AN EXPLANATION
For the next two or three days Alan enjoyed the rural peace of the
country and gave his parents a great deal of his society. Anxious as he
was to follow up the hint of Sorley with reference to the story of
George Inderwick’s treasure, he did not display undue eagerness, since
it was better to behave in a casual manner, lest suspicion should be
aroused. The young man did not wish Sorley to think that he knew too
much about the matter, or had been making any inquiries, for it was not
improbable that he might take alarm and decline all assistance. Fuller
felt certain that there was a skeleton in Sorley’s cupboard, safely
locked up, but, “as suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind,” it would
require a very slight circumstance to render the worthy gentleman
uneasy. Therefore Alan pretended to an indifference which he did not
feel, and kept away from The Monastery, until his diplomacy was
rewarded about the middle of the week, by the appearance of Marie with
a request that he should come over.
“This afternoon Uncle Ran wants to see you,” said the girl pouting, for
she was not pleased that Alan had kept clear of her company. “He has
gone this morning to Lewes on his motor bicycle, and will be back at
two o’clock to meet you.”
“In that case,” said Fuller promptly, and glancing at his watch, “since
it is just eleven, we can have three hours all to ourselves.”
“I don’t think you want to pass all that time alone with me.”
“Oh Marie, when you know how I love you.”
“You don’t; you really and truly don’t;” said Miss Inderwick, who was
looking provokingly pretty in a fur jacket and a fur toque; “if you
loved me you wouldn’t waste your time as you do.”
“Waste my time. Why not, when I am on a holiday?”
“I don’t mean that sort of waste, you horrid boy. But you know that you
are always in town and I am always here, so when you are down for a few
days, you should be with me constantly.”
“I should very much like to, my dearest spitfire, but would it be wise
when your uncle discourages my attentions to you so pointedly?”
“Oh!” Marie raised her eyebrows and pouted again. “If you are afraid of
Uncle Ran there is no more to be said.”
“There is a great deal more to be said,” retorted Alan, tucking her arm
under his own, “and we can say it on our way to The Monastery. When the
cat’s away at Lewes, we two dear little mice can play at Belstone.
Marie, darling, don’t make faces; we must be sensible.”
“I _am_ sensible; you have said dozens of times that I am the most
sensible girl in the whole world.”
“So you are. All the same we must be diplomatic in case your uncle——”
“Bother my uncle.”
“I think you do, my dear,” said Alan dryly, “and just now you are
bothering me by being cross about nothing. Marie, if you don’t smile in
your usual angelic way, I shall kiss you here in the open road, Smile,
smile!”
“I sha’n’t,” said Marie, trying to pucker her small face into a black
frown, and then had to burst out laughing. “You silly boy!” She hugged
his arm. “I spoil you, don’t I?”
“You do, you do, like the angel you are.”
“There’s a want of originality about you, Alan. You are always calling
me an angel. What else am I?”
“A goddess, a gazelle, a Queen of the May——”
“In December; how ridiculous!” and Miss Inderwick laughed gayly, her
good temper quite restored.
The lovers walked slowly through the village and up to the gates of the
neglected park, chatting much in the same strain. Of course they talked
great nonsense, as lovers do when together, and the language of Cupid
can scarcely be described as instructive. Alan was a sensible and
clever young man, and Marie was by no means wanting in mother-wit, and
yet their conversation was so characteristic of their several states of
mind, which had entirely to do with the wooing of man and maid, that a
common-sense person past the turtle-dove stage would have doubted their
sanity. But then love is a madness which attacks the young at certain
seasons, and custom has so sanctified the lunacy, that those so crazed
are not locked up. And mercifully when the glamor of love is on them,
they prefer to keep to themselves, so that indifferent people are not
compelled to witness their eccentricities. Only when they were walking
up the avenue, did the conversation become more reasonable.
“Why does Uncle Ran wish to see you, Alan?” asked Marie curiously.
“He intends to show me his collection of gems,” replied Fuller, who did
not think it prudent to be too open, until he knew more of Sorley’s
mind. He did not like the man, and suspected him of having committed a
crime; but until he was certain of his guilt, he wished to keep
silence. After all, the girl by his side was the daughter of the man’s
sister, and her guardian, so it was best to say as little as possible.
“Oh, he has got lovely jewels,” said Marie, readily accepting the
explanation, which certainly was a true one. “I wish he would let me
wear some of them. It seems so stupid to lock up a lot of beautiful
diamonds and emeralds and sapphires. When they come to me—as Uncle Ran
says they will—I sha’n’t leave them in their care, but wear them.”
“You will look like the Queen of Sheba, my darling.”
“Or like a rainbow,” replied Miss Inderwick smartly, “all sorts of
colors sparkling like—like—like frosts,” she finished, taking her
illustration from the glittering rime on the bare trees.
It was a perfect December day, and the blue sky arched over a white
expanse of snow untrodden save for the track up the avenue along which
the young couple had travelled. By this time they had come in sight of
the great mansion, and paused to admire its irregular beauty. Its red
roofs were hidden under billowy masses of dazzling whiteness, as they
caught the sunlight, and the darkly-green garment of ivy which clothed
it was flecked everywhere with snow wreaths. Icicles glittered like
jewels hanging from eaves, porch, windows, and from the carved
stonework, discernible through the greenery, so that the place looked
like a fairy palace. Although Marie, its fortunate possessor, saw the
house daily, she could not forbear an exclamation of delight.
“Isn’t it lovely, dearest?”
“As lovely as you are, my darling,” assented Alan readily. “I think you
might show me over the house, Marie, as I have never explored it
completely.”
“I daresay. Uncle Ran won’t let anyone go over it, although no end of
artists wish to come to it. He wouldn’t even let anyone paint a picture
of the outside. I don’t know why?”
“Nor do I,” murmured Fuller, half to himself, “No more than I know why
he was not angry with Miss Grison for going over it uninvited.”
“That was strange,” replied Miss Inderwick thoughtfully, “but I think
he is a little afraid of Miss Grison, dear. He thinks she is mad.”
“What do you think?”
“I haven’t seen enough of her to say. But Mrs. Millington, her greatest
friend, told me that she thought Miss Grison’s mind was giving way.”
“It is certainly not apparent in her management of her boarding-house.”
“Well, she may be mad on one point and sane on many,” remarked Marie
pertinently, “she seems to hate Uncle Ran dreadfully.”
“That is because she ascribes her brother’s downfall to him. But don’t
let us talk about such dreary matters, darling, but look over the
house, and arrange how we will restore it when we are married.”
“And when we find the treasure,” cried Marie, skipping lightly up the
steps to the open door. “Come in, Alan. We must make the best of our
time before Uncle Ran returns.”
“He won’t be back until two o’clock.”
“So he says, but I don’t trust him. He’s always trying to catch me in
mischief, as if I ever had a chance of doing any. I shouldn’t be
surprised if he pounced down on us unawares.”
“In that case I can excuse myself by saying that I have come, at his
request to see him,” said Alan promptly. “Lead the way, Marie, and let
us look over the place from top to bottom.”
Marie assented very readily to be her lover’s cicerone, and for the
next hour they were passing along corridors, peeping into rooms,
ascending and descending stairs, and searching for secret chambers and
outlets. All the time Marie talked, telling Alan tales about this room
and that, which she had heard from Granny Trent, who had lived nearly
the whole of her long life in the old building. But what struck Alan
most was the absence of furniture. Room after room had been stripped
bare, and the vast house gave him the impression of being an empty
shell. Yet according to the old woman, whom they looked in to see in
her particular den, the place had been crammed with treasures no later
than twenty years ago when Mrs. Inderwick had died.
“But he’s sold them all,” mourned Granny, who did not seem to have much
love for her master—“tables and chairs and wardrobes and pictures, and
all manner of things, my dears. It’s a shame I say, for they belong to
you, Miss Marie, and he ain’t got no right to get rid of your
property.”
Granny was a lively, active woman, small and shrivelled in her looks,
with twinkling black eyes and an expressive face. Age did not seem to
have dulled her faculties, for she spoke clearly and to the point, and
what is more, intimated that she could see through a brick wall,
meaning in plain English—how easy it was to guess that the young couple
were in love.
“And a very good thing too,” said granny nodding sagely; “you being
handsome and good and kind-hearted, Mr. Alan, or you wouldn’t be the
son of them dears at the vicarage else. Just you marry my lamb, sir, as
soon as you can get your pa to read the service, if it’s only to look
after him.”
“Mr. Sorley?” inquired Fuller pointedly. “You mean him?”
“And who else should I mean, Mr. Alan, if not him? A poor feckless
thing I call him, selling up my lamb’s goods to waste money on bits of
stones. Ah, if the luck of the Inderwicks wasn’t missing there’d be
plenty of them.”
“You mean the peacock?”
“I do. That blessed bird that means good fortune to my lamb here, sir.
Them Grisons took it I’ll swear when they went away over twenty years
ago, and took the luck along with them, for never will it come
back—it’s the luck of the family I’m talking of, Mr. Alan—until the
peacock is under this roof again.”
“What sort of luck will it bring, Granny?” asked Marie eagerly.
“Marriage to you and Mr. Alan here, a fortune when the riddle is read
as it surely will be, and an outgoing for him, as is your uncle and
don’t look after you, my lamb, as he should, drat him.”
“Oh, he means well, Granny.”
“If he means well, why don’t he do well,” retorted the old woman.
“Never mind, the luck will come your way, my lamb, when you least
expect it. Now go down to the dining-room, my dears, and I’ll tell
Jenny to set out something for you to eat. You can’t live on love,”
chuckled Granny, her eyes twinkling.
The two laughed and took her advice, even to the extent of making a
very excellent luncheon, plain as the fare was. When the meal ended,
Marie carried off Fuller to the library and lighted his cigarette with
her own fair hands. When he was comfortably puffing clouds of bluish
smoke, Miss Inderwick, perched on the arm of his chair, ruffled his
hair and told him that he was the most disagreeable person in the wide
world. This led to amiable contradiction, finally to kissing and it was
when they were in the middle of these philanderings, that they raised
their eyes to see Mr. Sorley standing at the door. He was stiff with
indignation, and looked more like a haughty unbending aristocrat than
ever.
“So this is the way in which you deceive me, Marie?” he said with an
angry look. “How dare you?”
“Why not,” said Fuller, as the girl sprang away from his chair in
alarm. “I love Marie and she loves me. You must have seen that ages
ago, Mr. Sorley.”
“I did, sir, but the position does not meet with my approval.”
“Who cares,” cried his niece defiantly. “I shan’t marry anyone but
Alan.”
“You shall marry the man I select,” said Sorley sternly, “unless——”
“Unless what?” demanded Fuller coolly. He was perfectly sure that Marie
would remain true to him, and therefore had no fear of her uncle.
“I shall explain that when we are alone.”
“Explain now,” said Miss Inderwick swiftly, “I have a right to know why
you object to Alan becoming my husband.”
“He has no money and no position.”
“I shall make money and make a position,” said Alan calmly, “all in
good time, Mr. Sorley, all in good time.”
“He will be Lord Chancellor one day,” said Marie boldly.
“You will have gray hairs by that time,” snapped her uncle, “and until
he is Lord Chancellor, you certainly shan’t marry him.”
“I shall. So there.”
“You shall not.”
“Unless,” observed Alan smoothly, “you said unless, Mr. Sorley.”
“Unless you find the Begum’s treasure.”
“Oh, Uncle Ran,” cried Marie in dismay, “when you know that the peacock
is lost, and without that no one can solve the riddle, or even know
exactly what it is.”
“The peacock is——” began Sorley, and stopped short. “Never mind. Go
away, my dear, and let me talk to Alan.”
He spoke so mildly that Marie began to think better of the position. He
did not appear to be so dead against her marriage with Fuller, as his
earlier words had intimated. Alan, on his part, guessed from the abrupt
stopping of the sentence, that Sorley knew something about the missing
peacock which he did not wish to reveal while Marie was in the room.
Acting on this hint he took the bull by the horns.
“Look here, sir,” he said, rising to address his host more
impressively, “I know that the discovery of this treasure is connected
with some cryptogram which has to do with the lost peacock. I accept
your terms, as, having experience in secret writings, I am sure that I
can solve the mystery which has baffled everyone for so long. If I do,
and the treasure is found, will you—as you say—consent to Marie
becoming my wife.”
“Yes,” said Sorley tersely and decisively, “but of course part of the
treasure must be given to me.”
“Oh, I shall buy your consent to my marriage with half of it,” said
Marie in a rather contemptuous tone.
Fuller secretly did not endorse this too generous offer, and determined
that if he did solve the riddle, to hand over the gems to Miss
Inderwick. But it was not diplomatic at the moment to insist upon this
too much, particularly as Sorley had practically agreed to the
marriage. “The first thing to do is to find the jewels,” said Alan
easily, “and then things can be better arranged, Mr. Sorley.”
“Very well,” said the old gentleman, taking it for granted that Alan as
well as his niece agreed to the terms, extortionate as they were, “we
understand one another. Marie, you can go away.”
“But I want to stop and hear everything,” she exclaimed rebelliously.
“The time is not ripe for you to hear everything. As yet I know very
little, and wish to consult Alan about arriving at the truth. He can
tell you all you wish to know later.”
“Go, dear,” said Fuller in a low voice, and leading the girl to the
door, “I can act for us both.”
Marie pouted and tossed her pretty head. “You are horrid,” she
murmured. “I do want to know all about the peacock.”
“You shall know if anything is to be discovered about it.”
“Very well,” she said obediently, “but I think you’re horrid all the
same.”
When she left the library and the door was closed, Sorley, who had
removed his overcoat and gloves and cap, sank into a chair with a sigh.
He was evidently tired out by his ride to Lewes and back again. Alan
waited for him to open the conversation, for having his suspicions of
the man, particularly after his hesitation when Marie had mentioned the
peacock, it behooved him to be cautious. Sorley thought for a few
moments with his eyes on Fuller’s face then spoke abruptly.
“You know that Miss Grison hates me, and why?” he demanded shortly.
“Yes. She accuses you of having ruined her brother by having dismissed
him wrongfully.”
“Quite so, and acts like a mad woman in consequence. As if I could help
the man going to the bad. I gave him every chance, and instead of
prosecuting him for forging that check I let him go free. I don’t see
that I could have behaved better. That he sank to the Rotherhithe slum
was purely his own fault.”
“Miss Grison doesn’t think so.”
“She can think what she chooses,” retorted Sorley, coolly. “I need take
no notice of the vagaries of a crazy creature such as she surely is.”
He paused, and looked oddly at his companion. “Do you know why I
dismissed her brother, Alan?”
“You have just explained; because of the forged check.”
“That is not the exact cause. I could have overlooked that, since I
really was sorry for the poor wretch, even though he was rude to my
sister, and a decided nuisance in this house with his drunken habits
and use of opium. My real reason for dismissing him was that Miss
Grison—Louisa as we used to call her—stole the peacock of jewels.”
“Oh,” said Fuller with a non-committal air, for he wished to know more
about the theft before stating that Miss Grison had confessed to it.
And even when he knew all he was not sure if he would be thus frank.
“Yes! she knew how I valued it, both because of its workmanship and the
gems set in its golden body, and because it is the clue to a large
treasure which was hidden—you know the story—by Simon Ferrier. I told
her that if she did not return it I would dismiss her brother on
account of the forged check. She refused and I did dismiss him, so she
really has only herself to thank for Baldwin’s downfall, although, like
a woman, she blames me in the silly way she does.”
“But if she took the peacock why didn’t you have her arrested?”
“I should have done so, but that she declared her intention of
destroying the ornament should I act in such a way. She said that she
would drop it into the Thames—she was in London when I found out about
her theft—or would melt it in fire. As the peacock is the sole clue to
the hiding-place of the Begum’s gems, you may guess that with such a
desperate woman I did not dare to act so drastically as she deserved.”
“I suppose she gave the peacock to her brother,” suggested Alan
artfully, hoping that Sorley would commit himself by confessing the
knowledge that Grison held the ornament at the time of his death. But
the man did nothing of the sort.
“No, she didn’t,” he said sharply, “so far as I know she had it in her
possession all these twenty years. I went again and again to see her
and try for its recovery, but insisting that I had ruined her brother,
she refused to surrender it, and lest she should destroy it, I could
not use the force of the law. Now I am certain that he had it all the
time.”
“Why are you certain?” asked Fuller, who was impressed by the frank way
in which the man spoke. He certainly did not seem to have anything to
conceal, and the solicitor wondered whether he had misjudged him.
Mr. Sorley waved his hand. “One moment,” he said slowly, “you may
wonder why I am telling you all this, and why I have brought you into
the matter? I do so, because you tell me that you are good at solving
riddles, and also since you are in love with Marie you are bound to
protect her interests. The jewels belong to her, so I am anxious that
you should help me to find them, so that Marie may get the benefit of
their sale. As she will have this house, her own income, and my
collection of gems when I die, I do not think I am asking too much in
requesting a share of the treasure, especially when that also will go
to my niece after my death.”
Alan nodded, since all this was reasonable enough. “I know why you want
me to help,” he remarked, “but without the peacock we can do nothing.”
Mr. Sorley rose and went to an alcove of the room in which was set a
tall carved cupboard of black oak. Opening this he took out an object
wrapped in chamois leather, and returned to the writing-table to
display to his visitor’s astonished eyes, the missing peacock of
jewels. “On that day when Miss Grison called me names, and by her own
confession wandered over the house uninvited,” said the man quietly,
“she must have brought this back. The day after she departed I found
the peacock in yonder cupboard, a place where I frequently go, as Miss
Grison knew. Why she should restore it in this stealthy way, or restore
it at all, I am not able to say. But I know that she took it from here
twenty years ago—from that cupboard in fact, where it was always
kept—and her unasked-for visit to this house must have been to replace
it.”
Alan stared at the glittering bird which was—as Latimer had stated—the
size of a thrush, and greatly admired its beauty and perfection of
workmanship. Ferrier assuredly had learned a great deal in the East,
for the shape and feathers of the bird were truly wonderfully created
in delicate lines. The eyes were rubies, and there was a tuft of
emeralds on the head but comparatively few stones studded the body, as
all were reserved for the glory of the tail. This was outspread like a
large fan—and in it were set sapphires, opals, rubies, and many other
precious stones which scintillated a glory like a rainbow, especially
when Sorley moved the gems to and fro in the thread of sunlight which
pierced the dusky atmosphere of the room. But what the young man
thought, while he stared at the lovely object, was whether Sorley was
guilty or innocent. The presence of the ornament which had been in the
possession of the dead man hinted the former, but Sorley’s
explanation—feasible enough on the basis of Miss Grison’s abrupt
visit—seemed to declare the latter. As no man is considered guilty in
English law until his criminality is proved, and as Alan was a
solicitor, he gave Sorley the benefit of the doubt until such time as
he had more trustworthy evidence to go upon. Having taken up this
attitude he treated the man as innocent, and asked questions about the
peacock. It was necessary to do so, if the riddle was to be solved.
“And, so far as I can see,” said Fuller, following his train of
thought, “there is no secret writing to be seen.”
“There is no secret writing,” said Sorley unexpectedly.
“But I thought you wished me to solve a cryptogram.”
“So I do; but a cryptogram can be other than in letters or figures.”
Fuller gazed at the peacock. “I can’t understand,” he said bewildered.
“Well, Alan,” rejoined Fuller with a shrug, “I can’t myself, and so
have brought you into the business on the assumption that two heads are
better than one. I have even opened the peacock to find its secret, but
there is nothing inside. In my opinion the secret is hidden in the
tail.”
Alan was still puzzled. “In the tail?” he echoed.
“In the jewels somehow,” explained Mr. Sorley meditatively. “You see
there are three semicircles of gems on the tail, and between the second
and the third appears a triangle of rubies. Now if we can read the
meaning of the three rows of precious stones, they may explain the
triangle, which is probably the key to the whole mystery.”
“I still can’t understand. Why should the mystery be concealed in the
jewels of the tail? They may be merely for decorative purposes.”
“I don’t think so. Of course the gems may imitate the peacock’s tail
from nature, but you never saw a bird with a triangle marked in this
way.”
“No,” Alan nodded. “You are right so far. Have you any further ideas?”
“Not one. The riddle is to be read on the tail, and by means of the
precious stones, but how, I can’t say. What’s your opinion, Alan?”
“I have none,” said the young man hopelessly. “I shall have to turn
over the matter in my own mind, and then shall let you know.”
Mr. Sorley carefully locked up the peacock in the cupboard and shrugged
his shoulders. “I have thought over the problem for years, and I am no
nearer the solution than ever I was. But if you solve it, you shall
marry my niece.”
“With such a prize in view I cannot fail,” said Fuller hopefully. All
the same the outlook regarding the reading of the riddle was very
doubtful.