I don't wear that kind of thing," Uzali protested. "Now give me

your address so that I may carry out my promise. Miss Marcombe, are you

ready? I think the next dance is ours."

The Malay had vanished before Beatrice could say more. Her excitement

had passed away. She looked at Wilfrid with troubled eyes. Had she done

wrong?

"Leave it to Providence," Wilfrid said answering her unspoken thoughts.

"The Malay, at least, meant well."

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*A TANGLED CLUE*

Beatrice turned once more to her companion. The look of fear was in her

eyes again. No sooner had the charm of Uzali's appearance been removed

than it seemed that she had done wrong. Perhaps Wilfrid guessed her

thoughts.

"I don't think so," he said. "It certainly was a most surprising thing

to happen. But I have come across more extraordinary coincidences in my

life, and, do you know, I rather like our friend. He seems to be a

gentleman."

"I think so," Beatrice said doubtfully, "but I am frightened all the

same. He was so like the man----"

"Who tried to get into Maldon Grange the other night. But you surely do

not believe that a man like Mr. Uzali could be guilty of burglary. I am

disposed to believe what he said. If I were you I should think no more

of the matter."

"That is all very well," Beatrice protested, "but I am bound to tell my

uncle."

"Then tell him," Wilfrid said, growing rather impatient. "It is clear

that you have nothing to fear. When you mentioned your uncle's name,

Mr. Uzali gave no sign that he had ever heard it before. Don't you

think we are in the way of these people here?"

Beatrice glanced round her to see that most of the tables and chairs had

disappeared and that the stage was nearly ready for dancing. The guests

had increased considerably and the theatre appeared to be filled with

visitors. They had overflowed into the auditorium and already many had

gathered in stalls and boxes to watch the entertainment. As Beatrice

moved away with her companion a man came up and accosted her.

"I think you are Miss Galloway," he said politely. "I don't suppose you

remember me, though I have dined more than once at your house in town.

Your uncle sent me to look for you. He is in one of the boxes. If you

will allow me to show you the way. From what I understand he has not

been very well. I don't think there is anything to be alarmed about;

only he wanted you."

Beatrice waited for no more. She hurried off with her new companion

until they came to a box at the back of the dress circle. Here one or

two men were talking somewhat earnestly to Flower, but he dismissed them

with a gesture as Beatrice came in. There were one or two shaded

electric lights behind Flower's head, but subdued as they were Beatrice

did not fail to notice the pallor of her uncle's face. There was a

quick irritation in his manner which she had never noticed before.

"I have sent for you everywhere," he said. "Where have you been? And

tell me, who was the man you were supping with? Now don't prevaricate.

Tell me at once."

Beatrice's face flushed with indignation.

"There is no reason why I should not tell you," she said. "I went into

supper with Mr. Mercer. He is a guest here as well as ourselves.

Perhaps we stayed too long----"

Flower waived the suggestion aside impatiently.

"Oh, why do you waste my time like this?" he asked. "I don't mean

Mercer at all. I want to know who was the other man who sat at the same

table with you?"

Once again the old dread was closing in upon Beatrice. She glanced at

her guardian with troubled eyes.

"I have never seen him before," she said. "It was no fault of mine that

he sat at the same table. He came in with Miss Marcombe, the actress,

who, as you know, has been a guest of ours at Maldon Grange. She

introduced him as Mr. Uzali. He is not an Englishman, but I found him

very entertaining, and a gentleman. Moreover, he surprised me by saying

he had seen my moth brooch before. He declared he had a piece which

would match the broken part and took it from his pocket. It seems

almost incredible, but the match was perfect."

"You let him have it?" Flower asked hoarsely.

"What else could I do? He promised that he would return it in a day or

two completely restored."

Flower said nothing for a moment or two. He sat looking gloomily at the

glittering stage below. Beatrice could see that his hands were clenched

so that the muscles stood out strong and blue. It was not for her to

deduce anything from these signs, but she knew that Flower was moved to

the very core of his being. He turned to the girl with an effort.

"Was my name mentioned between you?" he asked.

"Certainly, I told him who you were," Beatrice said, "but it did not

strike him as familiar. You might have been perfect strangers from the

way in which he spoke of you. But why all this mystery, uncle? What

have I done that is wrong?"

Flower pulled himself together with an effort, but there was an unsteady

smile on his thick lips. He tried to speak gaily, but Beatrice noted

how forced his words were.

"Another romance!" he said. "I must make the acquaintance of your

friend. No, I am not in the least angry; only one comes in contact with

such strange people at this sort of an affair that you cannot be too

careful. And now if you are ready I should like to go home. Somebody

will call a carriage for us. I'll stay here till you come back."

For some reason the man was afraid to move as Beatrice could plainly

see. She wondered at his want of strength, at his sudden display of

cowardice. She had never seen him in this mood before. She had never

known him to display anything that savoured of terror.

"Just as you like," she said coldly. "I daresay I can manage."

The carriage came at length and Flower moved reluctantly from the shadow

of the box. The night was not cold, but he huddled himself in a big

coat so that he might not be recognized. But as they walked through the

hall to the portico Beatrice saw that Mercer was not far away. The

latter waited until they had vanished, then he made his way back to the

stage again. The first person he encountered in the wings was Russell.

"I have been looking for you everywhere," the latter said. "I saw you

on the stage just now when you were having supper, but it was not policy

to come near you. What has become of Flower and his niece? Have they

left?"

"Some few moments ago," Mercer explained. "I think I shall have enough

information even to satisfy you. If you were watching us at supper I

suppose you saw whom we sat down with?"

"That was why I was looking for you," Russell said eagerly. "What a

stroke of luck that our friend the Malay should take a seat at the same

table. What was he doing with that ornament which Miss Galloway was

wearing?"

By way of reply Mercer led the way to one of the refreshment-rooms. It

would be much easier to talk the matter over a cigarette than stand

chattering where they were in everybody's way. Russell was an attentive

listener. He said nothing whilst Wilfrid poured out his story.

"Splendid!" he muttered under his breath. "Nothing could have happened

better. I came here on the off-chance of picking up some information,

but I never expected to gather as much as this. But I will explain all

in good time. Now let us get as near that party by the alcove as we

can. Unless I am mistaken Uzali is in the midst of them. We don't want

to arouse his suspicions, but I am going to let him know that he has

friends here. We can hear what is going on without appearing to

listen."

There were four or five men in the alcove and room for as many more.

Russell and his companion pushed their way in casually and lighted their

cigarettes. Uzali appeared to be finishing some anecdote, for he

stopped presently and smote emphatically with his fist on the table

before him.

"Not a sign, gentlemen, I assure you," he said, "not so much as a single

clue. But I am not the man to be rebuffed at the first disappointment.

No, I would rather not go back to the stage if you don't mind. I will

stay here till you are ready to go. I am not a dancing man."

The alcove speedily cleared, leaving Wilfrid and Russell opposite Uzali,

who smoked his cigarette as placidly as if nothing had happened to upset

the even tenor of his way. Russell reached out his hand to an empty

chocolate box around which a silk string was still attached. He took

the string in his hand and tied it into a variety of knots.

"That was a strange story you told just now, sir," he said coolly. "You

will pardon my friend and myself if we listened."

Uzali looked up sharply with a challenge in his eyes.

"I was wondering," Russell went on, "if the clue was anything like this

which I hold in my hand." With apparent carelessness he tossed the

string across the table and waited for the Malay to speak.

"You have said too much," Uzali murmured, "or too little."

*CHAPTER XIX*

*FENCING*

Russell sat unmoved; he was not acting without due deliberation, though

he realized that he had a dangerous foe to deal with. For some time

Uzali played with the string, tying and untying the knots as if he were

making up his mind what to do next. To Wilfrid Mercer, looking on, the

incident reminded him of two chess masters bent over a table.

"You are a stranger to me," Uzali said.

"That, to a certain extent, I am prepared to admit," Russell replied.

"I don't know whether you are a religious man or not, Mr. Uzali, but

probably you will agree with me----"

"So you know my name at any rate," Uzali said.

Russell shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't want any credit for that," he said. "I could have learnt your

name from a score of people since I have been here. Besides, it is no

news to me seeing that I am under the impression that you are using it

as a _nom de guerre_. On the other hand my name is Swan Russell, and

this is my friend, Dr. Wilfrid Mercer. I have spent a great deal of

time in Borneo seeking a fortune, which, until a short time ago,

appeared to be within my grasp. Unfortunately, I had unscrupulous

people to deal with, and am really hard up for a hundred pounds. My

friend, Dr. Mercer, is even in worse case than myself. He had the

misfortune to be a medical attendant on board a steamer which was

wrecked in the East. I should not be surprised if you have heard of a

boat called the _Guelder Rose_, which was owned by Mr. Samuel Flower, of

the Flower Line of steamers. Believe me, I am not occupying your time

merely to hear myself talk."

Uzali glanced keenly at the speaker. The look of suspicion had died

from his face. Something like a smile lurked in the corners of his

mouth.

"I may be mistaken," he said, "but I think you are a man after my own

heart. Now tell me candidly--have you suffered any wrong at the hands

of this Samuel Flower? Is your friend in the same predicament?"

"That is so," Russell said gravely. "But for Samuel Flower I should be

a rich man. But for Samuel Flower my friend Mercer would not be so

desperately situated as he is. I think I have given you enough evidence

of my bona fides in the piece of string which you are holding in your

hand."

"I am not going to deny it," Uzali said. "And I see the necessity for

caution. I suppose you realize that Mr. Flower is in some danger?"

"Flower is in imminent peril of his life I know," Russell replied.

"Upon my word, I hardly know how to go on. To all practical purposes,

you are as good as an Englishman, Mr. Uzali, and you know our laws as

well as I do. If anything happened to Flower now and the trouble were

traced home to you, for instance, you would have considerable difficulty

in saving your neck. In other words, I am going to accuse you of being

concerned in a conspiracy to put an end to Samuel Flower. I know this

is a bold assertion."

"Oh, we will grant it for the moment," Uzali said coolly. "I confess

you startled me when you passed me that piece of string. I see you

understand the significance of those five knots, and, indeed, you have

already told me that you have spent a good deal of your time in North

Borneo. You pay me the compliment of deeming me to be an antagonist

worthy of his steel, and I have an equal respect for your courage and

audacity. But you are wrong in asserting that Samuel Flower stands in

danger from me at the present moment. Later, perhaps, circumstances may

alter. In the meantime he is as safe as yourself."

The last words were uttered with a grimness which was not lost upon the

listeners.

"I thank you for those words," Russell said gravely, "and none the less

because they prove to me that you don't know everything. You are

unaware, I suppose, that two of your fellow-countrymen were, until

recently, engaged to a circus proprietor who is touring in Kent. It

does not matter who this circus proprietor is. The main point is that he

picked these men up in the Mediterranean and they have been a great draw

to his show. A little time ago the circus was at a place called

Castlebridge, which happens to be quite close to Maldon Grange, the

country residence of our friend Mr. Samuel Flower."

Uzali nodded his lean yellow head restlessly. It was evident that this

information was new to him. He looked at Russell rather searchingly, as

if trying to read his inmost secrets. The company in the theatre was

beginning to get smaller. Not more than a score or two of guests

remained, and these were mostly men who had crowded into the

refreshment-room.

"You cannot tell how vastly I am obliged to you," Uzali said. "But

please go on. I give you my word of honour that I had not the least

idea of this. I had not the remotest knowledge that one of my own

clansmen was in England. But I still see you have something important to

say. I am all attention."

"Well, how, I don't know," Russell resumed, "but these men found out

that Samuel Flower was in the neighbourhood. They made one or two

excursions to Maldon Grange, because my friend Mercer happened to see

them himself. He will describe to you what incantations they were going

through and the mysterious way in which they vanished when he

interrupted them. Late that night an attack was made on the life of Mr.

Flower, and, but for the intervention of Dr. Mercer, the ship-owner's

troubles would have been at an end. But perhaps my friend had better

tell the story in his own way."

"Incantations," Uzali muttered. "Oh, yes, I understand. There were

brass crucibles, a peculiar smell, strange globes of light. Oh, yes, I

have seen it all before. And, mind you, it is not the poor make-believe

of magic such as you get in Europe. That was the real thing. But I am

interrupting you, doctor. I shall be greatly obliged if you will tell

me everything."

Nothing loth, Wilfrid proceeded to tell his story which Uzali followed

with breathless attention.

"I assure you I knew nothing of this," he said, when at length Mercer

had finished. "I never guessed anything of the kind. On the contrary,

I would give more than half I possess to insure Samuel Flower's safety

for the next few weeks. We are wasting time here. I shall be glad if

you gentlemen will come with me as far as Castlebridge without delay so

that I may interview these fellow-countrymen of mine. They will listen

to me as they will listen to nobody else. When they have my commands

they will obey them as well-trained hounds should do. It is perhaps

fortunate that Samuel Flower is in town, but those men are so fearless,

so reckless of life, that it is little--but we must be moving. I shall

be glad if you will come with me as far as my house so that we can take

the motor without delay and get to Chatham before daylight. It is the

only way I can see."

"But I cannot leave town," Mercer protested. "I have some urgent

business which will keep me here till Saturday at the least. You seem

to have forgotten what I told you about those countrymen of yours. They

were fetched back to the theatre at the end of a whip by the proprietor

and his big negro, but by the morning they had vanished. It seemed so

strange to see them return in that docile fashion. I am afraid you will

have great trouble in finding them now."

"It is annoying," Uzali muttered. "I had forgotten that those fellows

had given the circus proprietor the slip. At any rate, I shall not have

to look for them in the country. If they are not already in London,

they are on their way here. And now, gentlemen, will you do me the

honour of coming with me as far as my house? There is still much to be

said between us, much to explain, and I am sure that if you will only

put out a hand to help me, I shall do everything in my power to assist

you. Is that a bargain?"

The lights were going out one by one. The few late stayers were

drifting away from the bar. It was not far short of three o'clock in the

morning, but none of the trio were disposed to sleep. The air seemed to

be charged with magnetic fluid; something like danger lingered in every

nook.

"By all means," Russell said. "I should like to tell you my story, and

then you can judge whether I am right or not in what I have resolved to

do."

Without another word Uzali slipped into his overcoat and bade his

companions follow. They entered a cab and were whirled westwards until

they came to a tall block of flats at the corner of Oxford Street.

Uzali put his key in the latch and opened the door. Then he stood back

with a bow signifying that his companions might precede him.

*CHAPTER XX*

*THE WATERFALL*

The flat was not a large one, but the new-comers could see it was most

luxuriously furnished and fitted with every modern convenience. Uzali

led the way into a cosy dining-room where he switched on the electric

lights. The walls were dark red, showing up the pictures and china to

perfection, and the overmantel was fitted with a bookcase. With a wave

of his hand Uzali bade his guests be seated.

"Oh, yes, it is fairly comfortable," he said with a shrug of his

shoulders. "I am getting to the time of life when one takes a

philosophic view of things. After all, I have little more than I want.

I have my many friends in London and I have my books. Still, I cannot

forget that if I had my deserts I should be in a very different

position. I ought to be a prince in my native country, with the control

of some thousands of men, and there are times when the longing for the

old life grips me and I could commit a thousand crimes to feel my feet

on my native soil again. But all that is past and done with. I am

waiting my time, and when one man pays the penalty for his crime I shall

be free to go my own way again. But I did not bring you here to talk

about myself. On the contrary, I am anxious to hear Mr. Russell's

story."

"I am afraid there is very little story I have to tell," Russell

replied. "I have been a rolling stone all my life, always seeing a

fortune and never finding one. I have no doubt if I had stayed at home

like the average man I should have done well enough, but from my

earliest days the fever of adventure has been in my blood and I cannot

settle down. I have been everywhere where gold is to be found. I have

risked my life a score of times only to come out of each adventure a

little poorer than I went in. Three years ago I was stranded at Key

West penniless and without a notion how to get a night's shelter. There

by great good fortune I found a man I had met years before, and to him I

explained how I was situated. He had not much to offer me, save that he

was going to Borneo orchid-hunting, and he wanted some one to accompany

him. I jumped at the chance. Anything was better than the slow

starvation that stared me in the face. To make a long story short, we

landed five weeks later in North Borneo and proceeded to push our way

inland. It was all right for a day or two, then we began to have some

notion of the difficulties which surrounded us.

"The natives were bad, to begin with, and matters were made all the

worse by the discovery that those people regarded certain flowers as

sacred. They attacked us one night when we were quite unprepared for an

assault, and in the morning I was the only one of our party who was left

alive. My life was spared by accident. I happened to have in my

possession a medicine-chest out of which I had given one of our native

followers some quinine which cured him of ague. Of course I need not

tell you that we were betrayed, and that my native patient was one of

the traitors. I thought my time had come as I lay there before one of

the camp fires, picking out words here and there from their jargon, a

portion of which was familiar to me. After a day or two I gathered that

I was going to be taken up country and brought into the presence of one

of the chiefs who was suffering from some illness.

"Well, we jogged along for two or three weary days until we came to

what, at one time, must have been a considerable town. I was surprised

to find huge stone buildings divided into streets. I was amazed to see

what must have been a magnificent circus. I saw scores of baths hewn

out of the side and filled with most deliciously cool lake water. It

was only afterwards that I learnt that the town was situated at the foot

of a lake, and that hundreds of years ago a great dam had been built

across the waters to keep them from flowing into the town. I have seen

nothing so remarkable since I visited old towns in Mexico. One thing

struck me as particularly strange. For all the town was so large, there

could not have been more than five or six hundred inhabitants. Oh, you

will pardon me, Mr. Uzali, but they were, for the most part, the image

of yourself. The natives who had destroyed our expedition were a

different class of men altogether. They were big, ugly black men. There

were thousands of them up in the mountains, but they appeared to be

terribly afraid of the people who occupied the town."

"A matter of civilization," Uzali muttered.

"Well, perhaps so," Russell went on. "At any rate, they made me

comfortable. I was led to understand that they regarded me with a

certain amount of reverence, and I felt safe so long as I made no

attempt to escape. I was free to roam the mountains, and the valleys

below the town, indeed, I was free to do everything I pleased so long as

I showed up at twilight. By this time I had established my reputation

as a doctor. I was well in with the chief of the tribe. I had learnt a

great deal of their past history. I had learnt something on my own

account, too, which I regarded as still more valuable. Below the town

in one of the valleys I found traces of gold. I worked a place for

weeks until I was certain that the gold was alluvial and that it had

been washed down from the lake during hundreds of centuries. I

calculated the amount of gold there. It was worth perhaps a couple of

hundred thousand pounds, and when all that was extracted there would be

nothing left. There was nothing for it but to bide my time and hope for

the best. Sooner or later my store of drugs would be exhausted, and then

it was possible that I might be allowed to go down to the coast and

replenish the chest.

"There was another discovery I made about the same time and that was a

large amount of treasure which was hidden away in the chief's palace, I

found it out by accident, too, though I feared at one time that the

accident was going to cost me my life. I don't think I have ever seen a

man so majestically angry as the chief was when he caught me gloating

over his treasures.

"'The cause of all our troubles,' he said. 'But for those accursed

things I should be master of this island from one side to the other.

They bred greed and murder amongst my followers, they caused the

shedding of blood. Base treachery followed wherever they went. No one

knows they are here but myself. No one shall ever know but myself, for

after my death there shall be no more chiefs of the clan, and gradually

we shall fade away and die, as our brethren perished across the seas in

Mexico. I will make a bargain with you, if you like. If I die first

you shall have your freedom, you shall take six of my mules and six of

my ponies, and you shall load them up with everything here that you most

desire. With my seal upon them they will be safe from all men until you

reach the coast.'

"There was nothing more to be said or done after that, only to wait my

time and trust to fortune for a means of escape. So far as the

chieftain's offer was concerned I thought no more about it, for he was a

man in the prime of life and likely to last as long as I should.

"But one never knows. A week or two later came rumours from the

mountains that certain white men had penetrated there and that they

meant to make a raid on the town, accompanied by a gang of desperadoes

whom they had bought over by promises of reward. We thought nothing of

it, though it occurred to me once or twice that the chief looked grave

and that he did not go quite so far afield as usual. It was late one

afternoon when he came limping back into camp, and a messenger came to

me post-haste to say that he had poisoned his foot with a prickly

cactus. No sooner had the attendants left us alone than the chief turned

to me eagerly.

"'I have deceived them all,' he whispered. 'It is no cactus which is the

cause of the trouble. I was attacked in the woods this afternoon by a

handful of natives who have hitherto been faithful. I managed to escape

under cover of darkness, but not before I received this wound in my

heel, which will be fatal.'

"I smiled at the chief's fears, but he shook his head with the utmost

gravity.

"'I tell you I am right,' he said. 'I know the poison well. There is

nothing in your box that can cure me, and when I am out of the way those

people will swoop upon the town and not one of my followers will live to

tell the tale. Say nothing to anybody about this, but gather my most

faithful men about you and let them know what has happened, so that they

may be ready when the times comes, but not to-night--wait till the

morrow. Meanwhile, all I want to do is to be left alone to sleep.'

"There was nothing to be done but to obey the chief's commands and I

went sorrowfully out. I did not return to the palace till the moon was

high and the town asleep. The chief was slumbering peacefully, but his

leg had swollen horribly, and it was evident that he had told me no more

than the truth.

"Sick at heart and utterly undetermined in my mind what to do I climbed

the moonlit street till at length I came to the majestic weir which

bordered the lake and kept the tide back from flooding the town. It

seemed to me as I stood there that I could hear whispered voices, and I

hastened to hide myself behind a mimosa bush. Then a figure emerged into

sight--a face and figure quite familiar to me. The light fell full upon

his features and disclosed the last man I expected----"

"I know," Uzali cried, "Samuel Flower!"

*CHAPTER XXI*

*A DOUBLE FOE*

Russell smiled slightly in reply. Apparently he expected Uzali to make

that guess, for he went on again unsurprised. Nor had Mercer time to

show any astonishment.

"I am obliged to you for saving me so much trouble," Russell said. "It

is so pleasant to have an appreciative audience. I don't mind admitting

that at the time I was more surprised than Mr. Uzali appears to be now.

Mind you, I knew Samuel Flower well enough. I had done a variety of

work for him from time to time, some of it shady, but nothing that one

could call positively dishonourable. But to see that man on that side

of the globe came on me like a shock. I thought the blackguard was in

London, engaged in his congenial occupation of sending coffin ships to

sea and profiting by their wrecks. When I came to think of it, I

remembered Flower once telling me that he had been pretty well all over

the world in his youth, and now I guessed what he was doing in that

out-of-way spot. I knew he was there with sinister designs upon my

friendly host. I knew he must be at the head of the faction of natives

who were bearing down upon the devoted city."

Russell paused and helped himself to a fresh cigarette.

"Mind you, I am not taking credit to myself for any philanthropy," he

went on. "I admit those people were very good to me, but I wanted to

get back to civilization nevertheless. And I am afraid I was thinking

more about those jewels than anything else. If I could succeed in

reaching the coast with them, why, then, my fortune was made. All these

thoughts passed swiftly through my mind as I crouched behind the

friendly shelter, watching Flower and his companions. There were two

Europeans besides himself, and some half-a-dozen natives who stood at a

distance waiting for orders. It puzzled me to know what they were doing

up there, and it was some little time before I could make out. But

gradually the thing began to appear plainer, for one of the Europeans

came along with something in his hand which I made out to be an electric

battery. This man silently paced along the whole length of the dam,

then he proceeded to make pencil notes in a pocket-book. Flower seemed

to be watching him carefully, as if waiting for a verdict.

"'No great difficulty,' said the man with the pocket-book by and by.

'On the whole the thing appears feasible. It only means removing a

stone or two and applying a big charge of dynamite and the thing is

done. I don't think we need take the trouble to keep our men here. The

less people we have about us the better. We can easily find some excuse

for sending them to the coast. It is by far the most expeditious plan,

to say nothing of its absolute safety.'

"'And those places down there?' Flower asked.

"The man with the battery shrugged his shoulders.

"'What does it matter?' he asked. 'It will only make the game exciting

afterwards--the finest game of hide-and-seek you ever had in your life.

You leave it to me and I'll fix it all right. And the sooner it comes

off the better.'"

Russell made another pause.

"I daresay you will think me stupid," he said, "but for the moment I

could not make out what those fellows were doing. I knew there was

mischief on foot. I knew that Samuel Flower would never come all that

way for nothing. But, for the life of me, I couldn't see what they were

driving at. I stayed there thinking the matter over long after Flower

and his companions had gone, but the more I pondered the more muddled I

grew. Still, I decided to go down presently and see how the chief was

progressing. It only wanted a glance in the moonlight to see what had

happened. The poor fellow was dead. He had told me the sober truth. He

had fallen by a poisoned arrow shot by one of those miscreants who had

guided Flower and his companions to that out-of-the-way corner of the

world.

"But there was nothing for it but to wait for the morning. I went back

to my own quarters sorrowfully enough, feeling that I had lost what

little power I possessed, for since the chief was dead my reputation for

surgery would vanish to nothing. I might alarm the natives in the

morning and try to show them what was in store for them if they had not

much faith in my diplomacy. I lay on my bed full of fears and none the

less alarmed because I did not know in which quarter to look for the

danger. I suppose I must have dozed off into a sort of sleep, when I

was alarmed by a tremendous crash and boom overhead as if a mighty

thunderstorm were in progress, and a moment later I heard the torrents

of rain roaring down the flinty streets. Even then I did not connect

this with the peril to come, though it was impossible to sleep for the

noise of the rushing waters, and I sat up in bed. Presently I could see

the yellow flood creeping into my room and almost before I knew where it

was it was knee-deep on the floor.

"And then it flashed across me what had happened. The truth came too

late. I saw once more in my mind's eye the man jotting down his

calculations in a pocket-book. It came back to me with vivid force what

he had said about the dynamite, and I knew. They had removed some of

the heavy coping-stones from the top of the dam, then with the aid of

their battery they had fired a mine of dynamite, and in the twinkling of

an eye the dam was no more. The huge wall had been removed as if by a

gigantic knife, and the great lake overhead was rushing on to the

destruction of the city. In a few minutes every man, woman and child

would perish, and the gigantic buildings be torn apart like so many

packs of cards.

"I rose from my bed and rushed into the street where the torrent was

already high. With a shudder I looked upwards and saw a huge wall of

water bearing down upon me like some all-compelling cataract down an

Alpine mountain side. I could hear a cry now and again as something

human flashed by me, but I was powerless to give any assistance; I was

even powerless to secure my own safety. A moment later and the water

had me in its grip, tossing and turning me over as if I had been a chip.

I remember sliding over a ledge of rock and finding myself pinioned by a

great mass of bushes whilst the water slid over me, leaving me free to

breathe, and indeed, the mass of rock forming a huge cascade as it did,

saved my life.

"Goodness knows how long I was held there. It seemed that the night

changed to day and the day to dusk again before the mighty roar ceased

and I was free to creep from under the shelter of the rock and gaze on

the destruction which had taken place around me. As to the city itself,

it had vanished. The great stone buildings were gone, the mass of

temples were no more, nothing remained to speak of what had been except

a mighty jumble of stones at the foot of the valley. I was the sole

survivor of that appalling calamity. It did not need any one to inform

me that I witnessed one of the most awful tragedies of modern times.

For the time being I could not even think.

"But gradually my strength and courage came back to me. I knew that I

was not altogether alone. I knew now what Flower and his

fellow-miscreants were after. They had not dared to meet the people of

the granite city single-handed; they had taken this murderous way of

sweeping life out of existence, so that they might recover the lost

treasures of the city without interruption.

"This knowledge was my one chance of salvation. If I could keep on the

track of those people without being seen, then it was just possible that

I might make my way down to the coast. I could hang about the camp at

night, for they would not be likely to keep a very close watch, so that

I could help myself to what food I required. For the best part of three

days I hid myself closely in the daylight and prowled about at night

until I got on the track of those people. As I had expected, they were

after plunder alone, and gradually began to collect a mass of loot. But

with all my caution there was one thing I did not succeed in finding

out, and that was, where the stuff was hidden. At the end of a week

they appeared to be satisfied, and one morning they moved off towards

the coast. It was only by a bit of sheer luck that I managed to keep up

with them. You see, I had my life to think of, for all the treasure on

the island was worthless to me without that. At the end of a week we

began to see signs of civilization and I could afford to drop back and

let Flower and his party go their own way. The strange part of the

whole thing was this--when Flower reached the sea, save for one European

he was alone. I don't insinuate anything, but I feel certain that not

one of Flower's escort lived to tell the tale. I believe that every

native who went with him as far as the granite city was murdered. Oh,

that would be nothing to a man like Flower. It would be easy to make a

present of a case of whisky to those natives and see that it was heavily

drugged with poison. And now I think I have told you everything. Every

word of it is true."

"Absolutely true," Uzali said. "I can confirm it if necessary. For the

chief you spoke of just now was well known to me; in fact, I may say

that he was my elder brother."

*CHAPTER XXII*

*FROM EAST TO WEST*

There was something almost pathetic in the way in which Uzali uttered

the few words which passed his lips. His face was devoid of all trace

of anger, his dark eyes had grown very sad.

"I am afraid you will hardly understand me," he said. "It is almost

impossible for Western people to enter into the thoughts and ambitions

of the East. You would hardly suppose, to see me sitting here in the

heart of London, surrounded by these evidences of civilization, that I

am a man who has set his heart upon the remaking of a nation. And yet,

up to a few moments ago, that ambition was as strong and keen as ever.

And now it has been dispelled like a dream. But, perhaps, I had better

not talk in this poetic strain. Three or four years ago I came to

England to see if I could come to terms with the Government. You see,

both my brother and myself had been educated here, and we thought it was

just possible that the British Government would take our province under

their protection. We had talked it over scores of times, and at last I

came to England to see what I could do. It is about three years since

the news of the catastrophe came to me, and even then I learnt it

through the medium of one of the newspapers. I suppose the Press did

not think it worth more than a paragraph, which merely told of the

disaster of the lake and how the tribe to which it belonged had been

swept out of existence. Mind you, I did not think there was anything

wrong. It seemed not unnatural that some great storm might sweep the

dam away, and then the rest would have been a mere matter of minutes.

But I was not satisfied. I went to Borneo to make inquiries, and

eventually I found two survivors of the disaster. Then it was I

discovered what had taken place. I can assure you, from that time to

this I have done nothing but investigate and investigate till, by slow

degrees, I have hit upon the right track. But tell me, gentlemen, how

did you find me out?"

"We didn't find you out at all," Mercer said. "The thing was pure

accident. We discovered that some of your tribe were bent upon wreaking

their vengeance on Samuel Flower, and as my friend Russell was so mixed

up in the matter he determined to see the thing through. It was the

merest coincidence that we met you at the theatre to-night."

"I see," Uzali said. "Well, gentlemen, if you will help me I will

promise to help you. But even as yet you don't quite appreciate where

the danger lies. Everything is in the hands of those two clansmen of

mine. If they are here on their own responsibility and I can gain

speech with them, I may prevent murder. But if, on the other hand,

these men are here as the emissaries of our priests, then it is little

heed they will pay to me. If I were to sit here talking to you all

night I could not impress upon you the influence which our priests

exercised over our people. But at any rate, I can try. If you will

both come with me to a place in the East End of London----"

"Impossible so far as I am concerned," Russell said curtly. "I have

other and much more important work to do. But there is no reason why

Mercer should be home before Saturday evening, and I daresay he will be

glad to keep you company."

"Anything where I can oblige," Mercer said.

Uzali rose hurriedly to his feet.

"Then there is no more to be said for the present," he exclaimed. "I

suppose Dr. Mercer knows where to find you if necessary. Now, if you

will give me a few moments I will change my dress."

Russell had gone by the time Uzali came back. The latter had changed

into a thick pilot suit with a blue cap which came well below his ears.

A short clay pipe in his mouth gave him the aspect of the foreign type

of seaman generally to be found loitering about the docks, and along the

wharves about Limehouse.

"We are going into some queer company," he explained. "I had better

give you a cap like my own to wear and a shabby overcoat. If we have

any luck we shall be on the track of our friends before daylight. We

can take a cab as far as Upper Thames Street and walk the rest of the

journey."

Uzali chuckled to himself as the first passing cabman looked at him

keenly and demanded to know where his fare was to come from. The sight

of half a sovereign seemed to allay the cab-man's fears and he set his

horse going somewhat sulkily. When the cab was dismissed there was a

good step yet to go before Uzali turned down a side street with the air

of a man who appears to be sure of his ground, and knocked three times

at a doorway which was so far underground as to be more like the

entrance to a cellar than anything else. A grating in the doorway was

pushed cautiously back and a yellow, skinny face peeped through. It was

the face of an elderly Chinaman scored and creased with thousands of

lines, each line having the dirt ground into it, and the whole

resembling an engraving after Rembrandt. It was an old, cunning, wicked

face, too, so that even Mercer, accustomed to all sorts and conditions

of men, recoiled at the sight.

Apparently the guardian of the door was satisfied, for he mumbled

something in response to Uzali's question and opened the door. For a

moment the atmosphere was unbearable. It smote Mercer with the strength

of a blow. He had had many adventures in various sinks of iniquity on

the four continents. He knew San Francisco and New York, Port Said and

Cairo, but never before had he encountered anything quite so bad as

this. He reeled to and fro and then sat down on the filthy door-step.

As to Uzali, it seemed natural to him.

He was speaking a kind of pidgin English which Mercer could understand.

He chinked some coins in his pocket which seemed to Mercer rather an

imprudent thing to do, for the yellow face lit up and the dark almond

eyes gleamed with cupidity.

"They are not here, illustrious one," the Chinaman said. "On my soul be

it if I do not speak the truth."

"But they have been here," Uzali persisted.

The Chinaman bowed till his forehead touched the filthy floor.

Apparently he was placing his den and all it contained at the disposal

of his visitor. Uzali took a step forward and shook him violently. It

seemed rather a dangerous thing to do, for the damp, stagnant floor of

the room was littered with prostrate forms either in the full ecstasy of

their opium, or drugged to a dreamless sleep by it. The Chinaman shook

his head again.

"One, two, three, four, five," said Uzali counting on his fingers, "six,

seven, eight, nine, ten sovereigns if you find them for me this evening.

I have the gold in my pocket. More money than you could make in a week.

Now wake up, exert yourself. Surely you could find some one who can

tell me where they have gone."

[Illustration: "'SURELY YOU CAN FIND SOME ONE WHO CAN TELL ME WHERE THEY

HAVE GONE.'"]

The Chinaman pondered a moment with his long fingers in his grey beard.

Then, once more he bowed and excused himself a moment whilst he

disappeared in the murky blackness at the back of the evil-smelling den.

"Dare you trust him?" Mercer asked.

"Bah, he would do anything for money," Uzali said contemptuously. "He

could have told me in the first place if he liked."

"And your friends have been here to-night?"

"Yes, they have been here right enough, and I am rather glad of it for

one thing. They would not be able to resist the opium, and when we do

catch up with them they will be like children in our hands. We are not

going to have our walk for nothing."

"I don't mind as long as we get outside this place," Wilfrid said. "It

seems impossible that anybody could live in an atmosphere like this. I

hope that Chinaman of yours isn't going to keep us here much longer."

After what seemed to be an interminable time the proprietor of the opium

den returned, accompanied by a fellow-countryman almost as wrinkled and

quite as dirty as himself. It was only from the alertness of his

movements that the newcomer proclaimed the fact that he was much younger

than the master of the ceremonies. His face was suspicious and sullen,

and there was no sign of animation in his eyes till Uzali produced a

sovereign from his pocket.

"Malays," he said curtly. "North Borneo men. There were two or three

of them here this evening who have now gone. Show me where to find them

and this piece of money is yours."

A transformation came over the cunning face of the listener. He held

out a lean, yellow claw which trembled violently as the piece of gold

was passed into it.

"You stay here, small piecie," he said, "and I go find. Maybe, small

piecie be long piecie, and I find all le same."

"We had better go with him," Uzali suggested.

The Chinaman winked slightly and shook his head. Even the display of a

second piece of money failed to shake his determination, though his eyes

fairly watered at the sight of it.

"No, no, I not go at all," he said sulkily. "All same piecie gold, good

thing, but life better still."

Uzali gave it up with a gesture of despair. There was nothing for it but

to wait in that loathsome atmosphere till the messenger came back. The

minutes dragged along; a quarter of an hour passed and then the

messenger returned. He held up his hand as a sign for the others to

follow.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*AN EXPECTED TROUBLE*

It was good to be out in the open air, to breathe the pure atmosphere

once more. For a long time the Chinaman stalked on ahead until the

docks were passed and the Tower Bridge loomed high against the sky. It

wanted little till daylight now, and already there was a red glow in the

east. But the Chinaman went on and on till he came to the Strand and

thence across into Leicester Square, to Oxford Street and behind Gower

Street. There were gardens and trees looming ghostly in the morning

mist, and before one of the gardens the Chinaman stopped and peered

through the high gate. He stood for a moment or two as still as statue,

then suddenly he grasped Uzali's arm.

"There," he whispered. "You see yourself."

Without another word he turned and sped silently down the road as if his

feet were shod with india-rubber. On Uzali, peeping through the bars of

the gate, this defection was lost. He was too intent upon some object

which appeared to be creeping across the grass. In a low whisper he

called Mercer's attention to it, but the latter could see nothing.

"I forgot you do not possess our eyesight," Uzali murmured. "But there

is one of the men I am in search of. What they are doing here I don't

know. That is what I mean to find out. Now give me a lift over this

gate and stay till I come back. Oh, there is no danger."

In his heart of hearts Mercer did not feel so sure of it. But it was

not for him to question Uzali's purpose. To lift the latter over the

gate was easy, and a second or two later he was safe on the other side.

"One moment before I go," he said. "I am an utter stranger and have

never seen this place before. So far as I can judge this is a fine

square with a number of good houses round it. It is not difficult to

guess that these fellow-countrymen of mine have their eye upon one of

the residences. Now, do you think you could find out the names of some

of the residents? Of course, I know it is rather a risky thing to try

at this time of the morning, but you might hit upon some unsuspicious

policeman who can give you all the information you want."

The request seemed ridiculous, almost farcical, but Mercer promised.

Neither was he the less anxious to find out for himself, because a

shrewd idea had come into his mind and he resolved to put it to the

test. He strode off down the road as if on some important errand and

presently he saw a policeman swinging silently along. There was an

element of risk in what he was about to do, but Mercer did not hesitate.

"I have been looking for an officer for some time," he said. "I wonder

if you could be of assistance to me."

The policeman pulled up hurriedly and flashed his lantern full on

Mercer's face. He was not in the least disposed to be friendly.

Evidently his suspicions were aroused.

"What can I do for you?" he asked curtly.

"Well, you see, I have just landed off a voyage," Mercer said, "and I

have had the misfortune to mislay all my belongings. I could not think

where to go until it struck me that I had, a friend who lived somewhere

near here, a ship-owner by the name of Flower. Do you happen to know

his name?"

The policeman shook his head slowly.