"Well, I walked the streets till late in the morning, never losing sight

of the Dutchman until he returned to the neighbourhood of Gower Street.

The second time he called at Flower's house he was more successful, for

he was inside the place for an hour before he came out again, on the

best of terms with himself, and went off towards Gray's Inn Road. I

tracked him to a house there, where I presume he lives, for he let

himself in with a latch-key, and presently I saw a light in one of the

windows over the shop. The place is a small bird-fancier's, and from

what I could see I should say that Jansen has a couple of rooms and does

for himself. I have the name and address. If you think it is likely to

be of any use to you----"

"So far so good," Russell exclaimed. "But do you think that Jansen is

there now?"

"He was there half an hour ago, because I came straight from Gray's Inn

Road," Goatley explained.

Russell rose abruptly and took some money out of his pocket which he

handed over to Goatley.

"There are the five pounds to go on with," he said. "And it is for you

to say whether they shall be the last I shall ever give you, or whether

they shall be multiplied a hundredfold. It is entirely in your hands,

and if you can keep off the drink you ought to do very well over this."

"Never fear about that," Goatley laughed. "I would do much for money,

but I would do a great deal more for revenge. But for that scoundrelly

cousin of mine, I should have been in a good position to-day. Look at

me now, and contrast me with what I was when you first knew me. If I

stopped the first gentleman I met in the street and told him that I was

an old University man he would laugh me to scorn. And yet you know I

should be speaking the truth. But I am wasting your time. What do you

want me to do? I don't suppose you made me a present of that five

pounds."

"I didn't," Russell said curtly. "I want you to go back and keep an eye

upon Jansen, and when he leaves his rooms, as he will probably do soon,

you must follow him and ascertain where he goes. Then you can come and

see me at the Wanderers' Club in Piccadilly where I shall be till

midnight. After that I can dispense with your services for the present,

but you had better keep in touch with me. But you will do that for your

own sake as well as mine. I think that is all."

Goatley departed, feeling all the better for his meal, having also

informed Russell of Flower's departure for Maldon Grange. Russell

thought he could be trusted. Now he had to look up Uzali.

The latter was dressed. He had recently dined, for the things were

still on the table and the occupant of the room was seated before the

fire reading an evening paper. There was a shrewd smile on his face as

he welcomed Russell.

"You mustn't take any notice of me," he said. "I have had an accident

which accounts for the marks on my face, but I am feeling myself again.

Have you anything fresh to tell me? I am all curiosity."

"Don't you think you had better be candid with me?" Russell asked. "If

we are going to work together in this matter you should explain how you

received those marks on your face."

"Quite right," Uzali agreed. "Anyway, if I don't tell you, Wilfrid

Mercer will. I am like a colonel commanding a regiment whose men have

been fired on by his own troops. But sit down and take a cigarette, and

I will tell you all about it."

Russell listened to the story without comment, though the situation was

grave enough.

"It doesn't seem to trouble you much," he said by and by. "But doesn't

it strike you as ominous that your fellow-countrymen should attack you

in this way?"

"Well, you see, it might have been an accident," Uzali explained. "I

haven't met those men face to face yet, at least not in such a way that

recognition might be mutual. And they may be priests. If they are, I

should have no more command over them than you would. Honestly, the

situation is somewhat alarming. I suppose all we can do is to try to

catch one of my countrymen red-handed in his next attack on Mr. Flower."

"Well, that won't be in London," Russell answered. "I have just had a

man named Goatley with me. I don't suppose you have ever heard of him,

but it was he, in the first place, who induced Samuel Flower to

undertake a voyage to Borneo. He knows as much about the whole thing as

we do, and he tells me that Samuel Flower has gone back to Maldon Grange

within the last two hours. There is no doubt that Flower has been made

the subject of a second attack, for he was conveyed to Maldon Grange in

a motor-ambulance, which points to another step in the tragedy. I

thought you would like to know this because it is important."

Uzali rose excitedly to his feet.

"It is important," he cried. "Then those people were more or less

successful in their attempt last night. We must get down to Maldon

Grange without delay lest a worse thing happen. I suppose it is too late

to think about going there to-night?"

Russell said the thing was impossible before morning.

"I couldn't manage it," he went on. "Besides, there are matters which

need an explanation. We have not got to the bottom of things yet, and I

want you to see Goatley."

Uzali announced himself as ready to do whatever Russell required of him.

It was getting on towards twelve o'clock when they left the flat and

made their way along Piccadilly to the Wanderers' Club. An inquiry of

the porter elicited the fact that nobody had been asking for Mr.

Russell, so that they were fain to wait in the smoking-room. About half

an hour later a message came to Russell that some one wanted to see him

outside on pressing business, whereupon he rose and signed Uzali to

follow him. Goatley stood waiting patiently upon the pavement, though

his manner was eager and excited. One glance at his face showed Russell

that he had not forgotten his promise as to alcohol.

"Have you any news for us?"

"'Hextra speshul,'" Goatley replied. "I had to wait outside his rooms

so long that my patience was nearly exhausted. He has gone to a

music-hall over the river. I forget the name, but I can take you."

A cab was called and the music-hall was soon reached, a shabby concern

leading out of one of the streets off Waterloo Road. Late as it was the

place was still fairly well filled with a rabble of men and women

enjoying themselves after the fashion of their kind, though most people

would have found the entertainment dreary to the last degree. A moment

or two later as the smoke cleared, the form of Jansen was to be seen at

one of the small tables, where he was talking earnestly to a companion

whose face was partially hidden behind a big ulster overcoat the hood of

which he had drawn over his head. Russell, however, recognized the

features of the man he was in search of.

"I have made no mistake, sir?" Goatley asked.

"You have made no mistake," Russell said in tones of satisfaction. "I

should know that rascal anywhere. You have done an exceedingly good

night's work and can go back to your rooms with the feeling that you

have earned your money. See me in the morning and I will tell you what

to do next. And if you could effect a change for the better in your

wardrobe----"

Goatley nodded and went his way, so that Russell was free to take stock

of the man whom he had been looking for so long. He was not more

interested than Uzali, who kept his eyes fixed upon the two intently;

indeed, Russell had to speak to him more than once before he could get a

reply from his companion.

"Yes, yes," Uzali whispered. "But it is nearly one, and all these

people will be going soon. Let us get outside and wait. I have a

particular reason for wishing to see who it is that Jansen has in his

company."

The request was so significant that Russell rose without further

protest. They stood together in the shade waiting till the audience

poured out. Jansen and a little man in an ulster were almost the last to

appear. Russell saw Uzali's eyes glisten.

"Let us follow them," the latter whispered. "It is as I thought. The

man in the coat is one of my countrymen."

*CHAPTER XXXVI*

*LEADING THE WAY*

To all outward appearances, the little bird-fancier's shop in Gray's Inn

Road was innocent enough, and no doubt the police would have given the

tenant of the shop a good character if they had been asked about his

antecedents. The proprietor was a born naturalist and was too much

devoted to his studies to make his business a success. He was a

dried-up little man who lived behind the shop where he did entirely for

himself, for he had a morbid horror of everything in the shape of woman.

He cared little or nothing for the litter and confusion which marked his

sitting-room, and as long as he could pay his rent was satisfied to pass

a monotonous existence. It was, therefore, a stroke of luck for Mr.

Giles when a somewhat obese foreigner walked into his shop one day and

asked if he had a couple of rooms to spare. Giles had the rooms to

spare, but there was no furniture in them, and he could not depart from

his rule that no woman should ever set foot on the premises. Instead of

regarding these statements as drawbacks, the would-be lodger affected to

receive them with every demonstration of approval.

"Ah, my friend," he said, "this is just what I want. I am an old

traveller. I have seen a great deal of the world and have always been

accustomed to do for myself. If I pay ten shillings a week for these

rooms and bring my own furniture, will that satisfy you, eh? I will not

interfere with you and you will not interfere with me. I will cook my

own food and do my own cleaning and everything. What I want is quiet,

for I am writing a book on my travels, and must not be interrupted."

There was only one reply to such an offer, and that was to close with it

with alacrity. Ten shillings a week would make all the difference

between affluence and poverty to the naturalist. It would pay his rent

and enable him to buy such books as his soul coveted. Within a week

Jansen was established in his new quarters. It was no empty boast that

his landlord and he would see little of one another, for weeks passed at

a time without their exchanging a word.

Meanwhile, Jansen was conquering a certain shyness with which he had

been afflicted during the earlier part of his tenancy. At first he

hardly left the house except at night, but now he walked in and out,

whistling blithely to himself as if he had no care or trouble in the

world.

So far as his sitting-room was concerned, there was no reason to

disregard his statement that he was writing a book. One or two tables

were littered with papers, but maps and strange-looking plans which

could have only been properly understood by an engineer were most in

evidence.

One night, Jansen had cooked his frugal supper over a spirit-lamp, and

then put his cooking utensils on one side and lighted a big Dutch pipe.

From time to time he glanced at the noisy little clock on the

mantel-piece as if anxious he should not forget some important

appointment. He drew from his pocket a bundle of letters which he

spread out on his ample knee. The contents of the letters appeared to

give him satisfaction, for he chuckled again and again as he read them.

"Strange what mistakes clever men make sometimes," he muttered. "There

is Flower, who thinks he has deceived everybody. Well, he has not

hoodwinked me. Ah, it is true that, as the philosopher says, everything

comes to him who knows how to wait, and my three years have not been

wasted. Within a few weeks there will no longer be either Samuel Flower

nor Cotter to stand in the way. And all I shall have to do is to go

down to Maldon Grange and help myself, and spend the rest of my life in

ease and pleasure."

Jansen glanced at the clock again, which now indicated the half hour

after nine. He rose from his seat and walked on tip-toe towards the

door. Despite his great weight he made no more noise than a cat. He

could hear his landlord bustling about in the back of the shop as he

crept down the stairs and opened the front door. He stood there just a

moment with the light of the gas behind him, looking up and down the

street as if searching for some one. Then, presently, out of the

shadows emerged a slight figure wearing a long overcoat and tall silk

hat. As the figure passed Jansen the latter held out a detaining hand.

"All right, my friend," he said. "I am waiting for you. Come this

way."

The figure made no demur; no remark whatever crossed his lips. He

followed Jansen quietly upstairs into the sitting-room, the door of

which was then carefully closed. No word was spoken till Jansen

produced the materials for the filling and smoking of an opium pipe

which he handed to his companion. The latter had discarded his hat and

overcoat. He looked out of place in his European costume as he squatted

on the floor with the pipe between his lips.

"You know why you are here?" Jansen asked.

"I know very well," the Oriental said stolidly. "I come because you are

willing to help me. You will tell me how, and when it is all over you

are going to show me that which I can take back to my country whence

your countryman stole it. That is why I am here to-night."

"Quite right," Jansen said cheerfully. "But you are moving too fast.

We don't do things so rapidly in this country. Do you know that your

man has gone again? Do you know that he left London to-night?"

The Eastern looked up and his beady eyes gleamed like stars.

Cold-blooded man of the world as he was Jansen shuddered as he noticed

the glance.

"What I am telling you is the truth," he went on. "He has gone. They

have spirited him away, and no doubt they fancy he is out of harm's

reach."

"He is not," the Malay said unconcernedly. "Were he at the end of the

world he would not be safe from us. Have we not waited and watched and

travelled all these years, and did not the star of luck shine upon us at

last? You know whether it is true that that man is safe."

"Oh, we know," Jansen said cheerfully. "But the point is this, my

friend; you are in a civilized country where the police have peculiar

ideas. If they can lay hands upon you they won't care a rap about your

religious scruples. You will find yourself within the walls of an

English gaol and the two of you will be hanged to a certainty. What

about your revenge then? Your prey will escape you, secure in the

knowledge that he has no longer anybody to fear. He will be able to

enjoy his ill-gotten gains with a light heart. You are taking this

thing too easily. Now suppose I can show you a way----"

Once more the Oriental's eyes glistened.

"You are bound to show us a way," he said. "You are pledged to it. Are

you not one of us? Have you not taken the sacred vows? And if you

should dare to play us false----"

"Come, come, don't talk like that," Jansen said in an injured tone. "Do

be reasonable. Didn't I ask you here to-night on purpose to show you a

way. But it will be useless unless I can see both of you together. If

you are not going to trust me, you had better go your own way and there

will be an end of it."

Jansen shrugged his shoulders as if he washed his hands of the whole

transaction. Out of the corners of his narrow eyes the man squatting on

the floor watched him intently. By and by he laid down his pipe with a

sigh and produced from his pocket a flimsy bit of paper on which he

proceeded to scribble something with a charcoal pencil. Even then he

hesitated before he handed it over to Jansen. The latter assumed an

attitude of indifference which he was very far from feeling.

"There," the Malay said, "that is where you will find him at twelve of

the clock to-night. I have trusted everything into your hands, and if

you fail us--but you will not fail us. You must see him and bring him

here so that we may talk this matter over."

Jansen thrust the paper carelessly into his pocket as if it were of no

importance. He began to talk of other matters likely to interest the

Oriental. He spoke of the latter's country and people whilst the little

man nodded drowsily over the opium pipes which his host was preparing

for him. Finally his head fell back upon the carpet and he lay in the

deep sleep which the drug produces.

"Good," Jansen muttered. "It is better luck than I anticipated. I did

not expect to get two birds with one stone. And now to sweep the other

into the net."

*CHAPTER XXXVII*

*A RESPITE*

Wilfrid stood gazing at the handful of scattered fragments intently,

fearful lest he might have made a mistake. The first feeling in his

mind was one of passionate triumph. He had forgotten that he still owed

this money to Samuel Flower. He had forgotten everything else in the

knowledge that, for the time being at any rate, he was free. Doubtless

Flower would ultimately be able to prove the debt, but days or weeks

must elapse before that came about, and meanwhile, Wilfrid would be

justified in asking for proofs of any assertion Cotter might make. This

was what Vardon would advise, anything to gain time, and in the eyes of

a lawyer the advice would only be business-like. Before Flower could

prove that the destroyed document had existed, Wilfrid would be able to

place his affairs in order.

All the same, he was not without his doubts. Was it not his duty to

restore these fragments of paper to their owner? There was no excuse

for not doing so, seeing that Wilfrid knew what they represented. And,

besides, he had had the money. It was not as if, having signed the

document, he had afterwards been defrauded of his due.

"What does it mean?" Beatrice asked.

"I can explain in a very few words," Wilfrid said. "I borrowed a sum of

money to enable me to set up housekeeping here on the understanding that

I should pay it back within a certain period. The legal time was three

months, but I was distinctly promised that if I could not repay the

money then these people would wait a little longer. Mind you, I had

nothing but their word for it, and I knew that, if they changed their

minds, I must find the money at the end of three months or lose

everything. I don't doubt that I could have had this respite if your

uncle had not interfered. But as soon as he found out who I was he set

to work to ruin me, or rather, he set Cotter to work, which is much the

same thing. I dare say Flower guessed how I found the means to furnish

a house in Oldborough and the rest was easy. At all events, by buying

that acceptance of mine, he became my creditor himself, and in the

ordinary course I should have found myself without a home to-night. We

may take it for granted that Cotter was going to Castlebridge to-night

to put the law in operation when something interrupted him."

"But it must have been some friend of yours," Beatrice exclaimed. "It

must have been somebody who knew what Cotter was going to do. Of course,

I don't understand much about these things, but you would seem to be

free for the moment. Do you think anything will be gained in the long

run by violence of this kind?"

"I am indebted to no friend for this," Wilfrid said emphatically.

"Besides, there are letters and documents lying on the grass which refer

to other matters besides mine. It was only by the merest accident that

I recognized this scrap of my own handwriting. Whoever waylaid Cotter

was looking for something else of which we know nothing. Don't you see

that things must take their course, Beatrice, and that I must wait and

see what is going to happen? There is something almost Providential in

this business. However, I will do the right thing. I will gather up

these fragments and give them back to Cotter if you think I should."

"Oh, I don't know what to say," Beatrice replied. "It is so hard for me

to put myself in your place. Don't you think you had better consult

some solicitor?"

Wilfrid pondered the matter. Perhaps Beatrice was right.

"I think I'll take your advice," he said. "I'll walk with you as far as

Maldon Grange and then come back for you after I have seen Vardon. In

the circumstances, there is nothing else to be done. All I want you to

do is to believe that I am acting for the best."

"I am certain of it," Beatrice said warmly. "No, there is no reason why

you should come with me any farther. I suppose you will return before

dark. You will not be afraid of trouble at home for the next few days.

Oh, what a tangled coil it all is!"

Wilfrid strode to Oldborough in search of Vardon whom he was lucky

enough to find still in his office. The latter shook hands and motioned

Wilfrid to a seat.

"I have been expecting to see you all day," Vardon said. "I am sorry I

was not successful in this business of yours, but, as I told you before,

my client is cautious and refused to take the risk. Is there anything

else I can do short of lending you the money?"

"Well, you can answer me a question or two," Wilfrid replied. "As I

understand it, Flower had no legal claim upon me till after twelve

o'clock to-day. Now, can you tell me what he is in a position to do at

the present moment?"

Vardon shook his head gravely.

"Pretty well anything he likes," he said. "You see, you had failed in

payment, so you are entirely in his hands. All he would have to do

would be to send Cotter into Castlebridge to make a declaration that you

were a defaulter, and the sheriff would then take possession. You are,

however, probably safe till Saturday morning."

"But wait a bit," Wilfrid said eagerly. "We can put Flower out of the

question for the moment, seeing that he is too ill to attend to business

himself. Before Cotter made the declaration you speak of wouldn't he

have to produce the original bill?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Because the original bill is in my hands," Wilfrid said grimly. "It is

a most extraordinary story and I hardly expect you to believe it, though

fortunately, I have a witness who will be ready to prove what I say.

Look at this."

Wilfrid took the torn scraps of blue paper from his pocket and began to

arrange them on Vardon's desk. The latter watched the proceedings as

one follows some new and intricate puzzle. Naturally enough, the thing

was roughly arranged, but by and by it took shape, and Vardon could read

without trouble.

"What on earth does this mean?" he demanded. "I suppose this is the

original bill you gave to Darton?"

"Make your mind easy on that score," Wilfrid said. "That is the

original bill and no other. And as to the rest, I found it just as you

see it now in the wood this side of Maldon Grange. I also found a

revolver and a cap, to say nothing of other documents in the same

tattered condition, which I left there as they were no business of mine.

It was only by a lucky chance that I recognized my own handwriting, and

there and then I explained to my companion, Miss Galloway, exactly what

had taken place. Now let us have a clear understanding, Vardon. If I

throw these scraps into the fire, I shall be able to snap my fingers at

Samuel Flower and all his works?"

"Not the slightest doubt about that," Vardon said emphatically. "All

the same, mind you, it isn't exactly the right thing to do. Still, it

will give you time, and you must be the best judge how far that will

help you. You see, if the thing got into court and it came out that you

suppressed this document, a lot of awkward questions might be asked.

But there is a way in which you can gain time and put yourself right in

the eyes of outsiders."

"I should like to know what it is," Wilfrid murmured.

"My dear fellow, the thing is simple. You are justified in ignoring

everybody in the transaction except Flower himself. Fortunately for

you, he is in no position to deal with business matters and, were I in

your place, I should simply seal those scraps up in an envelope and make

Flower a present of them when he is fit to attend to business. By that

time you will probably have met your obligation and you can use your own

discretion as to whether you tell Flower your opinion of him or not.

One thing is certain. So long as the torn bill remains in your keeping

you need not have the slightest anxiety about your home. Flower is

powerless to act and his subordinates are in a still more helpless

condition."

"You won't take these scraps?" Wilfrid asked.

"Not I, indeed," Vardon protested. "As a matter of fact, I am sorry you

told me anything about it. There are certain matters no client ought

ever to tell his solicitor, and this is one of them. Go home and lock

these pieces up securely and do nothing till Flower is ready for

business. That is the best advice I can give you."

Wilfrid could only do as Vardon suggested and wait the turn of events.

The trouble seemed to lift from Wilfrid's shoulders as he walked along.

*CHAPTER XXXVIII*

*A SINKING SHIP*

Wilfrid was free for the present. The words kept rising to his mind as

he made his way back to Maldon Grange. He could turn his attention now

to the mystery which surrounded that strange household. He wondered

what had become of Uzali and Russell and why he had not heard from

either of them. He did not suppose that they had been idle in London.

He would not have been surprised had either turned up. His chief concern

was with Beatrice. It was good to know that she was likely to have a

cheerful home over her head for a few days longer. It was like an

intervention of Providence that he had happened upon those scraps of

paper in the wood. And what was going to be the next act in the drama?

Events had been proceeding fast lately. The situation was full of

darkness and terror, but the real tragedy was as vague and intangible as

ever. Two attempts had been made on the life of Samuel Flower without

the slightest clue to the miscreants, and in his heart of hearts Wilfrid

did not believe that further attack would be abandoned.

Was it wise, he wondered, for Flower to return to Maldon Grange?

Surely, the ship-owner would have been safer in London than in that vast

and solitary mansion. Those mysterious men were likely to come back at

any moment, and perhaps the third time would recoup them for all their

trouble.

Wilfrid was still turning these things over in his mind as he crossed

the fields towards the Grange. The spot was lonely, for few people went

that way, and Wilfrid gave a side glance of curiosity as he passed a

stranger who was carrying a small Gladstone bag in his hand. The

stranger was short and enormously stout, and his eyes twinkled behind

large silver-rimmed spectacles. He was evidently a foreigner, an

impression which was confirmed when the stranger took off his hat with a

flourish.

"You will pardon me," he said, "but I am afraid that I have lost my way.

Can you direct me to Maldon Grange?"

"I am going that way," Wilfrid explained. "As a matter of fact, that is

my destination. If you have any business there----"

"Not at all," the stranger hastened to say. "Maldon Grange is only the

landmark which they gave me in the village. I am going to a farmhouse a

little way beyond to look at a picture for a client of mine. That is my

occupation--an expert in oil-paintings. Perhaps you know the name of

the farm. It is called 'Giletto'----"

"There is such a place," Wilfrid said. "I know where you want to go.

From the field in front of Maldon Grange one can see the house. You had

better come with me."

But the self-possessed stranger evinced all at once a desire for his own

society. He had been loquacious at first, but now he touched the brim

of his hat and hung behind as if he held himself unworthy of his

temporary companion. There was something about his looks which by no

means prejudiced Wilfrid in his favour, and he was full enough of

suspicions now. The events of the past two or three days had taught him

to regard even the passing shadow as possibly sinister.

"Oh, but you must not lose your way again," he said. "Come with me and

I will see that you take the right path. I suppose you are a stranger."

"I have never been here before," the fat man said with unnecessary

energy. "This part of the country is unknown to me. So that is Maldon

Grange? I recognize the dormer window which----"

The stranger paused and muttered something in confusion. Then he

immediately proceeded to descant on the beauty of the landscape. There

was nothing about the man to suggest criminal intent, but Wilfrid

disliked him more and more. Beyond all doubt he was no stranger in this

quarter. As Wilfrid turned down one field-path to another, the man

turned with him without hesitation and by the time they had emerged into

the fields in front of Maldon Grange, Mercer was satisfied that the

stranger knew his way about better than he did himself.

"I am going to stop here," he said. "If you will follow that laurel

track you will come to a gate leading to the road, and a few hundred

yards farther down is the farm you speak of."

The stranger was profuse in his thanks. Once more he raised his hat

with a flourish and went rapidly down the laurel path. After a moment's

hesitation Wilfrid turned on his heel and followed. He knew the path

twisted and wound along the edge of the plantation. He had only to make

a detour and then, by looking through the bushes, he could see what the

stranger was after. Cautiously making his way along, by and by he peeped

through the bushes and saw the stranger nearly opposite him with a broad

smile on his face and a look of amusement in his eyes. Face to face

with the intruder was Cotter. The latter's features had acquired a dull

green hue and his jaw dropped. He was a picture of abject terror.

"Ah, so you had not expected me," the stranger said. "You thought you

were done with me. That was a mistake. When Dr. Jansen makes up his

mind to a thing he is not easily discouraged. I have been waiting years

for the right time and it has come at last. But you need not be afraid.

Come, what have you to fear? Believe me, yonder ship is sinking. Oh,

it is a magnificent vessel, and the owner is a fortunate man, but she

will founder all the same. It may go down this very night. Come,

friend Cotter, am I not speaking the truth?"

The last few words came with a muttered ferocity which contrasted grimly

with Jansen's previously jocular humour. Cotter made no reply. He

stood rubbing his hands together as if the palms were wet and he could

find no way to dry them.

"It may be now," Jansen went on. "It may have happened for all you know

to the contrary since you left the house. A clever man like you makes

few blunders. The only mistake you have ever made was to think you

could escape the vengeance and had seen the last of me. And what have I

come for, friend Cotter? I have come to see the end and you know it as

well as I do."

"What are you talking about?" Cotter stammered.

"Oh, you know--perfectly well," Jansen sneered. "Take my advice. Leave

the sinking ship and throw in your lot with me. But make no error; keep

nothing from me, for I know everything. Strange that with your

knowledge of the world you should cling to Samuel Flower when his life

is not worth an hour's purchase. Think it over, my good Cotter. I am

not coming to Maldon Grange but I will not be far away. I find the

country good for my health and have rooms at that farmhouse down the

road. It may be that I shall do nothing for a fortnight. It may be

that I shall strike at once. It is for you to say whether you will be

on the winning side or not. But I waste my time with you. Why should I

worry over a creature like you? You are not worth it."

Jansen turned away with a contemptuous gesture and picked up his

portmanteau. Without another word he trudged sturdily along the path

until he was lost to sight. Cotter watched him till the stout figure

disappeared. Then he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped

his face.

"Good Lord!" he muttered. "Fancy seeing him again! And I

thought--goodness knows what I thought. This is no place for me. I'll

get away while I can."

Wilfrid stole back to the path and walked towards the house. He had

plenty of food for thought and the more he gave his mind to the strange

affair the more bewildered he became. One thing was clear. He could not

see this plot through to a finish single-handed. He must get into touch

with Uzali and Russell. He must induce them to come down and

investigate matters on the spot. For the present, however, he would

keep his discovery to himself. He would not alarm Beatrice.

The house was perfectly peaceful. There was silence in the sick-room.

The nurse was of opinion that his patient was progressing favourably.

Dr. Shelton had called in Wilfrid's absence and had left, not displeased

with the case. Wilfrid could but wait and hope for the best. It was a

consolation to know that Beatrice was there and that no one could come

between them and their friendship. Beatrice listened gravely to the

result of Wilfrid's interview with Vardon.

"Do you think you have acted for the best?" she said. "I am sorry I

misjudged you, Wilfrid. I might have known you would do the right thing

in any case."

*CHAPTER XXXIX*

*THE VAULTS BENEATH*

Wilfrid had walked into Oldborough with Beatrice and returned to Maldon

Grange. The night promised to be long and dull; but there was always the

feeling of restlessness and uncertainty as to what might happen before

morning. Wilfrid sat in the dining-room smoking cigarettes and trying

to interest himself in a book until the hour for bed came. About eleven

o'clock the nurse came into the dining-room with an expression of

annoyance on his face.

"Is anything wrong, Mason?" Wilfrid asked.

"Well, yes, sir," Mason said in an aggrieved tone. "I ordered certain

things from Castlebridge and the people have forgotten to send them.

Mr. Cotter said he was going to town about seven o'clock this evening

and would bring the things back with him. Now he wires that he is

summoned to London on important business, and that if I want the goods I

shall have to send for them. It is most annoying. There is a certain

food Dr. Shelton said the patient must have. I don't know what to do."

"There is no one we can send," Wilfrid said. "You must bike into

Castlebridge, late as it is. I will look after your patient."

"I know you can do that," Mason replied. "And, really, there doesn't

seem to be any other way."

Wilfrid hesitated and then made some excuse to leave the room.

Recalling the conversation he had overheard between Cotter and the man

who called himself Jansen, a sudden idea crossed his mind. He went

straight to Cotter's room and opened the door without ceremony. It was

very much as he had expected. The wardrobe was open and most of the

drawers had been pulled out and lay upon the floor. Not so much as a

pocket-handkerchief remained in any of them. There was no sign of a

portmanteau or dressing-basket, either. Wilfrid smiled cynically as he

looked round the dismantled room. The first of the rats had left the

sinking ship. Beyond question, Cotter had stolen away, and Maldon

Grange would see him no more. The telegram he had sent from

Castlebridge was probably the last communication that Maldon would ever

receive again from Samuel Flower's confidant and factotum.

No doubt he had feathered his nest. Possibly he had laid his hands upon

everything available. He had fled from the terror to come before it was

too late. He had been wise in his choice of time.

"I think you had better go!" Wilfrid said when he had returned to the

dining-room. "Everybody has gone to bed and your patient will be safe

in my hands. You ought not to be more than an hour away. The road is a

good one and you can't go wrong."

A few minutes later and Mason was speeding off to Castlebridge on his

bicycle. Wilfrid laid his book aside and pitched his cigarette into the

grate. He must sit in the sick-room and watch till Mason returned.

Flower lay quiet and still as death. He hardly seemed to breathe.

There was a good fire in the room and the atmosphere inclined Wilfrid to

drowsiness, and presently he shut his eyes.

He was aroused a little later by the sounds of muttering from the bed.

Flower's eyes were closed and seemed to be dreaming about something in

which the name of Cotter was mixed up.

"Why doesn't he come back?" he was saying. "What a time he is! He

promised me to see the matter through this afternoon. I was a fool to

trust him. I am a fool to trust anybody but myself, and some day he

will desert me and I shall have to bear it all myself. But he doesn't

know everything; nobody knows the secret that lies hidden in Maldon

Grange."

The speaker broke off into a feeble chuckle. There was something

sinister in this senile mirth, something that caused Wilfrid to turn

away in disgust. The voice ceased a moment later and all was still.

Surely Mason was a long time. More than an hour had passed and there

was no sign of the nurse's return. Wilfrid closed his eyes just for a

moment, or so it seemed to him, and when he looked again he saw the

clock was pointing to half-past two.

He jumped to his feet with a start. For nearly two hours he had utterly

forgotten his duty to the patient! He turned to the bed to see if

Flower required anything, then a startled cry came from his lips. The

bed was empty!

Wilfrid gazed at the sheets and pillows with a feeling of stupefaction.

At first he thought some one must have stolen into the bedroom and

kidnapped his patient. But the idea was abandoned as absurd. Wilfrid

knew himself to be a light sleeper, and it would have been impossible

for two men or more to enter the bedroom and carry off a heavy man like

Flower. Besides, he would have offered some sort of resistance. He

must face the matter calmly and find out without delay what had become

of the patient. Most of his clothes no longer hung over the chair by

the bedside where they had been thrown and even the slippers were gone.

Wilfrid dashed from the room and made a tour throughout the house. He

had taken the precaution before the nurse left to see that every door

and window was rigidly fastened, but though he ranged from the top to

the bottom of the mansion there was not a bolt out of place or a single

catch neglected.

Obviously, Flower must be somewhere on the premises. Quickly and

quietly Wilfrid went from room to room starting with the top floor and

working down to the basement. He came at length to the cellars and

there he hesitated. It seemed almost a waste of time to scour those

dingy chambers, but Flower was nowhere to be found upstairs, and if the

man were roaming about in a state of delirium there was no telling where

he might wander. From the kitchen Wilfrid procured a candle and set out

on his errand. It was cold and damp down here, for the cellars were all

beneath the house. White fungus grew on the walls and clammy moisture

oozed from the ceilings. There were certain cell-like structures

closely barred and locked, and these, Wilfrid concluded, contained wine.

He emerged presently into a wider, drier space, at the end of which were

three small, insignificant-looking doors approached by a short flight of

steps. Wilfrid paused and held the candle above his head, for he could

see a figure crouching on the top of one of the flights of stairs. He

fancied he could hear the click of a key in the door.

Somebody was there, beyond all doubt. Wilfrid advanced cautiously until

he ascertained that somebody was really there. Whoever it was took no

heed of the approaching light. Wilfrid called out to Flower by name.

He had found the missing man.

"Come away," he said. "What madness is this! You will catch your death

of cold. What are you doing here?"

Flower turned a blank face on the questioner. He was only dressed in his

trousers and shirt. His face was begrimed with dirt and cobwebs, and his

white linen had assumed a dingy hue.

"Go away," he said sullenly. "What are you doing here? It is no

business of yours. Now that Cotter is gone none shall share the secret.

But I forgot--not even Cotter knows of this. I had sense enough to keep

this to myself. Come and open the door for me. It will be worth your

while."

Flower's manner had changed all at once to a fawning civility. His

truculent manner had vanished. He was like one in deadly fear who

welcomes a friend.

"I can't get the key in the lock," he whined. "Perhaps you can do it.

The door hasn't been opened for eleven years, and the key has got rusty.

You try it."

"We must oil it first," Wilfrid said. "Come upstairs and get some oil.

You can't expect to use a key after all that time. Then we will return

and you shall show me your treasures."

Flower obeyed instantly. His limbs staggered under him. It was as much

as Wilfrid could do to get him upstairs and into the bed-room again. For

a moment Flower clung tenaciously to his keys, but they dropped unheeded

on the floor and his eyes closed again, as if his exertions had

overpowered him. When he was between the sheets, the strange look of

coma came over him again. How quiet the house seemed! Then, as he was

feeling the tense stillness of it all, his ear caught the sound of a

footstep on the gravel and a moment later there was a tinkle of pebbles

on the window.

*CHAPTER XL*

*TOWARDS THE LIGHT*

Russell stood by the side of Uzali waiting for developments. They were

still in the shade of the portico outside the music-hall, and it was

Uzali's part to play the next card. But he remained perfectly

motionless, though Russell could see his eyes gleaming and that he was

moved by some strong feeling. At the same time, Russell had no fear and

no anxiety. He felt the thing was in capable hands and that Uzali would

not spoil the situation by undue haste.

"What are you going to do?" he whispered.

"For the moment, nothing," Uzali said grimly. "We are going to pursue

what one of your greatest statesmen used to call a policy of masterly

inactivity. In other words, we will follow Mr. Jansen and my countryman

and ascertain what deep scheme they have on hand. Unless I am mistaken

Jansen is as much in my debt as Samuel Flower. But we can go into that

later. Just now we have to keep those fellows in view and watch them

all night if necessary."

Russell had no objection. He felt that action was blessed and that his

dogged patience and perseverance were about to be rewarded. Few words

were spoken as he and his companion turned and followed Jansen at a

respectful distance until Gray's Inn Road was reached. Here Jansen

paused and appeared to take a latch-key from his pocket. A door was

quietly opened and shut and then the watchers had the street to

themselves. Uzali turned eagerly to Russell.

"You marked the right house?" he asked.

"Oh, I think I know the house," Russell replied. "I have had a very

good description of it and here comes Goatley to see that we are on the

right track. Well, what is it, Goatley?"

"I ventured to follow you, gentlemen," Goatley said, "in fact, I have

been following you all the evening. I was afraid you might make some

mistake. Some description of the house where Jansen is lodging will be

of assistance to you."

"You know all about it?" Uzali said.

"Well, yes, sir," Goatley proceeded to explain. "It is a shop where a

man named Giles deals in birds and animals. He is a queer, solitary old

man and does for himself in a small room behind the shop. He has a

horror of women, and I don't suppose one has been in the place for

years. You can understand how lodgings like that would suit Jansen. He

has the two upstairs rooms where he cooks for himself, so that there is

no one to spy upon his movements. He might commit half a dozen murders

and no one be the wiser."

"Is there any way into the house?" Uzali asked.

"Certainly, sir," Goatley went on. "Behind the shops is a kind of Tom

Tiddler's Ground where children come and play. It is easy to get over

the fence and into the back yard on to which Giles' room looks. Above

this room is a dilapidated glass house where a former tenant tried to

grow flowers. By way of this little glass house one could readily get

into the premises. I am sure of my ground because I have been over it

before. I will show you the way so that there can be no mistake."

Goatley had spoken the truth when he had said that it would be easy to

burgle the premises by way of the little glass house. Russell surveyed

the whole carefully and nodded his head approvingly.

"The thing can be managed," he said. "And now, what I want you to do,

Goatley, is to hang about the front and see if anybody leaves the house.

If Jansen himself leaves come round at once and whistle softly."

There were no further instructions for Goatley, so they disappeared to

the side street. Russell turned to his companion somewhat eagerly.

"I think I had better understand what you want," he said. "Your idea is

to get into the house. What do you expect to see?"

"Well, I expect to see Jansen and one of my fellow-countrymen to begin

with," Uzali said grimly. "And if I am not mistaken I shall find the

other conspirator there, too. I don't think you appreciate how clever

Jansen is. To begin with, he is an exceedingly skilful chemist and can

produce the most extraordinary results from apparently innocent

experiments. I have never met the man, but I know that he was in my

country years ago, and at one time managed to exert a deal of influence

over certain people there. It was much the same as in the early days

when white settlers first appeared. The natives used to take them for

gods and all that kind of thing, and that is what has happened with

those two fellow-countrymen of mine who have done their best to put an

end to Samuel Flower. I expect to find them under the thumb of Jansen."

"Well, that can be easily ascertained," Russell cried. "The question

is, who is going first? As you are the lightest, perhaps you had better

get on my shoulders and try to wriggle yourself through that broken

framework into the glass house. I can pull myself up afterwards. Are

you ready?"

Uzali climbed up Russell like a cat and wormed his way through the

broken woodwork until he stood upright in the place where plants had

once grown. Russell followed a little more slowly, but just as surely,

until he stood by the side of his more agile companion.

"So far, so good," he said. "Now, what next? I don't suppose there are

more than two rooms over a small shop like this, so that we must be

careful how we move. It won't be safe to light a match."

Uzali agreed and there was nothing for it but to feel their way along

the passage until they came to the top of the stairs. It was so dark

that a slit of light shining under a closed door stood out like an edge

of flame. Voices could be heard on the other side of the door, voices

in earnest confabulation, though it was almost impossible to hear what

was said. Uzali chuckled.

"What did I tell you?" he whispered. "There are three people

there--Jansen and two others. You wouldn't notice it, but knowing the

language I can discriminate between those other two voices."

They could only wait until Jansen chose to open the door. A quarter of

an hour passed and gradually the voices died away to a murmur and then

ceased altogether. After that there was the sound of a heavy footstep

on the floor and the door was flung open. Jansen stood on the

threshold, glancing back with an evil grin upon his face. It was so

dark on the landing that it was impossible for him to detect the figures

standing so close beside him. The Dutchman seemed to be on exceedingly

good terms with himself, for he kissed his hand gaily.

"That is well," he said. "That is exceedingly well. I do not think, my

friends, that you are likely to trouble me for many hours to come, so I

will go about my business. There is no chance of anybody coming in, no

chance of anybody discovering what has happened. Strange that men, in

some ways so clever, should be so innocent in matters outside their

understanding."

Jansen uttered the last words in a tone of regret. He went quietly down

the stairs as if fearful of arousing his landlord. The door closed

softly behind him and he was gone. Uzali strode into the stuffy little

sitting-room and applied his foot vigorously to two little yellow men

lying like logs on the carpet. In spite of the rough punishment nothing

came from either except a suppressed grunt or two.

"What did I tell you?" Uzali said in disgust. "Did I not say that I

should find my other fellow-countrymen here. They have become tools of

Jansen. You can see for yourself what has happened to them."

"They have smoked themselves into a state of torpor," Russell said.

"Yes, and been drugged into the bargain. You heard what Jansen said

before he went out. They will lie here like logs, perhaps for the next

twenty-four hours, until Jansen has accomplished his deep scheme. But I

am going to frustrate all that. Let us get out of here at once."

"I am ready," Russell said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Maldon Grange," Uzali replied. "We are going there at once. You can

ask questions on the way."

*CHAPTER XLI*

*VANISHED!*

It was as easy to leave the house as it had been to enter it. No sooner

were Uzali and his companion off the premises than Goatley appeared all

excitement.

"I could not make you hear," he said. "I whistled till I was afraid to

whistle any longer. Jansen has gone away. He went up the street in a

tremendous hurry as if he had some most important business on hand."

"Oh, we know about that," Russell explained. "You have done a very good

evening's work and we shall not want you any more."

Russell hastened to overtake his companion who was striding down the

street as if he wished to overtake Jansen. His manner was abrupt and

irritable. He had little to say as Russell rejoined him.

"Has anything gone wrong?" the latter asked.

"Well, things are not as I expected," Uzali admitted. "And the worst of

it is we are bound to lose time in picking up information. We shall

have to go to my rooms to get _Bradshaw_. My dear friend, don't ask any

unnecessary questions. The loss of every moment annoys me. What an

extraordinary thing it is that you never see a cab in the street when

you want one."

At length they reached the flat where Uzali immediately consulted his

_Bradshaw_. When he came to what he wanted, something like an

execration broke from his lips as he glanced at the clock on the

mantel-piece.

"We have missed the down express by ten minutes," he exclaimed. "If we

had been a quarter of an hour earlier we might have had the pleasure of

travelling in the same train as Mr. Jansen. But it can't be helped.

Now here is the position of things. It is half past one. London is fast

asleep, and we are thirty miles from Maldon Grange. What I want you to

tell me is this. How are we to get there in an hour and a half?"

Russell shook his head. He was bound to confess that the problem was

beyond him. The feat could not be accomplished. Uzali glanced at him

with something like contempt in his narrow dark eyes.

"I thought it was always your boast," he said, "that day or night this

London of yours could produce anything you required. Don't you know any

place that you could ring up on the telephone and get a motor-car?

Mind, I don't care what I pay for it. The only stipulation is this--it

must be here in a quarter of an hour and I must drive it myself. We

cannot afford to have any curious outsiders in this business. Can you

manage that? I have plenty of ready cash and am prepared to put it down

if you find the owners of the machine at all suspicious."

Russell thought for a moment. Surely the thing ought not to be

impossible. He might learn what he wanted at the nearest police or fire

station. He strode out of the house and accosted the first policeman he

met. A judicious half-crown produced the desired information.

"Oh, that is an easy enough matter, sir," the officer said. "There are

one or two livery-stable-keepers hereabouts who have been investing in

motors lately, and no doubt you could hire one, providing your

references are right. Come with me, sir, and I'll see what I can do."

The thing was not so easily achieved as the policeman had prophesied.

The livery-stable-keeper listened suspiciously, but was won over by the

sight of a five-pound note and an offer to pay for the hire before it

left the yard. At the end of half an hour Russell was back at Uzali's

flat with a smart-looking car, which was handed over on receipt of

twenty pounds in hard cash. All Uzali's irritation seemed to disappear.

He threw himself heart and soul into the management of the car which,

before long, was speeding Citywards.

"This isn't the way," Russell protested. "You ought to have taken the

Hampstead Road."

"And so I will," Uzali said gaily. "We are not going to Maldon Grange

alone. I will take those countrymen of mine with me. They'll be all

right in the bottom of the car. We'll just slip round to the back of

the house in Gray's Inn Road and you shall go up to Jansen's room and

hand them down to me as if they were sacks of flour. I admit there is

an element of risk in the job, but it must be done. I can't get on

without them."

The car stopped presently. It stood silent and motionless on the waste

ground behind the little bird-shop, where, once more, Russell climbed

into the house and made his way into Jansen's sitting-room. He was not

afraid of interruption. He walked towards the fire-place, then stopped

and rubbed his eyes. He had even cause for astonishment, for the little

men had vanished, leaving no sign behind them.

"Extraordinary!" Russell muttered. "I wonder if this amazing tangle

will ever come straight. Now what can have become of those chaps? Three

quarters of an hour ago they lay drugged into insensibility and now they

have vanished. Well, I must look for them if I have to search the house

from top to bottom."

Uzali was waiting impatiently in the yard when Russell reappeared after

the lapse of nearly a quarter of an hour.

"Where have you been?" the former exclaimed. "And why have you come

empty-handed?"

"For the simple reason that there was nothing to bring," Russell said

grimly. "Those fellows have vanished. Did I search the house? Why, of

course, I searched the house. But what was the good of doing that? It

was only a waste of time. You saw what a state of insensibility they

were in. You must know it was impossible for them to get away without

assistance. Somebody has been to the house and carted them off. If you

wish it, I will go back and have another look."

Uzali shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"Absolute waste of time," he said. "Let us get into the country as soon

as we can. It is not worth while to run the risk of some policeman

coming along and asking our business, and goodness knows there is enough

to do before daylight."

Russell stepped into the car without another word, and for some time

they flew silently through the London streets. When the open country

was gained they took the risks of the road, travelling at as high a

speed as the car permitted. Uzali drove like a man who had been

accustomed to cars all his life. Not once did he make a mistake, not

once did he swerve from the straight path. By the light of the acetylene

lamps Russell could see his eyes glowing, his face gleaming with

excitement.

"You seem to like it," Russell murmured.

"There is nothing in the world so exhilarating," Uzali exclaimed, "and

it is none the less fascinating because of the danger of it. If my eye

were to deceive me, if I were to swerve even as much as a hair's

breadth, what should happen in consequence would have no interest for

us. Given luck we shall be at Maldon Grange in time to spoil the plans

of our friend Jansen."

The car pulled up at length under Russell's instructions, for the ground

was new to Uzali. They turned in through the lodge gates, going more

cautiously, until they came to a thicket of trees in which they hid the

car.

They were in front of the house, which was all in darkness with the

exception of two windows on the first floor. It wanted no great

foresight to infer that it was here where Samuel Flower was lying. For

some time Uzali gazed up at the windows, as if hesitating what to do

next.

"I wish I knew who was there," he muttered. "It is necessary that we

should get into the house and, what is more, we must do so without

alarming the servants. It is a desperate chance, of course, but do you

think it possible that your friend, Dr. Mercer, is there? I meant to go

through Oldborough to ascertain for myself, but in the excitement of the

moment I forgot about it."

"It is possible," Russell said. "I don't suppose he would very much

care for Miss Galloway to stay in a house like this at present. He may

have induced Miss Galloway to go to his mother's whilst he remained

here. But can't you invent some story about having lost your way. We

shall be able to find out then. Throw a handful of gravel at the window

and see what comes of it. It can't do any harm."

On the impulse of the moment Uzali stooped and raised a handful of

pebbles and tossed them gently at the window. The experiment was

repeated twice before the blinds were pulled up and somebody looked out

and demanded to know what was the matter. At the sound of the speaker's

voice Russell gave a cry of triumph.

"It is all right," he said. "What a tremendous slice of luck! It's

Mercer himself. Wilfrid, come down and let us in. We must see you for

a few moments."

*CHAPTER XLII*

*TREASURE TROVE*

Mercer's patient was sleeping peacefully. There appeared to be no reason

why he should give any further trouble, and so far the nurse had not put

in an appearance. Wilfrid concluded that only something out of the

common would have brought Uzali and Russell at that time in the morning.

From the way in which they spoke, too, their errand did not admit of

delay. In the circumstances, it was no bad thing, either, to have a

couple of friends in the house.

"One moment," Mercer whispered. "Stay where you are and I will let you

in."

He unfastened the bolts of the front door, and the intruders strode into

the dining-room where the lights were full on.

"Perhaps you had better explain," Wilfrid said. "I have been wondering

what had become of you, Russell. I could not stay in London as I had my

own affairs to look after, and that is why I am here. But how did you

guess it?"

"It was mere chance," Uzali explained. "As for myself, I was bound to

come here. I came to prevent bloodshed. We calculated you had left

London and we thought it possible that Miss Galloway would prevail upon

you to take up your quarters here for the present, and upon that theory

I didn't hesitate to give you a signal."

"This is the second night I have been here," Wilfrid explained. "Miss

Galloway is staying with my mother in Oldborough. But tell me what you

want. Mr. Flower's nurse has gone into Castlebridge for some

necessaries and there is nobody but myself to look after the patient.

And he is in no fit state to leave, I assure you. He has led me a pretty

dance already to-night and I shall be very glad when Mason comes back."

"Is he in his right senses?" Uzali asked.

"Oh, dear, no, and I question very much if he ever will be again. But

tell me what you want me to do. You would not have come at this hour of

the night unless yours had been an exceedingly desperate errand."

"I forgot," Uzali murmured. "I suppose everybody has gone to bed except

yourself. If we stay here we are not likely to be disturbed by the

servants."

"You need not worry about them," Wilfrid remarked.

"Very good. In that case we are safe. And now, assuming the nurse

knows nothing about the family, he will be prepared to believe anything

you say about us. We want to stay here just as we are till morning on

the pretext that we are friends of Mr. Flower's and have come down on

business. The rest you can leave to us. I suppose when the nurse comes

back you will be free to help us if we give the signal. We may need

your services."

Wilfrid nodded emphatically. It was plain that Uzali meant to say no

more for the moment and he went upstairs again into the sick-room.

Flower was lying perfectly still, and there seemed to be no suggestion

that he was likely to wake up. A few minutes later there was a ring at

the front-door bell and Mason returned. He seemed to have all he

wanted, but he paused and looked at Wilfrid as he caught the murmur of

voices in the dining-room.

"Friends of your patient," Wilfrid said glibly. "They have come from

London on urgent business. I presume they were not aware that Mr.

Flower was so ill. They will stay till morning on the chance of Mr.

Flower's being able to see them."

The nurse smiled grimly.

"There is no reason why they shouldn't wait, sir," he said. "But it is

precious little business Mr. Flower will be able to transact for some

time to come. I hope he was all right while I was away."

Wilfrid smiled in non-committal fashion. On the whole, it seemed best

to say nothing about the patient's escapade.

"You had better get yourself some tea or coffee," he said. "I don't

mind sitting up for another hour or so, and then I shall go to bed."

The nurse made his preparations by means of a spirit-lamp which he had

in the dressing-room. Meanwhile, Wilfrid sat in a chair before the fire

and dozed off. He was utterly fagged. The anxieties of the day had

told upon him more than he was aware. At last the nurse aroused him and

intimated that one of the gentlemen downstairs wished to speak to him.

In the interval Uzali and Russell had not wasted their time. At first

they sat smoking and helping themselves freely to the decanters on the

table till Uzali grew more taciturn and appeared to be listening

intently.

"What is the matter?" Russell asked.

"Our friends are beginning to move," Uzali said in a whisper. "I have

not been far out in my deductions and, if you will oblige me, I shall be

glad if you will throw your cigarette into the fire whilst I turn the

light off."

Russell obeyed without comment. He felt he was entirely in the hands of

his companion. Uzali proceeded to shut off the light and also to open

one of the windows that led to the lawn. He placed a screen across the

fire and nodded with the air of a man who is satisfied with his plans.

"All right so far," he muttered. "Now I want you to stand by the window

with me, keeping quiet and being on the alert for what is going to take

place. You will not find it so very dark when your eyes become

accustomed to the gloom."

It was as Uzali said. As Russell's gaze was turned towards the darkness

he began to make out objects here and there till it was possible to tell

where the shrubs lay and where the flower-beds were located. Everything

was extremely still and the faintest sound could be heard. A quarter of

an hour passed, then Russell felt his companion's hand clutch eagerly on

his arm.

"There!" Uzali whispered. "Did you see anything? Did you hear

anything? Now listen! I am not mistaken."

As Russell strained his ear he seemed to hear a footstep coming down the

gravel path. By and by a tiny twig snapped and it could no longer be

doubted that somebody was walking on the path. A moment later and a

figure loomed against the grey of the sky, a figure which paused a

moment and then crossed on to the lawn. Russell felt his heart beating

faster, especially when he realized that the outline was quite familiar.

"You could see that, anyway," Uzali whispered.

"Oh, I can see that," Russell replied in the same low tone. "It seems

incredible, and I may be mistaken, but if that man isn't Jansen, call me

blind."

A dry chuckle broke from Uzali's lips. He was unquestionably pleased at

something. He was no longer moody and despondent, but had the alert

manner of a man who means business.

"You are not mistaken," he said. "That is Jansen. I dare say you

wonder how he got here. There is only one way in which he could have

reached Maldon Grange; he caught the train which we missed. Ah, we

shall see some fun presently. Our friend yonder little knows the danger

he stands in."

"What on earth is he up to?" Russell exclaimed.

So far as could be seen in the darkness, Jansen seemed to be juggling

with a ball of strong string. In one hand he carried a bundle of pegs

which he proceeded to drive into the lawn at unequal distances. The

head of the hammer was muffled and only the faintest sound came in

response to his blows. As the work went on Jansen could be heard

chuckling to himself. Soon he stood upright as if he had completed his

task and then he connected the irregular row of pegs with the string.

It suddenly flashed upon Russell what he was doing.

"Why, that is an old burglar trick," he exclaimed. "Jansen means to

make an attempt upon the house and trusts to those pegs and strings to

save him in case of pursuit. Hadn't we better catch him red-handed?"

"Plenty of time for that," Uzali said with a note of laughter in his

voice. "See, he has vanished. It looks as if he had gone down to the

basement. Now we shan't be long. Look over at the big cedar tree and

tell me what you see; quick!"

Two slight shadowy figures like huge night moths seemed to flit out from

under the gloom of the cedar and make their way towards the spot where

Jansen had gone. Russell would have darted out only Uzali restrained

him.

"Wait," he whispered, "another ten minutes."

The minutes passed slowly, then came a sound like the splitting of wood,

followed by a laugh which was drowned in a scream echoing horribly far

and wide in the silence.

"Now," said Uzali sternly, "it is time to act!"

*CHAPTER XLIII*

*IN HOT PURSUIT*

It was a weird cry the like of which, in all his vicissitudes, Russell

had never heard before. There was not pain in it so much as the wild and

vivid fear of a soul going down into eternal torment. Twice again the

cry came and then all was silent once more. Uzali rose to his feet

without the slightest appearance of haste; indeed, from his collected

movements and assured air he might have been expecting something of the

kind.

"What shall we do now?" Russell whispered.

"That depends on whether we are too late or not," Uzali replied. "Come

and see for yourself. One or two things have been puzzling you lately

and now we can clear them all up."

The speaker moved to the open window. He had scarcely reached the

threshold before that strange cry came again. It was much fainter this

time and lacked the dominant note of fear. It was more despairing and

sounded a long way farther off. At the same time Russell held back a

moment, for he could hear a disturbance overhead.

Surely enough there came the sound of voices raised in expostulation and

a moment later Mason came downstairs.

"What is it?" he exclaimed. "What are you gentlemen doing? Don't you

know that my patient is at death's door? On no account was he to be

disturbed. That extraordinary noise has awakened him, and now it is as

much as two of us can do to keep him in bed. I don't want to rouse the

servants."

Something like an oath broke from Uzali's lips.

"For Heaven's sake! go back where you came from," he said. "You have

enough to do upstairs without disturbing us. Besides, you have Dr.

Mercer to help you."

Mason looked at the speaker in astonishment. He was not accustomed to

being spoken to in that way, but he made no protest. Overhead Flower's

voice could be heard raised in feeble fury. He seemed to be pleading

for release.

"Oh, go upstairs," Uzali said. "I assure you, my good fellow, you gain

nothing by standing here, and if the servants are aroused you will be

conferring a favour on everybody by sending them back to bed again. Now

do as you are told."

Without waiting for reply Uzali strode out into the garden followed by

Russell. From the lawn they could see shadows flitting across the

blinds of Flower's room. It was plain that a struggle was going on.

"That's a piece of cruel bad luck," Russell muttered. "I wonder what

woke him up."

"Can't you guess?" Uzali said impatiently. "Wasn't that cry enough to

wake the dead? It would arouse anybody who was not lost to

consciousness. It appealed all the more to Flower because he had heard

something like it before. But, come, we have no time to lose. I hope

before morning that we shall have settled this ghastly business for

ever. And now to find out where those fellows went. I hope you know

the house."

"Indeed, I don't," Russell said. "I don't know any more than you do.

Mercer could help us."

Uzali made no reply. Very carefully he strode round the house, looking

intently amongst the ivy which fringed the stone walls. He seemed to be

seeking for some cellar trap or sunken door by which the basement might

be reached. He gave a grunt of triumph presently as he pointed to a

flight of moss-clad stairs leading to a small door below. He pressed

his shoulder to the woodwork and it gave way quietly. Once more he

chuckled.

"We are on the track at last," he whispered. "We shall find it here.

Strike a light!"

Russell took a vesta from his pocket and after lighting it held it

aloft. He made out the outline of a dim vault with three doors at the

far end approached by flights of steps. The place apparently was empty

and Uzali strode along as if he were on the verge of some important

discovery. Then Russell's foot tripped over the support of an iron

wine-bin and the whole thing came over with a rattle and roar that made

the place echo. With a cry Uzali started back.

"Now you have done it," he said hoarsely. "Look out for yourself. Give

us another match for goodness' sake."

The match went out as if some unseen person had stooped and extinguished

it. Just before the last dying gleam faded it seemed to Russell that

two shadowy forms had passed him rapidly. He knew a moment later that he

was not mistaken, for he heard footsteps running up the stairs leading

to the garden.

"After them," Uzali whispered. "The tragedy is done so far as we are

concerned. That unfortunate man is beyond salvation. After them! It is

not so dark as you think."

After the intense gloom of the vault the garden was by comparison almost

light. Russell could see the two forms not more than a hundred yards

ahead. He set off doggedly in chase. His blood was up now, his heart

was full of anger, and a certain recklessness possessed him. Come what

might those people should not escape him again; neither did he need

Uzali to tell him who they were. He knew he was in close pursuit of the

two Malays whom he had seen not so many hours before lying on the floor

in Jansen's sitting-room.

It all grew clear to Russell as he raced along. He was just as anxious

to catch up with those men, just as determined to mete out to them the

punishment they deserved, but the wild feeling of passion was gone.

Doubtless the Malays had been too cunning for Jansen. To a certain

extent they had trusted him, but the Dutchman's drugs had been

insufficient. What Jansen had come to Maldon Grange for, Russell could

not tell. But there must have been some deep reason for his move, some

pressing need of keeping the Malays out of the way till his errand was

accomplished.

Russell ran on and on without sense of fatigue, for he was in hard

training, his muscles tense and rigid as whipcord, his lungs playing

freely. Uzali was far behind and out of the hunt. The Malays, too,

showed that they knew they were being followed. For a long time they

kept to the road till it began to dawn upon them that their antagonist

was gaining ground, then they vaulted lightly over a gate and entered

the fields. Russell smiled grimly as he noticed the move. He was not

perhaps quite so agile as those in front, but he knew the heavier going

would suit him better. Sooner or later he must wear those fellows down

and bring them to a sense of their responsibilities. There was

consolation in the knowledge that he was armed. He smiled as he felt

for his revolver in his hip pocket.

A mile or so and the pace began to tell. The fugitives were not more

than sixty or seventy yards away. They were toiling distressfully

along, and Russell could see that their limbs were growing heavy under

them.

"Pull up!" he cried. "It is useless to go any farther. If you don't

stop I'll fire into you."

But there was no suggestion of stopping on the part of the Malays. They

swerved to the right as a hare might do and breasted a slight embankment

on the top of which was the permanent way of the railway. Russell was

not more than two yards in the rear as they stumbled over the fence and

dashed across the line. His blood was up, but he did not lose his

presence of mind. Something was ringing in his ears besides the rush of

wind, something booming and tearing; with a blinding light and headlong

rush round the bend tore the express at top speed.

Russell pulled up in the nick of time. He yelled to the Malays. But it

was too late. They had seen and heard nothing. They seemed to be

licked up by the flaming light and roaring steam. It was over in the

flash of an instant. The express had disappeared and the silence of deep

darkness fell again, as Russell stood fumbling unsteadily in his pocket

for his matches.

He turned, shuddering, from the horror of it. The two figures lay there

battered almost out of recognition. They would do no more mischief in

this world. Still, they should not be neglected. A few hundred yards

down the line Russell could see the lights of a small station and

towards this he hurried as fast as his legs would carry him. It was an

incoherent story, but he managed to make a sleepy night porter and one

or two navvies camping up by the side of the rails to understand

something of the tragedy. A few minutes later and the figures were

removed to the station where they lay side by side covered with coarse

sacking.

"I am staying at Maldon Grange," Russell explained. "I will call in the

morning. I dare say one of you would not mind notifying the police for

me."

*CHAPTER XLIV*

*THE MEANING OF IT*

It was a weary walk back to Maldon Grange, but Russell finished it at

length. The chase had carried him farther than he thought, and he was

worn out with his exertions and shaken with the horrors of the night.

The house appeared to have regained its normal peace, the dining-room

lights had been switched on, and Uzali impatiently waited Russell's

return.

"You have been a long time," he said. "So they managed to escape you.

I thought they would. Man alive, what is the matter? You look as if

you had seen a ghost."

"I have seen two," Russell said huskily. "For Heaven's sake, give me

some brandy and not too much water. You needn't trouble about your

countrymen any more, for they will do no further harm this side of the

grave. And they didn't escape me, either. I was within a couple of

yards of them when they met with their death; indeed, I was exceedingly

lucky not to share the same fate. I will never forget the horror of

it."

Uzali asked no questions. He saw how white and shaky Russell was and

discreetly contented himself with pouring out the brandy, after which he

sat down and waited till the generous spirit had begun to do its work.

"It was an express train," Russell said jerkily. "I was close to them.

I had challenged them to stop in fact, when they swerved and climbed on

to the line. They must have lost their heads, for they ran full tilt

into the engine, and the rest you can imagine. They were cut to pieces

and, I should say, are unrecognizable. I had them removed to the

nearest station where, of course, I had to give my name and address. I

don't know what you think about it, but, upon my word, I don't see how I

am going to explain when I come to give my evidence before the coroner."

"Oh, that will be easy," Uzali replied. "You happened to be a guest of

Mr. Samuel Flower and disturbed two burglars to whom you subsequently

gave chase. There will be no occasion to say more than that. The thing

will excite a nine days' wonder. People will ask what these foreigners

were doing at Maldon Grange and then it will all be forgotten. You must

admit the necessity of keeping this scandal as quiet as possible. The

men are dead, and even if the story were told, ninety-nine people out of

a hundred would refuse to believe it. But if you are feeling better,

there is much to be done before daylight. But you need not come unless

you feel up to it. For my own part I mean to finish my investigation of

the vault where we found those unfortunate men. We haven't finished

with tragedy even yet. We have still to find Jansen."

Russell rose with more or less alacrity to his feet.

"Come and get it over," he said. "I thought my nerves were strong

enough for anything, but I shall want a rest after this."

Once more they turned into the garden and thence into the vault. Uzali

had taken a candle off the dining-room mantel-piece, so that they did

not lack light, neither was there any reason for extra precautions.

They mounted a flight of steps leading to one of the doors in which

Uzali's sharp eye saw that a key had been left. He flung the door open

and strode inside. The place was dark and musty. There were no windows

in front and no ventilation, so that the two intruders at first found

some difficulty in breathing. On the top of a packing-case Uzali placed

his candle while he made a swift survey of the vault. The place appeared

to be empty save for a score or so of packing-cases, all clamped with

iron and heavily nailed. But, apparently, Uzali was not troubling much

about the cases; he seemed to be looking for something quite different.

Then he gave a sudden exclamation as he bent over an object lying

between one of the cases and the wall. The object was dragged out into

the centre of the floor and, taking the candle, Uzali bent coolly and

critically over it.

[Illustration: "UZALI BENT COOLLY AND CRITICALLY OVER IT."]

"The last of the tragedies," he said.

"Jansen!" Russell exclaimed. "And stone dead beyond a doubt. But what

is that strange bandage around his head?"

Jansen lay stiff and stark with his bloated face turned up to the light.

Around his forehead was a white bandage so stiff and tight that it might

have been made of solid metal. It was hard and hollow to the touch as

Uzali's fingers drummed upon it.

"Here is the mystery of the five knots," he said. "Don't you see what

has happened? Jansen attempted to make a dupe of my fellow-countrymen,

but they were too cunning for him. They were not drugged when he left

his lodgings; they were only shamming. They followed him here, must

have travelled by the same train, and they tracked him to these vaults

where I dare say they have been before. Directly he saw them he must

have known his end was come; let him turn and twist as he liked, there

was a finish to Jansen. Whilst one held him at bay the other lighted

that scent you know of, and, as soon as the wretched man's senses

failed, they bound that cloth about his forehead and the five deadly

knots did their work. The thing is put on wet, but dries in a few

moments with a tremendous pressure that gives the brain no chance

whatever. It is practically impossible even for the cleverest surgeon to

guess it is concussion of the brain, since there are no signs of

violence. And yet, after the application of those terrible knots for an

hour or so, no victim could recover. By pure good luck Mercer twice

saved the life of Samuel Flower, for each time my fellow-countrymen were

interrupted by him and managed to get away, leaving no trace of their

secret. In Jansen's case it was different. We had cut off their avenue

of escape and they had only themselves to think of. And they met their

fate, too."

"But this is really worse than the other," Russell said with a shudder.

"The whole story is bound to come out now. We cannot take this wretched

man outside and throw him into a ditch."

"That is true," Uzali said grimly. "But we can remove all signs of the

mischief. I know we are running a risk. I know we are placing

ourselves within reach of the law, but I am going to take the chance all

the same. Go to the dining-room and fetch me a decanter of water so

that I can damp this bandage off. Besides, since no one knows Jansen or

anything about him, it will be reasonable to assume that he was one of

the burglars and that they had quarrelled with fatal results."

Russell was too upset by the events of the night to make any protest.

He seemed to have hardly strength enough to attend to himself. In a

dazed way he crept back from the dining-room with a decanter of water

with which Uzali proceeded to remove the bandage until the remotest

trace of the cause of death had disappeared.

"It is amazing," Russell murmured. "No wonder a doctor would be puzzled

to give a certificate. He looks now as if he had died peacefully in his

sleep."

"That is so," Uzali said coolly. "And now let us be convinced that he

came here for some felonious purpose. I am certain I shall find

housebreaker's tools in his possession. Ah, I told you so!"

From the breast-pocket of Jansen's coat Uzali produced a small but

powerful jimmy along with a neat case of instruments which left no doubt

of the purpose for which they were used. With the jimmy in his hand

Uzali crossed the floor and made a deliberate attack on one of the big

cases. Presently the lid came off with a resounding crash and a quantity

of sacks were exposed to view. Under the sacking lay a number of

wash-leather bags evidently of considerable weight, for Uzali had to

exert all his strength to release two of them and lay them on the floor.

He untied the knots which bound the sacks and plunged his hand inside.

His fingers came out sparkling and shimmering in the candle-light.

"As I expected," he said. "With all your care and cunning Flower has

been too many for you. The only man who guessed the truth was Jansen,

and that is why he came down to-night. Take one of these bags in your

hand and feel its weight. Isn't it heavy? It's so heavy that it can

only be one metal. And see how it sparkles in your fingers."

"You mean it is gold dust," Russell cried.

"Nothing more nor less, my friend. This case is full of it, and when we

come to open other cases I shall not be surprised to find treasures even

more valuable. Flower must have brought them here by some extraordinary

means and baffled all his party. We shall probably never know how he

managed it. But we have yet to decide upon our plan of campaign. There

is much to be done still."

*CHAPTER XLV*

*ALADDIN'S CAVE*

"And so all these things come from your part of Borneo?" Russell asked.

"This, then, is the treasure which you have all been after?"

"I expect so," Uzali said with a smile. "Mind you, I don't want to

affect a knowledge superior to your own and I admit that I have only had

my suspicions lately. But I have been looking for Flower for some time

and hardly expected to identify him with the prosperous ship-owner. When

he was in Borneo he bore another name. But all that does not matter now.

The first suspicion of the truth I had was when Miss Galloway sat by me

on the night of the party at the theatre. She was wearing a certain

ornament which you have heard of----"

"The diamond moth," Russell murmured, "oh, yes."

"Or a portion of it," Uzali went on. "The ornament attracted my

attention immediately, because I knew there was only one spot in the

world it could have come from and that was the palace where I and my

ancestors were born. The jewel at one time had been a favourite ornament

of a sister, long since dead, and I remember how it was broken. Nobody

in our part of the island could mend it, and I promised that the next

time I was in London I would see to the matter. That is how one part of

it was in my possession, but for the life of me I could not tell what

had become of the other half, till on the night of the party I began to

feel my way. Nobody but one of the infamous crew who destroyed my

birthplace could have the other half of my sister's jewel. I took the

trouble to find out afterwards who this Samuel Flower was and what he

was like. Then you came along and made things still plainer. I saw at

once that Flower had outwitted his confederates and had conveyed the

treasure of my people to England. Of course, all this was conjecture,

but I had the solution of the problem pretty plainly before me. When I

knew that that scoundrel Jansen was coming down here and how he had

contrived to misguide my unfortunate fellow-countrymen not a doubt

remained in my mind. In point of fact I came here to-night, not so much

to catch Jansen red-handed as to denounce Flower as soon as he were well

enough to listen to my charge. I never dreamt for a moment but that my

countrymen were still in London, but when I knew they were here, I saw

it was all over with Jansen. I would have tried to prevent the

catastrophe, but, unfortunately, I did not know where to begin.

Directly I heard that cry I knew whose it was. But don't you think we

had better take your friend Mercer into our confidence. I am sorry in a

way the thing has ended like this because it puts an end to your

scheme----"

"For taking what belonged to somebody else," Russell laughed. "My dear

sir, that is the fortune of war. I had intended to make a handsome

thing out of this business, and I meant to put a large sum of money into

Mercer's pocket at the same time."

"I am not sure that you haven't," Uzali said drily.

"But all this belongs to you," Russell protested.

"That is why I am not speaking without book," Uzali replied. "One thing

is certain--if it hadn't been for Mercer and you I should never have

found it. You will find that if anything happens to Flower and that

scoundrel Cotter learns that Jansen is dead, he will lose no time in

trying to lay a hand on the plunder. That, at least, is my theory, but

the fact remains that, in the eye of the law, everything in this vault

is mine and, with your permission, I'll put the key in my pocket till

the proper time comes to claim possession."

So saying Uzali took up the candle and followed Russell out of the

vault. He locked the door and together they made their way back to the

dining-room. Tranquillity reigned throughout the mansion. No sound

came from overhead until the closing of a window brought Mercer

downstairs.

"What on earth has happened?" he asked. "I began to wonder if you were

coming back."

"How is Flower getting on?" said Russell.

"He is in a very bad way," Wilfrid said gravely. "He has an exceedingly

rapid pulse and his temperature has gone up in the most alarming

fashion. It is extraordinary how that strange cry excited him. It

seemed to penetrate to the well-spring of life and restore him to

consciousness. One might have thought he was a man running away from

some hideous doom. But now he is in a most critical state, and I should

not be surprised if he did not last till morning. Not that I am

disposed to waste sympathy on Samuel Flower. Goodness knows he has done

me harm enough and to spare. And now if you will tell me what has been

going on the last hour I shall be glad. As for Russell, he looks as if

he had been face to face with tragedy."

Russell murmured that he had been a witness to no fewer than three. He

told his grim story first, the detail being filled in by Uzali. The

whole combined narrative was so amazing that it took Wilfrid some time

to grasp it all.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"We shall do nothing," Uzali said calmly. "We shall notify the police in

the morning of the finding of Jansen's body, and they can put their own

construction on the rest. The authorities will regard the whole thing

as a case of attempted burglary. Probably they will take no steps to

have those packages in the vault examined, for the idea of treasure

lying there would be beyond ordinary police imagination. What I wish is

to avoid scandal. When the sensation has blown over, I think I can show

a way to settle matters without raising unpleasant questions. Meanwhile

I should like to sleep for an hour or so. I suppose one could manage

that."

Uzali proved to be a tolerably correct prophet. There was a great

commotion in the neighbourhood next day when it became known that

burglars had made an attempt on Maldon Grange, and that the body of one

had been found in the vaults under the house. The body had been

discovered by two gentlemen from London who had come to see Mr. Flower

on important business, not being aware that he was suffering from a

severe illness. They had arrived at the house early in the morning in a

motor-car, just in time to see two of the assassins leave the basement

hurriedly. One of these gentlemen was known to a large circle as Prince

Uzali, the other was a more obscure individual whose name had not yet

been ascertained.

Uzali gave evidence at the inquest first. He was calm and collected and

gave his testimony in a plausible and ingratiating manner. He told how

the body had been discovered and confessed he thought the police theory

of a quarrel amongst the thieves was the correct one. He could not

account for the presence of the thieves in the vaults, unless on the

supposition that they thought that to enter by the basement was the

safest way to reach that portion of the house which was more worthy of

their attention. Asked if he saw any valuables in the vaults, Uzali

merely shrugged his shoulders and explained that the place was filled

with packages which appeared to possess no special value. They were

overland trunks and things of that kind. In any case, he should not

imagine that Mr. Flower would keep valuables in a cellar.

Uzali stepped down from the witness-box presently, having created a

favourable impression, and Russell followed. He spoke frankly enough of

his pursuit of the two men and related how the would-be burglars had

been smashed up by the express train. There was little more to say,

save that the two men were mutilated out of all recognition and the

police had only the faintest hopes of establishing their identity. They

appeared to be Malay sailors or coolies and that was as far as the

official theory could go. On the other hand, some one might come

forward and claim Jansen for a relation, but Uzali had not much fear of

that. Jansen's landlord was not the kind of man who studied the papers.

It was long odds that he would never know of the tragedy at Maldon

Grange and would conclude that his lodger had vanished as secretly as he

had come.

As for the rest Uzali appeared to know exactly what to do. As he and

Russell returned from the inquest after the verdict had been given, they

met Dr. Shelton coming along the road towards Maldon Grange.

"How is Mr. Flower?" Russell asked. "I am a stranger to you but I took

the liberty of stopping you----"

"It is only a matter of a day or two," Shelton said curtly. "I cannot

tell you more than that."

*CHAPTER XLVI*

*UZALI'S WAY OUT*

Shelton's motor-car purred along again, leaving Uzali and Russell alone.

Half way up the drive to the house they encountered Mercer. He, too,

looked grave.

"How did it go?" he asked eagerly.

"It went just as I told you it would go," Uzali replied. "I fathered my

theory on the police who came to regard it as their own. They are under

the impression that those three men came to Maldon Grange with the

intention of committing a burglary, and that they quarrelled after they

got into the house. The only thing I was a bit doubtful of was the

medical evidence on the body of Jansen. The absence of violence rather

upset the local doctor and he seemed to think that death was due to a

sudden fright which had affected the action of the heart. I forget the

technical terms he used. At any rate, he satisfied the jury, and we

have only to keep quiet and all scandal will be averted. I hope you see

now that nothing would have been gained by allowing the whole truth to

come out. Nobody would have been the wiser for it, and as certain as we

are standing here now, before a month had passed we should have half a

dozen cold-blooded murderers trying the same experiment on their

victims. You never hear of a new crime, especially a new form of

murder, without seeing it imitated within a few weeks. And murder would

be more common than it is if criminals could only be convinced that they

would never be found out. Be content to leave everything in my hands,

and I promise you that beyond our three selves no one shall ever know of

this. How is your patient?"

Flower was in a very bad way indeed. Wilfrid said that his conscience

troubled him, inasmuch as he had not revealed the real state of affairs

to Dr. Shelton. Perhaps, on the whole, his silence was wise. In time

he might come to recognize that Uzali's policy was the correct one.

"I am going to fetch Miss Galloway," he said. "Now the danger is over I

think she ought to be in the house till the end comes. Whatever

Flower's faults his niece owes him much and I believe she would like

it."

But Wilfrid was too late. When he reached Maldon Grange early in the

afternoon with Beatrice the blinds were drawn and the servants were

creeping quietly about the house. Mason came downstairs with a grave

face saying that his patient had passed quietly away an hour before.

This was the tidings that reached Uzali and Russell when they came back

just before tea. Wilfrid had sent to Oldborough for his mother and gave

Beatrice into her charge. The girl was terribly distressed and Wilfrid

had made up his mind that she should never know the truth.

"I am glad to hear you say that," Uzali said. "Now you see how sound my

advice was. Why should the poor girl know the truth? Why should

anybody know it for the matter of that? Will you express my regrets to

Miss Galloway and tell her how sorry I am for what has occurred? I am

pleased there is some one in the house who can look after her. And now,

Russell, if you don't mind we'll get back to London. Probably when we

arrive there we shall find the news of Flower's death has preceded us.

To-morrow morning we will go to the offices of the company and interview

Cotter. He will be surprised to see us----"

"I shall be more surprised to see him," Russell said grimly.

"Not in the least, my dear fellow. Cotter has left the sinking ship

right enough, but when he knows that his employer is dead and, what is

far more to the point, that my fellow-countrymen are no more, he will

return for the loaves and fishes fast enough. I dare say this will cost

money, but I am anxious to keep up the credit of Flower's name and you

know there have been strange rumours about him in the City lately."

It was wonderful how everything fell out exactly as Uzali seemed to

expect. The death of Samuel Flower was the sensation in the City next

day, and the offices were thronged with people when Uzali and his

companion reached them. Uzali sent in his card and demanded to see

Cotter at once on important business. Perhaps the peremptory command had

its effect, or perhaps it was the name on the card, but a clerk came

through the crowd of people with the information that Mr. Cotter would

see Prince Uzali at once.

The little man sat in his master's office rubbing his hands nervously

together. There was a half-malicious, half-frightened look in his eyes

like that of a rat caught in a trap. Uzali closed the door and came

straight to the point.

"Now you slimy scoundrel," he said, "we won't waste words, because you

know who I am. It were weak to deny it. A few hours ago you had made up

your mind to desert your master, but now you know he is dead, you think

it is better policy to come back here. The death of three other persons

has made your path a safer one, but we need not go into that. I believe

that when matters are settled up Mr. Flower will prove to be deeply in

debt. Now, I will send an accountant to go through the books with me

and I will arrange to pay everybody. In return, I must have the first

offer of Maldon Grange, which is bound to come into the market; indeed,

to be quite candid, I mean to buy Maldon Grange as a residence. When

this has been done you will be free to depart on the one condition that

you never show your face to me again. It will not be the slightest use

your coming to Maldon Grange, because you will find the vaults empty."

Cotter looked up with a puzzled expression on his face and Uzali learned

what he wanted. The secret of the treasure in the vaults of Maldon

Grange was not known to Cotter.

"Wonderful man, Flower," Uzali muttered as he walked away with Russell.

"Extraordinary how he managed to hoodwink everybody. He must have

contrived to remove everything of value from the city of my birth before

he destroyed the town by blowing up the water dam. Well, he has gone to

his last account, but he was the means of restoring my own, so I will

not say more against him. And now you see what I am going to do. I

shall save a scandal in the City. Flower's blackguardly business will

cease to exist, and in a short time Maldon Grange will find its way into

my possession. I have long been thinking of purchasing a country house,

and Maldon will suit me very well. I shall count on your assistance in

turning out those cases of priceless treasure. I shall sell what I don't

want, and no curious tongues will be set wagging. On one thing I am

determined and I will take no refusal. But for you and Mercer I should

never have seen my family treasures again, and that is why I am going to

divide that equivalent in value between the three of us. Don't protest,

for already I have far more money than I know what to do with. I shall

have all those things valued as soon as possible and I calculate there

will be a cheque for a hundred thousand pounds for each of you when the

business is finished. Now for a quiet lunch somewhere. I seem to need

it."

* * * * *

To this day Beatrice cannot make out how events transacted themselves.

That Samuel Flower had left nothing when his debts came to be paid she

knew perfectly well. She also had to bewail the fact that she had not a

single relative in the world. It was Uzali who, some time after he had

taken possession of Maldon Grange, gave the plausible explanation of

Wilfrid's sudden accession to fortune. He talked freely about

concessions, of mineral wealth in his own country which he had shared

with Russell and Mercer. He hinted at the marvellous way in which the

venture had turned out.

"Prince Uzali says you have been speculating," Beatrice said with an

attempt at sternness in her voice the next time she had an opportunity

of being alone with Wilfrid. "Isn't that very dreadful of you? To have

a husband who speculates----"

"I only speculated once in my lifetime," Wilfrid laughed, "and that was

so far as you are concerned. And if one speculation only turns out as

good as the other, I shall have no cause to be dissatisfied. But how

much longer are you going to keep me waiting, Beatrice? We have a

superfluity of this world's goods and there is nothing between us now.

Besides, my mother has quite set her heart upon seeing you----"

"In that case," Beatrice said mischievously as she glanced up in her

lover's face, "there is no more to be said. I should never dream of

doing anything to annoy your mother."

And with that Wilfrid was content.