THE SOCIETY OF THE RAINBOW FEATHER.
The statement made by Catinka was so incredible and improbable that
Paul could only stare and repeat it. "You came to Barnstead to watch
Mr. Herne!" he said, slowly. "I do not quite understand. Mr. Herne was
in London on that night.
"Ah! pardon, but no," replied Catinka, vivaciously. "Mr. Herne--this
good man--he was at your Barnstead; but he does not require one to
speak of it. So he requests me."
"You have seen Herne?" cried Mexton, recalling the fact that the
Squire was in town at that moment.
"Eh--why not? I see him yesterday; I see him this morning; and he ask
me to say nothing of his veesit to Barnstead on that night. But I no
promise; I have good reason to no promise."
"What reason?" asked the journalist, bewildered by her manner.
Before replying, Catinka sprang lightly from her seat, and caught up
the fan of rainbow feathers from off the mantelpiece. "My reason, dear
Mr. Critic? Behold it!"
"Ah! then your reason has to do with your society?"
"Oh, yes; it has all to do with that," said Catinka, shutting the fan
composedly. "I will to you explain all, if you wish."
"Of course I wish, mademoiselle. I wish to find out who killed that
poor girl."
Catinka shook her head gravely, and resumed her seat. "That thing I
cannot say."
"But you were on the very spot where the murder took place."
"Yes," she admitted; "there I was. How you know?"
"By the rainbow feather you dropped."
"Pardon--it is wrong. I did not let fall the feather. I place him
there for my reason."
"Place him where?" asked Mexton, adopting her grammatical error in his
bewilderment.
"On the breast--oh, no--on the back of that dead lady."
"You saw the corpse?"
"Yes; I saw him."
"Then you know who killed the girl?"
"No; that I know not."
"Did Mr. Herne shoot Miss Lester?" asked Paul, determined to get a
direct answer.
"I cannot say truly. I did not see."
"Did you fire the shot yourself."
"I?" Catinka flashed a fiery glance at her questioner. "But what is
this you would say? I did nothing to that lady. I killed her not. No!
I swear it is so by all the saints!"
"But you know so much that----"
"What I know you will be told," interrupted Catinka, "that is, my good
sir, if you this moment will be silent and wait."
"I am quite at your disposal, mademoiselle," said Paul, and composed
himself to listen to what could not fail to be an interesting and
strange story.
"Good! that is so right," said Catinka, and resumed her seat. The
light of the sun poured in through the high window, and enveloped the
violinist in a haze of golden glory, so that she had to spread out the
particoloured fan in order to shade her eyes from the glare. But she
did not move out of that pool of heat and light, for it seemed to
please her greatly, and she basked in the ardent rays like a cat. Paul
never forgot that scene; the cheerful room, the bright sunshine, and
the pretty woman who glowed and sparkled with southern vivacity in the
radiance. She told a strange story, truly, and told it in the calmest
of voices, so that long before she finished Paul concluded that
Baldini was right when he declared Catinka had no heart. Here it will
be best to set forth the tale in other words than her own, since her
phraseology was foreign, and not always correct. The substance of what
she related was as follows:--
"For you to understand what I tell you," she began slowly, "you must
learn who I am and what are my aims. I have no reason to keep my
desire secret in this free England of yours; but in Poland, in
Russia--ah! there it would be a different matter. My name is Catinka
Poluski, and I was born at Warsaw some twenty-five years ago. I am of
a noble family, and my parents were much hated by the Russians for
their patriotic desire to see a free Poland. They conspired against
the tyrant Czar when I was but a child, and being discovered they were
arrested and sent to Siberia--sent there without a trial, to their
doom! Ah! God! why dost Thou permit such evils to befall noble
hearts."
"Are your parents still alive?" asked Paul when she ceased for a
moment, to conquer her emotion.
"Dead, Mr. Mexton," replied Catinka, in a low voice, "dead these many
years. I was left alone in the world, to the care of an old servant.
Our estates were confiscated by the tyrant, and there remained nothing
to me but poverty and shame, and a heritage of hatred against those
who sent the noble Poluski and his wife to their graves in cruel
Siberia, but that Luzk saved me."
"Luzk!" repeated Mexton, struck by the peculiar name, "and who was
Luzk?"
"The servant I spoke of," said Catinka, with emotion, "the faithful
man who looked after me when I was a helpless orphan. He came from the
town of Luzk, and took the name, for some reason connected with the
troubles of our unhappy land. It was Luzk who worked for me, who
clothed and fed me, and had me educated. By him I was taught the
violin, for which I had always a great love, and I soon was able to
play very well."
"You play like an angel!" said Paul, with enthusiasm.
"I did not know angels played on fiddles!" replied the girl, smiling.
"However, I thank you for the compliment. It is fortunate that I play
well, for when Luzk died, seven years ago, I had no one to look after
me. I thought I should starve, as my name was proscribed, and no one
dared to help the child of Poluski, the rebel. Then a French musician
heard me playing in the streets of Warsaw--yes, you may look, Mr.
Mexton, but I, Catinka Poluski, of the best blood in Poland, have
played in the streets. This man--his name was Dubourg--heard me, and
took me into his care. He was old, and a very fine player on the
violin. I received lessons from him for many months, and then we went
to Paris, where I appeared. I made a name, and so I was able to earn
an income. I stayed in Paris for a long time. Then good Papa Dubourg
died, and I no longer cared to remain. I came to London; I played; I
was liked; and now, as you know, I can earn as much money as I want by
my talent. It is not an ignoble profession," said Catinka, "and I do
not think the dead Poluski race need be ashamed of their descendant."
"I should think not, indeed, mademoiselle?" cried Paul. "You have
overcome your difficulties in a noble manner. But this," he added,
"does not touch on your society."
"I am coming to that," said Catinka, with a nod; "but, as I told you,
it was necessary for your understanding that I should begin from the
beginning. Well, Mr. Mexton, when I found myself at ease in London, I
determined to do what I could to aid my unhappy country to be free. As
a child of the Poluski I was bound to revenge my parents and free
Poland. Then in my brain there arose the idea of the Society of the
Rainbow Feather."
"Is the name symbolical?" asked Paul, glancing at the fan, which she
still held.
"Yes." Catinka spread out the fan before him. "This is made of
feathers--a sign that we shall rise, since birds that fly wear
plumage. The feathers are dyed red, blue, green and yellow, which are
symbolic colours. Red for the war we must wage to free our land; blue
is a sign of the peace which will follow the war; green, the colour of
hope which we need to inspire us; and yellow for the wealth we require
to further our plans."
"I see," said Paul, coolly; "yellow stands for Darcy Herne, whose
wealth you need."
"Precisely," replied Catinka calmly. "You are very clever, my dear Mr.
Mexton, to guess so well as that. Do you think I am in love with Mr.
Herne?--by no means, sir! It is his money-bags I want. I have but one
heart and that is for no man; the love which fills it is the love of
Poland--of my crushed and fallen country. The saints grant that it may
be my hand to raise it from the dust!"
"Not an easy task," said Mexton, with a discouraging glance.
"Great tasks are never easy," declared Catinka, with the fire of
heroism in her eyes; "but do you not think I had better go on with my
story?"
"I should be obliged, mademoiselle. Remember, we have not got yet to
the part which will interest me most."
"It is coming," said the violinist. "Well, Mr. Mexton, I formed my
society, as I say, with the Rainbow Feather as a symbol of its
meaning. My first recruits were exiled Poles and Russians, who had all
the will, but none of the power, to harm the tyrant."
"The Czar?"
"I call him the tyrant. But these recruits had no money, and without
money I could not hope to forward the cause. Then God, who is against
oppression, sent in my way Mr. Herne. I met him--well, never mind how;
but he became acquainted with me, and he came to the meetings of my
society, in this very room. I found out that he had all sympathy with
the oppressed, and so he was willing to aid me to lift the foreign
yoke from the necks of my countrymen. I looked on him as my own, as a
man vowed to my service, until I learnt from Mr. Lovel that he was
engaged to be married."
"Do you know Mr. Lovel?"
"Very well," replied Catinka quietly. "I have known him for two years,
and he feigned to be in love with me. But it was only a passing fancy,
and he left London, to fall in love with your Milly Lester. But Herne
was engaged to that lady, and out of jealousy Lovel told me of the
engagement. I was angry, for I thought that she would lead Mr. Herne
away from me, and that his money and his enthusiasm would be lost to
the cause. Later on Mr. Herne received letters from your Barnstead,
which assured him that Miss Lester was flirting and making play, as
you may say, with Mr. Lovel. He grew jealous, and the day before the
murder, when he received a letter stating that Miss Lester was to meet
Mr. Lovel, he determined to go down for himself and see if she was
faithless."
"Who wrote those letters?" asked Paul, eagerly.
"I cannot tell you that," replied the Pole, shaking her head. "They
were scribbled on very dirty paper, and in an illegible hand--at
least, almost illegible. I saw only two."
"Did Mr. Herne know who wrote them?"
"He told me he had no idea," said Catinka, cautiously; "but this I
know not. They were sent to his town address in Berkeley Square."
"Yes; I know he has a house there," said Paul, in thoughtful tones.
"How came you to see those letters, Catinka?"
"Mr. Herne showed the last two to me when I reproached him with
leaving London instead of attending to a meeting of our society. He
said that he must go down on that Sunday night and assure himself that
the reports were false."
"Did he believe them?"
"I think he did," said Catinka, promptly. "He said that Miss Lester
was young and thoughtless, and might be led astray by the evil mind of
Mr. Lovel. He wanted to save her from destruction, and talked in quite
a religious way about her."
"I know," said Paul, quietly. "Herne is a fanatic. So he went down on
that Sunday night?"
"By the train at four o'clock in the afternoon. I followed."
"Why did you follow?"
"Because I desired to see this girl," replied Catinka, coolly. "You
see, Mr. Mexton, I did not wish to lose Mr. Herne, because I wanted
his money for my society; so I thought I would see what this girl was
like--if she was as lovely as he declared her to be. And again, I
wished to see Mr. Lovel, and get him to marry the girl, so that I
could have this dear Herne to myself."
"But you were not in love with Herne!"
"No; but to secure him and his money to my cause, I would have married
him. I quite intended to do so, and went to Barnstead that I might
behold my rival; to see, you understand, if I had much to fear from
her."
"Did you go down by the same train?"
"Oh, yes; at four o'clock. I was in a third-class carriage, Mr. Herne
in a first. He did not see me. We got to Marborough a little after
five. Then I lost him; but as I knew he was going to Barnstead that
was no matter. I hired a carriage and drove over to Barnstead, where I
had dinner in that hotel called after Mr. Herne."
"The Herne Arms."
"Yes. They gave me a bad dinner," said Catinka, making a face. "After
that I went to church, where I thought I might see the girl. I did see
her."
"How did you know her?"
"She was pointed out to me when I asked a lady who sat near me. I saw
Mr. Lovel look at her also. She was beautiful, but foolish, I saw her
leave the church, but I waited till the end of the service, and then I
went out after Mr. Lovel, as I desired to speak with him."
"Did you?"
"No. I could not find him when I went out, and as I did not know your
village I was not aware where to go. I wandered about, and quite lost
myself for a long time. When I was on a wide plain I heard a shot, and
I ran forward into a wood to see what was the matter. It took me some
time to find the place where the shot had been fired; but when I did
find it, no living person was there."
"But a dead body was?"
"Yes," assented Catinka--"the body of Miss Lester, whom I had seen in
church. I was alarmed, and thought that I might get into trouble if I
were found with the dead body. I do not know your laws, so I ran away.
But before I went," said the Pole, with emphasis, "I placed on the
body--it was lying face downward--the symbol of my society, a rainbow
feather."