Front matter (continued 2)

Flower shook his head despondently. Evidently he was in no mood to be communicative.

"I don't think I'll trouble you," he said. "That this sort of thing should go on in England in the twentieth century is outrageous. Fortunately no one knows anything about it but yourself and my niece and Cotter, and you will see that the less said the better. I'll place the matter in the hands of a detective, and before the end of the week we shall be safe from a repetition of outrages of this kind."

Flower spoke rationally, but he was terribly shaken. The ship-owner rose to his feet as if the interview were ended.

"You wouldn't care for me to stay all night, I suppose?" Wilfrid asked. "I will if you like."

"Not the least occasion, my dear sir. I have a revolver, and Cotter and I can sit up till daylight. I am ashamed to have given you all this trouble. Don't let me detain you longer."

There was nothing more to be said and Wilfrid walked out into the hall. He would have left the house, but hearing his step Beatrice came to the door of the drawing-room. At the same time Flower's voice was heard demanding Cotter.

"I should like to speak to you before you go," Beatrice said.

CHAPTER XI

ON THE WAY HOME

"I was just going," Wilfrid replied. "But, of course, if there is anything that I can do for you——"

"I want to know if anything serious has happened," Beatrice went on. "I could get nothing out of Cotter. The man is paralyzed with fright. All I could learn was that my uncle's life is in danger. What does it mean?"

"I only wish I could tell you," Wilfrid replied, "but I will not rest till I get to the bottom of it. Beyond question, your uncle's life was in danger, and I have no hesitation in telling you so. And I fear you are going to have more trouble before the danger is removed. But there is one thing you must bear in mind—you are perfectly safe yourself. And as far as your uncle is concerned, he seems to be himself again, because you heard him call for Cotter just now."

Wilfrid might have said more, but he had no desire to alarm Beatrice further. He did not want her to know that if he had been less prompt in breaking in the library door the career of the ship-owner would have been at an end by this time. He tried to close the incident with a smile.

"You must go to bed and sleep," he said. "Your uncle and Cotter will sit up all night, and I understand that to-morrow the case is going to be placed in the hands of a detective. It is a good thing that the servants know nothing about the matter. I suppose you saw nothing to alarm you when you were in the garden?"

"No, I was not afraid," Beatrice said simply, "but I did see a thing which puzzled me exceedingly. I saw two of those strange little figures run along the drive closely followed by a gigantic negro, who was plying a whip about their shoulders unmercifully. They didn't seem to resent it in the least; in fact, they behaved just like refractory hounds who had been misbehaving themselves. They passed out of sight in a flash, and then I saw them no more. If you had not known so much I should have been almost ashamed to tell you this, for fear you should laugh at me."

Wilfrid did not laugh. He did not even smile. So the thing that he had put down as a figment of Cotter's diseased brain really was a fact. It was as well to know this, too. The small figures might be illusive. They might even obliterate themselves, but a stalwart negro, standing six feet six in his stockings, was another matter altogether.

"I am glad you told me this," Wilfrid said thoughtfully, "because here we have something like a tangible clue. And now I must be going. I will see your uncle again to-morrow."

Beatrice held out her two hands impulsively.

"How can I thank you for all your kindness?" she said. "How good and brave and patient you are!"

Wilfrid carried one of the hands to his lips.

"I would do anything for you," he said, "and you know it, Beatrice. Perhaps the time may come some day when I can speak more freely. But I feel convinced that there is no occasion to tell you——"

Wilfrid might have said more but for the heightened colour on Beatrice's face, and the way in which she shrank suddenly from him. A little dismayed and chilled he followed the direction of her eyes, and noticed Flower standing in the doorway. The latter betrayed nothing on his face. He merely inquired somewhat coldly if it would not be better for Beatrice to retire. His expression changed when the big hall door closed finally upon Wilfrid Mercer.

"That young man will get on," he said grimly. "He has the necessary assurance. But I should have thought that a stranger would hardly venture to go so far——"

"Mr. Mercer is not exactly a stranger," Beatrice said confusedly. "I saw a good deal of him when I was in London. I should have told you this before only I had no opportunity."

"Oh, really! Quite a romance. He is a clever young man, but I think he must be taught his place. You will not ask him here again, after he has done with me."

"I promised to call upon his mother," Beatrice protested.

Flower was on the verge of an angry retort, but checked himself and smiled in his own sinister fashion.

"As you please," he said. "It really doesn't matter either way. Before many weeks have passed—but it is late to be talking here like this. Go to bed, child."

Meanwhile Mercer was making his way back to Oldborough, his mind full of the events of the evening. The more he thought over them, the more puzzling and bewildering they became. He emerged upon the high road presently, and went on steadily until he reached the cross-roads leading to Oldborough on the one hand, and Castlebridge on the other. Then he became aware that a group of people were standing in the road close by the sign-post. They were gesticulating and talking so fast as to be utterly unconscious of the newcomer. Wilfrid came to an abrupt standstill, then suddenly stepped off the road into the shadow of the hedge. He had ocular proof now that Beatrice and Cotter had been speaking the truth. Here were the two small figures, no doubt the very same he had seen over their incantations in the woods, and towering above them was a gigantic individual with a face black and shining as ebony. For some time the controversy went on until it was broken at length by the thud of a horse's hoofs and the jingling of a bell. Presently a flashy-looking dogcart drove up, driven by a still more flashy-looking driver. The horse was pulled up, and the man in the cart hailed the negro in tones of satisfaction.

"So you've got them at last, Gordon," he said.

"Indeed, I have, mister," the negro said, "and a nice dance they've led me. I never expected to see Castlebridge before morning. What shall I do with them, sir?"

"Tie them up behind and let them run," the man in the cart said brutally. "A gentle trot won't do them any harm. You can ride yourself. Now then, hurry up!"

A moment later and the strangely assorted group were out of sight, and Wilfrid was trudging homewards. He was too tired and worn out to think of much else beside bed and rest, and for once in a way a busy morning followed. It was late in the afternoon before he found time to go to Maldon Grange again, and then he was informed that Mr. Flower had left for London on important business, which would probably detain him in town till the end of the week. He hesitated before inquiring for Miss Galloway, but she, too, had accompanied her uncle, and the butler had not the least idea when she would be home again. It was disappointing, but Wilfrid had to make the best of it.

There was, too, a sense of dulness and reaction after the bustle and excitement of the last four-and-twenty hours. It was hard to drop back into the humdrum life of Oldborough, and as Wilfrid went about his work he found himself regretting that he had abandoned the old adventurous existence for the stale commonplaces of respectability. Then he had no cares and worries. Now every post began to bring them along. Certain of the local tradesmen were beginning to press him, and he dared not as yet ask for any money from such patients as had required his services. There was quite a little pile of these missives as he came in tired and weary to his frugal dinner. He tossed them aside impatiently.

"I think I'll wait till I have had something to eat, mother," he said. "I know what they are."

Mrs. Mercer glanced affectionately at her son. Generally he treated these things lightly enough, and took a cheerful view of the future. But to-night everything seemed to oppress and weigh him down. He had no desire his mother should see how he was feeling the strain. It was not till he had finished his dinner and could make a decent excuse to get away to the surgery that he opened his letters. They were just as he had expected. Nearly every one of them contained a request for money, from a polite suggestion to a curt threat of legal proceedings. But these were small matters compared with the last letter which bore the London postmark. It was short and business-like and, though courteous, there was no mistaking its meaning.

"DEAR SIR (it ran),—We have this day taken over from Messrs. Darton and Co. certain securities and bills upon which they have advanced money to various persons, yourself amongst the number. We notice that an acceptance of yours for £175 becomes due on Saturday. As the circumstances of the case call for a clearance of these outstanding matters, we have to request that your cheque for the above amount be paid to us on Saturday morning, otherwise we shall with great regret have to place it in other hands for collection. At the present moment we have no funds available to renew your acceptance.

"Yours obediently,

"FOWLER & Co."

"Fowler and Co., indeed," Wilfrid murmured bitterly. "They have got me in their net surely enough. Now I wonder what this means? I wonder what these fellows are driving at? They faithfully promised me to renew if I needed it; in fact, that was one of the conditions of the loan. And now I shall lose everything. All my efforts will have been in vain. It seems very hard just when I was making a little headway. But for my mother I would not care."

CHAPTER XII

IN THE RING

Wilfrid sat smoking moodily till gradually the right course of action occurred to him. He was powerless to cope with these rogues. He would have to place the matter in the hands of a solicitor. Of the few lawyers in Oldborough Wilfrid was only acquainted with Mr. Ernest Vardon, a rising young attorney, who had a branch office in Castlebridge. They had met on several occasions lately, and something like friendship had grown up between them. At any rate, it would do no harm to consult Vardon, who, to a certain extent, was already familiar with Wilfrid's position.

The prospect of action somewhat relieved Wilfrid's depression. He left the house and made his way to Vardon's lodgings. The latter had just finished his dinner and was ready to hear what his visitor had to say, though he intimated that Wilfrid must not be long, as he had an appointment in Castlebridge late that evening.

"I have got a case there before magistrates to-morrow," he said, as he laid his hand upon a telegram lying on the table. "I have just had my instructions by wire, and I want to see my client to-night. It has something to do with a fracas at Gordon's Circus, I understand. But I can give you half an hour. What is the trouble, Mercer?"

By way of reply Wilfrid laid his letter upon the table and asked Vardon to peruse it.

"Well, that is plain enough, at any rate," he said presently. "I happen to know something of these people; also something about Darton and Co. for the matter of that. More than one unfortunate client of mine has found himself in their clutches. My dear fellow, why do you let yourself be beguiled by these bloodsuckers? A man of the world, too!"

Wilfrid shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"What is the good of crying over spilt milk?" he asked. "The thing is done, and there's an end of it. As I told you before, I gave up my sea-faring life for the sake of my mother. I knew it was a risk, but I thought that when I bought this practice I should have been in a position to pay the debt off when it became due. I should never have borrowed the money at all if I had not been definitely told that I could renew the bill when it became due."

"Ah, they are all like that," Vardon said. "And now they have turned over your business to another firm who really want the money. They won't wait an hour, you may depend upon it. They will sell you up, and what balance remains will go in lawyer's costs, half of which these sharks will share. You see, they have everything to gain and nothing to lose by crushing you; in fact, if you went with the money now they would be rather disappointed than otherwise."

"Oh, I can see all that," Wilfrid said gloomily. "But why do they part with my bill like this?"

"I give that up," said Vardon. "I suppose you don't happen to have made an enemy of either of these men? You haven't had any personal correspondence with them, or anything of that kind?"

"Nothing of the sort, my dear fellow. I can't understand it at all. And as to an enemy, why——"

Wilfrid broke off abruptly. A sudden uneasy suspicion filled his mind. Vardon's shrewd eyes were turned upon his face interrogatively. He waited for Wilfrid to speak.

"I dare say you will think it rather far-fetched," Mercer said presently, "but I have an enemy in the person of Mr. Samuel Flower, the ship-owner, whom, strange to say, I have been attending professionally. Of course, I am telling you all this in confidence, Vardon. Do you happen to remember a rather sensational case in which one of Flower's ships, the Guelder Rose, was mixed up? There was a mutiny amongst the crew, and I had a considerable hand in it. I was the ship's doctor, you understand. Between ourselves, it was a shocking bad case, and if Flower had had his deserts he would have stood in the dock over it. Instead of that, I nearly found myself in the dock. I managed to keep out of the way, and as I had never seen Flower, I thought I was safe. It was strange that I should have been called in to see him the day before yesterday, but he did not appear to recognize me, and I thought it was all right. I foolishly let slip a remark that I had been a ship's surgeon at one time, and I am sure now that it aroused Flower's suspicions, for he was on the alert at once. Mind you, he asked no further questions, and I thought it was all right. Now it occurs to me that Flower might be at the bottom of this trouble of mine, for it is the sort of thing he would delight in."

"That he would," Vardon exclaimed. "Flower is just that type of man. Of course, I ought not to say so, but he is a thorough-paced rascal, and I am not the only man in the neighbourhood who knows it. I should not be surprised if you are right. I am only too sorry that I can't help you."

Wilfrid sat there thoughtfully. He did not appear to hear what Vardon was saying. Then he jumped suddenly to his feet and brought his fist crashing down upon the table.

"There is no longer any doubt about it," he cried. "I ought to have remembered it before. When I was in Flower's study the night before last there was a letter just begun lying on the table. I remember now that it was addressed to Darton and Co., no doubt in connexion with this very transfer. More than that, the letter was headed 'Re Mr. Wil——' and there the letter broke off. You may depend upon it, that this 'Mr. Wil——' was meant for Mr. Wilfrid Mercer, and this is the result of the scheme. That man Cotter got all the information by telephone; in fact, Flower told me that he had been telephoning to London. And I am afraid that is not the worst of it, Vardon. You see, some time before I came here I met Miss Beatrice Galloway, and I don't mind telling you that I hoped some day to make her my wife. Of course, I had not the remotest idea that she was connected in any way with Samuel Flower, or probably I should have attempted to restrain my feelings. But she knows that I care for her, and I feel pretty sure that she cares for me. And when I was saying good-bye to her the night before last in the drawing-room at Maldon Grange, Flower came in, and—and——"

"You needn't go into details," Vardon smiled. "As an engaged man, I can imagine the rest. It is plain what Flower intends to do. He has found you out, and he means to drive you away from Oldborough. Most men would have forbidden you the house and commanded the lady to have no more to do with you. But that is not Flower's method. What you have to do is to fight him. If you had this money, do you think you could manage to do it? I mean, is this the only big debt you have?"

"The other matters are pinpricks," Wilfrid said. "If I could get this sum I dare say I could pull through. But the time is short, and I haven't a single friend in the world worth a sixpence."

"It might be managed," Vardon said cautiously. "I don't say it will, mind you. There is just a chance. I have got a client in Castlebridge who does a bit in this way, and possibly he may take up your security. You will find him rather expensive, but he is honest, and as long as he sees you are making a genuine attempt to pay him off, will not worry you. As I told you just now, I am going into Castlebridge by the 9.15 train, and you had better come with me and see my client for yourself. I shall probably get my business finished by a quarter past ten, and then we will go round and call on the old gentleman."

"I cannot say how much I am obliged to you," Wilfrid said gratefully. "I shall only be too pleased to go with you. I will have no peace till this matter is settled."

It was a little after half-past nine when Wilfrid and his companion reached Castlebridge, and made their way through the crowded streets towards the wooden structure which had been erected by the Imperial Circus Company for their winter season.

"We will go in and watch the performance for half an hour," Vardon suggested. "By that time I believe my client will be disengaged. I don't care much for this class of entertainment, but it is better than loafing about in the cold streets. I'll leave a message at the box office to say in what part of the house I am to be found when my man is ready for me."

The performance was typical of its kind. The packed audience followed the various items with rapt attention. There were the usual ladies in spangles and short skirts, riding barebacked and jumping through paper hoops; the gorgeous ring-master and the inevitable clowns; the flare of lamps and the pungent smell of sawdust. To Wilfrid the whole thing was slow and monotonous to the last degree, and he was glad when one of the attendants whispered something in Vardon's ear.

"Come along," the latter said. "I see you want to get out of this. My man is waiting in the office at the back of the stables."

They soon reached the office, where three individuals were lounging, two of whom went out directly Mr. Vardon came in. The remaining figure was a gigantic negro fully six feet six in height, who grinned as Vardon came forward.

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

Wilfrid made no reply. In Vardon's client he recognized the negro he had seen near Maldon Grange.

CHAPTER XIII

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

The discovery did not startle Mercer as much as it otherwise might have done. There had been so many strange events during the last two days that an incident like this was trifling by comparison. Still it had its bearing upon the central mystery, and Wilfred was not disposed to underrate its importance. He wondered why he had not connected the negro of the night before with the Imperial Circus, for the big negro was the kind of man to be attached to this sort of undertaking. And this having been established it followed logically that the strange little men were to be identified with the circus also. Wilfrid felt glad he had come. He had forgotten about his own affairs in the excitement of the moment.

"I hope you won't mind," he whispered hurriedly to his companion, "but I should rather like to hear what takes place between you and your interesting client. I know the request is unusual, but I have the strongest reasons for making it, as I will explain to you presently."

"Well, it is irregular," Vardon said dubiously. "Still, there is no great secret about the matter. The negro is charged with an assault, and I have been asked to defend him. You can sit down and smoke a cigarette and hear as much or as little as you like."

Fortunately the negro's English was good enough. Probably he had been in the country for a long time. He stated his case clearly, and, so far as Wilfrid could gather, he relied for his defence on an alibi.

"It was like this, sir," he said. "There were a lot of soldiers over here from the barracks last night, and most of them had been drinking. Mr. Gordon, he stood it as long as he could, and then the men were offered their money back to leave. The noise got worse and worse till at last we were obliged to turn them out. They say that I followed them down the road and struck one of them, who is now in hospital, so violent a blow that he fell and hurt his head. They say that there was no cause for me to do this at all. I say that they made a mistake, because I was away from the circus on business last night and did not get back till half-past eleven. If you will ask Mr. Gordon he will prove that what I say is true."

"In that case, there is an end of the whole business," Vardon said cheerfully. "I should like to have a few words with Mr. Gordon."

The negro hesitated and appeared to be confused.

"Must we do that, sir?" he asked. "You see, I was away on very important business. I had to go and look for two men who were missing. If I am asked questions about them I shall not be able to answer. But I am telling the truth, sir, when I say that I was away last night, and Mr. Gordon will tell you the same thing."

Wilfrid could have told Vardon so, too, but he held his tongue. It was singular that circumstances should have placed him in a position to prove the truth of the negro's words. It was strange, too, that the African should have been so eager to conceal his movements on the previous evening. Vardon listened impatiently.

"But that is all nonsense," he said. "You don't seem to understand what a serious position you are in. A man in hospital is badly hurt. He declares that he gave you no provocation whatever, and he has a score of witnesses to prove that your attack was brutal and uncalled for. If you can't prove beyond a doubt that you were elsewhere last night, you will be committed to take your trial at the Assizes, and at the very least you will not get off under two years' imprisonment. In any case, the alibi will be a difficult one to establish; all the more because negroes of your size are not to be found wandering about in every country road. Now, are you alone here? Have you any fellow-countrymen in the circus?"

"Two," the Ethiopian replied. "Only two besides myself. But the others are men just about the usual size, and they were in the stable all the time."

"That is rather awkward," Vardon murmured. "Still, as we are not very far from Chatham, where there are sailors of all kinds, it is possible that one of your own countrymen about your own build might have been coming along at the time. As those fellows were all more or less intoxicated some insulting remarks might have been made. Still, it is in your own hands. And unless Mr. Gordon comes forward and speaks for you, your position is by no means a safe one."

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

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

He came back presently with a large, florid-looking individual, loudly dressed and smoking an exceedingly strong cigar. The pattern of his clothing proclaimed the man, as also did his white bowler hat, which was jauntily cocked on the side of his head. Wilfrid hardly needed to look at the man to recognize him as the individual who had been driving the dogcart near Maldon Grange the night before. Indeed, Wilfrid would have been surprised to see anybody else.

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

"Quite at your disposal," the proprietor of the circus said floridly. "This poor chap of mine seems to have got himself into trouble. But whatever those drunken scamps say, Sam is innocent, for the simple reason he wasn't here last night. He was out on important business for me; in fact, we were out together. It is rather a nuisance because I don't want our errand to become public property, as it had to do with two of my troupe who had absconded. We have only been in England two or three days and within twenty-four hours those fellows took French leave. A great nuisance it is, too, because they were down for a turn which would have packed the circus for the next month to come. And I give you my word for it, I picked up those two fellows at Marseilles where they were absolutely starving. And after costing me thirty or forty pounds between them, they go off and leave me in the lurch like this. Still, I can speak plainly enough now because they have vanished again. I thought I had them safe and sound last night, but those chaps are slippery as eels. I am not going to trouble any more about them and I'll just cut my loss and let them slide. And now, sir, I am prepared to go into the witness-box and take my oath that Sam here was with me in my cart ten miles from Castlebridge at the moment when the assault was committed. Is that good enough?"

Wilfrid could have testified the same had he chosen to do so, but it was not for him to speak then. He had learnt a great deal the last ten minutes. He had learnt that the two mysterious men who had caused such commotion at Maldon Grange were foreigners who had been members of the circus troupe. It was obvious, too, why they had signed an agreement with Gordon. They had been eager to come to England, and for that reason had jumped at Gordon's offer. Perhaps they had ascertained that, sooner or later, the wanderings of the circus would bring them in more or less close contact with Samuel Flower. An absence from the circus the night before was easily explained. But after being brought back again to Castlebridge why had they disappeared in this extraordinary fashion? Beyond all doubt they had made up their minds to murder Samuel Flower, but their work was far from being accomplished. Therefore, why had they gone? Were they following Flower? Had they already discovered that he had gone to London where he was likely to remain for the next few days?

Wilfrid would have liked to ask the negro and his employer a few pertinent questions, but, perhaps, it was wiser not to do so for the present. He sat there quietly until Vardon intimated that he did not require the negro any longer, seeing that he had in Mr. Gordon a witness who was sufficient for his purpose. As the African left the office Wilfrid followed. Without arousing the negro's suspicions he might, by two or three promiscuous questions, learn something of the two men of whom he was in search. The negro was walking along at the back of the circus, where most of the lamps were extinguished now, save an occasional naphtha flare near the spot where the men were attending to the horses. It might have been Wilfrid's fancy, but it seemed to him that the African glanced cautiously about him from time to time as if afraid of being followed. Mercer made a wide sweep into the darkness of the field, then waited to see what was likely to happen. He was rewarded for his diligence, for the negro stopped under a tree and proceeded to light a cigarette. The evening was calm and still so that the match flared brightly and steadily. In the narrow circle of light stood another figure in evening dress, his coat unbuttoned. Just for an instant the circle of light fell upon his face and Wilfrid had no difficulty in recognizing the features of Samuel Flower. Then the match died away and the gloom became all the deeper. By the time that Wilfrid had thought it prudent to creep up to the tree, Flower and his companion had vanished. Which way they had gone Wilfrid did not know. Not that it much mattered. Still, the discovery was worth making and Wilfrid returned to the circus in a thoughtful frame of mind. He was passing through the office again when a hand was laid upon his arm. He turned abruptly.

"Swan Russell!" he exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here! I thought you were at the other side of the globe."

CHAPTER XIV

RUSSELL EXPLAINS

The stranger was a lean, spare man with not an ounce of superfluous flesh. He looked like a man that did not know the meaning of fatigue. His face was brown and tanned; his keen grey eyes looked out under bushy brows; the outline of a stubborn chin showed under a ragged moustache. Swan Russell had the air of one who has seen men and things, and his aspect did not belie him. For the rest, he was an adventurer to his finger tips, always ready to take his life in his hands, always eager for anything that promised excitement and danger. He had been first on the field in many a gold rush. He had a keen nose for locality where money is to be made. And yet, despite his shrewdness and energy, he had always remained a poor man. Perhaps it was his very restlessness, his inability to stay in one place long, that kept him in a condition bordering upon poverty.

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

"Not in the least," the other replied, "because I came on purpose to look for you. I found out in Oldborough that you had come here with Mr. Vardon, and then I elicited the fact that you were somewhere about the circus. Isn't it rather funny you should find yourself settled down within a stone's throw of Samuel Flower's house?"

Wilfrid started. Whoever he met, or wherever he went now, it seemed that Flower's name was doomed to crop up.

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

"Quite as much as you do," Russell retorted, "and perhaps a little more. Oh, I haven't forgotten about that mutiny on the Guelder Rose. If I recollect, you had a lucky get-out there. Flower is not the man to forgive a thing of that sort, and if he could not have obtained evidence to convict you, he wouldn't have had the slightest hesitation in buying it. In the circumstances, wasn't it rather risky to settle down here?"

"Well, you see, I didn't know," Wilfrid explained. "I had no idea that Flower had a place in the country. Besides, I thought the whole thing was forgotten. It is two years ago, and so far as I know, Flower made no attempt to trace me. What will you think when I tell you that he is actually a patient of mine?"

"Oh, I am aware of that," Russell said coolly. "I have not been hanging about during the last three or four days for nothing. I was amused when I heard you had been attending Flower. Did he recognize you—I mean, did he recognize you from your name? I know that you have never met."

"He did not recognize me at first," Wilfrid said; "indeed, the whole thing might have passed only I was fool enough to let out that I had at one time been a ship's doctor. Then he gave me one glance, but said nothing. I began to believe that it was all right till this evening, when I had an unpleasant reminder that it was all wrong."

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

"Why not?" Wilfrid said despondingly. "You are an old chum of mine and you might just as well know what will be common property in Oldborough in two or three days. That scoundrel has got me in his clutches and means to ruin me without delay. But perhaps I had better tell you how things stand."

"So that's the game?" Russell said, when Wilfrid had finished his explanation. "Well, let the fellow do his worst. You were never cut out for a country doctor and the sooner you chuck it and come back to London the better. I want a friend to help me. I want a friend to rely upon. And that is the reason why I came to see you. You will never make bread and cheese in Oldborough, and you are wasting time there. If you will throw in your lot with me, it will go hard if I can't show you how to make fifty thousand pounds during the next three months."

"And where are the fifty thousand pounds?" Wilfrid asked cynically. "It sounds too good to be true."

"The fifty thousand pounds, my dear chap, are at present in Samuel Flower's pocket accompanied by just as much more, which, by all the rules of the game, belong to me. I have been robbed of that money as surely as if my pocket had been picked by that rascally ship-owner. He left me without a feather to fly with; indeed, I was hard put to it to manage to get my passage money from the Malay Peninsula to London. But I have given him a fright. He knows what to expect."

Swan Russell chuckled as if something amused him greatly.

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

"My dear fellow, it is a certainty. I don't say there is no danger, because there is; but that is just the thing that would have appealed to you at one time. Besides, you needn't chuck up your practice. You can run up and down to London as I want you and leave the good people at Oldborough to believe that you have been called away on important consultations. Besides, if you will join me in this venture, I may be able to find you the money to pay Flower off."

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

Russell's reply was to the point.

"To-night," he said. "I want you to come to town by the half-past ten train. We shall be in London a few minutes past eleven, and unless I am mistaken, there is work for you at once. Now don't hesitate, but do what I ask you and you will never be sorry for it. You can get Vardon to call at your house when he gets back to Oldborough and explain to your mother that you have been called away on urgent business. I will find you a bed and the necessary clothing, and unless anything very, very pressing turns up, you can be back in Oldborough by breakfast time."

Wild as the suggestion was it appealed to Wilfrid. There were no patients in a critical state to require his attention, he reflected bitterly. And anything was better than sitting impotently at home waiting for the end which he believed to be inevitable. On the other hand, there was the desperate chance of something turning up; some way of tapping the golden stream which should render him independent of Samuel Flower. He held out his hand.

"Very well," he said. "I'll come with you. If you'll give me half a minute I'll ask Vardon to call at my house."

Vardon came out of the office of the circus at the same moment, and without going into details Wilfrid proceeded to explain.

"I hope you won't think it rude of me," he said, "but Swan Russell is an old friend and it is in my power to do him a service. Will you tell my mother that I shall not be back till to-morrow? And perhaps you will call upon your client and see what you can do for me in the matter of that loan. It is possible that when I come back from London I shall be in a position to find the money myself."

"All right," Vardon said cheerfully, "anything I can do for you, I certainly will. But if you are going to catch your train you haven't much time to lose."

Mercer and his companion walked quietly down to the station. Wilfrid would have strolled casually on to the platform, but Russell held him back.

"You'll just keep in the shadow till the last moment," he said. "I have very particular reasons for not being seen here and one of these reasons you will see for yourself. One can't be too careful."

Wilfrid asked no further questions. He was content to leave matters in Russell's hands until the latter was ready to explain. He began to understand the necessity for caution presently, when, amongst the steady stream of passengers trickling into the station, he saw the familiar form of Samuel Flower.

"There he goes, the beauty," Russell murmured. "Look at the scoundrel. Isn't he the very essence of middle-class respectability? He might pass for a churchwarden or the deacon of a chapel. Of all the scoundrels in the city of London there is not a more noxious specimen than Samuel Flower. I believe that if you gave that chap the chance of making a thousand pounds honestly, or a mere sovereign by defrauding a widow or an orphan, he would choose the latter. And the luck he has had, too! Where would he be now if the whole facts of that Guelder Rose business had come to light? What would become of him if a single ship's officer had survived the wreck of the Japonica? But I'll bring him down, Mercer; I'll beat that ruffian to his knees yet. And I have got the information, too, if I can only complete it. My only fear is that the other vengeance may reach him first."

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

A look of surprise crossed Russell's face.

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

"You forget that I was in the Malay Archipelago myself," Wilfrid responded. "You seem to have forgotten the tragic death of the white man I told you about. Besides, I was in Flower's house at the very moment when he received his warning in a registered letter, and that letter came from Borneo."

Russell chuckled.

"Come along," he said. "We have cut it quite fine enough. You can tell me the rest in the train."

CHAPTER XV

THE REAL THING

They found a carriage to themselves which they entered as the train was starting, secure in the knowledge that they would be uninterrupted till Victoria Station was reached.

"Now tell me your story," Russell suggested.

"I think I am going to tell you more than you expect," Wilfrid smiled. "But I will begin at the beginning, from the moment that I entered Flower's house. I was sent for in a hurry, because the great man had cut his hand and he was frightened to death, as people of his class always are. I suppose you know that he has a niece, Miss Galloway, living with him?"

"Yes, I know that," Russell said with a grin. "On the whole, I should say you are a lucky individual. But go on. Don't mind my chaff."

"Well, there was nothing much the matter with his hand, as you may imagine. I'll come to the registered letter episode presently, but I want to tell you first how it was that Flower's accident came about. Miss Galloway was sitting in the conservatory and she distinctly saw a man place his arm through a broken pane of glass and try to unlatch the door. She called to her uncle, who gave chase, but the man had vanished leaving no trace behind him. It was in hurrying after him that Flower fell and cut himself. He was sitting waiting in the conservatory for me, when Miss Galloway introduced me and told me about the incident that had startled her so much. She went on to say that the man was fishing for the latch with a loop of string, whereupon Flower broke in in his elegant way and declared that the whole thing was a pack of nonsense. By way of proving her theory Miss Galloway picked up the piece of string which had fallen from the man's hand inside the doorway and handed it to her uncle. I suppose you can give a pretty good guess what sort of string it was."

Russell smote his hand vigorously on the cushions.

"You don't mean to say it was the string?" he shouted. "The string with five knots? That would be too good to be true."

"It is true all the same," Wilfrid went on. "And if you have been hanging about Castlebridge for the last three or four days you have wasted your opportunities, for during that time an attempt has been made upon Flower's life, and if I hadn't been at hand he would have been a dead man now. And what is more, up till last night the two mysterious individuals I told you of, were members of Gordon's company."

"Stop! stop!" Russell cried. "You are going too fast. If you wanted to surprise me you have more than succeeded."

The train was drawing up to the platform at Victoria before Wilfrid had finished his recital. Russell's cheery manner had vanished. His face was grave and thoughtful. They waited in the carriage till everybody else had left the train, then Russell dodged across the platform and hailed the nearest cab.

"I am going as far as my rooms in Bloomsbury," he said. "Then I will get you to don a suit of dress clothes which ought to fit you fairly well, as we are rather alike in build; with your overcoat on top nobody will notice anything peculiar. And then we shall go out for an hour or two."

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

"For an ordinary show, yes," Russell proceeded to explain. "But this is a function quite out of the common. It is a supper and fancy dress dance given by the proprietors to celebrate the opening of the New Dominion Theatre. Everybody will be there; in fact, there will be a couple of thousand people at one time or another on the stage, and the house will be filled with privileged spectators, of whom you and I will be two. You will be interested to know that Samuel Flower and Miss Galloway are among the invited guests. But all that is by the way. I don't mind admitting that I am very much disturbed by the information you have given me. I knew Flower had made bitter enemies abroad. I knew vengeance would overtake him sooner or later, but I hoped that his time would not be yet. You see, I am candid. I don't care whether he lives or dies, so long as he remains on this planet long enough for me to get my money out of him. So we have every reason to protect Flower for the present. I am very glad I met you. I am very glad after all that you settled in Oldborough. There must be a sort of Providence in these things, Mercer."

Wilfrid smiled grimly. It was rarely that Russell spoke like this. They drove on in silence till his quarters were reached, and, after partaking of a hurried meal, Wilfrid struggled into a dress suit of Mercer's which might have passed for his own. There was nothing to wait for, and as the night was fine and it was not a far cry to Kingsway, the two set out on foot. They soon reached the theatre where a tremendous crowd had already gathered. A long stream of carriages was filing slowly up to the portico and an equally long stream of well-dressed people was pushing into the vestibule. It was a slow process. Wilfrid allowed himself to be carried along with the tide until the grand staircase was reached. It was up this staircase that the guests proceeded, a temporary entrance being made for the spectators who were to fill the body of the house. Wilfrid turned to speak to his companion, when he noticed that Russell appeared to be deeply engrossed in one of the pictures on the wall. At the same moment, Wilfrid, to his delight, saw that Beatrice Galloway was standing just behind him. In front of her, pushing on in his dogged fashion, was Samuel Flower.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Wilfrid whispered.

The girl's face flushed with delight; then as the colour died out of Beatrice's cheeks Wilfrid noticed that she seemed grave and troubled. There were lines under her eyes, too, which he had never remarked before.

"Are you not well?" he asked.

"Oh, I am well enough," Beatrice said with a touch of despondency in her voice, "but I am a good deal worried. Do you know it is strange that with all our wealth and all our entertaining we seem to have no real friends."

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

"I had forgotten that one for the moment," Beatrice said with a quick flash of gratitude in her eyes. "I don't know whether I ought to confide in you or not, but I must tell somebody. Can you contrive to see me before you leave to-night? I understand that the spectators will not remain after supper. You can manage to be here at midnight? I could run downstairs under pretence that I wished to see a friend in the theatre. I can't think of any better way."

"I will stay here all night if necessary," Wilfrid said resolutely. "Let us say just here at midnight."

The pressure of those behind drove them apart so that Beatrice was lost to view round the bend in the staircase. Wilfrid had passed in to the theatre itself, but Russell lingered.

"Ours are about the only two seats left," he explained, "and they are in one of the front rows in the stalls. I have my own reasons for staying here till most of the guests have arrived. A man I know promised me, if he could, to get us on to the stage after dancing began. At any rate, it is worth waiting on the off-chance of seeing him. So that was Miss Galloway you were talking to, eh? Why wasn't she in fancy dress? I can understand Flower coming in ordinary evening attire; I can't imagine his being so frivolous as to get himself up as a courtier or anything of that kind."

Wilfrid made no reply for the simple reason that he was not listening. He was too concerned about Beatrice to think of anything else. He was shocked to see what a change so short a time had brought about in the girl's appearance. He wondered what she could have to worry her. Therefore it was, that the stream of people in all sorts of grotesque and fancy dresses passed him as if he were in a dream. They came flowing along, laughing and chattering, all the favourites that have done duty over and over again ever since fancy dresses were first invented. Some were beautiful, some frankly ugly, and hardly one realistic. Russell kept up a constant stream of criticisms, to most of which Wilfrid replied more or less vaguely.

"You can't say that about that little man yonder," he said presently. "It is funny that he should be made up like an inhabitant of Borneo when our heads are full of the Malay Peninsula. Whoever dressed him was an artist and understood what he was doing. That is the man I mean, going up the stairs with the tall lady in yellow."

Russell looked in the direction pointed out by Mercer. He grabbed an opera-glass which some one had left on the table by his side. He turned eagerly to Wilfred.

"Made up be hanged," he whispered excitedly. "That man isn't made up at all. He is the real thing, my friend. It seems to me that the plot is thickening."

CHAPTER XVI

THE YELLOW HAND

It was not difficult to watch the slender figure of the stranger as he made his way leisurely up the staircase. In the ordinary course Mercer would have hardly recognized him at all. There were hundreds of people there in all kinds of the extravagant fancy dress which one usually associates with theatrical enterprise. But the more Mercer looked at the little man the more convinced was he that the stranger was not disguised at all. He was slight and slender, his dress-clothes fitted him to perfection, and he wore the air of a man who was accustomed to that kind of thing. As to his head it was small and lean, his skin glistened like polished parchment, his dark, restless eyes were turned from side to side, though he did not appear in the least degree excited.

"He interests you?" Wilfrid asked.

"Why, certainly," Russell replied. "I should have thought that he would interest you, too, knowing all you do know. Now who should you say that fellow is, and where do you suppose he comes from? Take your time."

"Well, I should say that he is an Asiatic of some kind," Wilfrid replied. "And a full-blooded one at that. If he did not look so much at home in his dress-clothes and on such easy terms with his surroundings I could imagine him to be the head of some savage tribe or another. I can see him in his warpaint with his braves around him. But, of course, that is all nonsense, Russell. Whatever nationality the fellow belongs to, he is an educated man, and they don't breed that kind in the Malay Archipelago."

"Now that is just where you make the mistake," Russell answered. "There are certain islands in the Malay Archipelago which have never been explored by white men yet. Of course, I am not speaking of orchid-hunters and that kind of people, but I know for a fact that in North-eastern Borneo there are one or two tribes who come very near the level of our modern civilization. But we don't want to discuss that at present. Still, I was personally acquainted with one chief whose two sons were being educated at English public schools. Perhaps I will tell you his history later. Meanwhile, I don't mean to lose sight of our friend. Let's push boldly inside and chance it. I know two or three officials connected with the theatre, and they will help me if they can. Ah, there is Franklin, the very man I want to see. Come along."

Swan dragged his companion eagerly up the stairs and laid his hand on the shoulder of a florid man in front of him. As the other man turned his face, there was no occasion to ask his profession. He had stage manager written all over him.

"Don't stop to ask questions," Russell said. "This is my friend, Wilfrid Mercer. We had invitations for the front of the house to-night; in fact, you were good enough to get them for us. As things have turned out, it is more or less essential that we should become your guests for the time being. Can't you rig us up in something in your property-room?"

"You were always a queer sort," the stage manager said with a smile. "I suppose it is no use asking you what mischief you are up to now? Oh, I can smuggle you in right enough, especially as certain guests have failed us at the last moment. If you will come with me I will rig you both up in some sort of fancy dress. Only it seems hard that I should be kept out of the joke. Come this way."

"You shall know all about the joke in good time," Russell said grimly. "For the present, all I want you to do is to leave us severely alone. I suppose we could mention your name if any awkward questions were asked."

The stage manager replied good-naturedly enough, and some half an hour later Russell and his companion were roaming about the flies, mixing unconcernedly with hundreds of well-known people who appeared to be bent upon enjoyment. Meanwhile, the little yellow man had vanished.

"Oh, we shall see him sooner or later," Russell said cheerfully. "Did I tell you what the programme is? There is to be a kind of variety entertainment on the stage and then the theatre will be closed and supper partaken of at separate tables on the stage. After that the floor will be cleared for dancing and those who don't care for the 'light fantastic' will amuse themselves in the body of the theatre. I think we had better separate and I will meet you here when the signal for supper is given."

Mercer glanced at the clock and saw that the hour was close upon twelve. The time had gone more quickly than he had expected, and if he were to catch Beatrice Galloway he would have to go at once. A well-known opera quartette was occupying the stage to the exclusion of everything else, so that it was easy to steal down the stairs to the vestibule. A few young couples had secreted themselves behind the palms and flowers. It was some time before Mercer could make out the form of Beatrice seated alone. She looked up as he accosted her and he was not sorry to see that she failed to recognize him. He was got up like one of the Three Musketeers and the upper part of his face was masked.

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

"Indeed, I have not," Wilfrid said. "You did not expect to see me like this, but my friend, Swan Russell, has managed this quick change. On the whole, I am glad not to be recognized, because I can speak the more freely to you without arousing the suspicions of Mr. Flower."

Beatrice glanced uneasily at her companion.

"But why should you be afraid of him?" she asked. "Surely you have done no wrong to him. On the contrary, he has every reason to regard you as one of his best friends."

"It should appear so," Wilfrid said thoughtfully, "but, candidly, do you think your uncle is friendly towards me?"

It was some time before Beatrice replied. She glanced down with a troubled expression on her face.

"Really, I don't know," she confessed. "I don't feel sure of anything lately. And my uncle is so changed. He is so different to everybody, even to me. He is afraid of something. I am certain some great disaster hangs over us. It is all the more trying and nerve-destroying that I have not the remotest notion what it is. I don't know why I am here to-night, for instance. I don't know why I have been dragged away from Maldon Grange. We have always been very good friends, or I should hesitate before I spoke as freely as this to you. And now I am going to ask you a question which I hope you will answer candidly. Do you think this mystery has anything to do with the attempt to rob Maldon Grange the other night?"

Wilfrid endeavoured to devise some plausible reply. Nothing could be gained by telling the girl the truth. On the other hand, she might be still more disturbed.

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

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

"I think you can trust me," Wilfrid went on. "I think you can allow me to know what is for the best. I must ask you to have patience for the present, to rest secure in the knowledge that whatever happens no harm will come to you. And why worry yourself with these things at such a time as this? You ought to be enjoying yourself like the other guests. There is no suggestion of tragedy in this brilliant scene?"

Beatrice leaned towards her companion.

"I am not so sure of it," she whispered. "At first I enjoyed it immensely. I had never seen anything like it before, and the brilliancy of the scene carried me quite out of myself. And yet I cannot help feeling that the trouble is here; in fact I have seen it for myself. Do you remember the night I sent for you when my uncle was hurt? I told you all about that skinny hand pushed through the broken piece of glass and how the hand was fishing for the latch with a piece of string. You haven't forgotten that?"

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

"But what connexion is there between that hand and such an assembly as this?" he asked.

"Because I have seen the hand here," Beatrice went on in the same intense whisper. "Half an hour ago one of my friends came up to me with the offer of an ice, and we went into one of the refreshment rooms. There were a lot of men crushing round the bar, most of them drinking champagne and laughing and chattering. I was gazing about in a thoughtless kind of way when three men came in together and asked for champagne. One was a little man with his back turned towards me, and I could not see his face. One of his companions with a chaffing remark leaned over the counter and took a glass of champagne, at the same time telling his diminutive companion that he had been saved the humiliation of standing on a chair to get it. And then as the little man's hand was stretched forward I recognized the yellow claw that I had seen groping for the latch in the conservatory."

CHAPTER XVII

THE DIAMOND MOTH

"But you couldn't identify it," Wilfrid said, speaking as coolly as he could. "You don't mean to tell me that it was the same hand? You couldn't swear to it?"

"Perhaps not," Beatrice admitted. "But to all practical purposes it was the same hand, though the arm was hidden in a black sleeve and the whitest of cuffs. But you can imagine how the incident disturbed me. I pressed forward as eagerly as I could, but at that moment somebody had finished singing on the stage and there was a rush of men into the refreshment-room, so that I was prevented from pursuing my investigations. But I am frightened, Wilfrid. The thing seems to have taken my courage out of me. I wish you would try to find out if there is a man here like the one I have described."

Wilfrid muttered something in the way of a promise, though he knew that he had not very far to go to find the man that Beatrice spoke of. Then there was a tramping of feet overhead, the orchestra was playing the audience out of the theatre, and already an army of sweepers and cleaners had taken possession of it. There was a swift scattering of guests, and then, as if by magic, the stage was transformed into a huge supper-room and the guests were being ushered in by the stewards.

"Let me take you in," Wilfrid pleaded. "That is, of course, if you have no other partner."

Beatrice made no demur; indeed, she was thankful to have Wilfrid by her side. Already most of the guests had assembled on the stage. There were scores of little tables, flower-decked and shaded with pink lamps, which formed an exceedingly pretty picture. Towards one side, under a box, Wilfrid could see a table still unoccupied, and to this he piloted his companion.

"This is a slice of luck," he said. "Let us hope we can have this to ourselves so that we may have a long, cosy chat that will disperse all your fears. A glass of champagne will make a different girl of you."

A waiter bustled up to the table and Wilfrid gave his orders. A moment later and two guests came across the stage towards the table. One was a tall woman whom Wilfrid recognized at a glance as a well-known actress, the other was no less a person than the little yellow man in evening dress who had so startled Russell earlier in the evening. All the colour left Beatrice's face. She grasped her companion's arm helplessly.

"They are coming here," she whispered. "Oh, I am sure they are coming here. What shall we do?"

"Courage," Wilfrid said coolly. "We can't prevent them from sitting at the same table, seeing that they are the guests of the management as well as ourselves. So that is the man you were speaking about? He looks harmless enough. Don't be silly, Beatrice. Try to behave as if nothing had happened."

The girl recovered herself with a powerful effort. She even smiled as the handsome actress made a half-apology for intruding at the table.

"I think we know one another," she said. "Of course we do. I recollect some friends bringing me to your delightful place, Maldon Grange. You are Miss Galloway?"

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

"That's all right," the actress laughed. "Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Uzali. Mr. Uzali calls himself a Borneo chief or something of that kind, though how he manages to look after his duties there and spend six months of the year in England is beyond my comprehension. I daresay you will tell me it is no business of mine."

Uzali bowed with the utmost self-possession. Disturbed as she was Beatrice did not fail to notice this. She was struck with the charm and grace of the Malay's manner.

"You see, I was brought up in this country," he said, speaking perfect English. "My country is more or less of an unfortunate one, and my father was an enlightened man. That is why he sent me to school and college in England. No doubt he had dreams, poor man, that some day or other I should come into my own again. But that time has passed for ever."

To Beatrice's surprise she found herself at the end of ten minutes chatting gaily and freely with the stranger. She noticed from time to time how his dark eyes were turned upon an ornament which she wore about her neck. It was a diamond pendant, consisting of a moth, in dark enamel, the wing set in diamonds. The other wing was gone, as indeed was part of the body. Beatrice was bound to notice Uzali's curiosity.

"Do you admire my moth?" she asked.

"It would be impossible to do anything else," Uzali said gravely. "The workmanship is unique. You see, I am interested in that kind of thing; indeed, I have made a study of them all my lifetime. Perhaps you are acquainted with the history of that moth? Do you know where it came from?"

"Indeed, no," Beatrice confessed. "It conveys nothing to me, but it has a fascination for me and I wear it frequently."

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

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

Uzali's eyes flashed and he looked down at his plate which he appeared to be studying gravely.

"You are fortunate in the possession of such an uncle," he said. "I wonder if I have the honour of his acquaintance."

"That is probable," Beatrice said frankly. She had lost all her fears. "So many people know my uncle. He is Mr. Samuel Flower, the shipper."

Uzali said nothing. Sitting close by him, watching him carefully, Wilfrid noticed a sudden flush across the Malay's cheek and how the dark eyes turned to purple.

"The name is familiar to me," Uzali said, "but then there are so many people whom I know. So it never struck you to ask your uncle the history of that pendant? Now what should you say if I could produce the missing half?"

Beatrice looked up eagerly, her lips parted.

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

Uzali bowed gravely, then produced a small green packet from an inside pocket, from which he drew a small folded piece of wash-leather; and this being undone disclosed what appeared to be an engraved diamond in the shape of an insect's wing.

"We do strange things in my country," he said with a queer smile. "We have priests and learned men whose philosophy is far beyond anything that one knows of in the West. Not that I claim these powers myself, oh, no. That is quite another matter. But I think you will be satisfied if I prove to you that this is the missing portion of your pendant. Mr. Mercer shall be umpire if you like, and we will leave him to judge. Perhaps you would not mind removing your pendant for a moment."

Beatrice complied. She was quite excited now. All her strange fears had fallen from her. With trembling fingers she removed the pendant from its slender gold chain and laid it on the tablecloth. Wilfrid reached over and fitted the broken pieces together. He could see that they matched to a nicety.

"Not the slightest doubt about it," he exclaimed. "These two pieces once formed one jewel. Now whom does it belong to? Mr. Uzali, do you claim the whole thing? Are you going to hand over your half to Miss Galloway?"

"I wasn't thinking of doing either for the moment," Uzali said coolly. "But I am going to ask Miss Galloway to trust her portion into my hands so that I can get the ornament mended, when I hope she will allow me to send her the jewel intact. All I ask in return is that Miss Galloway will inquire of her uncle how the moth found its way into his hands."

"Perhaps you know already," Beatrice smiled. But Uzali was not to be drawn. He shook his head.

"I do not claim any occult powers," he said. "I merely said that there are wise men in my country who possess them. And now, if you will be good enough to give your portion of the moth to me I will let you have it in a few days restored to its original beauty."

Beatrice hesitated. Yet, why not comply? The request had been made tastefully and in good faith. It was a graceful thing to do and her moth had always fascinated her. She handed her portion to Uzali with a smile.

"It is exceedingly good of you," she said, "and I am obliged by your kindness. I am equally justified in handing my half of the treasure over to you——"

"But I don't wear that kind of thing," Uzali protested. "Now give me your address so that I may carry out my promise. Miss Marcombe, are you ready? I think the next dance is ours."

The Malay had vanished before Beatrice could say more. Her excitement had passed away. She looked at Wilfrid with troubled eyes. Had she done wrong?

"Leave it to Providence," Wilfrid said answering her unspoken thoughts. "The Malay, at least, meant well."

CHAPTER XVIII

A TANGLED CLUE

Beatrice turned once more to her companion. The look of fear was in her eyes again. No sooner had the charm of Uzali's appearance been removed than it seemed that she had done wrong. Perhaps Wilfrid guessed her thoughts.

"I don't think so," he said. "It certainly was a most surprising thing to happen. But I have come across more extraordinary coincidences in my life, and, do you know, I rather like our friend. He seems to be a gentleman."

"I think so," Beatrice said doubtfully, "but I am frightened all the same. He was so like the man——"

"Who tried to get into Maldon Grange the other night. But you surely do not believe that a man like Mr. Uzali could be guilty of burglary. I am disposed to believe what he said. If I were you I should think no more of the matter."

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

"Then tell him," Wilfrid said, growing rather impatient. "It is clear that you have nothing to fear. When you mentioned your uncle's name, Mr. Uzali gave no sign that he had ever heard it before. Don't you think we are in the way of these people here?"

Beatrice glanced round her to see that most of the tables and chairs had disappeared and that the stage was nearly ready for dancing. The guests had increased considerably and the theatre appeared to be filled with visitors. They had overflowed into the auditorium and already many had gathered in stalls and boxes to watch the entertainment. As Beatrice moved away with her companion a man came up and accosted her.

"I think you are Miss Galloway," he said politely. "I don't suppose you remember me, though I have dined more than once at your house in town. Your uncle sent me to look for you. He is in one of the boxes. If you will allow me to show you the way. From what I understand he has not been very well. I don't think there is anything to be alarmed about; only he wanted you."

Beatrice waited for no more. She hurried off with her new companion until they came to a box at the back of the dress circle. Here one or two men were talking somewhat earnestly to Flower, but he dismissed them with a gesture as Beatrice came in. There were one or two shaded electric lights behind Flower's head, but subdued as they were Beatrice did not fail to notice the pallor of her uncle's face. There was a quick irritation in his manner which she had never noticed before.

"I have sent for you everywhere," he said. "Where have you been? And tell me, who was the man you were supping with? Now don't prevaricate. Tell me at once."

Beatrice's face flushed with indignation.

"There is no reason why I should not tell you," she said. "I went into supper with Mr. Mercer. He is a guest here as well as ourselves. Perhaps we stayed too long——"

Flower waived the suggestion aside impatiently.

"Oh, why do you waste my time like this?" he asked. "I don't mean Mercer at all. I want to know who was the other man who sat at the same table with you?"

Once again the old dread was closing in upon Beatrice. She glanced at her guardian with troubled eyes.

"I have never seen him before," she said. "It was no fault of mine that he sat at the same table. He came in with Miss Marcombe, the actress, who, as you know, has been a guest of ours at Maldon Grange. She introduced him as Mr. Uzali. He is not an Englishman, but I found him very entertaining, and a gentleman. Moreover, he surprised me by saying he had seen my moth brooch before. He declared he had a piece which would match the broken part and took it from his pocket. It seems almost incredible, but the match was perfect."

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

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

Flower said nothing for a moment or two. He sat looking gloomily at the glittering stage below. Beatrice could see that his hands were clenched so that the muscles stood out strong and blue. It was not for her to deduce anything from these signs, but she knew that Flower was moved to the very core of his being. He turned to the girl with an effort.

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

"Certainly, I told him who you were," Beatrice said, "but it did not strike him as familiar. You might have been perfect strangers from the way in which he spoke of you. But why all this mystery, uncle? What have I done that is wrong?"

Flower pulled himself together with an effort, but there was an unsteady smile on his thick lips. He tried to speak gaily, but Beatrice noted how forced his words were.

"Another romance!" he said. "I must make the acquaintance of your friend. No, I am not in the least angry; only one comes in contact with such strange people at this sort of an affair that you cannot be too careful. And now if you are ready I should like to go home. Somebody will call a carriage for us. I'll stay here till you come back."

For some reason the man was afraid to move as Beatrice could plainly see. She wondered at his want of strength, at his sudden display of cowardice. She had never seen him in this mood before. She had never known him to display anything that savoured of terror.

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

The carriage came at length and Flower moved reluctantly from the shadow of the box. The night was not cold, but he huddled himself in a big coat so that he might not be recognized. But as they walked through the hall to the portico Beatrice saw that Mercer was not far away. The latter waited until they had vanished, then he made his way back to the stage again. The first person he encountered in the wings was Russell.

"I have been looking for you everywhere," the latter said. "I saw you on the stage just now when you were having supper, but it was not policy to come near you. What has become of Flower and his niece? Have they left?"

"Some few moments ago," Mercer explained. "I think I shall have enough information even to satisfy you. If you were watching us at supper I suppose you saw whom we sat down with?"

"That was why I was looking for you," Russell said eagerly. "What a stroke of luck that our friend the Malay should take a seat at the same table. What was he doing with that ornament which Miss Galloway was wearing?"

By way of reply Mercer led the way to one of the refreshment-rooms. It would be much easier to talk the matter over a cigarette than stand chattering where they were in everybody's way. Russell was an attentive listener. He said nothing whilst Wilfrid poured out his story.

"Splendid!" he muttered under his breath. "Nothing could have happened better. I came here on the off-chance of picking up some information, but I never expected to gather as much as this. But I will explain all in good time. Now let us get as near that party by the alcove as we can. Unless I am mistaken Uzali is in the midst of them. We don't want to arouse his suspicions, but I am going to let him know that he has friends here. We can hear what is going on without appearing to listen."

There were four or five men in the alcove and room for as many more. Russell and his companion pushed their way in casually and lighted their cigarettes. Uzali appeared to be finishing some anecdote, for he stopped presently and smote emphatically with his fist on the table before him.

"Not a sign, gentlemen, I assure you," he said, "not so much as a single clue. But I am not the man to be rebuffed at the first disappointment. No, I would rather not go back to the stage if you don't mind. I will stay here till you are ready to go. I am not a dancing man."

The alcove speedily cleared, leaving Wilfrid and Russell opposite Uzali, who smoked his cigarette as placidly as if nothing had happened to upset the even tenor of his way. Russell reached out his hand to an empty chocolate box around which a silk string was still attached. He took the string in his hand and tied it into a variety of knots.

"That was a strange story you told just now, sir," he said coolly. "You will pardon my friend and myself if we listened."

Uzali looked up sharply with a challenge in his eyes.

"I was wondering," Russell went on, "if the clue was anything like this which I hold in my hand." With apparent carelessness he tossed the string across the table and waited for the Malay to speak.

"You have said too much," Uzali murmured, "or too little."

CHAPTER XIX

FENCING

Russell sat unmoved; he was not acting without due deliberation, though he realized that he had a dangerous foe to deal with. For some time Uzali played with the string, tying and untying the knots as if he were making up his mind what to do next. To Wilfrid Mercer, looking on, the incident reminded him of two chess masters bent over a table.

"You are a stranger to me," Uzali said.

"That, to a certain extent, I am prepared to admit," Russell replied. "I don't know whether you are a religious man or not, Mr. Uzali, but probably you will agree with me——"

"So you know my name at any rate," Uzali said.

Russell shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't want any credit for that," he said. "I could have learnt your name from a score of people since I have been here. Besides, it is no news to me seeing that I am under the impression that you are using it as a nom de guerre. On the other hand my name is Swan Russell, and this is my friend, Dr. Wilfrid Mercer. I have spent a great deal of time in Borneo seeking a fortune, which, until a short time ago, appeared to be within my grasp. Unfortunately, I had unscrupulous people to deal with, and am really hard up for a hundred pounds. My friend, Dr. Mercer, is even in worse case than myself. He had the misfortune to be a medical attendant on board a steamer which was wrecked in the East. I should not be surprised if you have heard of a boat called the Guelder Rose, which was owned by Mr. Samuel Flower, of the Flower Line of steamers. Believe me, I am not occupying your time merely to hear myself talk."

Uzali glanced keenly at the speaker. The look of suspicion had died from his face. Something like a smile lurked in the corners of his mouth.

"I may be mistaken," he said, "but I think you are a man after my own heart. Now tell me candidly—have you suffered any wrong at the hands of this Samuel Flower? Is your friend in the same predicament?"

"That is so," Russell said gravely. "But for Samuel Flower I should be a rich man. But for Samuel Flower my friend Mercer would not be so desperately situated as he is. I think I have given you enough evidence of my bona fides in the piece of string which you are holding in your hand."

"I am not going to deny it," Uzali said. "And I see the necessity for caution. I suppose you realize that Mr. Flower is in some danger?"

"Flower is in imminent peril of his life I know," Russell replied. "Upon my word, I hardly know how to go on. To all practical purposes, you are as good as an Englishman, Mr. Uzali, and you know our laws as well as I do. If anything happened to Flower now and the trouble were traced home to you, for instance, you would have considerable difficulty in saving your neck. In other words, I am going to accuse you of being concerned in a conspiracy to put an end to Samuel Flower. I know this is a bold assertion."

"Oh, we will grant it for the moment," Uzali said coolly. "I confess you startled me when you passed me that piece of string. I see you understand the significance of those five knots, and, indeed, you have already told me that you have spent a good deal of your time in North Borneo. You pay me the compliment of deeming me to be an antagonist worthy of his steel, and I have an equal respect for your courage and audacity. But you are wrong in asserting that Samuel Flower stands in danger from me at the present moment. Later, perhaps, circumstances may alter. In the meantime he is as safe as yourself."

The last words were uttered with a grimness which was not lost upon the listeners.

"I thank you for those words," Russell said gravely, "and none the less because they prove to me that you don't know everything. You are unaware, I suppose, that two of your fellow-countrymen were, until recently, engaged to a circus proprietor who is touring in Kent. It does not matter who this circus proprietor is. The main point is that he picked these men up in the Mediterranean and they have been a great draw to his show. A little time ago the circus was at a place called Castlebridge, which happens to be quite close to Maldon Grange, the country residence of our friend Mr. Samuel Flower."

Uzali nodded his lean yellow head restlessly. It was evident that this information was new to him. He looked at Russell rather searchingly, as if trying to read his inmost secrets. The company in the theatre was beginning to get smaller. Not more than a score or two of guests remained, and these were mostly men who had crowded into the refreshment-room.

"You cannot tell how vastly I am obliged to you," Uzali said. "But please go on. I give you my word of honour that I had not the least idea of this. I had not the remotest knowledge that one of my own clansmen was in England. But I still see you have something important to say. I am all attention."

"Well, how, I don't know," Russell resumed, "but these men found out that Samuel Flower was in the neighbourhood. They made one or two excursions to Maldon Grange, because my friend Mercer happened to see them himself. He will describe to you what incantations they were going through and the mysterious way in which they vanished when he interrupted them. Late that night an attack was made on the life of Mr. Flower, and, but for the intervention of Dr. Mercer, the ship-owner's troubles would have been at an end. But perhaps my friend had better tell the story in his own way."

"Incantations," Uzali muttered. "Oh, yes, I understand. There were brass crucibles, a peculiar smell, strange globes of light. Oh, yes, I have seen it all before. And, mind you, it is not the poor make-believe of magic such as you get in Europe. That was the real thing. But I am interrupting you, doctor. I shall be greatly obliged if you will tell me everything."

Nothing loth, Wilfrid proceeded to tell his story which Uzali followed with breathless attention.

"I assure you I knew nothing of this," he said, when at length Mercer had finished. "I never guessed anything of the kind. On the contrary, I would give more than half I possess to insure Samuel Flower's safety for the next few weeks. We are wasting time here. I shall be glad if you gentlemen will come with me as far as Castlebridge without delay so that I may interview these fellow-countrymen of mine. They will listen to me as they will listen to nobody else. When they have my commands they will obey them as well-trained hounds should do. It is perhaps fortunate that Samuel Flower is in town, but those men are so fearless, so reckless of life, that it is little—but we must be moving. I shall be glad if you will come with me as far as my house so that we can take the motor without delay and get to Chatham before daylight. It is the only way I can see."

"But I cannot leave town," Mercer protested. "I have some urgent business which will keep me here till Saturday at the least. You seem to have forgotten what I told you about those countrymen of yours. They were fetched back to the theatre at the end of a whip by the proprietor and his big negro, but by the morning they had vanished. It seemed so strange to see them return in that docile fashion. I am afraid you will have great trouble in finding them now."

"It is annoying," Uzali muttered. "I had forgotten that those fellows had given the circus proprietor the slip. At any rate, I shall not have to look for them in the country. If they are not already in London, they are on their way here. And now, gentlemen, will you do me the honour of coming with me as far as my house? There is still much to be said between us, much to explain, and I am sure that if you will only put out a hand to help me, I shall do everything in my power to assist you. Is that a bargain?"

The lights were going out one by one. The few late stayers were drifting away from the bar. It was not far short of three o'clock in the morning, but none of the trio were disposed to sleep. The air seemed to be charged with magnetic fluid; something like danger lingered in every nook.

"By all means," Russell said. "I should like to tell you my story, and then you can judge whether I am right or not in what I have resolved to do."

Without another word Uzali slipped into his overcoat and bade his companions follow. They entered a cab and were whirled westwards until they came to a tall block of flats at the corner of Oxford Street. Uzali put his key in the latch and opened the door. Then he stood back with a bow signifying that his companions might precede him.

CHAPTER XX

THE WATERFALL

The flat was not a large one, but the new-comers could see it was most luxuriously furnished and fitted with every modern convenience. Uzali led the way into a cosy dining-room where he switched on the electric lights. The walls were dark red, showing up the pictures and china to perfection, and the overmantel was fitted with a bookcase. With a wave of his hand Uzali bade his guests be seated.

"Oh, yes, it is fairly comfortable," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I am getting to the time of life when one takes a philosophic view of things. After all, I have little more than I want. I have my many friends in London and I have my books. Still, I cannot forget that if I had my deserts I should be in a very different position. I ought to be a prince in my native country, with the control of some thousands of men, and there are times when the longing for the old life grips me and I could commit a thousand crimes to feel my feet on my native soil again. But all that is past and done with. I am waiting my time, and when one man pays the penalty for his crime I shall be free to go my own way again. But I did not bring you here to talk about myself. On the contrary, I am anxious to hear Mr. Russell's story."

"I am afraid there is very little story I have to tell," Russell replied. "I have been a rolling stone all my life, always seeing a fortune and never finding one. I have no doubt if I had stayed at home like the average man I should have done well enough, but from my earliest days the fever of adventure has been in my blood and I cannot settle down. I have been everywhere where gold is to be found. I have risked my life a score of times only to come out of each adventure a little poorer than I went in. Three years ago I was stranded at Key West penniless and without a notion how to get a night's shelter. There by great good fortune I found a man I had met years before, and to him I explained how I was situated. He had not much to offer me, save that he was going to Borneo orchid-hunting, and he wanted some one to accompany him. I jumped at the chance. Anything was better than the slow starvation that stared me in the face. To make a long story short, we landed five weeks later in North Borneo and proceeded to push our way inland. It was all right for a day or two, then we began to have some notion of the difficulties which surrounded us.

"The natives were bad, to begin with, and matters were made all the worse by the discovery that those people regarded certain flowers as sacred. They attacked us one night when we were quite unprepared for an assault, and in the morning I was the only one of our party who was left alive. My life was spared by accident. I happened to have in my possession a medicine-chest out of which I had given one of our native followers some quinine which cured him of ague. Of course I need not tell you that we were betrayed, and that my native patient was one of the traitors. I thought my time had come as I lay there before one of the camp fires, picking out words here and there from their jargon, a portion of which was familiar to me. After a day or two I gathered that I was going to be taken up country and brought into the presence of one of the chiefs who was suffering from some illness.

"Well, we jogged along for two or three weary days until we came to what, at one time, must have been a considerable town. I was surprised to find huge stone buildings divided into streets. I was amazed to see what must have been a magnificent circus. I saw scores of baths hewn out of the side and filled with most deliciously cool lake water. It was only afterwards that I learnt that the town was situated at the foot of a lake, and that hundreds of years ago a great dam had been built across the waters to keep them from flowing into the town. I have seen nothing so remarkable since I visited old towns in Mexico. One thing struck me as particularly strange. For all the town was so large, there could not have been more than five or six hundred inhabitants. Oh, you will pardon me, Mr. Uzali, but they were, for the most part, the image of yourself. The natives who had destroyed our expedition were a different class of men altogether. They were big, ugly black men. There were thousands of them up in the mountains, but they appeared to be terribly afraid of the people who occupied the town."

"A matter of civilization," Uzali muttered.

"Well, perhaps so," Russell went on. "At any rate, they made me comfortable. I was led to understand that they regarded me with a certain amount of reverence, and I felt safe so long as I made no attempt to escape. I was free to roam the mountains, and the valleys below the town, indeed, I was free to do everything I pleased so long as I showed up at twilight. By this time I had established my reputation as a doctor. I was well in with the chief of the tribe. I had learnt a great deal of their past history. I had learnt something on my own account, too, which I regarded as still more valuable. Below the town in one of the valleys I found traces of gold. I worked a place for weeks until I was certain that the gold was alluvial and that it had been washed down from the lake during hundreds of centuries. I calculated the amount of gold there. It was worth perhaps a couple of hundred thousand pounds, and when all that was extracted there would be nothing left. There was nothing for it but to bide my time and hope for the best. Sooner or later my store of drugs would be exhausted, and then it was possible that I might be allowed to go down to the coast and replenish the chest.