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DEC 2 1 7959








_ _


BY THE SAZIIE AUTHOR
THE BURDEN OF HER YOUTH
CONFESSIONS OF A COURT MILLINER
THE WOOING OF MONICA
NURSE CHARLOTTE
HIS MASCOT
LITTLE \VIFE HESTER
THE ADVENTURES OF MIRANDA
THE FACE OF JULIET
THE HEART OF HELEN
FROM THE HAND OF THE HUNTER
KINDRED SPIRITS
THE CURSE OF THE FEVERALS
LITTLE JOSEPHINE
THE AIM OF HER LIFE
THE COURTSHIP OF SYBIL

Lormomz JOHN LONG, Puausmm



London
John Long
Norris Street, Haymarket
[All Rigbt: Renra/ed]


First Published in 1909


PZ
. S646
Foo
The Fountain of Beauty
CHAPTER I
day’s work in the City. He was a man of about fifty
years of age, but had a stoop, and white hair, and a
somewhat haggard face. A passer-by who saw him
He reached his own house soon after six 0’cl0ck, let
himself in with a latch-key, and called in a querulous
tone:
“ Yes, Mr Henshall,” she said. “ What is it? ”
“ I am not well,” was the reply. “ I want a fire


\
\
§
.5
i
4
J


The Fountain of Beauty


touch it. I expect I’ve got a bout of that horrid
infiuenza—I want something hot. Have the fire lit,
and get Jemima to warm my bed. I am going straight
to bed; I have got a chi .”
“ Very well,” answered Mary Gray; “ but shall I
tell Rebecca? ”
Old Robert Henshall straightened himself and
looked full at the girl from under his shaggy, pent-
house brows.
“Why should you frighten Becky? She is going
out as usual, I suppose? ”
“Yes; she is dressing now. The Lorrimers are
taking her to a dance at the Town I-Iall, and she will
dine with them firs .”
“ Why aren’t you going, Mary? ”
“I prefer to stay at home and look after your
comforts, Mr Hensha .”
“ Ah, good girl,” said the -old man. “Well, see
about the fire and the hot drink. Let me know when
my room is ready. I shall go into my study until you
tell me that everything is prepared.”
Mary nodded, and went in the direction of the 
kitchen. Her face, at a first glance, might have been
thought pleasant. A second glance would have made
the observer of that same face not quite so certain
with regard to it, but a third glance would have re-
assured him. For Mary had the knack of never wearing
her heart on her sleeve; in short, under no possible
circumstances would she dream of giving herself
away. -
She went to the kitchen now to give directions, and
the old man, well satisfied, dropped into a chair by the
fire his study.
6


brightly; the hearth was clean. He turned on the
electric light and spread out his limbs to the grateful
warmth.
“Ah! ” he murmured; “ it is a cold night even for
the time of year; and I am an old, old man, not in
years, perhaps, but in—in mind. I have had a hard
fight for it. I have conquered, though, all the same.
There is plenty for Becky when I am gone. I am glad
Becky is going to enjoy herself. I like to think that
she has never wanted for anything all the days of her
life. Poor little Beck !—left motherless at two years
old and brought up by the old dad, and never, never,
There came a swishing sound of a silk-lined dress
on the stairs. The door was flung open, and a tall,
slim girl, with beautiful bright blue eyes, sparkling
with animation and spirit, a pale face, and a mouth
cast in pathetic lines, which fact gave a curious interest
to her expression, entered the room.
“ Why—~rny daddy! ” she said. “ Whatever is the
matter? Aren’t you well, dear old man? ”
Old Henshall rose heavily from his seat, and,
turning, looked at his daughte .
“ I’m as right as rain, Rebecca. I am glad you are
going out. ’Pon my word! those diamonds are pretty.
How they shine on your white neck, my child! ”
“ I ought not to wear diamonds; I am too young,”
said the girl_ _
“ Ought not to wear diamonds! ” almost screamed

7


The Fountain of Beauty
to a big house—I should hate it; and heaps of servants
would bother me to death. Now, are you certain you
would rather that I went? ”
“Of course I would; you are to go and have a
right good time, and d0n’t worry about me. Mary
Gray is a clever young woman, and she’ll see to my
comforts. N ow—be off with you. That is Mrs
Lorrimer’s ring at the front door. Go; and enjoy
yourse .”
The girl bent and kissed her father. She had
absolutely regular features. She was a beautiful
creature, made in a stately mould and carrying herself
well. She wrapped a crimson opera cloak round her
shoulders and went into the little hall. A moment
later old Henshall heard the sound of carriage wheels
as she was driven away. He sank back into his chair,
locking and unlocking his thin hands.
“ God! How I love her! But how precious ill I
feel! These rigors mean fever. I never mistook that
Wmptom yet. I am in for the ‘ flue ’—beastly thing!
I am glad my Rebecca has gone out. I can think of
her bonny face as I lie wrapped up warm in bed. Wish
Mary Gray would be quick, though. She is a good girl,
a capable girl, and suits Becky very well. My word!
l1ow those diamonds did shine on my Becky’s neck. It
1s worth an old man’s toil to have such a creature as
Rebecca belonging to him. Not that I am an old man.
I’ll get over this in a day or two, and be as vigorous as
W91‘. Wonder if Gerard Lonsdale will turn up after
all. The seven years will be up in a month. If he
fa1ls to appear, or to let me know by the time the month
has expired, I shall be one of the richest men in England,
and whether she likes it or not my Becky must live in


9


The Fountain of Beauty
She left the room. If was to fetch her clinical ther-
mometer.
“ Now,” she said, in a cheerful tone as she returned,
“ we’ll put this in your mouth and see if there is anything
wrong. If you are normal, why, all you have to do is
to lie still and sleep the thing ofi‘, but if your temperature
is up I had best send for the doctor.”
“ No, no, I hate doctors, I won’t have ’em,” said the
old man.
“ Oh, nonsense! ” said Mary. “ You must do what
is right and sensible for R.ebecca’s sake.”
“ Mary,” said old Henshall, “ I am so glad Becky
is enjoying herself at that ball; I am so. glad the
Lorrimers have taken her. Nice people, the Lorrimers,
eh? ”
“ Oh, pretty well. Now, put this in your mouth,
and don’t speak. You have to think of yourself for a
minute or two, you know.”
The old man obeyed. When Mary removed the
thermometer she found that it registered 103°.
“ Come,” she said, speaking as cheerfully as she
could, “ you have got a rise of temperature.”
“ How much, Mary; how much? ”
“ Oh, nothing to be alarmed about; but you had
best see the doctor. I will send for Dr Harris. He will
give you something to make you comfy.”
Mary left the room. The clinical thermometer lay
on the table. She had forgotten to take it with her.
A cunning and yet anxious look crept over old Hen-
shall’s face. He got swiftly out of bed, approached the
table, took up the thermometer, and noted its registra-
tion for himself. He got back into bed with a groan.
“ One hundred and three—good Lord! Then I am
I2


The Fountain of Beauty
in for it. I doubt if I’ll recover. I never felt so bad in
my life. My head aches; my throat is bad, and these
rigors get worse and worse.”
In half an hour Dr Harris was standing by his
patient’s bedside. He was a kind, clever young man,
and spoke reassuringly.
“Now, Mr Henshall,” he said, “you must just
“A hundred and three—ha, ha!” laughed old
days. But the weather is nasty; the time of year is
against you, and you have been overdoing it, like all
other City men. I will send you in some medicine—
something to soothe you and make you sleep, and by the
1I101'ning you will probably be much better.”
Harris left the room to confer with Mary Gray on
the stairs,
fear of pneumonia. That is what we must dread, but
hope to avert it. I will send in the medicine as
‘lll1ckly as possible.”


13


The Fountain of Beauty
The doctor ran down stairs. In the hall he was met
by a man who had just entered. This man was tall,
very thin, with a dark face and sunken black eyes. He
was thirty years of age, and had a somewhat insolent
manner. Dr Harris just glanced at him, gave him the
slightest nod of recognition, and left the house.
Arnold Deepe went into the dining-room. There
was no one present, and he noticed with some surprise
that neither were there any preparations for dinner.
He often dined at the Henshalls, and his intention was
to do so that evening. He pottered about the room and
suddenly stood still before a pile of letters which had
arrived by the last post and were waiting on their
accustomed salver for Mr Henshall’s inspection. Arnold
Deepe did not think it at all beneath his dignity to
examine them himself. He looked from one to the
other. Some were mere circulars; a few looked so
essentially business-like and at the same time so ordin-
ary that they did not rouse Deepe’s curiosity in the very
least. But there was one which he gazed at again and
again. It was written on thin foreign paper, and bore
the postmark “ Teheran.” The writing was in a good,
honest, manly hand—the hand of a young person, too.
But what possible correspondent could old Robert
Henshall have at Teheran? Why, Teheran was in
Persia, and—Deepe paused and considered for a few
minutes.
There came a light step on the stairs, and, without
an instant’s hesitation, he slipped the foreign letter
marked “ Teheran ” into his pocket. He had scarcely
done so before Mary entered the room.
“ Ah,” she said. “ Here you are! There won’t be any
dinner to-night; Rebecca is out, and Mr Henshall is ill.”
I4


The Fountain of Beauty
“ Ill! ” said Deepe, in an anxious tone. “ You
might give us a kiss, old girl.”
Mary'raised her colourless, thin lips to her lover’s.
He kissed her without any special fervour, putting his
arm round her waist, however, and drawing her close
to him.
“ Henshall ill? Did you say ill? Does that mean
that he is in bed? ”
“Yes; he came back a good hour earlier than
usual. He is in bed now, and the doctor has just
been. He is rather bad, and I am going to nurse him
to-night.”
“Then he won’t want his letters, Mary, till the
morning? ”
“Bless you, no! He is not even thinking about
them; but I may as well collect them and put them into
the study. When he is better to-morrow he may in-
quire for them.”
“ All right, Mary; all right. Then I suppose I am
not wanted? ”
“ I am afraid I can’t stay with you, Arnold; I have
got to look after the old man.”
“What is his own daughter doing? Why should
you have all the drudgery? ”
“Am not I here for the purpose? ” answered the
girl. But she pressed a little closer to Arnold Deepe
as she spoke.
“ I wish I could take you out of this, Molly,” he
answered. “ I hate to see you always devoting yourself
to others. I want you! I am jealous of all the rest of
the world when they make use of you.”
“ But you can’t afford to marry me, Arnold dear,
and, in short, there is no help for it. Until you are a

I5


The Fountain of Beauty
rich man and I have put by something we must bear
with things as they are. Now, go, like a good fellow,
for I am frightfully busy.”
“ I will call early in the morning,” said Deepe, “ and
if I were you, Mary, I would leave those letters on the
salver. I will look in before I start for town. Just
leave them there; you can pretend you forgot all about
them.”
“ What do you mean? ” she asked, startled at his
manner.
“ What I say,” he replied; and his deep-set black
eyes grew very black, and there came an ominous queer
twitch to his moustache.
Mary looked full up at him; the cunning in her eyes
which people so often noticed when they just slightly
knew her, and which seemed to vanish out of sight
when they knew her well, was very apparent at that
moment.
“ You have a reason? ” she said in a low tone.
“ I have, and I will just whisper it to you, sweetheart.
Our marriage, our little home! My Mary—the mistress
of her own house—not at the beck and call of a stupid,
fine lady like Rebecca Henshall, and a fanciful old man
like her father. Leave the letters on the salver. I
shall look in first thing in the morning.”
Mary raised her eyes to Arnold Deepe’s face. Just
for a moment a look of distress filled them. She had
the appearance of one who was about to struggle against
a decree which she felt to be wrong. Then the man’s
influence over her made itself felt. The colour of which
she possessed so little mounted into her cheeks and she
said in a low tone:
“ Of course, Arnold, I will do what you wish.”
16


The Fountain of Beauty
“Naturally you will,” he replied, “ and you will
keep the thing a secret. It is for our mutual benefit
that I speak.”
“Leave me now,” said Mary, almost with im-
patience; “I must go to my patient: I ought not to
have neglected him so long.”


Mary Gray was now in the full pride of her woman-
hood. She was twenty-five. She knew well that each
detected a few grey hairs here and there. Her lips were
thin. They had a firm expression, but they were not the
F.“-


The Fountain of Beauty
remarkably lucky hour, she got a situation as com-
panion and housekeeper to Rebecca Henshall.
In Henshall’s house she was treated with all con-
sideration and kindness. She might have been a happy,
she might have been a good, girl if she had pleased.
Rebecca had so warm and true a heart that she could not
but be kind to everyone. It is true that Mary was
scarcely to her taste, but nothing would have induced
her to part from her. She pitied the lonely woman.
There were few things she would not do to promote her
interests. Henshall, too, had a regard for Mary. She
was capable, even if she was not affectionate. She was
a good housekeeper, and kept his little home in perfect
order. She never showed the envy she really felt.
When Rebecca showed her the beautiful presents which
her adoring father lavished upon his only child, Mary’s
ecstasy over them was almost pretty to witness.
It was in her own room afterwards that her envy
and jealousy found vent. At moments such as these
she hated Rebecca. She did not see the justice of giving
one girl so much and another so little. She complained
in a little diary which she kept, and which was always
carefully locked, so that no one could read the contents.
This diary was Mary’s safety valve, and greatly as-
tonished would her host and his daughter have been had
they read its contents.
It was on a certain day, about a year before the
commencement of this story, that Mary met her fate
in the person of Arnold Deepe. Deepe was by no means
an attractive man, but his cleverness, his shrewdness,
his discontent with the life he lived roused the girl’s
sympathy. She found as she talked to him that he also
hated the rich and prosperous, that he also was very
18


The Fountain of Beauty
much of the opinion that the ways of Providence were
unfair. Deepe was a very poor man. He had only a
small clerkship. He was unable even to afford a sitting-
room, and when he was not in his employer’s office, or
wandering in the streets or taking his meals at cheap
restaurants, he had nothing that bore even the semblance
of a home except a dingy bedroom at the top of a dingy
house.
Arnold Deepe had no love whatever for Mary Gray.
Nevertheless, he made love to her, and finally asked her
to join her life to his whenever they were both well
enough off to contemplate marriage. His reason for
this was that he believed Mary would help him.
Mary told her secret to Rebecca. She was engaged.
The tall, thin man with dark eyes and a somewhat
cadaverous face would be her husband some day—oh,
not for a long time, but some day. Rebecca was
deeply interested. She was full of sympathy, not
unmixed with a certain curiosity. She wondered what
it was like to be engaged, to be loved by one man
beyond all other women, to walk with him, to talk with
him, to tell him every secret of her heart. Once or
twice she asked Mary questions on the subject, and Mary
replied with a laugh:
“ Oh, it isn’t what you think. Arnold and I never
make fools of ourselves. He doesn’t even make love
to me except very, very seldom, but I think I like him
all the better for that.”
“ Like him! ” exclaimed Rebecca-.
must love him.”
“ Yes, I love him,” exclaimed Mary; but she found
a certain difficulty in uttering the words.
Now, on this special night, she felt that the thing
“ Mary, you

19


The Fountain of Beauty
which bound her to Arnold Deepe was assuming the
strength of a giant. She felt that it bound her round.
In short, it turned her into a crooked course. Mary
Gray knew quite well that in her heart of hearts she
was destitute of principle. She knew that if the right
and the wrong were presented to her to choose from
she would accept the wrong if it helped her to a better
position in life. She little guessed that it was because of
this trait in her character that Deepe had proposed for
her. Mary lived with wealthy people. One day she
would be of immense use to him. Up to the present,
however, he had kept his thoughts on this subject to
himself. He was always pleased when the Henshalls
asked him to dine. He felt that he owed Mary a debt of
gratitude for introducing him -to the rich man and his
very handsome daughter. Deepe often found his eyes
fixed on Rebecca, who, very much younger than Mary,
had all the charm of face and manner which Mary
lacked.
“ Why did I not think of winning her heart? ” was
his thought at these moments. “ I should have been
first in the field. She is only just out. Oh, it is too late
now; but what a fool I have been to engage myself to
Mary Gray. Well, Mary must help me. I don’t mean to
be a poor man long. By hook or by crook I will climb
up the ladder. Mary shall help meto make my ascent.”
I" After Mary Gray had sat for some time in the dining-
jg room she rose, uttered a quick, tremulous sigh and said
l to herself, “ I begin to fear Arnold Deepe. He has got
a power over me. Why do I tremble when my eyes
look into his, and why don’t I love him as a girl ought
to love the man she has promised to marry? I hate—I
hate what he asked me to do to-night. Why did he ask
_ 5 <_._iv : _. .,,_____ ,--._. _,,__M,-- .._ -<--.- @n~u


20


The Fountain of Beauty
me to leave the letters on the salver? He had a pur-
pose. I meant to refuse to comply, but when he looked
at me I got that stupid sort of fear over me. I could
not help myself, I had to obey him.”
After a time Mary went upstairs and softly entered
the sick-room. Henshall was asleep. His cheeks were
deeply flushed and his breathing hurried. Mary knew
at once that his temperature was rising and that he was
in reality very ill. She put a candle into a shaded
corner, lit it, and then turned off the electric light.
By-and-by the sick man moved, turned on his pillow,
and opened his drowsy eyes.
“ Is that you, my little Beck? ” he said.
“ No, sir,” answered Mary’s quiet voice. “ Rebecca,
as you know, is out enjoying herself, but I am sitting
with you.”
“ You are a good girl, Mary Gray,” said Henshall,
“ only I do wish you would break yourself of one
habit.” _
“What is that? ” she asked in some surprise.
“ I wish you would not talk as you do of my daughter.
Rebecca went- to her dance to-night at my express
request. She wanted to stay with me.”
“ I am sure she did, Mr Henshall.”
“Your tone was not nice when you spoke of her
just now,” said the old man.
“ Oh, I am sorry,” replied Mary. “ I did not mean
anything. I love Rebecca very much.”
“ So you ought. She is very good to you.”
“ She is, sir; and so are you good to me.”
“ You are a clever girl, you are well-meaning, and
You suit me,” said Henshall. “ You take the worry of
housekeeping from my dear child. You manage the


21


The Fountain of Beauty


servants; you manage the house. My little Rebecca
is, of course, the real mistress, but you do the wor .”
“ Yes,” said Mary, under her breath, “ I do the
wor .”
The sick man did not hear the whispered words.
After a minute he said:
“ The doctor thinks me very bad, does he not? ”
“ He hopes you will be better in the morning, Mr
Henshall.”
Henshall raised himself a little on his pillow. He
flung his hot hand restlessly outside the coverlet. His
eyes were fixed on Mary.
“ Bend forward a little,” he said; “ I want to look
at you.”
Mary pulled her chair a little forward.
“ That won’t do,” said Henshall, in the irritated
voice of the sick. “ Switch on one of the lights.”
“ So much light is bad for you, sir.”
“No, it isn’t. Anyhow, I wish to see your face.
Switch it on.”
Mary did so. The room was now full of light.
The fire in the grate burned merrily.
“ This is a very comfortable room,” said old Henshall.
“ Yes, sir.”
“ So warm,” he continued; “ so well furnished. It
isn’t a very large bedroom, still, it isn’t a small one.
I have slept on this bed for many years. I have dreamt
dreams here, and I have gained strength and refreshing
sleep here. To-night I shall not sleep we .”
“ Oh, yes, you will,” replied Mary, “ after you have
taken your medicine.”
“I shall not sleep we ,” was the answer: “ I shall
dream to-night.”
22


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I hope not, sir.”
“ Mary,” said the old man, “ I can see your face
distinctly now. Tell me exactly what the doctor said.”
“ He said you had a sharp attack, but he hoped to
pull you through.”
“ My God! Then that means that I am in danger.”
“ I hope not, sir-indeed, I hope not.”
“ Mary, I want to tell you something. It is a secret.
You never reveal secrets, do you? ”
“ Never,” said Mary.
She told the lie with firmness. What thing ever
happened in that house that she had not spoken of to
Arnold Deepe?
“ You can’t do much mischief even if you do repeat
my wor ,” said the old man. “ What is the day of
the month, Mary? ”
“ The twenty-ninth of January,” was the reply.
“ I am particularly anxious to live for another
month. I have a special reason.”
“ Have you, sir? Oh, I hope you will live for many
years.”
“ That is as God wills, Mary; but, somehow, I don’t
think He will prolong my life. All the same, I do ask
Him for a month—just one month more. I will speak to
the doctor about this in the morning. It is most
essential—most essential to me that I should see the
greater part of February out.”
“ Why so, sir? ” asked Mary.
“ My good girl, I cannot possibly give you my
reasons. To tell you why I want another month of life
would be to tell you more than your clever little head
is capable of holding. But I shall speak to the doctor
in the morning. No stone must be left unturned to

=3


The Fountain of Beauty
.
.l




give me that extra month. I can afford to see every
great specialist in London. A doctor is worth very
little if he cannot give a man one month of
life.”
“ Don’t dwell on it, Mr Henshall ; you only weaken
yourself by doing so. I am sure and certain that you
will have that month.”
Henshall gave a laugh of pleasure.
“ You think so? ” he said. “ It comforts me to hear
you say it.”
Mary’s eyes sparkled. Then she said, “ Live, sir;
live for many years; that is my wish for you.”
“ You speak beautifully, Mary; and really your
words and your belief comfort me a great deal. Mary,
I am not inclined to sleep. If my own girl were here
I should have a great deal to say to her to-night; but
as she is not I will talk to you.”
“ What you say, sir, excites me.”
Henshall was silent for a minute. Then he said,
“ Have I said anything special? ”
“ Only about your desire to see February out.”
“ Ah, yes—ah, yes,” he said, moving his hands
restlessly as he spoke. “ You don’t forget that that is
a secret. You won’t repeat it—even to my girl? ”
“ To no one, sir; to no one, of course.”
“ You won’t even talk it over with the doctor? I
shall have to tell the doctor, but you must not speak
of it.”
“ If you wish it, sir, I will not.”
“ I do wish it. This is a secret between you and
me and the doctor; but you and the doctor are not to
talk it over.”
“ I quite understand, sir.”
24


The Fountain of -Beauty
“Mary, if it is the will of Providence to spare me
there may be great, very great changes ahead.”
“What sort of changes, sir? ”
“ You will like them,” said old Henshall. “They
will mean a big house instead of a little one; a large staff
of servants instead of two. They will mean fine clothes
for you as well as Rebecca, a carriage for you to drive
in, and horses for you to ride, and a motor-car—oh,
yes, we must have a motor-car. I shall launch out
—yes, I shall launch out. I must do it for the sake of
my girl. You will like these changes, eh, Mary? ”
“ Yes, Mr Henshall, for they will mean that you are
a rich man. Oh, sir, -I do love riches. I wish I had
them myself I hate to be poor.”
“You won’t feel your poverty if you are in my
house~my new grand house. Your salary will be
doubled, and you will have presents; oh, yes, you will
be well ofi.”
“ Sir, are you not exciting yourself very much?
The colour in your cheeks is too high. You ought to
try to be quiet, and to sleep.”
“I am too restless to sleep, and this is as good an
opportunity as any other for telling you what is in my
mind. You are engaged to be married to Arnold
Deepe.”
“ You have been very kind to me about that,
93
“ Against my will I have been kind,” said old
Henshall.
“ Oh, sir! ”
“Because Rebeeca wished it ” continued the old
5
man. “ I gave Rebecca a reason, a strong reason, for
my dislike to your marriage. She begged of me never
sir.
l.
.1
l
25


The Fountain of Beauty
to mention it to you. I did not promise her, but her
wish influenced me, and up to the present I have said
nothing. My dear Mary, it would give me greet
happiness if you broke off this engagemen .”
Mary felt herself trembling. Her light blue eyes
were very bright indeed as she fixed them on the old
City merchant’s flushed and anxious face. In he!.
heart of hearts she echoed the wish he had just ex-

pressed.
“ Sir,” she said, “ if you know anything which I do
not know against the man I have promised to marry
you will be good enough to tell me. It is not fair to
leave an orphan girl in the dar .”
“ An orphan girl! ” repeated Henshall with a
start.
“ Oh, sir, of course you know that. My mother
died at my birth, and my father when I _was a little
kiddy. I don’t. remember either of them.”
“ Poor child, poor child! ”
“ I had a very lonely and sad life, sir, until you
and Rebecca took me up. Since then I have been
happy. I have looked on you almost as though you
were my father, and on dear Rebecca as though she
were my sister.”
“ Very proper indeed,” said old Henshall; “very
correct and proper. How long have you been living
with us now, Mary? ”
“ Five happy years,” she answered. “ I was
twenty when I came to you: I am now twenty-five.
When I first came to this house Rebecca was a child of
fourteen. She is now nineteen.”
“ Is my pretty one as old as that? Somehow I
forgot it. How time does fly.”
_‘ _. _ -.-.-41
26


The Fountain of Beauty
“ Yes, sir. It flies very fast. But what about P001.
Arnold? Why should I not marry him? ”
“ Once,” said Henshall, looking at the girl as
steadily as he could, “ once I had a clerk in my office.
It was some time ago. He was one of the under clerks.
He served me for a year. His name was Amold Deepe.
Has Deepe ever spoken to you of the year he spent with
me? ”
“ No,” said Mary. “ Sir, why did he leave you? ”
“ I will only tell you that circumstances compelled
me to part with him.”
“ Was not Arnold a good clerk, sir? ” ,
“ far as his duties went he was the best clerk I
ever had.”
“ You did not dismiss him, sir, because of an aver-
sion to him, did you? ”
“ That was not the reason. I am sorry that he
never spoke to you himself about it.”
“ He never did, sir.”
“ Mary, when next you see him, tell him that I
have told you, and ask him why he left. He will,
of course, keep the matter no longer a secret from
you.”
Mary bowed her head. Her hands were trembling.
She felt a queer shiver running down her spine.
“ I remember,” she said at last, “ the day Arnold
came here—the first day, I mean, after I had promised
to marry him. It was dear Rebecca who insisted on
his being asked. After dinner you and he stayed for
a considerable time over wine.”
“ Al1!—you noticed that? ” said Henshall.
“ Yes, sir; I noticed that. Perhaps, sir, you were
talking to him about that time.”


27


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I was.”
“ You forgave him then? ”
“ I have not mentioned to you, Mary, that there was
anything to forgive.”
Just then there came a tap at the room door.
Mary went to open it. The parlour-maid, Lucy, stood
without. She had a bottle of medicine on a small
salver in her hand.
“ This has just come from the chemist’s, miss,” she
said.
“ Give it to me,” replied Mary. “ The chemist
should not have been so long making up the medicine.”
“ It has only just come, miss.”
Mary was re-entering the room, holding the bottle
in her hand, when Lucy said:
“ You would perhaps like me to sit up later than
usual to-night, miss? ”
“ It would be very kind of you, Lucy.”
“ Is the master very bad, miss? ”
“ I hope not.”
Mary dropped her voice to a whisper. “ But all the
same,” she added, “ I am anxious. I should be glad if
you sat up.”
“ I will, miss, with the greatest pleasure.”
Lucy tripped downstairs, and Mary returned to the
sick-room with the medicine. She opened the bottle
and poured out a dose.
ing the medicine to Henshall’s side.
“ Now, sir,” she said, “ you must not talk any more.
I am very much obliged to you for what you have told
me.”
“ You will be sure to ask Arnold? ” said the old man.
“ Oh, certainly, sir.”
She brought the glass contain-_
28


The Fountain of Beauty
“ And—and if what he tells you leads you to break
off this engagement you may be quite certain of my
friendliness, and of the friendliness of my Rebecca, in
this matter. You shall have the thousand pounds
and your home will be assured; and, Mary Gray,
there are other men in the world. If I could tell girls
like yourself what I know they would none of them
marry bad men.”
Mary trembled so much at these last words that the
medicine glass nearly fell from her fingers.
“ Please, Mr Henshall,” she said, “ you must not
talk any more. Drink this, and then I will turn ofl
the electric light.”
Henshall drank the medicine. Mary put the room
into semi-darkness and sat on a chair at a little distance.
The medicine was soothing. It contained a slight
opiate, and was of a nature to reduce fever.
Henshall by-and-by fell into a dreamless sleep.
29


CHAPTER II
ARNOLD DEEPE went straight from the Henshalls’
house in Paddock Row into a bustling thoroughfare.
He paused before a restaurant. The restaurant was full
of light, and also full of the sort of people who dine
night after night at such places. Deepe knew this
eating-house well. He entered with the sort of swagger
he always possessed. He marched up to the far end of
the long room, called a waitress who had often served
him before, and asked her to get him a small table
which he could have alone.
She did so after a very little difficulty. He sank
into his seat, ordered a simple dinner with a pint of
stout, and sat back waiting for it. One or two people,
who knew him slightly, nodded to him. He nodded in
reply, his insolence growing more marked each time he
saw a chance acquaintance.
Presently he took up a paper and pretended to
bury himself in its contents. While he did so, however,
he kept one hand in his pocket, and that hand clasped
the letter marked “ Teheran,” and addressed to old
Mr Henshall.
The girl brought him his dinner. He ate in an
abstracted manner, paid his bill and went out. He now
took an omnibus, mounted on the roof, and was borne
in the direction of Islington.
He was put down after half-an—hour’s ride in a
30


The Fountain of Beauty
street, and stopped before a shabby house. He took a
latch-key from his pocket and let himself in.
If the house was shabby in its exterior it was still
more so inside. The hall was long and narrow, ill
furnished, with torn linoleum on the floor, and a very
dull gas jet throwing but a feeble glimmer of light up
the dark staircase. Deepe, however, was accustomed
to these squalid surroundings. He ran upstairs, three


The Fountain of Beauty
-




were so generous as to lend me, and the full interest on
the money. In return I am anxious to secure the
diamond. When we have made our exchange we shall
be quits—that is, in one sense; but I shall never, as
long as I live, forget your kindness and how you helped
a man through a tight corner and set him on his legs.
You must have thought that I was lost during all these
years of silence, but when we meet I shall have a strange
tale to tell you—one which I dare not whisper on this
paper. I can, however, say that I have been in prison
and in peril of my life, and that even now I am a hunted
man. I shall not be safe or able to breathe freely, or
to enjoy the fact thatI am only twenty-nine years of age,
until I hold that diamond in my clasp and give it to the
one who demands it back.
“ Independently of all these things, however, you
may be glad to hear that the money which saved me,
and which you so nobly lent me, has borne excellent
fruit, and I come to England with a considerable
fortune. All I need now, therefore, is to make things
straight with you and to put things straight for myself.
—Yours, with everlasting gratitude,
“ GERARD LoNsDALE.”
Deepe read this letter over once—twice. Then he
got up and, going to his mantelpiece, looked at the
clock. It was still comparatively early; not quite ten.
He felt excited. The contents of the letter stimulated
him. He said to himself that he always suspected a
mystery.
He had served for a year of his life as a clerk in the
office of Robert Henshall, and although he was forced
to resign this employment owing to circumstances
32


The Fountain of Beauty
which Henshall never spoke of, he had made good use
of his opportunities. He was the sort of man whose
observation is so keen that nothing escapes him, and
minute details.
“ Ah,” he said to himself on this occasion, “ I begin
to get a glimmer of Henshall’s strange interest in
Teheran, in Persia, in the Shah.”
Again he looked at the clock.
“ The diamond! ” he murmured. “ That fellow
comes back with a fortune. He wants the diamond;
he is afraid; why? He says he is hunted. He confesses
to having spent some of his time in prison. The
diamond will put him right. Suppose he never gets it?
Suppose I see Mary to-night—yes, to-night! ”
Deepe snatched up his hat, thrust it on his head,
f11rned off the gas and ran downstairs. He was a poor
“ Can I see Miss Gray, and at once? ”
‘I don’t know, sir,” replied the girl. “ Miss
Gray i8 in master’s room, and master is very ill.”
mm‘


° 33


The Fountain of Beauty
“ Very well, sir.”
Mary came down rubbing her eyes as though she
had been half asleep.
“ What do you want with me at this hour, Arnold? ”
she said.
Her voice had an annoyed ring in it. She did not
like her lover to come to the house at so late an hour.
“ Is there a room where I can see you alone? ” he
said.
“ Why, I suppose so, any number; but I can’t stay
with you. The old man is highly feverish and restless.”
“ You need not enlighten him, need you, dear? ”
was the answer. “ I have something of the utmost
importance to communicate to you. That dreadful,
stand-ofi, uppish Miss Rebecca isn’t back yet, is she? ”
“Becky? ” said Mary. “ She won’t be back until
to-morrow morning. She is spending the night at the
Lorrimers.”
“ Ah, good—good. Then you have an opportunity,
Mary, of serving me as man was never served before.”
“ What do you mean? You always talk in riddles.”
“ Perhaps I do,” was the answer; “ but there is a
meaning at the back of them. Ah, I see you have let
the fire out in the dining-room.”
“ Of course,” said Mary. “ My place is upstairs.”
“ I am very cold,” said Deepe, shivering a little as
Mary switched on the electric light. “ Can’t you get
me some whisky-and-water? ”
“ Oh, yes,” was the reply; “ but you must not take
too much. Now, please, your business—quick.”
“ Mary, I did something underhand this afternoon.”
“ Did you, Arnold? ” replied the girl. “ It would
not be for the first time, would it? ”
34
-_-_-.-.v§;. ..- r:


The Fountain of Beauty
“ How well you know mel ” he answered, with a
laugh. “ You say such things, and yet you love
me.”
“ Sometimes I am not quite sure whether I do love
you,” was the reply-a little unexpected, for Arnold
Deepe started when the girl uttered the words. “ But
please understand that always—always, from the very
first, I knew that you were crooked.” Then she gave
a queer laugh. “ You look your name—deep.”
Arnold smiled.
“ Never mind,” he said. “ Perhaps we are both built
in that mould. Perhaps that is why I really attract
you.”
“ Please don’t become psychological now,” she
answered. “ My place is by old Mr Henshall’s bedside.
I have undertaken to nurse him until the morning.
There, you have taken as much whisky-and-water as is
good for you. Go, please, Arnold, go at once.”
“ I have not an idea of going. I have got to tell
you something, and you have to listen. There is a
grand, very grand opportunity before you. Miss
Henshall is away; the old man is very ill in bed; that
maid-servant who opened the door—Lucy, I think you
called her—can manage him just as well as you can.
You have your work cut out for you.”
“ Oh—what do you mean? ” said Mary.
“ I mean something so important that I took a
hansom all the way from Islington to talk to you. I
told you earlier this evening to leave those letters on the
salver. There they are quite right. You asked for a
reason, and I said the reason was our marriage, our little
home, our happy life together. Mary, the reason has
grown stronger, the marriage day has come much

35


The Fountain of Beauty
nearer. . . . Mary, the home won’t be a little home;
it will be large and spacious and well-furnished; and
perhaps it will be my Mary’s turn to wear jewels round
her neck and to look as she can look when she is dressed
to advantage.”
“ Oh! ” said Mary Gray.
There was no doubt that she was intensely excited
now. There was no doubt also that she forgot old
Henshall, who was struggling with fever, weakness and
weariness upstairs.
“ What is it, Arnold? ” she said in a whisper. “ Do
——do be quick.”
“ I did a mean thing to-day, little gir .”
“ Did you? ” she replied. “ That is very likely.”
“ I stole a letter from that tray.”
“ Arnold! ”
“ Yes; here it is; I have brought it back again.
You may read it if you like.”
“ I! ” she said, backing a step or two. “ No, no—I
won’t. It is a foreign letter. What possible interest
can you take in it? Oh, please put it back; why did
you open it? He would turn me from the house; he
would never speak to either of us again if he knew that
you had done this thing.”
“ He won’t know, Mary, you needn’t be frightened;
but you may as well read the letter.”
“ No——no,” she said. “ No-no.”
“ Well, just as you please. Have you got any gum
in the house? I must refasten it.”
“ There is gum in the study,” she answered.
“ Go and fetch it, will you? ”
She obeyed. She brought it back with her. Deepe
cleverly put enough on the thin flap of the envelope to
36


The Fountain of Beauty
make it adhere. He then laid the letter back on the
tray.
“ I always knew,” he said, “ that Henshall had a
peculiar interest in Teheran, and in Persia. When I
saw a letter addressed to him from that place my
curiosity was aroused, and I thought I would acquaint
myself with its contents. The contents give away
part of a secret. It is suificient for you to know,
Mary, that seven years ago Robert Henshall was in
Teheran, and there he helped a young man, whose
nationality, I expect, is English, out of a tight corner.
In short, he lent him five hundred pounds. Being a
man of business, he required some security, and the
young man, by name Gerard Lonsdale, gave him a
diamond which evidently is of very great value. Lons-
dale is returning on the twentieth of February, in order
to pay back his money with interest and reclaim the
diamond. Now, my dear Mary, don’t stare at me with
those lack-lustre eyes; I am putting two and two
together. There are many rich people in Teheran, but
no one so rich as the Shah. His diamonds are pro-
verbial all over the world for their magnificence How
did this young man get the diamond? Why is it of
great value? He describes vaguely that he has sufiered
much since he parted with the gem; in short, he has
been imprisoned, and hunted, and his life is worth very
little to him until he restores to someone, Mary—to
someone—what now is in Robert Henshall’s possession.
This y011ng man comes back, however, rich. Notwith-
standing the fact that he was in prison he has also had
time to secure wealth to himself, and returns to England
with a considerable fortune. You understand, don’t
you? ”


37


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I understand that you have read a letter which
you had no right to read, and are meddling in matters
which don’t concern you,” was Mary Gray’s reply.
“ Don’t concern me, girl! But they do concern me
—they concern us both. Can’t you see for yourself
that if I—I get possession of that diamond I hold that
young man, Gerard Lonsdale, in the hollow of my hand,
to do what I like with him? Don’t you perceive that
his fortune is not his own, but mine; that I can make
any terms with him I like? Are you not clever enough
to read my motive aright? ”
“I am—I am,” she said. “ It is horrible! You
want to—to steal the diamond from Mr Henshall! ”
“ No, dear,” he answered, laying his hand on her
shoulder, “by no means; but I want you to steal it.
You have your opportunity. I want you to get it
to—nigh .”
Mary gave a harsh laugh.
“ I cannot_possibly do so,” was the reply. “ I have
not the most remote idea where he keeps his treasures.
If he has the valuable diamond you have just spoken
- of in his possession he has most likely put it into the
bank.”
“ He has done nothing of the kind, my good girl.
Men of the Henshall type never, never give up what
they value most to put that possession into a really safe
place. The diamond—in all probability stolen from
the Shah’s palace—is in this house, and you have got to
find it—and to-night. Do you hear? ”
“ Nonsense, Arnold.”
“ It is not nonsense. I have told you what I wish.
You may struggle for a little, but you won’t struggle
long. My dear Mary Gray, do you know why I am
38


The Fountain of Beauty
fond of you? ” As Deepe spoke he stretched out his
thin, bony hand and drew the girl towards him.
“ Because,” he said, raising her chin and looking into
her eyes, “ you are bad like myself; you have no prin-
ciple, you have no honour. We fit—we two—our
chance has come. Don’t throw it away.”
As Deepe said the last words he released Mary,
pushing her from him with a little violence, and, going
into the hall on tiptoe, opened the door softly and let
himself out.
After he had left her Mary stood for a few minutes,
her hands locked together, her head bowed. Then she
went upstairs. She entered the sick-room very softly.
Lucy, who was at once parlour-maid and Rebecca’s
special servant, came gently to meet her.
“ The master seems very restless,” Miss Gray.
“ That is to be expected, Lucy. Now go to bed;
I shall not want you before morning.”
“ You _are sure you would not like me to stay with
you, miss? ”
“By no means. Go at once, don’t whisper; that
is very disturbing to an invali .”
Lucy left the room on tiptoe, and Mary, after
putting a few lumps of coal on the fire, which she did
softly and noiselessly, with gloved hands, took a seat
not far from the bedside. She was trembling a great
deal, and was glad to find herself in the darkened room.
By—and-by the warmth and stillness soothed her, and
her heart beat less violently.
“ I must break with Arnold,” she said to herself.
“ He is mistaken about me. He is a terrible man—I
did not know how terrible until M.r Henshall spoke of
him. And now that talk has been followed by his


39


The Fountain of Beauty
“When I marry him, sir, I must know all his
“ You are not married yet, Mary, and I have already
told you what I think of this match.”
“ Yes, Mr Henshall, you have. But your words are
useless, sir, for I cannot give Arnold up.”
“ Then you love him? ”
“ Not exactly; but I cannot break with him.”
years ago? ”
“ Yes,” replied Mary, “ I have promised you, Mr
Henshall.”
“ You will keep your word? ”
“ I—if I can,” was the reply.
“ I beg of you to keep it,” said old Henshall. “ Your
fear of the man—for I know that you are afraid of him
—ought to warn you against the danger of becoming his
Wife. Once you are his wife I can assure you that you
mind I endured whenul sat at the head of my own table


The Fountain of Beauty
and saw that man seated opposite to you, and knew
that you were engaged to him.”
“Nevertheless,” said Mary, “ you—you forgave
him, sir.”
“ On a condition, I did forgive him. I discovered
to-night that he has never kept that condition.”
“ Oh!” said Mary with a start, “ what was the
condition, Mr Henshall? ”
“ He faithfully promised that he would tell you
everything that had occurred. He took a vow in my
presence that he would do so. He showed considerable
emotion. I saw the tears rise to his eyes. I was
touched; I knew that it was possible even for a bad
man to repent. I thought that he had repented and
that you, little Mary, had saved him. Who was I to be
cruel and unforgiving? I told him that if he kept his
word and spoke the simple truth to you, if he told you
exactly what occurred on that momentous occasion, I
would withdraw my objection to the engagement and
would allow him to visit you here. He gave me his
faithful promise. A month afterwards I met him, and
I asked him if he had kept his word. He assured me
that he had. I was fool enough to believe him. I
believed him to the extent of putting myself out of my
way to give him a recommendation. He owes his
present small berth to me. I find now that the man
could vow, and break his vow. He never told you? ”
“ He never did,” said Mary. “ It—it was dreadful
of him.”
“ Get him to tell you, my dear. Don’t delay.
Have the knowledge from him while I am still alive.
Will you do this, Mary? ”
“ I will,” she answered. She suddenly flung herself
42


The Fountain of Beauty
_~
on her knees by the bedside. She was powerfully
affected by Hensha1l’s words, and she felt just then that
she hated Deepe; she could not marry such a man;
she would not marry him unless he told her everything.
Henshall himself was weary with headache, fever
and pain in every limb. He lay silent. Mary watched
him. He was not asleep, for whenever she stirred he
opened his eyes. Once, towards morning, he opened
them wide and looked at her.
“ I have had a dream,” he said. “ I told you, did
I not, that I should dream to-night? I have had my
dream, and I know what is before me. I am lying on
my deathbed.”
Mary shook her head.
“ You needn’t contradict me,” said Henshall,
“for I know. A man generally has a premonition
when the end has really come. I have my premonition.”
“ But, sir, you spoke with intense earnestness about
living for a month longer.”
Henshall’s eyes grew bright.
“ Yes—yes,” he said; “ and I want my month—I
do want my month. But it may not be given to
me.”
“ Then, sir, you will be sorry to die? ”
“ Not really, Mary Gray. Death has no real fears
for me. I am not what is called a religious man;
nevertheless, I believe in religion. I believe in the
future life, and I believe in the goodness of God. It
is natural to be a bit afraid of the old traditions of
Childhood: the memory of them comes over a man as
he lies here. There is the Great White Throne, and the
Books that are opened, and there is the final Judgment,
and the anger of the God who made us, if we have not lived

43


The Fountain of Beauty
humbly with Him and tried to do our duty; and there
are the sorrows of the Redeemer, who gave His life for
us. I mention these things because it never was my
habit to tell lies; still less, therefore, could I tell them
now. I am dying, and I am afraid of none of these
things. I trust in the mercy of my God. I can even
bear to leave my precious child alone in the world.
I should like very much to stay on earth for another
month, but if it cannot be, it cannot; the Lord will
provide.”
“ Oh, sir,” said Mary, “ you do excite yourself.
You must sleep.”
“ Sleep? ” said old Henshall. “ I shall not sleep
any more to-night. And why should I sleep? ” he
added. “ Sleep is close at hand—days, weeks, months,
years of sleep. Why should I not stay awake while I
can? I shall sleep myself into dust all too soon—all—
too—soon. Mary, my dear, I like you for some things,
but I do not like you for everything. I have always
noticed a certain want in you, and I am not afraid to
speak of it now. You are not as straight as you might
be.”
“ Sir! ” said Mary. Her voice shook.
“ I repeat my words, child; you are not as straight
as you might be. You do little things that are not
strictly honourable. I have watched you, and I know.
The things you do, Mary, Becky could never do.”
44;


CHAPTER III
TOwARDS morning the sick man fell into an uneasy doze.
He lay on his back, breathing heavily. His hands were
stretched outside the bedclothes; his face was deeply
flushed from the fever which was consuming him. He
moved, and groaned, and spoke once or twice in his
restless sleep. Mary felt her heart beating very fast
as his unconscious words fell on her ears. Once he said
aloud:
“ Gerard Lonsdale, I have it safe. You ask me if it
is valuable. Yes, it’s price is beyond rubies; but I have
it safe.”
Then he turned abruptly on his side away from
Mary, who had sunk, trembling now exceedingly, on
a chair by the bedside. She had made a discovery.
She had found out where Robert Henshall kept the
diamond. It must, indeed, be of untold value when
he wore it round his neck all night long, Mary had been
thinking. Two thousand pounds was worth a great
deal. It was—to use a well-known proverb—a bird in
the hand, a plump, fat, substantial sort of bird; and
the possession of the diamond and her possible marriage
with Arnold were—to follow the same metaphor-
closely resembling the two birds in the bush. One was
safe and certain and comfortable, the other was vague,




45


The Fountain of Beauty
.__ . _ _-__ - -_   - _-.1 —'—* -~
dangerous, uncertain, and probably, when all was said
and done, the reverse of comfortable. Of course the
two birds in the bush might mean untold wealth;
while two thousand pounds, Mary knew well, would at
the best only mean a shelter from the storm, starvation,
or little better, cleared away from her path.
Nevertheless, all night long she thought a great deal
of the two thousand pounds and the promise she must
make were she to secure that sum of money. She knew
Robert Henshall too well to doubt for a moment that
he would not present her with the money without
hedging her in with conditions which would make it
impossible for her to marry Arnold Deepe. In short,
she could not promise the dying man to give her lover
up and afterwards marry him. Arnold was a danger-
ous man to oflend, and it was more than likely that
Mary would offend him mortally if she did not help him
now in his quest. He knew some things about her, too,
which might make matters very unpleasant for her,
though these were nothing, of course, to the things
which she knew about him. But she was not the sort
of woman to injure the man she loved.
By degrees Henshall’s sleep became calm. This was
the opportunity which Mary had been waiting for.
Once, some time ago, she had noticed, sticking up above
his collar, a narrow piece of black ribbon. She had
observed it aloud, and the old man had started, coloured,
and pushed it hastily out of sight. In reply to her
curious gaze, for she happened to be alone with him at
that time, he had said to her, “ Do you believe in talis-
mans? ” Mary had laughed. “ No,” she said; “ I
am not so silly.” “ Well, I do,” he answered; “ I wear
a talisman always next my heart—a thing of not the
46


The Fountain of Beauty


slightest consequence to you or to anyone but myself.
Hence this bit of black ribbon. Don’t notice it again,
please.”
Now Mary, ever since Deepe’s visit, had been think-
ing about the black ribbon, and the idea had darted
quickly through her active brain that a talisman might
mean a diamond, and that if the old man really meant to
guard it he would wear it day and night about his
person.
Mary felt for the ribbon. It was there. Beyond
doubt she had discovered the hiding-place of the
diamond.
nothing whatever about her discovery.
When Deepe appeared he looked eager; he had the
appearance of a man who had passed a restless night.
“ Well? ” he said, when he saw Mary.
“ There is no ‘well,’ ” she answered. “ I have
nothing to tell you.”
“ Then you did nothing? ”
He had gone with her into the study, where the fire
YES now lighted, and the room was warm and comfort-
a e.
“ I told you I could do nothing,” she replied, shut-
ting the door. “ My place is by Mr Henshal1’s sick-bed.
He is very, very ill. I am most anxious for the doctor
to see him. His temperature is higher than ever this
mornjngisa


~m
47


The Fountain of Beauty


“ Then he will die,” said the man. “ My God! We
must get that diamond first.”
“ I have something to ask you, Arnol ,” said Mary,
“ and I had better ask it now than put off my question
until to-nigh .”
“ I have no time to spare,” was Arnold’s response.
“ I am due at the Beverley office by nine o’clock.”
“ It isn’t eight yet,” replied the girl. “ You have
plenty of time. Amold, you have asked me to marry
you.”
“ I have,” he answered, drawing himself up and
looking at her fixedly.
“ You have professed to love me? ”
“ I have told you the truth,” he replied.
“ You have not told me:the truth. You do not love
7!
me.
A very ugly expression crossed his face.
“ What has come over you, Mary? ” he said.
“ What strange things have been happening to you?
You have never, never spoken to me in that tone
before.”
“ I have not, because I have never been so hurt, so
ofiended as I am now.”
Deepe stretched out one of his large hands and drew
the girl towards him.
“ Don’t go on like this,” he said. “ It is you who
hurt a man: your words sting. They go down into my
heart and wound me dreadfully. You talk not like the
wise girl I have always supposed you to be, but as one
would speak who is silly, hysterical, sentimental. I
could not endure such a wife. I want a girl with a
practical turn of mind, not too squeamish, not too high-
principled. I have found this treasure in you.”
48


The Fountain of Beauty
_~
She shrank away from him. His words were meant
to be consolatory, but she knew that the fire of intense
anger burned beneath. She had to call her courage to
her aid. She would know everything, and at once. If
she broke with this man she would have two thousand
pounds of her own. What could she not do with so
magnificent a sum? Why should she give herself to
him and become wicked? Ah, yes; she knew she must
be wicked if she became his wife. Why should she do
this thing? Two thousand pounds, and a straight and
honourable life: Arnold Deepe, who could ofler her no
provision, and—the paths of the wicked.
“ I will speak,” she thought. “ God in heaven
keep me from being frightened! ”
“ Time is passing,” said Arnold. He took out his
silver watch. “I must leave here in a few minutes.
I will come back again to-night. You can tell me then
what you want to say.”
“You shan’t go until I have asked my question,”
was her reply. “ Arnold, why did you never tell me
that once you were Mr Henshall’s clerk? ”
The man started. He dropped the hand which he
had laid on the girl’s shoulder and stepped back.
“ Has he been telling tales out of school? ” was his
response.
“ He did not say much; but he hinted at something
which will alter both our lives.”
Deepe took a handkerchief from his pocket and
Wiped his brow.
“ Go on,” he said. “ Tell me at once what Henshall
did say.”
“ He told me that you were his clerk for a year-——
that you left him, or rather, that he dismissed you at

D 49


The Fountain of Beauty
the end of that time. He gave me to understand that
there was a very strong reason why it was necesssary
for him to take this course. He went on to tell me some-
thing else.”
“ First, please,” said Deepe, “ answer my question.
Did he tell you, Mary, why he dismissed me? ”
“ No ; he said that I had better get that information
straight from you.”
Deepe again wiped his brow. He gave a sigh of
relief.
“ I am not going to let you ofi, Arnold,” said Mary;
“ and I have more to say. Last night, after you had
gone, Mr Henshall spoke to me again. He told me
what occurred after dinner on that night when you
first dined in this house. He allowed you to dine very
much against his will, because Rebecca wished it.
After dinner he had a serious talk with you. He
forgave you, and said he would help you—on a condi-
tion. It was this: that you should tell me everything;
that we should not begin our lives together with secrets
between us. You promised him. You swore that you
would tell me all. A month afterwards he asked you if
you had done so, and you replied that you had. He
found out from me last night that you had told a lie,
and that your oath was as nothing in your eyes. He
begged me most earnestly to get the truth from you now.
I promised him that I would. Tell me the truth,
please, Arnold. You can say it in a few words.”
Arnold Deepe was silent. He crossed his arms on
his breast. In this position he looked down at the girl.
“ Suppose I don’t tell you? ” he said.
“ Ah,” she replied, “ then I break off my engage-
men .”
50


“ I will not marry you, Arnold, unless I know.”
“ You funk the thing, Mary? I did not imagine
that you would have so little spirit.”
“ I won’t marry you until you tell me, Arnold; and,
what is more, if you refuse now to enlighten me I have
nothing further to do with you. You must tell me, and
you must tell me now, or our engagement comes to an
end.” -
“ Do you mean this? ”
“ Emphatically I do.”
“I never saw you with such determination in your
eyes. Butlisten. Suppose I do tell you, and suppose
“ That is speaking nonsense, Arnold. You cannot
get to Robert Henshall’s room to tell him anything at
present.”


51


The Fountain of Beauty
if you give me up I shall indeed go to the bad. I am
not squeamish, nor over particular, but with you I
could lead a fairly straight life.
Without you the
devil would have me for his own.”
“ Tell me,” said Mary.
“ You must know? ”
“ Yes, I will know.”
“ Promise that you won
tell you.”
“I Wfll make that promise, if I can, afterwards,
Arnold.”
’t give me up whatever I
He looked at her intently.
“ You won’t give me up,” he said then. “ I see it
in your eyes. Well, this is my confession. I wanted
fifty pounds. I forged Robert Henshall’s signature.
I got at his bank-
book one day when he happened to be
absent. I filled in a cheque for fifty pounds and
attached the forge ' ' It was an excellent
. have required the
difference between
I cashed the cheque and
I had a sort of hope that
ky dog who isn’t found out. There
_


The Fountain of Beauty
five years.’ Of course, when I knew the game was up,
I made a full and humble confession. Hc told me to
leave his business premises there and then, and never to
let him see me again. My God! I had a hard fight,
but I just managed to keep my head above water, and
now and then I had a windfall. Just before I met you
an old aunt died. She left me five hundred pounds.
The money seemed to me an inexhaustible fortune. I
once more considered myself a gentleman. I got my
tailor to fit me out with many suits of clothes. I took
good and respectable lodgings, and I looked up some
old friends. It was at one of these houses that I met
you. The moment I looked in your face I saw that you
and I were kindred spirits. I also perceived that in
many ways you were cleverer than me. I felt sure that
we could lead a life of splendid crime between us.
When I discovered that you were Miss Henshall’s
companion, my hatred of Henshall made me more
determined than ever to secure you. I loved you, and
I thought that you loved me. We became engaged.
Henshall was good to me afterwards and got me the
post I now hold; but he insisted on my telling you
about the forgery. I promised, to satisfy him. I meant
to keep my word—I did, really; but when I was with
you I found I could not tell the ugly tale. It was easier
to lie to him than to shock you. What is the matter,
my dear? ”
“ If you thought me so bad, Arnold, why did you
suppose that the story would shock me? ”
“ Then it hasn’t—it hasn’t!_” he cried in a tone of
rapture. “ Oh, my little Mary, you are the last person
on earth to forsake a man when he is down. My dear
little Mary, how I love you! ”
54


The Fountain of Beauty
He kissed her again and again, and she submitted
to his kisses.
“ We will never give each other up,” he said,
whispering the words in her ear.
“ Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know,” she replied.
“ I cannot answer you now. Yes, come back this
evening; I must leave you, and you must get to your
oflice. I have no more time to attend to you
now.”
At that moment the front-door bell rang, and
Rebecca’s gay, happy young voice was heard in the
hall.
“There’s Rebecca!” said Mary. “ I must go to
her; I must tell her—please leave me, Arnold.”
“ I will stay in this room for a bit and then let
myself out. You disappoint me very much,” said the
man, who felt in a very bad humour.
Mary looked at him with growing dissatisfaction.
Should she close with Robert Henshall’s offer—get rid
of Arnold Deepe for ever and face the world with two
thousand pounds? All her inclinations at that moment
pointed to the path of righteousness. The old man was
right. She was not quite straight; but if she gave .
Arnold up, and received that welcome legacy, she could
be straight in the future; she could be good; she could
lead an honourable life. She knew she had plenty of
talent. She might make money with a little fortune
left to her. Oh! anything was better than Arnold!
His manner, his ways were unendurable!
“ Mary, Mary! ” called Rebecca’s voice.
Mary ran into the hall. The tall, pale girl who had
looked so beautiful in her ball dress on the previous
evening looked even morezstriking now in the neat

55


The Fountain of Beauty

costume which she was wearing. It was tailor made,
and showed ofi“ her fine figure to perfection.
“ Mary, where’s dad? Do you know, I have had a
most uncomfortable night; I could not get him out of
my head. I fancied somehow that he was ill—of course
it was only my imagination. But what is the matter
with you? You look ghastly white. Am I in time to
see father before he goes to the City? ”
“In plenty of time, dear. I am sorry to tell you,
Rebecca, that your father is ill. He has got influenza,
and is very feverish. He came in rather bad last night,
but would not allow you to be told. I have been
nursing him all night, and I grieve to say I don’t think
he is at all better this morning; but the doctor will
be here presently. Why—what is it, Rebecca? What
is it? ”
Rebecca came quickly forward. She took the pins
from her hat and flung it on the table in the hall. She
unfastened her jacket. Then she took Mary’s two hands
and stared her in the face.
“ You let me go out—me—and spend the night,
the whole night, amusing myself when my father
was ill! ”
“ It was his wish,” said Mary. “ I only did what he
desired.”
“Bah! ” said Rebecca. “ I hate women like you,
Mary Gray.”
She dropped Mary’s hands and ran upstairs.
A moment later she had softly entered her father’s
bedroom. The room was hot-too hot for comfort.
It was untidy, too; for Mary had been thinking more
of herself than of her patient during the night.
The moment Rebecca entered the room it was ex-
56


The Fountain of Beauty
actly as though the spirit of order, of youth, of courage
had come in. Every scrap of emotion which she had
exhibited when she had given Mary Gray a spice of
her mind had left her fine face. She stepped softly
and went up to her father’s side.
“ I am back, dad,” she said.
He looked up at her, all the love of his heart shining
in his eyes.
“ My own darling little girl! ” he said.
“What a bad, naughty dad you are! ” she con-
tinued. “ You let me go away when you were ill.
But I am back now. I mean to nurse you day and
night.”
“ You must not, my pretty,” was the answer;
“ you would fag yourself to death.”
“ I fag myself? ” was the girl’s answer. “ I tell you
what it is, daddy; I’ve got the strength of ten where
you are concerned. Now, you are going to be made
really comfy, and ”—she paused—“ we won’t have
Mary Gray in the room.”
“ Eh, eh, what? ” said the old man. “ But she
meant well; she sat up with me all night.”
“ She kept me from you,” said Rebecca; “ but we
needn’t talk of her any more. Please understand that
I am your nurse. I am just going away for a minute to
put on another dress, then I shall be with you. I have
lots of pleasant things to tell you, and when you are too
tired I will just sit by your side and keep silent. Now
then—no more of Mary Gray, and a great deal of
Rebecca Henshall.”
As Rebecca spoke she left the room, went to her
awn room, changed her dress quickly, and entered her
'ather’s just as Dr Harris appeared.



57


The Fountain of Beauty
the parlourmaid, to beg of Miss Gray to give him a
short interview. He was waiting in the dining-room.
Mary wondered what was the matter.
“ How is the patient, doctor? ” she said at once.
“He is very ill,” was the answer. “ Miss Gray, I
have a message to give you. I can quite understand
that it will hurt your feelings, but I have promised to
do what I am asked. It is the wish of my patient, and
also of Miss Henshall, that for the present you should
confine yourself to your house duties. A trained nurse
will be here in the course of an hour, and she and Miss
Henshall will nurse the sick man.”
“ You mean to tell me,” said Mary, turning very
white and with a feeling of sickness creeping over her,
“ that I am not to go to Mr Henshall? ”
“ That is what Miss Henshall wishes.”
Mary folded her hands so tightly that the nails
almost penetrated into the flesh.
“ Miss Henshall—Rebecca-wishes it? ”
“ Yes, she wishes it, and so does her father.”
“ But why—why, doctor? ”
“ I cannot tell you why.”
“ I was with him last night,” continued the girl;
“ all night long I stayed up with him. I was tired.
I could have enjoyed rest like any other woman. Why
am I turned away now, just as though I had done
something wrong? ”
“ I can only give you the message,” said Dr Harris.
“ I am sorry if it hurts you. I have known Miss
Henshall almost from her birth, and I do not think she
would do anything unkind or unreasonable. It is
possible that you may have unduly excited my poor
patient. Anyhow, I tell you what I am told to tell you,


59


The Fountain of Beauty


and I further enforce the message which I had to deliver
to you. I forbid you under any circumstances to enter
the sick-room.”
“ And you think I will obey? ” said Mary, her light
eyes flashing and her face whiter than ever.
“ You must obey. In a case like this it would be
the height of madness to cause a scene. You are not
to go to the sick-room. You must have recognised
before now that Miss Rebecca is a girl who will be
obeyed.”
“ Yes, I have noticed that,” was the reply. “ She
turns me out—she turns me out, and I—I loved him! ”
“ You will prove your love in the best possible way
by obeying orders,” said the doctor. “ I shall be back
again presently. Remember, if you disobey you leave
the house. Good-morning.”
How often had Mary Gray during the last few hours
found herself alone in the dining-room or study! She
went slowly, very slowly back to the room where she
and Arnold had had their exciting interview. The man
was still there. He had not been idle during this time;
he had employed himself prowling round the room,
examining locked drawers, pacing up and down, think-
ing with all his might and main. Mary had forced him
to tell a truth which he hoped might never be known.
He had never respected her more than he did at this
moment; he had never wanted her more badly. He
would not lose such a woman for anything else that
could be offered to him.
Mary had opened the door very softly. At first he
did not see her. She came forward a few steps, her feet
making no sound on the thick pile of the carpet. Then
he turned and looked at her.
6o


The Fountain of Beauty
“ What—what is wrong? ” he said.
She gave a short laugh.
“ Arnold ”—she went up to him and laid her hand
on his arm—“ Arnold, I forgive you about the forgery.
I will not break off our engagement; and, Arnold, I
will help you to get the diamond, for I know where
it is.”


6:


_ -..__ _ _-l_.__. l - .

CHAPTER IV
SOME of the most active, some of the busiest of men
make up their minds very quickly when death stares
them in the face. Resolute, uncomplaining, steadfast,
courageous all their days, they do not lose their courage
in face of the grim foe. On the contrary, they fold
their arms calmly and, without a particle of fear, or
even regret, meet the inevitable.
On the very first night after Robert Henshall’s
illness he had made up his mind that he must die.
There came a few days of swift and terrible pain; there
came clouded hours when he could only speak the
random words of delirium, and then there followed a
great peace and the assurance that the River of Death
was full in sight, and that all worldly affairs, as far as he,
Robert Henshall, was concerned, were at an end. He
must leave his prosperous, commercial life; he must say
good-bye to that fortune which he had piled up honestly
—most honestly—but with such pains, such years of
toil. Even the diamond which lay in its little case
over his heart, and which was, he felt, very nearly his
own possession (for he knew nothing of the letter
waiting for him downstairs) must never realise for him
the enormous sum which he felt he could get for it.
But none of these things really mattered. Death is
.-.._l
62


she not the very soul of him? It was true that he would
much of money then. He would leave his darling with-
out himself. He must go away, and she must stay
behind. Nothing greatly mattered except this. He


The Fountain of Beauty



5.
i
but his private letters were there for him to read when
he was well, or for her to do what she willed with.
There came a day after the old man had been ill
nearly a fortnight which denoted a serious change.
Mr Henshall himself spoke to the doctor. All the
delirium had left him; the fever had gone. He was
suffering from weakness, however, of so extreme a
type that his heart might stop at any moment.
“ How long do you give me? ” said Henshall,
speaking to the medical man.
“ Perhaps until morning,” was the reply.
“ Thank you,” said Henshall.
Rebecca was in the room. Her father turned his
dying eyes and fixed them with a wistful longing on her
face. She replied with a steady glance, full of love and
courage.
The doctor went upstairs. Mary, who had to all
appearance got over her disappointment, met him as
usual in the hall.
“ What news of the dear patient, doctor? ”
“ I grieve to tell you, Miss Gray, that my poor friend
is dying. If he sees the morning it is about as much as
he will do. I shall look in again before midnight.
No, Miss Gray, nothing will save him. His heart is
past recovery, and there are serious symptoms of blood
poisoning, caused by the sharp attack of pneumonia
which he has just lived throug .”
“ Then there is no hope? ” said Mary.
“ None; but he is a good, brave man, not afraid to
meet his Maker; and what a splendid girl Miss Henshall
rs.”
Mary was not in the mood to hear Rebecca praised.
When the doctor had gone she moved, cat-like, about


64


The Fountain of Beauty
the house. Her feelings during the last fortnight had
been indescribable. They were perhaps all the more
bitter because she was forced to keep them to herself.
After a few minutes, however, she put on her hat
and jacket and went softly out. She sent a telegram
to Arnold Deepe. The words of the telegram were
these:
“ Henshall not expected to live until morning.
Have you anything you want me to do? ”
Deepe received this telegram on his return to his
comfortless lodgings. By this time he had Mary
completely in his power. She had given up all idea of
securing the two thousand pounds and giving her lover
up. By so doing she-would work with Rebecca, not
against her. She hated Rebecca now so fervently
that her sole desire was to injure her.
Deepe arrived at the house in Paddock Row between
- eight and nine o’clock. Mary herself opened the door
to him.
“I was waiting in the hall,” she said. “ I heard -
your step. Come in softly; there is a fire in the dining-
room.” Deepe obeyed. “ Here is something hot for
you to drink,” said the girl, “ and I have saved you a
plate of meat and vegetables.”
“ That’s right,” he said, beginning to eat and drink
eagerly. _
Mary did not speak at all until he had finished.
When Deepe had drained his glass to the last drop he
sank into a chair by the fire, spread out his long limbs
to the warmth and looked up at the girl.
“ So he’s about to shuffle? ”


The Fountain of Beauty



“ Yes.”
“ You know where the diamond is? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Why won’t you tell me, Mary mine? ”
“ There is no use; it is better for one to hold a secret
than two.”
Deepe looked round the room.
“ What about the old man’s letters during his
illness? What about that letter from Teheran? ”
“ Rebecca gave directions about the post the day
after her return,” said Mary; “ and the letters, by
her directions, are taken straight to her; she locks
them up.”
“ She is a tigress,” said Deepe. “ But we’ll be even
with her yet.”
Mary laughed.
“ I want to be,” she said.
“ She will read that letter from Teheran,” continued
Deepe, “ after the old man has gone.”
“ What else do you expect? ” said Mary. “ Of
course she will read it.”
‘iShe will be prepared,” said Deepe.
“ Yes,” answered Mary.
“ Look here, Mary. You say you know where the
diamond is? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Can you secure it to-night? ”
“ Impossible.”
“ But it is safe? ”
“ It is safe.”
“ Mary, do you think by any chance that old
Henshall will tell his daughter about the diamond and
this man, Gerard Lonsdale, before he dies? ”


66


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I can’t say,” answered Mary. Then she added,
dropping on her knees and laying her hand on her
lover’s arm, “ To tell you the truth, that is why I sent
for you. I think it more than probable that the old
man will tell Rebecca all about the diamond and its
history; in fact I am almost certain he wil .”
“ Oh, that we could hear! ” said Arnold Deepe.
“ I have an idea,” said Mary. “ It is highly
dangerous, but there is a possibility of its succeeding.”
“ You are a clever little thing, my Mary,” said
Deepe. “ Now, out with your thought; what is it? ”
“ I want to be present,” said Mary, “ when Rebecca
is informed by her father of the true history of the
diamon .”
Deepe clapped Mary on the shoulder.
“ You are plucky! ” he said. “ You are the
woman of all women for me. But how can you manage
this? ”
“ The nurse is nearly dead with fatigue. I could
put on her cap and apron and slip into the room in the
dar .”
“ No, that won’t do,” said Deepe; “ it is too
dangerous. Besides, I have seen the nurse, and she is
taller than you; I know it won’t do.”
“ There is a cupboard in the room in which I could
hide, but the diificulty is how to get to it. Rebecca and
Nurse Prescott never leave Mr Henshall alone for an
nstant.”
Deepe covered his face with his hand. He was
hinking hard.
“If I could hide in that cupboard,” said Mary,
I should know everything.”
“ The knowledge would be invaluable,” said Deepe.

67


,_ _ ;. 1-_< . .',-..-
-_
.-__. .__._-_.._. ......._. _!
-:,..._;..-...._...- _.: ..
it
The Fountain of Beauty
“ But how am I to get into the cupboard? ” con-
tinued the girl.
“ That’s the puzzle,” said Deepe. “ Now, do let
me think. I’ve gone through so many tight places that
I cannot see why I should not get you into that cupboard
without anybody knowing. Once there, however, you
must- stay the whole night long.”
“ As if I minded that. But how am I to get
there? ”
“ That’s the question,” said Arnold. “ It would be
very awkward, too, if you were discovered.”
“ I shan’t be. Why should they go to the cup-
board to-night? The old man keeps most of his
wardrobe there, but there is only one garment he will
need in the future—his winding-sheet.”
“ Come, come,” said Deepe, “ don’t be too morbid.
Now, give me a few minutes to think.”
Mary sat down quietly by the fire. She had a
woman’s quick intuition and was not in the least
scrupulous. Nevertheless, how to get into that cup-
board, how to act as eavesdropper on the momentous
occasion which was so likely to occur, baffled even her
wits. Deepe suddenly raised his head.
“Who sleeps in the room at the other side of the
old man? ”
“ No one,” said Mary at once. “ There is just a
landing and a window.”
“ The back of the cupboard,” said Deepe, “ must be
flush with the wall of the landing.”
“ I suppose so; I have never thought about it.”
“ Can we not get to the cupboard from the landing? ”
was the next remark.
“ How would that be possible? Every sound would
.-. -L-I '—- _ ;,_-_-gar‘ -- -._-


68


The Fountain of Beauty
be heard. We should have to remove the paper and
probably open the wall.”
“Leave it to me,” said Deepe. “ The old man
won’t tell what he has to tell until the morning. I know
the ways of the dying. You go to your bed as usual.
Let the whole house disperse to rest, but let me stay
here. Keep your clock going. At three in the morning
come out and meet me on the landing. I believe I shall
have managed a way to get you into the cupboard.
When within, however, can you push back the lock? ”
“Yes, easily. It is a very poor lock andonly
requires judicious pressure to open when I apply it.
The cupboard is always kept just on the hasp. I can
open it an inch.” '
“Well, I believe we shall succeed; but I won’t
reveal my plans. Come out of your room at three.
If I fail, I fail; but I don’t think it likely that I
shall.”




CHAPTER V
THERE was a great ‘hush over the house in Paddock
Row. In the midst of that hush might have been seen
a man stealing softly in stockinged feet upstairs. The
man carried in his hand a small dark lantern. He
paused just outside the sick man’s room. If he were
seen, if for any reason the nurse or Rebecca came out,
all would be lost.
But he had the daring which belongs to great
criminals. He very soon discovered the exact spot
which must be the back of the cupboard. To his relief
he found that his task was less difficult than he had
feared. Mary had spoken of the trouble of removing
the paper, but there was no paper to remove. The wall
was wainscoted. Deepe silently, and with knowledge
which he had gained, no matter how, managed to loosen
a panel. Having done this he found nothing between
him and the cupboard but a thick sheet of canvas.
He slit that open noiselessly, pushed the panel gently
in its place, put out the lantern, and waited for Mary t0
appear.
There was a church near by. The church owned a
clock. The clock struck three times, and, true to her
promise, Mary Gray appeared, the moonlight falling
over her.
Her teeth were chattering. She was very cold and
70


The Fountain of Beauty
very frightened. Without giving her time to speak
or make the most remote sound, Deepe removed the
panel, showed her the slit in the paper, and, in fact,
pushed her into the cupboard. He then pushed the
panel back again, went downstairs as quietly as he had
come up, and a moment later was out of the house and
on his way to his own miserable rooms.
The man was elated. He was trembling with
excitement. He gave no thought, either, as to how
Mary would escape from the cupboard. He had got
her in, she was clever enough to find her own way out.
She would obtain the knowledge. She would make
all his plans in the future feasible. He imagined
himself already on the pinnacle of wealth.
Meanwhile, as Deepe had said—for he was a man of
varied experiences—Henshall moved restlessly. He
turned his eyes upon his daughter.
“I feel stronger,” he said. “ I am better. Can
you manage to put another pillow under my head?
I know I am dying, but I shall not die just yet. I have
much to say to you.”
Rebecca did what her father required. She had a
strong stimulant in a medicine bottle near by. She
gave him a dose, which he swallowed almost with
eagerness.
“ Ah,” he said, “ this will keep me going for a bit.
Becky, I should like to be quite alone with you. Send
nurse to her room for a little.”
Rebecca gave the necessary orders, and Nurse
Prescott went away. It was just at the very moment
when she was leaving the room that Mary, within the
cupboard, seized the opportunity to push back the hasp
inside the door and open it a quarter of an inch. Hen-

71


The Fountain of Beauty


shall was now, to all appearances, alone with Rebecca,
but Mary could hear every word.
Rebecca knelt down by her father’s side. She kept
her face within a few inches of his, and her firm, cool,
strong young hand lay upon one of his.
“ Oh! if I could only give you some of my youth
and strength!” she said. “ I—I don’t want you to
leave me. If you must go—oh, that I could go too! ”
“ No, my darling,” he answered. “ I did wish for
a little that such might be the case, but I have changed
my mind. You are young and must live your life.
Becky, you will find all my affairs in perfect order.
You will be a rich woman, my dearest—not that money
matters when one comes to die, but for a woman like
you it means a great deal. It means that you can help
others, that you can do a lot of good. Becky, there are
a few things that I must say to you. Are you listening? ”
“ With all my heart and with all my soul,” was the
answer.
“ After I am gone,” said the old man, “ you will be
good to Mary Gray. She has been with us for some
years. Give her a little money, if necessary, and if she
breaks off her engagement to that scoundrel, Arnold -
Deepe, you might let her have a couple of thousand
pounds. But not otherwise—you promise? ”
“ I promise,” said Rebecca.
“ If she insists on marrying him she will be fearfully
unhappy,” said the old man. "‘ But women are gener-
ally infatuated when they imagine themselves in love,
even with a worthless fellow like that. You might give
her a trousseau, however. You will be kind to her? ”
“Yes, father. Certainly, father.”
“ But I have one request to make.”
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The Fountain of Beauty
“ What is that, dearest? ”
“ She is not to stay with you; she is to leave you.
I don’t trust her.”
“Nor do I trust her, father.” (How Mary Gray
shook with rage as she listened to these words.) “ But
we needn’t talk about her now,” continued Rebecca,
speaking as soothingly as she could. “ Have a little
more of your restorative. You are getting weak and
tired. I know you have other things to tell me. Let
Mary Gray alone.”
With some difficulty Henshall managed to swallow
another spoonful of the strong restorative. Then he
said, almost with eagerness:
“ You are right; I have something of much more
importance to say. Rebecca, my child, there is a little
black ribbon fastened round my neck.”
“ The ribbon that holds your talisman? You
never would tell me what it was,” said Rebecca. “ I
used to fancy that the talisman was perhaps a lock of
my.mother’s hair.”
“ Ah, no, child; not that. It has nothing to do
with your mother. But listen; I am weaker than I
thought.”
His voice dropped almost to a whisper. Mary, in
her rage and curiosity, pushed the cupboard door open
a little further.
“ I will tell you as briefly as I can, Becky, my dear.
The ribbon round my neck has fastened to it a little
case. Within the case is a diamond.”
“ A diamond, father? ”
“ Yes; not an ordinary gem, by any means. The
most valuable diamond, perhaps, in the whole of Eng-
land—one of the most precious in the world. I have

- 73


The Fountain of Beauty



I=;-e=§-- -. -''- - ._'*-1-_=_=-:1--‘."?=''" -



had its value appraised by a man who knows all about
gems, and I could at any moment sell the diamond for
eighty to ninety thousand pounds. I will now tell you,
dear, exactly how it came into my possession. You
may remember, Rebecca, that time when I was away
from you in Persia? ”
“ I remember,” said Rebecca, gently. “ I was at
school, and ~I missed you so dreadfully. You were
away for a year.”
“Yes; I was amassing a considerable fortune in
Persian carpets and silk. I was a rich man even then.
All my toils and my desire to make money were caused
by my love for you.”
“ Dear. darling! ” said the girl, “ as if I cared for
money! ”
“ My child, it sometimes comes to one as a gift. To
one like you money can be a great, an inestimable
blessing. Now, my dear, I want you to unfasten the
black ribbon. Move it gently round till you come to
the knot. Don’t shake me much, for I am very,
very weak. Unfasten it now, my dear, and tie the
ribbon round your own neck and let the little case
which contains the diamond rest against your own heart.
No one in all the world will know that you are wearing
it. And, Becky, you must wear it day and night, day
and night, for a short time longer. You must promise
me.”
“ I promise.”
“ Do it then, Becky; do it at once before I die.
Don’t let the nurse see the ribbon, and, above all thingfl,
don’t let Mary Gray see the ribbon. Sometimes I feel
afraid of Mary Gray—not that she can possibly know.”
Rebecca, without an instant’s hesitation, unfastened
74


The Fountain of Beauty


-.-.
small sum. Lonsdale said that if he were in England
he believed he could sell the gem for a considerable
amount, but could make no use of it whatever at
Teheran. He asked me if I would accept the diamond
as security for the five hundred pounds. I have a keen
eye for precious stones, and knew at a glance that it was
worth a vast lot more than the money the poor fellow
needed. I had never seen any stone quite so beautiful
in all my life before. The light that issued from it was
dazzling, and there was a rose glow about it which I
have never noticed before in any diamond.
“ I immediately made terms with Lonsdale. They
were these: That I was to lend him there and then five
hundred pounds, and was to take the diamond with me
to England and keep it in safety. If Lonsdale did not
write or come to claim the gem within seven years from
the exact date when I gave him the money the diamond
was to become my property; but if he returned before
the seven years were up and gave me my capital back,
with five per cent. interest, I was to restore him the
diamond. His last words to me were, ‘ I will write to
you often during the seven years, Mr Henshall; if you
don’t hear you will conclude that I am dead, and will
regard the gem as your private property.’
“ Since that day I only received one letter from him,
in which he told me that his mother was dead, that he
_ had no other near relations, and that he was doing
fairly well. It is six years since I had that letter. On
the 20th of February the seven years will have expired
and the diamond will belong to me. You are then at
liberty to sell it, Rebecca, for what you can get for it.
You must take it to Montague in Bond Street. He is a
special friend of mine, and he will give you a large sum
76


The Fountain of Beauty
for the stone. If by any chance Lonsdale turns up
between now and the 20th of February you will restore
him the diamond, provided he gives you back five
hundred pounds with interest.
“ That is all, my child. I trust you. That diamond
has been, since I have ascertained its value, a burden to
me. I have been afraid of it. I have not dared even to
put it in the bank, but have worn it about my person,
trusting that no one would discover its whereabouts.
You will be faithful in this matter, my child. I can
trust you absolutely.”
“ You can—absolutely,” was the reply. Then
Rebecca said, after a long pause: “ I sincerely hope that
Mr Lonsdale will come back. I do not want the money
that the diamond will fetch.”
But old Henshall was too tired to make any reply
to this speech. Fainter and fainter grew his breathing.
Although Rebecca tried to give him some more of the
stimulant he could not swallow it. The girl left the
room in a hurry to call Nurse Prescott.
Now was Mary’s opportunity. Quick as thought she
darted from her hiding-place and flew up to the side of
the speechless old man.
“ I know your secret,” she said, “ and what
you think of me. Let me tell you that your daughter
is in danger. Ah, I hate you as much as I hate
her! ”
Footsteps were heard approaching. Mary rushed
from the room.
When Rebecca and the nurse came back old Hen-
shall was only gasping sighs, a look of distress unutter-
able on his face. He tried to speak, but in vain. A
few minutes later he was dead.

77



CHAPTER VI
ROBERT HENSHALL was buried. He was followed to
his grave by a great number of friends, for there was no
one who did not respect the kind and excellent man.
All sorts of profiers of sympathy were given to'Rebecca.
Her particular friends, the Lorrimers, were most anxious
that she should leave the gloomy house and come to
them, but the girl refused to stir. She was not in the
mood to see anyone. She was, in short, absolutely
broken down. Her love for her father had been strong,
tenacious, so deep, so firm, so constant, that no other
great love had hitherto touched her.
Rebecca was nineteen years of age, but had never
loved anyone as she loved her father. Now he was
dead, and it seemed to her that all the world had stopped.
She followed him to his last resting-place in her
deep black, and more than one person turned to look at
the pale, noble face, and more than one person also
observed Mary Gray as she walked behind Rebecca,
and stood almost by her side as the girl bent over the
open grave.
When the funeral was at an end the will was read,
leaving everything that Henshall possessed to his
daughter. The money was tied up, and in the hands
of trustees, until Rebecca came of age. For two years,
therefore, she was not completely her own mistress,
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The Fountain of Beauty
but very ample provisions had been made for her, and
she might demand any sum of money she required
within reason.
Rebecca’s requirements were simple. She would
like to stay on in the old house: she did not want com-
pany. Her servants were faithful; she would, by
degrees, see her friends. Her great desire was to con-
tinue the old life. Her lawyer, Mr Flower, expostulated
with the girl. _
“You are young, and, pardon me, attractive,” he
said. “ You will soon change your mind.”
She looked at him with her beautiful eyes, and her
sad mouth looked sadder than ever. He saw that there
was little use in urging any course of action upon her
just at present, and prepared to go away, telling her to
apply to him if she was in any need. As he was leaving
the room, however, she called him back.
“ I was forgetting,” she said, “ there is something
which I should like at once. I want you to put to
my credit in the bank, in my own name, one thousand
pounds.”
“ It shall be done, Miss Henshall.”
“ I have a small account in the City of London Bank
already, but I want this particular sum. How soon
can I have it? ”
The lawyer looked at his watch.
“ I will see that the money is forthcoming and
entered to your credit before the bank closes this after-
ioon,” he said.
“ Thank you,” said Rebecca.
“ Is there anything else? ” asked Mr Flower.
“ No, not to-day, thank you very much indeed.”
She shook hands with him. She was quite brave and
79
\
~-
ll


The Fountain of Beauty



calm. She had shed no tears during the whole of that
- trying day.
As soon as Flower had gone Rebecca rang the study
bell sharply. Lucy appeared.
“ Lucy, can you tell me where Miss Gray is? ”
“ I don’t know, miss; perhaps she is in her room.”
“ Find her if you can, and tell her that I shall be
glad to speak to her at once.”
“ Yes, miss.”
When Lucy departed, Rebecca went to a small desk,
which was her own special possession, and where her
father loved her to sit when she wrote her girlish letters.
She unlocked the desk, and took her cheque book out.
She quickly filled in a cheque for a certain sum, relocked
the desk, and was standing by the fire with the open
cheque in her hand when Mary Gray appeared.
“ You have sent for me? ” said Mary.
“ Yes, I have sent for you. Will you shut the door,
please. I have just a few words to say.”
Mary came forward.
“ Before you say anything, Rebecca,” she began,
“ I have some words to say to you.”
“ Very well,” said Rebecca; “ you may speak first.
After all,” she added in a low voice, “ it doesn’t
matter.”
“ Why do you say that? ” asked Mary. “ You
don’t know what I am going to talk about; you have no
right to say that it doesn’t matter.”
“ Speak,” said Rebecca, “ and be quick.”
Mary looked at her attentively. There was a time
during those five years when Mary Gray had almost
loved Rebecca Henshall. It was not in Mary’s nature
to love easily, nor to love deeply; but if there was one
8o


The Fountain of Beauty
person on earth for whom she felt a certain degree
of affection, if there was one person on earth whom
- she absolutely and wholly respected, it was the young
girl who had now called her into her presence. For
Rebecca, during those five years, had been consistently
good and kind to Mary Gray. To Rebecca, Mary
was not a poor dependent who was earning her bread
in Henshall’s house, but a girl with feelings like her
own, with a desire for pleasure, with a desire for love,
with all the natural instincts of a healthy young girl.
Rebecca had always looked at Mary through blue
spectacles. She had not noticed what old Henshall
had observed—the want of straightness in this woman.
She had confided in her—that is, up to a certain point.
She had made her—that is, up to a certain point—
her friend. Rebecca, until within the last few miser-
able days, was one of those buoyant, happy girls who
never had a secret. Her life was above board. Her
honourable young nature could only think the very
best of her fellow-men. “God in your mercy make
everyone happy” was her thought of thoughts, her
prayer of prayers. The brightness of’ her very dark
blue eyes, the rich beauty of her face made it almost
impossible not to love Rebecca, and Mary was con-
sidered in every respect a lucky girl to be in the
service of so kind an employer.
But now things were changed. There were two
sides to Rebecca’s character. She could love, and
sympathise, and help. She could also have absolute
faith in her fellow-creatures. But once that faith was
shaken, once that trust was betrayed, Rebecca could
and did look at things from another point of view. In
short, Rebecca Henshall had taken ofl her blue spec-

F 81


The Fountain of Beauty
tacles, and now she noticed things in Mary Gray
that she had never observed before. The things
she noticed were those which she most detested,
which must be intolerable to a straightforward girl
like herself.
Rebecca was the daughter of an Irish mother and
an English father. From her mother she inherited
wit and humour, glorious dark eyes, a rich colour,
and raven black hair. She also inherited from the
mother, so "long in her grave, great tenderness of heart,
and a great desire to make all those with whom she
, . 7_ came in contact good and happy. Her father s death
1 was an awful shock to the girl. She had never known
.__- ;_i; __;--1;-__ - _ I

her mother, but she knew her father well. It seemed
to Rebecca that she knew the old City merchant
through and through. He at least was the soul of
-  honour, the soul of straightness and integrity. In
l ' himself Henshall was a matter-of-fact man and he was
considered in the City a very sound man of business.
Rebecca inherited some valuable business instincts
from her father. She did not for a moment regard
money as useless. Money that was won by honourable
toil and absolute integrity was a treasure which must
be respected.
Rebecca was now thinking of her father and not at
all of her mother, and as Mary stood before her Mary
knew this fact perfectly.
“ She is in the worst of humours,” thought Mary
Gray. “ She is absolutely changed. What have I done?”
“ Sit down, please,” said Rebecca.
Mary dropped into a chair. She was wearing
mourning, and her neatly-made black dress suited hef-
Nothing could ever make her face anything but plain,
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The Fountain of Beauty -
but she had a neat, though petite figure, beautiful
hands, and well-made feet. Rebecca now, as Mary sat
and faced her, noticed these good points—the little
white hands with their tapering fingers, the little feet
that peeped from under the black dress, the well-
arched instep. Then Rebecca looked at Mary’s face.
Just for a minute a certain softness had come over her,
but when she looked full at Mary it disappeared, for
the crookedness of Mary’s nature seemed to Rebecca
at that moment to be fighting the straight and honour-
able part of her own nature.
“Speak, Mary,” said Rebecca, gently. “ I will
listen to all you have to say.”
“I want to ask you a question,” said Mary. “ Why
have you treated me as you have done? What pos-
sible thing can have happened to offend you,
Rebecca? ”
“Have I shown you that I am ofiended? ” said
Rebecca, gently.
“Shown me! ” cried Mary. “ You cannot conceal
things, Rebecca; you no longer care for me. I have
been your friend for five years—your friend, and your
father’s friend, and yet in the hour of your trouble you
kept me from the room where he was dying. Days
passed, and you hardly spoke to me. When I wanted
to comfort you after his death you refused to admit
me to your room. You shut yourself away from me.
Even Lucy—Lucy, who is only your servant—was treated
far more kindly than I who am your friend. What
have I done, Rebecca? It is very, very hard to be
repulsed as you have repulsed me, and I want to know
the reason. Rebecca, I will know the reason; it is my
right.”


The Fountain of Beauty


. “ You can never know thelfreason,” said Rebecca
then.
“ Never? ” cried Mary, her eyes blazing with anger.
“ ls that really your ultimatum? ”
“ It is, Mary,” said Rebecca. “ It was I who
decided that you were not to see my beloved father
again. It was by my express wish that you were
kept from his room.” -
“ Your express wish? ” said Mary. “ Did he say
anything to make you act so strangely? ”
A sudden idea had darted through her brain. Was
the sick man really awake when she had pulled down
his collar to see if the black ribbon lay beneath? She
did not think it possible that this could be the case.
Still, there was no saying, and it suddenly visited
her memory that Henshall was a very sharp man,
and if he had noticed this thing he would have
feigned sleep and said nothing to her. The colour
came into her cheeks. now and she looked full at
Rebecca.
“ I can scarcely believe that the wish never to see
me again originated with you.”
“- Nevertheless we both wished it,” said Rebecca,
“ and if you do not believe me, Dr Harris, who took
you the message, will assure you of the truth of what
I am saying. He was present at the time, therefore he
knew.”
“ It was your doing,” said Mary. “ You were
angry with me: you ought to have been angry with
yourself. You went to a dance, you slept out on the
night when your father was taken ill. You can never
get over the fact that you neglected your father in the
___ ..__._i_,i_ _
84


The Fountain of Beauty
all-important beginning of his illness, and that I nursed
him with devotion and care.”
“ You nursed him,” said Rebecca. “ I am not
going to deny it, but you should never have let me go.
One hint from you and I would have stayed behind.
You treated me with great unkindness. I will own
to you, Mary, that I find it hard to forgive you.”
“ Ah, we are coming to the point now,” said Mary.
“It is you who are like adamant. It is you who are
cruel to a poor and defenceless girl—you, who are so
rich; you, who have everything that this world can
offer. Rebecca, at one time I cared for you more
than for anyone in the world; but I hate you now.”
“ It is my turn to speak,” said Rebecca, very gently.
“ I have no wish whatever to hurt you. Nevertheless,
what I am about to say will confirm your present
opinion of my character. You have been with us,
Mary, for a very long time.”
“ Five years exactly,” said Mary.
“ Yes,” answered Rebecca; “ how well I remember
when you came to us. I was a schoolgirl then. I used
to go to school every morning and come back in the
evening; and you always had things comfortable and
bright and pleasant both for father and me. You
seemed to sympathise with me in those long ago days,
and father and I often congratulated ourselves on
having secured such a treasure as you seemed to be.”
“ I know I was a treasure,” said Mary. “ I do
not pretend that I was otherwise. I did my utmost
to please you and my dear late employer, Mr Henshall.”
“ That is true,” said Rebecca. “ I would not for the
world deny anything that is true. Now, please, listen.
“ There is very little use in prolonging this inter-
J!
35


The Fountain of Beauty


view. I am now acting altogether on my father’s
instructions. He told me that he had put a test to
you with regard to Mr Arnold Deepe. You promised
to ask Mr Deepe a certain question and to force an
answer from him. My father thought it quite pos-
sible that you would yourself be willing to break ofi
your engagement after you heard the story which
Mr Deepe was to tell you. In the event of your
breaking it off, I, according to my father’s directions,
am to give you two thousand pounds; but only on one
condition—that you break altogether with Mr Arnold
Deepe. Have you broken with him, Mary? Is your
engagement at an end? ”
“ It is not,” said Mary. She stamped her small
foot as she spoke, and her lips took their hardest line.
“ Do you mean to break with him? ” said Rebecca.
“ Emphatically no,” replied Mary.
“ In that case,” said Rebecca, “I need not say
anything more about the two thousand pounds, for you
will not require it.”
“I shall not require it,” said Mary. “ Have you
sent for me just to inform me that I receive nothing,
that my name is not mentioned in your father’s
will? ”
“ Your name is not mentioned,” said Rebecca.
“ But I understood that it was.” -
“ You were mistaken.”
“ How pleasant and kind the world is,” said Mary,
speaking in her most cynical voice. “ Let me tell you,
Rebecca, that your father was good enough to make
me an offer similar to that which you have just alluded
to on that night when you enjoyed yourself at the dance
in the Assembly Rooms. He made me that offer

86


The Fountain of Beauty
before you were kind enough to forbid me to enter his
sick-room. On that night I nursed him, and he was
good to me. I was greatly, greatly touched by his
kindness, and I had very nearly made up my mind to
accept his offer and to break off my engagement with
poor Arnold. I did keep my word, too, to your father,
and the next morning I forced his poor, unhappy
secret from my dear Arnold. He would have told me
long ago but feared to lose me. Ah, he loves me
indeed! I am all the world to him. I know his secret,
but your father was mistaken in supposing even for
a moment that I would give my dear Arnold up because
once he was tempted to do what was not right. Who
am I, Rebecca, to be cruel to him; and, for that
matter, who are you to be unkind, to be hard, to be
crushing to one like myself, who am almost destitute?
I will marry Arnold, and as soon as possible. You
yourself are to blame if this marriage turns out un-
happily.”
“ I to blame? ” said Rebecca. “ What do you
mean? ”
“ Yes, for but for you I might—yes, I might have
acted diflerently. Two thousand pounds and a
straight life held attractions for me before you re-
turned home; but when you were so cruel as to forbid
me your father’s room I hated you—yes, I hated
you; and I hate you still, Rebecca Henshall; and I
will never give up my lover for your sake.”
“ Very well, Mary; I am not going to urge it. It
was my duty to tell you what my father said. I have
now fulfilled that duty, and the matter can close. But
I have something else to add. My father particularly
wished the connection between us to be severed. His

8.7


The Fountain of Beauty



wishes are sacred to me, and as you frankly say you
hate me, I may as well frankly reply on my part that
I have no longer any love for you, that in no one
particular do you suit me. I shall be glad, therefore,
if you will make arrangements to leave this house, and
I am prepared to give you two hundred pounds if you
will do so this afternoon. I have a cheque in my hand
drawn in your favour for that amount. You can take
it to my bank to-morrow morning and it will be
honoured.”
“ Two hundred pounds? ” said Mary.
She gasped a little; she put her hand on the back
of her chair and her hand trembled. She was a daring
and wicked woman, but she had never in the whole
of her existence owned any sum approaching this.
Arnold’s talk of the thousands which would be his
seemed to Mary like the dreams of a madman; but this
two hundred pounds was tangible, and almost within
her grasp.
“ But,” she said with a little shiver, “ must I go
to-day? ”
“ Yes, at once, please; as soon as you can pack
your things.”
“ I have been with you five years and you treat
me so.”
“ I am sorry—very sorry,” said Rebecca. “ Be-
lieve me, if ever in my power I will endeavour to do you
a kindness, but I do not wish you to sleep to-night in
this house, nor do I wish Mr Arnold Deepe under any
circumstances ever to visit it again.”
“ Very wel ,” said Mary. “ I can never forgive the
way you have treated me.”
“ If you speak in that tone please remember that


38


The Fountain. of Beauty
I can pay you your quarter’s salary, and that I am not
indebted to you for anything further.”
Mary looked in surprise at Rebecca. She had not
expected this on the part of the girl.
“ Oh, of course,” she said, “ we poor and low-down
folk must submit to the vagaries of the rich. Very
well; I will go upstairs and pack.”
“ You are sure I can do nothing for you? ”
“ Nothing. May I have the cheque now? ”
“ I will give it to you when the cab is at the door
and when your boxes are on the top of the cab. Now
go, please; and be quick.”




CHAPTER VII
WHEN Mary Gray left the house in Paddock Row,
where she had spent five of the most important years of
her existence, she drove straight to Arnold Deepe’s
lodgings. There she alighted, and asked to see the
landlady.
The landlady’s name was Mrs Freke. She was a
round-faced, good-natured woman, and received Mary
with a cheerful expression in her kindly eyes.
“ Have you got a room in this house that you can
let to me? ” said Mary. “ I want a bedroom and a
sitting-room, and I am prepared to pay you well.”
Mrs Freke, who was having bad times, like most
of her class, was only too pleased to accommodate the
young lady. Mary chose the drawing-room and bed-
room behind it. Mrs Freke named a moderate rent,
and Mary agreed without demur. Was she not rich?
Had she not a cheque for two hundred pounds in her
purse?
“ I will take these rooms for a week,” she said. “ I
cannot possibly tell whether I shall require them
longer or not. If you want references I can give you
the name of Miss Rebecca Henshall, 9 Paddock Row,
where I have lived as companion for the last five
years.”
“ Oh, miss,” said the good landlady, “ your face


90


The Fountain of Beauty
is guarantee enough for me. Poor Miss Henshall!
She is the dear young lady whose father has just
died; there has been a long account of him in the Daily
Gazette, and a likeness too. I always read my Daily
Gazette from end to end, miss, that’s how I keep myself
up to date, so to spea .”
“ Well, the old man is dead,” said Mary, “ and I
have left Miss Henshall, who proposes to make other
arrangements. Will you have a fire lit at once in this
room and get me something for dinner? I want enough
for two, for I expect a gentleman to dine with me this
evening. Get some wine and a bottle of whisky. I
want good wine, please—good Burgundy-and the
best Scotch whisky. If you want money in advance
here’s a sovereign. Have quite a nice dinner—fish,
and a little joint, and something sweet, and cheese.
I am very particular as I am accustomed to living
well. I may as well tell you that I have plenty of
money, so you needn’t be afraid of doing your very best
for me.”
“ I shall be only too delighted to serve you, miss;
and would you like linen sheets on your bed or cotton
ones? I have both, miss, but I keep the linen mostly
for my drawing-room visitors in the summer, they being
colder than the cotton.”
“ I’l1 have linen sheets,” replied Mary; and
please light a fire in my bedroom. By the way, you
have a lodger here—Mr Arnold Deepe? ” -
“ Oh, yes, miss. Mr Deepe has lived with me for
over two years. He has the top bed-sitting-room, miss.
Do you happen to know him? ”
“ Yes, I know him,” said Mary. “ He is the gentle-
man I expect to dine with me to-nigh .”
GS
QI


The Fountain of Beauty


“ Oh, indeed, miss. Well, I’ve nothing to say
against him.” -
“ You had better not say it, even if you have,” said
Mary, stoutly, “ for I may as well tell you at once that
I am engaged to be married to him.”
Mrs Freke grew very red when Mary made this
announcement.
“ I suppose I must congratulate you, miss,” she said
after a pause; “but I didn’t never suppose that Mr
Deepe was a marrying man. He seems always so set
on himself, so to spea .”
“ You know nothing about him,” said Mary with
some scorn. “ Now, please send your maid to make
this room spick and span. At what hour does Mr
Deepe generally return? ”
“ Between six and seven, as a rule, miss; that is,
unless he dines out. Some days he don’t dine at all;
we all know it—that’s when he’s ’ard up. I make
him a cup of cocoa then, and maybe he has a boiled egg
and some bread-and-butter. Oh, he’s a quiet gentle-
man; I know no harm of him, only somehow—”
The woman looked at Mary with pity in her gaze.
Mary resented the kindly expression of the good land-
lady’s face very much indeed.
When Mrs Freke had left the room, having first
put a match to the fire, Mary looked on her new sur-
roundings. The drawing-room at No. 19 Charlotte
Street was the reverse of inviting. Mary was accus-
tomed to good living, to nice furniture, to the beauties
which money can put even into the simplest home.
She shuddered slightly as she glanced at the dingy
curtains, meant to be white, but which were in reality
a deep grey. Her eyes fell upon the faded and very
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dirty carpet. There was a hideous paper on the walls,
some pictures of the worst type further adorning them.
There was a mirror with a cracked glass over the mantel-
piece, and a round table with a case of wax flowers in
the centre, occupying the place of honour in the room.
Mary went from the sitting-room into the bedroom,
which was many degrees more gloomy, being small and
dark, its windows so covered with dirt that but little
light could pierce through. She said to herself:
“ I cannot stand the sordidness of this for many
days; but two hundred pounds can do wonders.
Arnold and I must settle our affairs to-night. One
week of these rooms will be enough for me.”
She ran downstairs and let herself out. Her purse
was full of gold, for in addition to the cheque for two
hundred pounds Rebecca had given her a whole
quarter’s salary; and besides, she was a saving creature
and had one or two five-pound notes left over from her
last quarter. She considered herself rich and indulged
in the luxury of buying some comforts. She purchased
dessert and quantities of flowers. She also bought a
few vases to put the flowers into, and returned to her
new abode about six o’clock.
When she had arranged the flowers, put the awful
case of wax flowers in a distant corner, pushed the
hideous round table to one side of the room, pulled
forward some easy chairs and made the fire burn
brightly, she looked round her with some appreciation.
“ Arnold will be in soon now,” she said to herself.
“ How surprised he will be to find me. I must make
arrangements with him quickly. I hope Mrs Freke
Will give us a decent dinner. Arnold likes good
living.”

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Mary felt no special rapture at the thought of meet-
ing her lover. Her feelings for him were complex. She
loved him after a fashion, but not as a woman loves
when her noblest and highest impulses are aroused.
Six o’clock passed. Half-past six arrived. Still
there was nosign of Arnold. By-and-by Mrs Freke
came up herself.
“ It’s ten minutes to seven, miss, and the gentle-
man hasn’t returned. I have the dinner cooked to
a nicety. Shall I bring it up or will you wait for
him? ”
“ By no means,” said Mary, speaking rather sharply.
“ Have the cloth laid and have dinner served at once,
please.”
A little maid in a neat cap, hastily bought and
donned for the occasion, now appeared, put a dingy
cloth on the round table, and laid some knives and forks
and the usual paraphernalia for a meal. Mary hated
the noisy, clumsy way in which the girl moved about
the room. She felt inclined to snatch the things
from her and lay the table herself. She kept listen-
ing and listening for Arnold’s step. Why did not he
come?
Presently the dinner was brought up. The girl,
who announced her name as Jemima, said at the same
time: -
“ Mr Deepe won’t be in till late to-night; he’s dining
at his club.”
Deepe invariably told the landlady on the occasions
when he could afford a meal at a restaurant that he was
dining at his club.
Mary ate her solitary and unsavoury meal alone.
She felt cross and depressed. When it had come to an
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end she rang the bell and desired the servant to remove
the dinner-things. The dessert, however, remained,
the wine and whisky were on the side-table, and Mary
begged for the loan of a kettle, in which she meant to
boil Water.
She was sitting, her hands clasped round her knees,
her eyes fixed on the fire, her thoughts busy, when a
quick, insolent step—the step she knew so well, the
step of the man she at once loved and feared, was heard
bounding up the narrow, dark stairs. Mary could not
mistake it. She went immediately, flung the drawing-
Arnold, who had let himself in, had not the least idea
of her presence in the house. He started as though he
saw a ghost. Then, when he realised the fact that it
was really Mary, he entered the room, caught her in his
arms and kissed her several times.
“ Why, my darling! ” he said, and there was
genuine emotion in his voice. “ What are you doing
here? ”
“ Waiting for you, Arnold,” said Mary. “ I have
plenty to tell you. Go upstairs to your room and get
tidy; come down after you have washed your hands.
Have you dined? ”
“ Yes, after a fashion.”
“ I had dinner waiting for you at seven o’clock.
You did not come so I ate it alone. But I have fruit,
and biscuits and wine; you need not starve. Come
down quickly, for I have much to say.”
“ I won’t stir,” said Deepe, “ until I know what you
are doing in these rooms.”
“ I have taken Mrs Freke’s drawing-room fl001.

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for one week,” said Mary. “ This is my sitting-
room; beyond is my bedroom. Now, go upstairs
and come back. There is much to talk over and
arrange.”
Deepe gave Mary a long and wondering look. He
then turned and went up to his own room. He was
absent about ten minutes. During that time he put on
a rather shabby frock-coat, brushed his black hair, and
tried to make himself as presentable as he could. He
entered Mary’s room with that swinging step which she
always admired.
“ Well,” he said, “ you’re a plucky ’un. I am
devoured with curiosity; what are you doing here? ”
“ To put it vulgarly,” said Mary, “ I received the
‘ sack ’ from Miss Rebecca Henshall this morning, or
rather, this afternoon. When the funeral was over she
sent for me, requested me to pack, and told me that she
wished to have nothing further to do with me. Sit
down, please, Arnold; I have a good deal to say.”
“ But you astound me! You have left Rebecca
Henshall? ”
“Miss Henshall, please, Arnold. It is bad form
to call a girl you hardly know by her Christian
name.”
“ Oh, bother bad form,” said the man. “ Mary,
this is too awful. Your being out of the house upsets
everything.”
“ Well, I am out of the house, dear; and I don’t at
all see how it should upset everything. If you will only
sit quiet and not fidget I will tell you my story.”
Clever as Arnold Deepe was, in some ways Mary had
greater ability than he. Her nature was far calmer,
and in that respect she had the upper hand of him.

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“ Now listen,” she said. “ I have told you already
what occurred when I eavesdropped in the cupboard.
You know well that the old man went to his account
with my terrible words ringing in his ears.”
“ You need not have said them, Mary. It was too
cruel, even for my taste.”
“ Nevertheless, I did say them, and I am glad,” said
Mary. “ I was treated very cruelly by that family.
Old Henshall and his daughter had no right to speak of
me as they did.”
“ They had every right,” laughed Deepe, “if they
but knew all.”
“But they did not know anything,” answered Mary.
“ I therefore repeat that they had no right.”
“ Well, my dear, acting on your advice, I only came
once to the house since Henshall’s death, and then I
saw you quite in secret. The funeral took place to-day.
Mary, I attended but badly to my work in the City,
thinking of you, and of all that was occurring in Paddock
Row. And now, to find you here, and so cosy too-the
whole place so home-like—I tell you it takes a fellow by
storm.”
He tried to possess himself of her hand, which she
resolutely kept in her lap.
“ If you will listen for a few minutes I will give you
certain facts. Mr Henshall doubted you and, as you
know already, offered me two thousand pounds to break
off the engagement. Miss Henshall made me a similar
ofler after the funeral to-day. I declined it, and here
I am.”
“ Two thousand pounds,” echoed Deepe, in a gloomy
voice. “ You might have taken the money and married
me all the same.”


G 97


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“'No, I couldn’t, Arnold. Miss Henshall was too
clever for that and would only give me the interest on
the two thousand for a certain time. I therefore de-
clined that offer, and the whole thing is at an end.
Nevertheless I haven’t left the house penniless. I have
some money in my purse—quite a fair sum—something
like five-and-twenty pounds, and in addition I hold a
cheque which Miss Henshall gave me to present at her
bank to-morrow morning, and which is worth two
hundred pounds.”
Arnold’_s eyes glowed.
“ Then we are rich—quite rich? ” he said.
“ Yes, I think so,” said Mary in a modest voice.
“ And you are willing to share that money with me,
Mary? ”
“ Why, I suppose so. I shouldn’t come to this
house if I wasn’t.”
“ You’re a splendid girl! ” said Deepe. “ You are
the best girl I ever met.”
“ I have been thinking over everything,” said Mary
_ in a calm tone. “ I am ready to go with you, Arnold;


I am not frightened; I believe you are a very bad man,
and I know that I am the reverse of good when I wish
to link my life with yours, but the conduct of the Hen-
shalls has hardened me, and I should like to have my
revenge on Rebecca. Why should she have everything
and you and I nothing? ”
“ But we won’t be in that position,” said Deepe,
springing to his feet. “ By Jove! I say, Mary, this is
splendid! It’s Miss Rebecca Henshall who will have
nothing, whose very life will be in danger, while you and
I, my darling, will live on the fat of the land.”
“ What do you mean? ”
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“ We’ll be married as quickly as ever we can, Mary.
Let me see; what is to-day? ”
“ The thirty-first of January.”
“ It’s almost worth being married by special licence;
it really is. Things are so important, and you can do
much as my wife which you couldn’t do until you
became Mrs Deepe.”
“ I can’t live here,” said Mary; “ I loathe the
place.”
“ You shan’t; you shall live where you like.”
“ I don’t know how far two hundred pounds will
go,” continued the girl. “ You see, I went to Mr Hen-
shall’s straight from school. I was a pupil teacher
for two years at Mrs Rock’s school at Brighton; then I
_ got the post of companion to Rebecca Henshall, and
kept it ever since. I never had much money in my life,
but I have endeavoured to save. Two hundred and
twenty-five pounds ought to go a good way.”
“ Of course it ought, and so it shall,” said Deepe.
“ We’ll take a small furnished flat to-morrow. Then
we can be married as soon as ever the registrar will do
the business."
“ Not in church? ” said Mary.
“ No, the registrar will do what is necessary. Mary,
my dear, on the 20th that fellow returns. Between
now and that date we have to secure the diamond which
Rebecca Henshall wears against her heart.”
B .
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CHAPTER VIII
Rnenooa breathed freely when Mary Gray was no
longer in the house. She was naturally a very orderly
and self-contained girl. Her deep feelings she kept to
herself. In her father’s presence she had been gay,
cheerful, full of life, full of high spirits. But now that
he was gone there was no one to draw forth her gay
laughter, or to bring a smile to her grave face. Her one
idea was to carry out his wishes, to follow in his steps,
to do all within her power to honour his memory, and
to continue on her own account the simple life which
he himself had so greatly preferred.
When the will was read Rebecca learned that she
was rich, that her income amounted to several thou-
sands a year. But wealth meant as little to this girl as
poverty did to Mary Gray. Money had been supplied
to her from her birth in moderate quantities, and she had
not the slightest idea of its real value and of all its
potentialities for happiness or the reverse. -
During the remainder of the day of her father’s
funeral she refused to see any visitors, and sat quietly
by herself, thinking much of the past, and now and then
giving way to a silent fit of crying. When night came
she lay down to sleep with her hand clasped round the
little case which contained the valuable diamond. She
would keep her word to her father, and wear the precious
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The Fountain of Beauty
begun when her father had married her mother. Aunt
Martha had made that mother’s life a misery, and after
her death Robert Henshall refused to have anything
to say to her. Rebecca felt altogether on her father’s
side at that moment.
“ I will do all in my power to make you comfortable,”
she said. “ You must be tired and hungry. I will
order tea for you at once.”
“ Thank you, I could fancy a couple of fresh eggs
lightly boiled,” said Miss Henshall; “ and if your cook
is good at fried bacon I should not object to a rasher or
two. I haven’t touched food since I left Manchester
this morning, so you can well believe that I am peckish.
I wonder if my trunks are put carefully into the hall.
You will allow me to go and see? ”
“ Certainly,” said Rebecca.
Aunt Martha left the room. Her loud and deter-
mined voice was heard fighting with the cabman. Pre-
sently she came back again to Rebecca.
“ ’Pon my word,” she said, “ I never heard of any-
one so outrageously impudent as your London cabby.
Lend me half-a-crown, Rebecca; I find I have no change
in my purse.”
Rebecca opened hers and took out the necessary
coin. Miss Henshall returned to the hall, paid the
cabman, giving him a spice of her mind as she did so,
and then proceeded to give explicit directions to gentle
little Lucy.
“ I wantla good bedroom, my girl—a bedroom with a
well-aired bed, a bedroom with a fire in the grate, and I
want a large jug of very hot water and some good curd
soap and plenty of clean towels. See that things are
arranged at once and get my trunks taken upstairs.”

10 5


The Fountain of Beauty


Lucy’s pretty face looked dubious. The drawing-
room door was open. Rebecca now came forward.
“ This is my aunt—Miss Henshall,” she said to Lucy.
“ Miss Henshall has kindly come to stay with me for a
time. Please do what she requires, Lucy, and go to
cook now and order a meal for Miss Henshall.”
“ Tea, bread-and-butter, toast, marmalade,” said
Miss Henshall; “ new-laid eggs and well-fried bacon.
You must hurry up, my girl, for I am in no mood to be
left hungry.”
Lucy smiled just as though Miss Henshall were the
most agreeable person in the world, and Rebecca,
taking the old lady’s hand, motioned her to seat herself
by the fire.
“ Glad to see me or not, niece? ” asked Miss Hen-
shall.
“I cannot be glad about anything to-day, Aunt
Martha,” replied the girl. “ My dearest father was
laid in his grave yesterday. I cannot be glad about
anything quite so soon.”
“ Ah, well,” said Miss Henshall, “ he was a queer fish,
very queer, and obstinate.”
“ Stop,” said Rebecca.
“ Good gracious, what is it, niece? Your tone quite
frightens me.”
“ You are not to speak against him,” said Rebecca.
“ Clearly understand that you don’t stay here an hour
—no, nor half an hour—if you utter one word against
my beloved father.”
“ Oh—pooh! ” said Miss Martha. “ I had hoped that
you’d have taken after me. I don’t see why a niece
shouldn’t resemble an aunt. But I guess you are
a mixture of him and that wild Irish girl he married.”
L
106


The Fountain of Beauty
“Aunt Martha, I belong to my father and to my
mother, and I love their memories better than I love
anything else in God’s creation. You have come a long
way to see me, and I am sure you mean it in kindness.
While you stay with me I will do my utmost to make
you comfortable, but not one word against them, you
understan .”
“ Mum’s the word,” said Miss Henshall. “ You’ve
got a fine spirit of your own, Rebecca. Well, it does
surprise me ”—here she looked round the room-
“ that Robert, who was so rich, should have lived in a
poky little place like this.”
“ I consider my home most comfortable,” said
Rebecca.
“ Everyone to her taste,” replied Miss Martha.
“ How peckish I am, and how thirsty. You will allow
me to remind you, Rebecca, that you’ve got uncom-
monly slow servants. If my Biddy kept me waiting
like this for a meal I’d soon let her know what’s what.”
Rebecca seated herself on the nearest chair. At such
a sorrowful moment as the present she regarded the
arrival of Miss Martha Henshall as a very severe trial;
but she was determined not to show it. Again she
thought down in her heart that Aunt Martha did it in
kindness. There came a diversion in the shape of the
excellent meal which Miss Henshall had ordered. The
old lady smiled when she saw it, took off her black
cotton gloves, untied her bonnet, and drew her chair to
the table.
“ I can help myself,” she said to Rebecca. “ I live
alone and always do it. I will begin with a cup of
tea; I am very droughty.”
She filled up a cup with some strong tea, added
~— ?=;?__~___-_

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The Fountain of Beauty

cream and sugar, and drank it off. Rebecca said to
her:
“ Have you everything you want? ”
“ Thank you, child, yes. Simple food is all that I
desire.”
“ Then if you will allow me, Aunt Martha, I will go
upstairs and see that your room is comfortable.”
“ Bless me, girl, go where you like. I don’t want
people to fuss about me. Give me simple comforts
and I ask no more in life. But hark you, Rebecca, see
that the water is very hot, and the fire bright, and that
there are plenty of clean towels about, and a good
piece of curd soap. I hate washing with anything
else. You might see, too, if my trunks have been
taken upstairs.”
Rebecca had already looked in the hall. The trunks
still filled up the somewhat narrow passage. There were
two of them. They were old-fashioned wooden trunks,
and were very large.
“ I am afraid,” said Rebecca, in a gentle tone, “ that
we cannot manage the trunks—I mean, neither of my
servants can take them upstairs. We ought to have
kept the cabby.” '
“ Bless me—bless me,” said Aunt Martha. “ Is
that the sort of way you live in London? Why, it
seems to me you haven’t a scrap of muscle amongst the
whole pack of you. But see! I’ll finish my tea and help
to carry up the trunks myself?’
“ Oh, Aunt Martha, you cannot.”
“ Rebecca, there’s no such word- as ‘ cannot ’ in my
vocabulary. Find out if my room is snug, my dear,
and your cook, whoever she is, will help me with the
trunks.”
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The Fountain of Beauty
Rebecca ran upstairs. The sudden arrival of Aunt
Martha savoured almost of the ludicrous, but Rebecca
was too sad to smile. There was a good spare room in
the house, and this was already put in order for the
unlooked-for guest. Rebecca saw that the fire blazed
merrily, and gave Lucy directions with regard to the
towels and hot water.
“ Miss,” said Lucy, dropping her voice, “is she
going to stay? Because—”
Rebecca’s hand was laid lightly on the girl’s
shoulder.
“ She is not going to stay here long, Lucy; but
while she is here we must all do our best to make her
comfortable.”
“ Certainly, miss,” said Lucy, “ that is if we are
doing it to please you, Miss Rebecca.”
“ You are,” said Rebecca; and then Lucy exerted
herself with a will.
The room was just in order when the sound of pulling
and bumping was heard on the stairs, and presently
Aunt Martha, who had gone down to the kitchen unin-
vited and had secured the services of cook, was seen
dragging her heaviest trunk across the landing. Lucy
ran to help cook, and, in this fashion, the trunk was
borne into the best bedroom.
“The other trunk can stay downstairs until to-
morrow,” said Aunt Martha. “ You don’t mind, do
you, Rebecca? ”
“ No, aunt,” replied Rebecca, who was quite deter-
mined that Miss Henshall and both her trunks should
depart on the following day.
Rebecca was relieved to find that Miss Henshall
was satisfied with her room, and she presently left the
%
1

ro9


The Fountain of Beauty
swam-_----_'-V.-fi'_.. .
r
!


old lady and went downstairs to consider what she was
to do with her newly-found relation, and in what
manner, without really hurting her feelings, she was to
get rid of her.
Miss Henshall did not take long returning to the
drawing-room. She had very little hair, and what she
had was fastened in a tight bunch at the back of her
head. She wore a black cap over the bald middle of
her head. Aunt Martha was an awkward woman, and
shuffled her feet a good deal as she moved about. She
carried in her hand a large purple silk bag, from which
she proceeded to take an enormous stocking and a great
ball of yarn.
“ I always knit my own stockings,” she said,
looking at Rebecca as she spoke. “ They are twice
as warm and twice as strong as any you can buy.”
“ I am sure of that,” said Rebecca; “ you knit very
well.”
“ Knit very well,” snapped Miss Henshall. “ I
should think I do, chit. I have been able to knit since
I was a very small girl. Now, I wonder if you can beat
me at so useful an art.”
“ I am sorry to say I cannot,” replied the girl. “ I
do not know how to knit.”
“ Bless me! You have been badly brought up.”
“ I don’t think so, Aunt Martha; for although I am
ignorant with regard to knitting there are several
things that I know a great deal about.”
“ One of them, at anyrate, is significant enough,”
was Aunt Martha’s response, “ you know how to blow
your own trumpet, Becky my niece.”
Rebecca could not help colouring. She was silent
for a minute, then she said gently:

IIO


The Fountain of Beauty
“ It was kind of you to come to me, and while you
are here I will do the best I can to make you happy.
But you must please understand that my ways are
absolutely different from yours. I belong to a younger
set. The world changes; it cannot help changing,
Aunt Martha; and it would surely be much happier for
us both if we did not find fault with each other while
we are together. Will you agree to that? for I am very
sad to-day, and even a little thing that I should not mind
in the least under ordinary circumstances tries me now.”
“ To be sure, child,” said Aunt Martha; “ I’d be the
last to hurt you, more particularly as you are called
Rebecca after the only creature I ever really loved. I
had a young sister of your name—Rebecca. She was
‘ Beck ’ or ‘ Becky ’ to me—a pretty, soft young thing.
She is long in her grave. Robert was fond of her too.
We’d all have been close friends and living, so to speak,
together if my fair-haired, blue-eyed Becky had lived.
But she died. I don’t like to think of her death.
Religion tells me that she is much happier where she is
now; but I own I’d have preferred it if God had left her
on earth.”
Rebecca felt quite touched when Aunt Martha said
this. She tried to find little points with regard to this
plain, rusty, awkward, ill-dressed woman which she
could like. Aunt Martha also looked at her with a
softer expression.
The evening passed without anything fresh or special
occurring; but Rebecca, when she went at last to her
room, shed some of the very bitterest tears she had ever
shed, even since her father’s death. The fact was this:
she knew she could not turn old Aunt Martha from her
doors, and it tried her inexpressibly to know that this

III


The Fountain of Beauty

woman was under the roof where her own father had
lived and died—she, the woman who had so hurt him
long ago and whom he had learned to hate, the woman
about whom he had vowed a bitter vow that he
would never see her again. Poor Rebecca felt that it
was unfair and unjust to her father that Aunt Martha
should be in the house.
Before she went to bed she sat for a long time by her
fire. Suddenly she raised her eyes to look at a large
and particularly good photograph of old Robert Hen-
shall. It was framed in a heavy oak frame and hung
over the mantelpiece.
“ Dear father,” said Rebecca, raising her eyes and
looking into the bright, speaking eyes which seemed to
catch her own in their glance. “ Dear father, I did not
ask her to come, but she came. I must be kind to her
now, dearest, but I won’t keep her long, for I know you
would not wish it.”
It seemed to Rebecca that Henshall’s eyes looked
at her now with a very sweet and loving expression.
It seemed to her that they understood and were satisfied.
The girl undressed and got into bed, feeling vaguely
soothed, and also with the sensation that her father was
not really far away from her.
I12


CHAPTER IX
AUNT MARTHA was down very early the following morn-
ing. Rebecca was in the midst of her toilet when she
heard the electric bell sound sharply. It was only a
little after seven o’clock, and she wondered much what
was the matter. By-and-by she rang for Lucy.
“ Has anyone called this morning, Lucy? ” she
asked. “ Why are the bells ringing so frequently? ”
“ If you please, miss,” said Lucy, “ it’s the old lady.”
“ What? ” said Rebecca. “ Is Miss Henshall down
already? ”
“ At half-past six, ’m, she entered the drawing-
room. She opened the shutters herself and pulled up
the blinds and set to dusting. She has broken one of
the little china images off the mantelpiece. She told
me to bring dust-pan and brush to pick up the remains,
as she called ’em. She’s fussing now for her breakfast,
miss, so I’d best run down and give it to her. Oh, dear,
Miss Rebecca, cook and me—we ’opes as she won’t stay
long.”
Rebecca hurried very quickly with her toilet, and
long before eight o’clock had joined her aunt in the
dining-room. Miss Henshall had breakfasted when
Rebecca made her appearance. She was seated in
Rebecca’s place before the tea-tray and did not think
of resigning it. ._

H 1 I 3


The Fountain of Beauty





“ Your coiI'ee’s cold,” she said, “ and the fat of the
bacon is turning white, for it has been on the table so
long. But if girls will lie abed they must be satisfied to
take what’s before them. Shall I pour you out a cup of
coffee, Rebecca? ” .
“ No, thank you, aunt,” said Rebecca; “ I will
order some fresh to be served.”
“ Wilful waste brings woeful want,” said the old
lady.
Rebecca smiled, but rang the bell determinedly.
“Please, Lucy,” she said, when the girl appeared,
“ bring me my breakfast.”
“ Dear, dear,” said Miss Martha. “ How will the
girl know what you want? You haven’t ordered
anything.”
“ I never order anything in particular,” said-
Rebecca. “ I leave the choice to cook.”
“ My word! ” said Miss Martha, “ I wouldn’t let any
domestic choose for me.” _
“ We are different, you see, Aunt Martha.”
“ So it seems. You’ve got expensive tastes. You
don’t hoard your money for the good of the poor and
needy. You’ll regret it some day, Becky.”
Lucy appeared with fresh coffee, a hot dish, and some
toast. Rebecca sat down and began to eat. Miss
Henshall watched her.
“ Rebecca,” she said, “ I didn’t have proper rest last
nigh .”
“ I am sorry,” said Rebecca. “ Wasn’t the bed
comfortable? ”
“ The bed was vile,” said Aunt Martha.
“ I am sorry,” repeated Rebecca; “ and I am
puzzled,” she added, “ to know what you mean, for we
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have only the best spring mattresses and the most
comfortable hair mattresses on every bedstead in the
house.”
“ I thought as much,” said Miss Martha, her small,
sunken dark eyes snapping as she spoke. “ I guessed
there wasn’t a decent bed in your house—not one feather
bed in the whole of your establishment. I see by your
face that I am right.”
“ I am afraid that there isn’t,” said Rebecca.
“ You will have the goodness to order one for me:
have it sent in to-day,” said Miss Martha.
Rebecca coloured.
“ AuntMartha,” she said then, very gently, “ I want
to speak to you. I do hope beyond all words that you
won’t be angry with me.”
“ I make no promise,” said Miss Henshall, “ for, to
teH you the truth, my good miss, I think it more than
probable that I shall be exceedingly angry. But go on:
out with what is in your mind. I hate suspense. If
there is anything brutal to be done get it over, say I.
You are your father’s own child, Rebecca Henshall;
anyone can see that at a glance.”
“ And I am proud, very proud of it,”. answered
Rebecca. “ Aunt Martha, you have never been here
as far as I can remember.”
Miss Henshall coloured very slightly; then, rising
from the breakfast-table, she seated herself in the deep
leather arm-chair which old Henshall used to occupy.
She leaned back in the depths of the chair, crossed her
legs comfortably, put one foot on the fender, and,
taking her knitting from its bag, proceeded to knit the
heel of a long stocking with furious speed.
“ I never waste moments,” she said. “ I consider

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that wicked. Now, out with what is in your mind,
Rebecca.”
“ As far as__I know to the contrary you have never
been here,” said Rebecca.
“ You have said that already.”
“ You know why you haven’t been here,” continued
the girl.
“ I had the misfortune to displease your father.
Did he ever tell you about it? ”
“ He did; I know the story.”
“ You only know one side of it,” said the old
lady.
“ That is true, but I cannot listen to any other side
of it now that he is dead.”
“ I understand,” said Miss Martha. “ Suppose we
leave that story out altogether.”
“ I would if I could, but I can’t,” replied the
girl.
“ You understand at least,” said the old lady, “ that
a story which is only one-sided is scarcely worthy of
attention. Your father thought hard things of me; he
had reason, I admit as much. I thought very hard
things of him, and I had reason. He would doubtless,
if he were here now, tell you that I had reason.”
“ Perhaps so, Aunt Martha, but you see he cannot
tell me, and you must also see that it is impossible for
me to have you here long.” _
“ Oh, highty-tighty! And why in the name of
commonsense can I not stay here? ”
“ I cannot disobey my father who is dead.”
“ I don’t see that for a single minute,” said Miss
Martha. “ Tell me this, Rebecca—have you anyone
to take care of you? ”

- I16


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I don’t need anyone,” said the girl, colouring and
trembling.
“ I beg to differ. May I ask how old you are? ”
“ Nineteen.”
“ Nineteen? ” queried Miss Martha. “ I should
have said you were more, but I suppose you know your
own birthday.”
“ I was nineteen three months ago,” said the girl.
She felt a lump rising in her throat as she spoke.
Her birthdays had been so fussed about; there had
been such commotion, such surprises—the breakfast-
table decked with flowers, everyone in the house offer-
ing her gifts, her father’s gift a stately and beautiful
one. Never again would she have these happy birth-
days;- they belonged absolutely to the past.
“ I would keep you here, but I cannot disobey my
father,” said Rebecca.
Miss Martha uttered a quick, impatient sigh.
“ You can’t stay here alone, that is certain,” was her
remark. “As soon as ever I heard of your father’s
death—and you really might have managed it more
kindly than to give me the shock of seeing it in the
newspapers—I said to myself, ‘ Now is the time to
return good for evil; now is the time to show Robert
Henshall what his only sister really is made of.’ I
packed up, I put my little house in complete order; I
even dismissed my servants; I went to see the house-
agent and told him that he could let the house. I made
up my mind to live with you, my girl, to be your
guardian. Why, Rebecca, you are rich, and you are
young, and you are the sort of girl whom some people
would call handsome. Personally I prefer small fair
girls to your sort; but that’s neither here nor there.
I17


The Fountain of Beauty

I’ve come up to London with the intention of living
with you, Rebecca, and I can tell you at once, my dear
girl, you will find it extremely difficult to get rid of me.”
“ Oh, no,” said Rebecca in a gentle tone, which yet
was full of dignity, “ I do not think for a single moment
that a lady—and of course you are a lady, Aunt
Martha—would stay even for an hour in a place where
she was not wanted.”
Miss Martha gave a grim smile.
“ ’Pon my word,” she said, “ you are a clever chit.
You did that very nicely. You think to turn the tables
on me by calling me a lady; but bless you, Rebecca,
I never did think of myself as a lady. The Henshalls
were poor folks, and low down in the world, until
Robert took it into his head to make a fortune. My
mother and your father’s mother kept a little shop on
the outskirts of Manchester. The fine folks you are
likely to know would not think much of me from the
lady’s point of view.”
‘_‘ Dear Aunt Martha,” said Rebecca, “ do you think
for a single moment I am ashamed of you because your
mother kept a shop? My own dear father did not keep
a shop, for he was a merchant prince, but he made his
money by trade. Aunt Martha, you can be a lady
whatever your circumstances are.”
“ Tut! ” said the old woman; “ I don’t understand
the distinction. There are ladies in the world—fine
folks with blue blood, who are worse than useless.
They are not even as good for helping the world along
as the drones in a bee hive; but they perk up their
heads, and deck themselves with endless fine feathers,
and strut here, and strut there, and imagine that we
sensible men and women are envying them. I don’t
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want to be a lady, and I am not one, so your neat little
speech falls flat, my girl, for I have come here to
stay.”
“ You cannot stay,” said Rebecca in a gentle tone.
“ I am not angry with you, Aunt Martha, but I am
doing exactly what my father would do were he alive.
I shall be very glad to receive you as my guest for a
week, but at the end of that time you must return
to Manchester. You ought, Aunt Martha, under the
circumstances to have written to me before you
came to London.”
“Not I; I knew a thing better than that,” said
Aunt Martha, and she gave a sharp, cracked sort of
laugh as she spoke. “ I came to you anxious to help
you and full of kindness. Well, we’ll say no more at
present. I stay here for a week; a week’s a good while.
Make me as comfortable as you can until the week is out,
Rebecca.”
“ I will give you of my best,” said Rebecca.
“ And you will get me that feather bed to-day? for
I am an old body and want my night’s rest.”
“ Yes, I will get it,” said the girl.
Aunt Martha lay back more comfortably than ever
in old Henshall’s arm-chair. She had not the slightest
doubt that long before the week was up Rebecca would
change her mind and allow her to take up her abode in
Paddock Row.
“ I must go now,” said Rebecca, “ and talk to Lucy
and cook. Make yourself comfortable by the fire. I
will come to you as soon as I can.”
“ Don’_t fash, my dear, don’t fash. I never make
myself uncomfortable anywhere, you may be assured
on that point.”
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As soon as Rebecca had left the room Miss Martha
Henshall put down her knitting and became absorbed
in anxious consultation with herself. Once or twice
she frowned; once or twice she made a sort of snapping
noise with her lips. Finally she rubbed her hands
together, stood up, and gave vent to a ringing
laugh.
“ This will clinch matters, I am thinking,” was the
remark she uttered aloud.
She went upstairs to her room, found her writing
materials, and returned with them to the dining-room.
There she wrote to the house-agent in Manchester :—
“Miss Martha Henshall sends her respects to Mr
Downing and would be glad if he would not leave a
stone uncovered to let her house furnished between
now and next Thursday. The lowest rent will be
accepted. Miss Henshall desires good tenants, but
does not care about money. If Mr Downing can
manage this matter Miss Henshall will show her grati-
tude in a substantial form.”
When she had written the letter the old lady directed
it to the house-agent in Manchester. She found a stamp
for it in her purse, and when she had put the stamp on
she rang the bell. Lucy appeared, looking somewhat
tired and worried.
“ Lucy, take this to the post at once,” said Miss
Martha.
Lucy obeyed. When she returned to the kitchen
she saw that cook and Rebecca were having an earnest
consultation. Cook wanted to leave if the old lady
stayed. Rebecca said that nothing would induce her


I20


The Fountain of Beauty
to part from so excellent a servant. Cook explained
that she adored Miss Henshall, but had got such a strain
helping upstairs with Miss Martha’s trunk that she
was incapable of work. Bebecca told both Lucy and
cook that Miss Henshall would leave that day week.
“ We’d best not worry our dear Miss Rebecca,” said
Lucy then; “and you needn’t help upstairs with the
other trunk, Emma, for I will manage that; it’ll be my
turn to help.”
“ No, it won’t,” said Rebecca; “ if anyone in this
house helps with the trunk I’ll be the one. Why, I am
quite as strong as you, Lucy, and for that matter twice
as strong as you are, Emma. But,” added the girl,
“ I will get in a couple of men to move the trunk if Miss
Henshall requires to have it opened.”
Just then there came a loud ring to the front door.
“ Who can be coming at this hour? ” said Rebecca.
Lucy ran to open it. She came back in a few
minutes.
“ Please, miss,” she said, “ Mrs Lorrimer and Lady
Jane Halliday have come to see you. I said I thought
you were engaged, but they want to see you very badly
and are waiting in the drawing-room. Am I to take
them a message, miss? ”
Rebecca thought for a minute. Then she said
slowly: ' '
“ You did right, Lucy, when you admitted them.
They are both old and kind friends. I will go to them
at once.”
She loft the kitchen, and a moment later entered the
drawing-room. ‘
Mrs Lorrimer was a pretty young woman of about
twenty-eight years of age. She had been fond of Rebecca
1
1
i
I
1

I21


The Fountain of Beauty
sponding for the first time to the sad lines of her mouth,
Lady Jane felt more drawn by her charms than
ever.
“My dear,” said Mrs Lorrimer, “it is good of you
to see us. I said to Jane only this morning that you
would be sure to refuse us admittance, but Jane
never will take ‘ no ’ if she can help it.”
“ How do you do, my dear ? ” said Lady Jane, be-
stowing a kiss upon Rebecca. “ You have doubtless
had scores of letters with the usual condolences. You
won’t hear a word of condolence either from Cecilia
Lorrimer or myself. We have come on quite another
matter.” -
“ Yes,” said Mrs Lorrimer, “ quite another matter.”
“ Sit down, my dear, do,” said Lady Jane, “ for if
you don’t Cecilia and I will have to remain standing.
The fact is, Rebecca, we want to know the inns and outs
of a very strange story.”
-Rebecca, who had scarcely spoken during this rush
of words, now pointed her friends to two chairs, poked
the fire, and seated herself in such a position that she
faced the full light which was admitted through the
windows.
Lady Jane fidgeted. She was the sort of woman
who could never keep still for a minute. She patted
her disorderly locks and tried to push some of the most
rebellious from her eyes.
“ Is it true,” said Lady Jane, “ that you, my dear
Rebecca, are wearing about your person—yes, about
your person—a diamond of such immense value that
it is worth a king’s ransom? Tell us the truth, my dear
child? You won’t, I am certain, tell a lie in this matter.
Say yes or no, and at once. You remember quite well,
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/
Rebecca, that if I have a passion on this earth it is for
unique and valuable gems.”
“ You have shown me your own lovely diamonds,”
said Rebecca, speaking in the calmest of voices,
“ and I cannot forget them. Who told you that I
owned, or that I wear about my person, a valuable
diamond? ”
“ Oh, my dear,” said Mrs Lorrimer, “ you needn’t
look so excited, and at the same time so determined to
conceal everything. The cat is out of the bag, my dear
Rebecca. The knowledge came to Lady Jane and me in
the most simple manner. Jane had a visit this very
morning from no less a person than your late friend and
companion, Miss Mary Gray.” Rebecca could not help
starting. “ She called to see Jane to ask her if she
required a lady to assist her in entertaining her guests,
and offered herself for the post. Her idea was to go to
Lady Jane on each of her ‘ At Home ’ days to pour out
tea and do a thousand and one small things which she
could do perfectly well, and which would lighten J ane’s
own labours when she is receiving company.”
“ The sort of things, you understand,” said Lady
Jane, “ that a footman can never do. But, my dear
Rebecca, I was amazed to hear that you had dismissed
her, and so soon after your father’s deat .”
“ I had my reasons,” said Rebecca, very gravely.
“ But there is surely nothing against her character,
poor thing? ”
“ No,” said Rebecca, speaking slowly. “ I asked
her to leave me because my dear father did not like her.
He preferred that I should live my life alone rather than
keep Mary Gray as my companion.”
“ But he must have had his reasons? ”


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“ Please regard it,” said Rebecca, speaking in
the same slow, calm voice, “ as a case of prejudice.
Such things are unaccountable, and ought not
to interfere with Miss Gray’s securing another situa-
tion.”
“ To be frank,” said Lady Jane, “ I took rather a
fancy to her. She seemed so bright and capable, and,
knowing that sl1e lived with you for several years, I
felt quite certain about her character. Then, my
dear, she told me this marvellous story about the
diamon .”
“ How could she possibly have found out? ” said
Rebecca.
“ She did not tell me how; she only said that all the
gems I possessed were of no value at all in comparison
to this one solitary diamond which you, for greater
security, wear on your person. Did she speak the
truth, Rebecca? ”
“ I am sorry,” said Rebecca, “ I cannot say either
‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No.’ ”
“ You will not deny it then. Your not denying it
proves that it is true.”
Rebecca was silent.
“ You might tell us, Becky,” said Mrs Lorrimer
then. “ Do you suppose that Jane or I would whisper
a single word about it? Besides, to tell you the truth,
darling, it is exceedingly unsafe for you to wear anything
so valuable as that diamond about you. In days like
ours, when there are so many unscrupulous people
everywhere, girls cannot be too careful; and you are
living by yourself with only a few maidservants! You
ought to confide in us, and, above all things, you ought
to put the diamond into a place of safety. Mary Gray
1 25


The Fountain of Beauty

knows your secret. If you dislike her, which is evident,
there is no saying to whom she will repeat it. You are
in danger, Rebecca, and it is only right that we, your
friends, should warn you.”
“ I am very sorry,” said Rebecca, “ that I cannot
give you the smallest information. I am forbidden by
circumstances over which I have no control to say one
word, good or bad, with regard to this matter. But I
appreciate your kindness, Lady Jane, and yours, dear
Mrs Lorrimer.”
Lady Jane pouted.
“ It was scarcely worth coming out in this
horrid cold and damp and getting all my hair un-
frizzled to be told that you appreciate our kindness,
Rebecca.”
“ But I do,” said Rebecca, standing up suddenly
and taking the lady’s hand. “ I do, most thoroughly.”
Then she added, “ Perhaps before long, perhaps in
a very, very short time, I may be able to tell you all
that I am now obliged to conceal.”
“ In that case, Rebecca,” said Lady Jane, with great
eagerness, “ you will allow me to see the diamond? I
have a passion for gems, and would invest a very large
sum of money in the purchase of this stone. I always
consider that the purchase of fine precious stones is one
of the best possible investments for money. But now,
my dear, I see you are obstinate—you always were—
as obstinate as a mule. Will you do something else?
I have not engaged Mary Gray; whether I do engage her
or not remains to be seen. But I want you to leave this
lonely house and come and stay with me for a few days.
I am particularly anxious that you should do so; will
you? ”


:26


- The Fountain of Beauty
“ You are very, very kind,” said Rebecca; “ but I
have a great deal to do at home just now, and, Lady
Jane, while thanking you most heartily, I cannot
leave Paddock Row at present.”
Lady Jane looked at Mrs Lorrimer, and Mrs Lorrimer
looked back at her.
“Then, Rebecca,” she said, “if you will neither
confide your secret to us nor take advantage of Lady
Jane’s hospitality, may we do something else for you?
May we send a man here—a reliable person to be in the
house day and night for the present? We do not like
the idea of a young and defenceless girl keeping such
valuable property on her person.”
“ You assume that fact, dear Mrs Lorrimer. I have
admitted nothing.”
Mrs Lorrimer nodded.
“I take the thing for granted,” she said; “it is
about as certain as that I am sitting on this chair. You
yourself have admitted to us that you don’t know how
Miss Gray got into possession of your secret.”
“ I cannot imagine why she told you the story she
did,” said Rebecca in a guarded tone.
“ Well, if such is the case with her, and she knows,
think how many more people may be let into the secret.
Rebecca, if you have no respect for yourself, and no fear
for your own life, you ought at least to value that
precious stone which you carry for safety on your
body.”
Rebecca gave an inward start. There was no indica-
tion of it on her pale face; but she remembered the
letter in the manly hand which she had read, and the
hope, so fully expressed by the writer, and the pleasure,
not far distant now, which would be hers when she

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took the diamond from its case and put it into his
hand.
“ I am very much obliged to you both,” she said.
“ Forewarned is forearmed. I cannot believe even
now that Mary Gray knows anything. She was
always a very curious, rather prying person, and
that I think was one reason why my father did not
care for her. But I will consider your advice, and, if
necessary, will act upon it to the extent of asking my
parlourmaid, Lucy, to get her father to sleep on the
premises.”
“ Well, that is a little better than nothing,” said
Mrs Lorrimer. “ And now, my dear, having worried
you to extinction, can we do anything to really help
you? ”
“ You have been so very kind as to call, and I am
grateful,” said Rebecca.
“ You will come and see me in a week, won’t you,
Becky? ” said Lady Jane.
“ I will if I can; thank youza thousand times for
being so kind.”
The ladies felt that their visit was terminated.
Rebecca rang the bell, and Lucy showed them to their
carriage.
128


CHAPTER X
PERHAPS the very strongest quality which Miss Martha
Henshall possessed was curiosity. She was very good
at fishing out a secret. Whether that secret concerned
herself or not did not matter in the very least; she must
know all about it. Once she knew she as a rule took no
further interest whatsoever, but until it was reposed in
her breast she worried and worried, and absolutely-
tormented the unlucky person who was the possessor
of it.
Miss Martha’s curiosity was roused on this special
morning when she heard the front-door bell ring. As
she herself expressed it, she pricked up her ears. Rebecca
was a queer girl. She was not at all sure that she liked
her, but she would at least know all about her. What
sort of visitors had Rebecca? Oh, it was such folly-
the girl assuming airs and calling old Robert Henshall
a merchant prince; Miss Henshall knew better. “ He
did a good thing in trade,” she said to herself, “ but a
merchant prince—-forsooth! I should speak of him as
an all-round honest tradesman. Now I wonder who’s
come to see Rebecca.”
Voices were heard in the hall, and these voices be-
longed to a very different class of society from that
which Miss Henshall enjoyed. They were high; they
were even staccato, and they had a ring about them
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presently bore the tray from the room. Miss Martha
gave up all intention of forcing her way into the draw-
ing-room; but her curiosity was fully roused.
“ Robert must have been cleverer than I gave him
credit for,” she said to herself. “ Think of our Becky
being hail-fellow-well-met with an earl’s daughter.”
When the ladies were leaving Miss Martha rushed
to the dining-room door and pushed it ajar. Thus she
could hear their very friendly farewell to Rebecca.
“ You will come and see me in a week, won’t you,
Becky? ” said Lady Jane.
“Yes, Lady Jane,” replied Rebecca.
“ Becky! She calls her Becky! ” thought Miss
Martha. “ I begin to respect poor Robert’s memory
more and more.”
A minute or two later Rebecca entered the dining-
room.
“ I am going out for a little,” she said. “ I have
some shopping to do.”
“ My dear, won’t you let me do it? It is scarcely
proper, Rebecca, for you to be seen out of doors so soon
after your poor father’s death.”
“ There is nothing whatever improper in it—at least,
that is my view of the matter,” said Rebecca.
“ Well, please yourself,” said Miss Martha. “ You’re
the most headstrong lass I ever came across.”
Rebecca made no reply.
“ Of course you are uppish,” continued Miss
Martha; “ any girl would be who had earls’ daughters
to extend invitations to them. I suppose you think
when you have got rid of me that you will go and stay
with that fine lady.”
“ You mean Lady Jane? ” said Rebecca.
I 31


The Fountain of Beauty

“ My word! How glibly you say her name; just
as though you were accustomed to saying it.”
“ But I am accustomed to saying it, Aunt Martha.”
“ Youimean to tell me you know her intimate like? ”
“ I know her very well,” said the girl.
Miss Martha sat and looked thoughtful.
“ You don’t seem to be put out about it,” she said
after a pause.
“ Put out? ” said Rebecca. “ Of course not. But
I must hurry now to get my shopping through. If you
want anything to eat in the middle of the morning Lucy
will give it to you.”
Rebecca left the room, and Miss Henshall sank back
cosily in her chair. Presently she heard Rebecca come
downstairs, pass through the hall, open the front door
and shut it after her. Miss Martha went and stood by
the dining-room window. Paddock Row was a cul-de-
sac. Old Robert Henshall had taken the house here on
account of its quietness. It had little or no traffic.
Its few houses were owned by people who had made
their fortunes and had retired to live on them. Robert
Henshall himself was the only person in Paddock Row
who went daily to the City, who, in short, still continued
to pile up his gold. Rebecca loved this little cul-de-sac
where she had lived from childhood to girlhood, and
now, where her father had died. She liked it for its
quiet. She liked the little house because its rooms
were good and its walls thick, its fireplaces large and
generous, and its windows wide. She could get plenty
of air into all these rooms. They were furnished with
perfect taste, for old Robert Henshall allowed his
daughter to do just as she pleased with regard to
furniture and decoration.
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The Fountain of Beauty.
But if Rebecca liked Paddock Row, Miss Martha by
no means shared her feeling with regard to it.
“ I am going to stick to Rebecca,” she said to her-
self. “ When Downing lets my house Rebecca can’t
turn me into the street, but if Rebecca thinks that this
poky hole will please me she is vastly mistaken. We’ll
have to move, my Becky, into finer quarters—trust me
to see to that. Why, this is the dullest hole I was ever
in. Comfortable, of course; I am not saying a word
against it on that score, but dull—dull-dull! There’s
hardly a human being to be seen, and scarcely a cart.
I like to be in a gay wide street where I can watch folks
passing and repassing. Why, my own little house in
Greek Street, Manchester, is lively compared to this.”
While these thoughts passed through Miss Martha’s
brain she continued to stand at the window. She had
stood there for nearly ten minutes when a neatly-
dressed young woman in mourning, with a small, fair,
freckled face, entered the Row and walked quickly
towards the Henshalls’ house. - She stopped when she
got there, ran up the steps and sounded the bell.
“ Now, there’s a nice girl,” thought Miss Martha.
“ Oh, dear! I must have something to liven me. I’d
like to talk to that girl. She is coming to pay Rebecca
a visit. I wonder if she is another ‘ my lady.’ There’s
no end to the fine folks that Becky knows.”
Miss Martha was again consumed with curiosity.
Mary Gray rang the front-door bell. Lucy was upstairs,
and Emma was there also, helping her to make the beds.
“ Drat that door! ” said Emma. “ One never gets
a minute’s rest with it.”
Lucy was preparing to run downstairs when she
heard the said door open.

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- “ I do declare, the old lady has taken my place,” she
said to Emma.
“Let her,” said Emma; “she may as well make
herself useful. Come now, Lucy; let’s get on with our
work.”
Miss Henshall opened the door, and found herself
face to face with the small, freckled girl in her black
dress. Mary Gray stared with the utmost amazement
at Miss Henshall.
“ Who are you? ” she said.
“ Upon my word,” said Miss Henshall, “ I think
that is my business, not yours. Even if you are Lady
This or Lady That you needn’t take on airs in that
style. If you want to know who I am, I am Miss Hen-
shall, own aunt to Rebecca Henshall. And who are
you? ”
“ My name is Mary Gray.”
“ Oh,” said Miss Henshall, “ Mary Gray; then you
are nothing at all.”
“ Excuse me, I am Mary Gray, and I by no means
think of myself as nothing at all. I have come here to
see Rebecca.”
“ Oh, you call her Rebecca, do you? ”
“ I have lived with her for five years,” said Mary.
“ Of course I call her Rebecca.”
“ You have lived with my niece for five years. I
don’t believe it.”
“ I don’t mind whether you believe it or not,” said
Mary. “ It’s a fact all the same.”
“ Well, she’s out, anyway,” said Miss Martha.
“ You had best leave a message with me for her.”
“ No, I will come in for a minute or two; she may
be back before long.”
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“ All right,” said Miss Martha. “ I am sitting in
the dining-room; will you come there? ”
“ I don’t mind where I come,” said Mary ; “ I’d just
as soon sit with you as not. I can’t imagine who you
are; I never heard of you.”
“ I am an important person, young woman. I
have arrived in the nick of time to act as guardian
and chaperon to Rebecca Henshall. Now, come along,
and let me shut the front door. I’ll be getting a bad fit
of toothache if this wind keeps blowing into the house
any longer.”
A minute later Miss Martha and Mary Gray were
seated opposite each other by the fireside in the dining-
room. Mary took off her gloves, and Miss Martha
looked with admiration at her small white hands. Mary
took the pins from her hat and laid it on the table.
Miss Martha observed how beautifully her hair was
arranged. She said to herself that she had never seen
a neater or more attractive-looking young person. In
her heart of hearts she considered her far better-looking
than Rebecca.
“What was that you said to me? ” she remarked
after a minute or two; “ that you—you have lived in
this house for five years? ”
“ Yes; you can ask Rebecca when she comes back.”
“ Oh, I can ask Rebecca indeed! You may be sure
I will do so. Were you here, tell me, when my brother
Robert died? ”
“ I was in the house.”
“ In what sort of capacity did you live here? ”
“ I took the housekeeping ofi Rebecca’s shoulders,
and I did all I could for Mr Henshall; also I was com-
panion to Rebecca. I often helped her to dress, and I

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used to choose some of her dresses; she considered that
I had good taste.”
“ You dress neatly yourself, and without fal-lals,”
said Miss Martha. “ I like a girl who dresses quietly.
But who on earth are you in black for? ”
“ For my dear late employer.”
“ Goodness! ” said Miss Martha. “ But he wasn’t
a relation? ”
“ He was a kind friend. I would rather go into
mourning for him than for the nearest relation whom I
did not love.”
“ So you had the cheek to love Robert. ’Pon my
word, I don’t think that was very nice of you—a man
old enough to be your father.”
Mary smiled very gently.
“There are different sorts of loves in the world,”
she said. “Your mind can rest easy on my account
for I am about to be married to another man.”
“ You didn’t set your cap well or you might have
got Robert. But now, tell me, for I am all agog to
hear; why, when Rebecca needed you most, you left
her ? ”
Mary coloured and then turned pale.
“ Rebecca herself will answer that question,” she
said. “ I have been treated with great, great un-
kindness."
“ I don’t believe it,” said Miss Martha.
“ You can please yourself about that,” said Mary.
“ I see that you mean to take Rebecca’s part.”
“ Certainly I do; when a1l’s said and done, she is
my niece, and blood is thicker than water.”
“Perhaps I had best not wait to see Rebecca to-
day,” continued Mary.


1 36


The Fountain of Beauty
“ As you like,” said Miss Martha.
“ I don’t think I will wait. You can give her a
message from me.”
“ I will do that of course. I don’t know when
Rebecca will be in; she is out shopping. I am a bit
shocked at her appearing in the public streets so soon.
But it doesn’t matter to her what I think. She’s a lass
who will have her own way.”
“ She certainly will,” said Mary.
“ Ah! You have found that out. You agree with
me? ”
“ Yes.”
Miss Martha looked the girl carefully all over.
“ Now, to tell you the honest truth,” she said, “ I
am right glad that Rebecca has got rid of you, for if she
had not she might have a loop-hole of excuse to get rid
of me. Now she has absolutely none. A rich, hand-
some girl like Rebecca can’t live alone in a London
house ; it isn’t right. I have come to chaperon her,
and I guess I’ll do it better than you, Miss Gray.”
“ I wonder if you will,” said Mary. “ I should
have liked to see her for I had a question to ask her,
but as you are here, and she is out, I will call on her
another time. Meanwhile, may I give you a word of
advice? ” .
“ Me—a word of advice? Highty-tighty! What
next? ”
“ If you are indeed going to live in this house in
order to look after Rebecca, you will find your task no
sinecure. Rebecca is in danger.”
“ In danger! Has she gone to your knowledge to
an infected house? ”
“ It is not that sort of danger; it is much worse.


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When she comes back ask her—you can tell her, if you
please, that I told you to—what she is wearing round
her neck. Tell her if you like from me that it will be
safer for her not to wear the black ribbon with what it
contains any longer on her person. That is about all.
I will see Rebecca again before very long. Good
morning.”
“ I’m glad you are going, young woman, and I may
as well tell you frankly that I think you are cracked.
Girls in the present day don’t wear charms about them
which may kill them at any time. We are well out of
the Middle Ages. But I will give Rebecca your message
all the same. Now go, will you? I can guess why
Rebecca turned you off. Naturally she could not have
an insane person in the house. Go quietly; I don’t
want to fret you. I will open the front door for you.
Now, get you out, and don’t come here again until you
have learnt sense with regard to black ribbons and
danger and things worn round the neck.”
Mary looked full into old Miss Henshall’s face.
She gave a light, swift laugh, put on her hat, looked
at her face in the glass, drew her gloves up her hands,
buttoned them, and took her leave. As she was going
she said:
“ I am not cracked; I am not in the slightest degree
insane, and there is danger, and it has to do with a
black ribbon and something worn round the neck.”
The next minute she had left the room.
“ God preserve us! ” exclaimed Miss Martha, when
she was gone. “ It was the guiding of Providence
brought me here. Poor Becky! Well, I’ll worm out
this secret or my name isn’t Martha Henshall.”
138


CHAPTER XI
REBECCA returned to Paddock Row in time for luncheon.
It was about half-past one, and Miss Martha felt
herself quite hungry. She was an old lady who loved
her food. Even in her own very small house in Greek
Street her meals were the most important things in the
day. She kept one servant and only one. But that
one servant could cook well. In order to give Hannah
time to make up dainty dishes Miss Martha herself did
a vast lot of work in the house. She made her own
bed, and dusted and tidied her bedroom. She also
kept her very tiny parlour in perfect order. As to her
wee drawing-room, she did not consider it right to sit
in that sacred apartment except on Sunday.
Miss Martha was a strict Sabbatarian. Sunday
was the day of all days to her. On Sunday she thought
it right to deny herself in the matter of food. However
much she loved hot dishes she must do without them
on the Lord’s Day, as she invariably called the first
day of the week. On Sunday, therefore, Hannah
went out for the day—ostensibly to go to church or
chapel, but in reality to amuse herself. Miss Martha
took her meal at a side table and ate a slice of cold
meat and drank a glass of water, and afterwards went
into her drawing-room, where she lit the fire herself
and then sat close to it reading Blair’s Sermons. Blair
was her favourite divine, and when she had concluded
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Emma, if I took upon me to undertake her work.
Now then, Aunt Martha, shall we go into the drawing-
room? ”
“ I have no objection, I am sure,” said Miss Martha,
“ and the fact is, I want to have a long talk with you.”
“ About the subject of this morning? ” said Rebecca.
“ Please, don’t, Aunt Martha. We have exhausted
that, I think. I must tell you at once that I am the sort
of girl who doesn’t change her min .”
“ H’m,” said Miss Martha; “ but two can play at
that game, for I am the sort of old woman who doesn’t
change her mind either. Still, my dear niece, what I
have to say to you has nothing whatever to do with
what we talked over this morning.”
“ That is all right, and I am willing to listen,” said
Rebecca, the cloud which had swept over her face
instantly vanishing.
They went into the next room, and Aunt Martha
established -herself in a corner, where she could have her
back to the light and enjoy toasting her feet by the
generous fire.
“ A nice little room,” she said, looking round her,
“ but over-furnished. I dusted it myself this morning,
and the numerous fal-lals I found here, there and
everywhere made me sick. By-the-way, Rebecca, I
broke a little ornament that stood on your mantel-
piece. I hope you don’t mind.”
“ We won’t say anything about it,” said Rebecca.
“ What a lugubrious voice,” said the old lady; “ it
sounds as though you minded very much.”
“ Father gave it to me,” said Rebecca. “ He
brought it from Persia a very long time ago.”
“ Good gracious me! You’re not meaning to tell
14:


The Fountain of Beauty
“ No.”
Miss Martha instantly rang the bell, which hap-
pened to be close to her chair. Lucy answered the
summons.
“ I rang, Lucy,” said Miss Martha. “ There’s a
feather bed coming along for me in the course of an hour
or so. Take it down to your kitchen and spread it in
front of the fire. See that it is thoroughly aired. Shake
it up constantly, and turn, and turn, and tur n it until
it feels as hot as though it were roasting. Don’t dare
to take it away from the kitchen fire until I come myself
to feel it. That is all; see you obey.”
“Yes, please, Lucy,” said Rebecca, giving the girl
a gentle look. But notwithstanding that gentleness
on the part of _ Rebecca, Lucy very nearly, but not
quite, slammed the door after her.
“ I don’t think much of your parlour-maid,” said
Miss Martha.
“ She is a very good girl,” replied Rebecca.
“ So you say, but I don’t agree with you. She has,
to my way of thinking, a nasty, sly face. My dear
Rebecca, she wouldn’t mind one jot if I had to lie on a
damp bed to-night and caught rheumatic fever—no, she
wouldn’t mind a jot.”
“ Well, you won’t lie on a damp bed,” said Rebecca;
“ and now,” she added, “ what is it you have to say to
me? ”
Miss Martha suddenly recalled Mary Gray’s visit
and what Mary Gray had said. She looked forward
to an exciting half-hour. Never did time go so swiftly
for her as when she was ferreting into the depths of
a secret. She was exceedingly proud of her skill in
gaining confidences from people who did not wish to
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confide in her. Before she had done cross-questioning,
she generally knew all there was to know. Miss Martha
looked at Rebecca now, and felt certain that, notwith-
standing the strong lines of that mouth and the steady
pose of the stately head with its jet-black hair, Rebecca
would soon have confided everything to her aunt.
First of all, however, she had a few questions to ask on
another matter.
“ Before I say anything special,” she began, “ I want
to ask you a question or two about your late father’s
will. He left you very well provided for, didn’t he? ”
“ Oh, yes,” said Rebecca, “there was nothing he
didn’t do for me.”
She clasped her hands silently together, for the pain
at her heart was almost unbearable.
“ He didn’t by chance leave a legacy for me? ” said
Miss Martha.
“ I am very sorry, Aunt Martha, but he did not.”
“ I guessed as much,” said Miss Martha. “ Even
a thousand pounds would have been of use to me.”
“ But I thought you were quite well off, Aunt
Martha.”
“ That’s a relative term, child. A very poor woman
would call me well ofi, but a very rich girl like yourself
would say that I was sunk in penury. I will tell you
just what I have; I’m an open sort of old body and like
to be above board in all things. I have exactly, from
every source, two hundred and fifty pounds a year.
I am careful, and allow no waste, and I can afford a
neat little house and a good servant to cook my meals.
I give to charities also. It’s very wrong to neglect
charities, Rebecca. Now, my dear, tell me, how much
have you a year? ”

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“ I haven’t the slightest. idea, Aunt Martha. I
know I am well off—in fact, rich, but my father’s
solicitors cannot give me a report with regard to my
income for some little time. Oh,- Aunt Martha, don’t
let’s think of these subjects; it seems somehow—
somehow to make death—grand, beautiful, terrible
death—sordid.”
“ I don’t understand you,” said Miss Martha.
“ But there, I won’t worry any more about money
matters. Now I have a piece of news for you. A
young woman called to see you to-day.”
“ A young woman called to see me.”
“ Yes, a neatly-dressed young woman, all in black,
with a fairly good-looking face; a very neat sort of
girl. I let her in myself and took her into the dining-
room and had a chat with her. She called herself
Mary Gray, and said she had been for five years living
in this house as your housekeeper and companion. I
haven’t the slightest doubt she told a lie, but that was
what she said.”
“ She told you the truth,” said Rebecca.
“ Good gracious, Rebecca! You don’t mean to tell
me that you had a chit like that as a sort of chaperon
for yourself? ”
“ Mary Gray was never my chaperon. She never
went with me into Society. Mrs Lorrimer took me
out when I wanted to go, and Lady Jane Halliday has
also been more than kind.”
“ The conceit of girls of the present day passes my
belief,” said Miss Martha. “ But after all that is not
what I want to say to you. You dismissed Mary Gray
just when it seems to me you wanted her most. You
couldn’t have told beforehand that I, own aunt to you,
K 14s


The Fountain of Beauty

own sister to your father, would be so forgiving as to
give up home and home ties to come to the rescue.
You couldn’t have been certain on that point, Rebecca;
therefore, why in the name of goodness did you dismiss
this Mary Gray? ”
“ I had reasons for doing so,” said Rebecca.
“ You don’t mean to tell me that the girl was not
honest? ”
“ Oh, no, I don’t tell you anything of the kind."
“ You might as well say why you acted as you did.”
“ I can’t, Aunt Martha; there are some things one
doesn’t speak about, and the reason why I asked Mary
Gray to leave the house happens to be one of these
things.” '
“ Tut, tut!” said Miss Martha. “ Tut, tut, tut!
Well now, I’ll tell you something. It strikes me you
were a bit hard on that poor girl. She’s not a bad sort,
oh, by no means; and, as a matter of fact, I don’t make
the slightest doubt that there’s many a man would
prefer her as a wife to you. Men like little women——
little tidy, smart women. There’s many and many an
admirable, excellent individual ready and willing 110
marry who wouldn’t look at a tall girl. Now, I
suppose it wasn’t a little bit of jealousy made you send
poor Mary Gray out into the cold world? ”
“ I provided for her,” said Rebecca. “ Now I will
tell you this much. What I did I did with my dearly-
beloved father’s approval.”
“ Oh, then I have no more to say. Robert was true
to his character to the end. I am sorry for Mary Gray ;
I have sympathy with her. I, too, have suffered What
she is suffering.”
Rebecca’s hand trembled. She laid down her
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work. She was coming very nearly to the end of her
patience.
“ Aunt Martha,” she said, “ you know our compact
with regard to my beloved father? ”
“ Yes, child, yes, and mum’s the word. Now then,
to revert to Mary Gray. She came here to speak to
you. Finding that you were out for so long she could
not wait. She will call again another time, but before
she left she gave me a message to give you. She wishes
me to tell you that you are in danger. I nearly laughed
when she made use of the word, but she stuck to her
opinion. She either made up a most improbable tale, or
it is true; and I am determined—yes, determined—to
get to the bottom of it. Now, my dear, tell me-
do you, or do you not wear a black ribbon inside your
dress and round your neck? and does the black ribbon
hold something valuable? Tell me the simple truth,
Rebecca.”
Rebecca rose from her seat.
“ Mary Gray has an exceedingly imaginative mind,”
she said. '
“ Oh, then it is not true. I told her as much.”
“ The subject to which she alluded is one which she
has nothing whatever to do with. She imagines that
she will get me to allow her to come back if she talks a
lot of nonsense.”
“ Rebecca, you are shuflfling; you haven’t answered
me. Have you, or have you not, that black ribbon round
your neck? ”
“ I am not going to tell you, Aunt Martha.”
“ Then you have. The young woman did not tell
a lie. Why do you wear that ribbon round your neck,
Rebecca? ”
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Silence on the part of Rebecca. Miss Martha
dropped her knitting. It lay on the floor. Rebecca
sat still with her hands folded in her lap.
“ Mary Gray said,” continued Miss Martha, “ that
you were in danger, and that if you were wise you
would no longer wear anything of value on your person.
Why did she say you were in danger? and why did
she recommend you not to wear the black ribbon round
your neck? ”
Rebecca sat very still for a few minutes. Then she
said in her gentle tone:
“ You annoyed me for a minute or two, Aunt
Martha, by talking of things which cannot concern
you. Unfortunately for you—that is, if you are
curious over the matter-it is completely out of my
power to enlighten you with regard to the true meaning
of Mary Gray’s words. Mary Gray imagines that she
has got the clue to a certain matter connected with my
dear father. Whether she has or not does not matter
to you, and it can scarcely concern me, as she is no
longer in my service. I can assure you, however,
that I am not in the most remote danger. And now,
please, shall we change the subject? ”
After all, Rebecca Henshall had firmness and strength
of character, and Miss Martha saw that for the present
at least she must lie low. But her curiosity was
kindled, and although the old lady would not for all the
world injure any one, she was determined, by hook oI
by crook, to get to the history of that black ribbon and
the treasure which it contained.
Miss Henshall was, however, reckoning without her
host. Rebecca had a stronger character even than the
stern old lady. Not for worlds would she betray 1191‘
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father’s secret. Mary Gray’s words had no power to
alarm the brave girl. She was waiting with all confi-
dence for the 20th of the month, when Lonsdale would
arrive and relieve her of what was only an incubus.
How glad she would be to give the diamond back to
him! How relieved her life would be when this event in
it was at an end! All her future seemed more or less
to be centred round this meeting with Gerard Lonsdale.
She could think of nothing beyond it. Even Aunt
Martha’s presence in the house scarcely worried her.
The old lady, meanwhile, bided her time. She was
quite sure that Rebecca must relent. She did her very
utmost to make herself agreeable. That utmost,
however, amounted to very little. Miss Henshall,
aged sixty, could not give up her peculiarities. She
liked her food done in a certain way, and if Emma
displeased her she grumbled, and Lucy reported these
grumbles in the kitchen. Rebecca had a stately way
of ignoring Aunt Martha’s words with regard to what
the old lady was pleased to call the incongruities of her
household. She might have retorted, “ You will be
back in your own house on Thursday, Aunt Martha,”
but she never did so, for these small and petty actions
were not in her line.
Thursday, however, approached, and Aunt Martha
looked anxiously for the letter which Mr Downing was
to send her—that letter which was to put Rebecca into
a tight corner, which was to acquaint the girl with the
fact that were she to turn Aunt Martha from her doors,
that good woman, her very own aunt, her father’s
sister, would be deprived of home and shelter. On
Wednesday, however, Mr Downing wrote, but his
letter was scarcely satisfactory. He could not let the
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to the bone and deny himself like anything, and then
there’d come some bit of extravagance like this. I
think it’s very kind of you, Rebecca, to give me this
old miniature, and I’ll value it like anything.”
Rebecca stooped down once more and kissed her
aunt.
Aunt Martha went her way. She had a curious
sensation, as she set foot in the train on her return to
Manchester, that her visit had not been in vain, and
that she had made a friend for life of Rebecca Henshall.
Some feelings, hitherto dormant in her heart, were also
roused. Her niece had conquered her; and yet she
loved this girl as she had never believed it possible
since the fair-headed Rebecca of long ago had died.
When Miss Henshall got home she sent a brief note
to Downing to say that she no longer wished to let the
house. Far from wishing to let it, the old lady took
more pains with its appearance than ever, and she went
to a special art shop to get a stand on which to hang the
old-fashioned miniature of Robert Henshall. She put
the miniature on view when she had an At Home day,
and was pleased when her visitors commented about it,
telling them that this was the picture of her brother,
the rich merchant who had so lately died in London.
Meanwhile, she wrote to Rebecca, and warmly invited
her to make use of her house at any time.
The girl had paid a visit of a day and a night at
Lady Jane Halliday’s, and Lady Jane had done her
utmost to see the diamond which Rebecca wore round
her neck; but not all her coaxing could induce the girl
to show her the treasure. She was as fearless as ever,
and laughed at the idea of anyone sleeping in her house.
In vain Lady Jane talked to her about the danger she
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was incurring; in vain she alluded to Mary Gray’s
words. Rebecca said that she knew no fear. Lady
Jane wondered at her, but then Lady Jane did not know
anything about Gerard Lonsdale, nor how soon that
young man was expected to arrive to claim the prize
which was his. -
On a certain day Rebecca was seated in her pretty
drawing-room. It was now the eighth of February, and
in twelve more days, if he was true to his word, Lons-
dale would arrive and relieve her of that treasure which,
in spite of all her bravery, was becoming an
incubus.
Mrs Lorrimer and Lady Jane had visited Rebecca
more than once during this period, but had said nothing
further about the diamond, and were kindness itself in
every particular.
It was tea-time, and Lucy had just brought in the
tray and placed it before her mistress when there came
a smart ring at the front door.
“ Shall I show anybody in, ma’am? ” she asked of
Miss Henshall. '
“ Not without letting me know first, please, Lucy. I
can only see a few friends just now.”
Lucy went to the door. There was some eager
conversation. It seemed to Rebecca, who was listening,
as though someone were pushing past Lucy. The next
minute the dining-room door was opened and Mary
stood in Rebecca’s presence.
She looked well. Her pale face had more colour
than Rebecca had ever seen before. Her dress was
smart and her hair becomingly arranged. She said,
in an eager voice:
“ Forgive me, Rebecca, for forcing myself upon you-
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The Fountain of Beauty
Lucy did her best to keep me out, but I really could not
stand your denying yourself to me. Besides, I come
in a new character. Oongratulate me, please, Rebecca.
I am now Mrs Deepe.”
Rebecca rose, and said in a cold voice:
“ So you have really done it? ”
“ Yes; two or three days ago. I am quite ac-
customed to the married state.”
“ But I thought—” began Rebecca.
“ Oh, we hurried the thing up with a special license;
they are nothing like so dear as they used to be, and
Arnold and I thought it worth while. I am as happy
as the day is long, and Arnold makes the most delightful,
fascinating husband. A man with a spice of mischief
in him is ten times as attractive as your excellent,
good, plodding, dare-nothing fellows. My husband
would dare a good deal, and so, for that matter, would
I. We’ve got the dearest little flat in Queen’s Mansions,
Bayswater, and have furnished it to our hearts’ content.
It is sweetly pretty.” _
“ I am glad you are happy,” said Rebecca. “ As
you have come, pray sit down. Won’t you have a cup
of tea? ”
“ Thank you,” said Mary, seating herself without
an instant’s hesitation and spreading out her smart
frock so that it might attract Rebecca’s attention. “ It
does seem queer, doesn’t it, that I should be drinking
tea as a visitor in your house.”
“ I did not believe that you would call,” said
Rebecca.
She poured out some tea and gave a cup to Mary.
Mary was not to be abashed. She took her tea leisurely,
and helped herself to a piece of hot cake.

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She stood with her back to Rebecca while she was
doing so, who took no apparent notice of her. Rebecca
was lying back in a deep chair, her eyes fixed on the
fire. Presently Mary returned with a blotting-pad,
pen, ink, some paper and one envelope.
“ Here,” she said, “ you can write the letter at once,
can’t you? ”
Rebecca did not stir.
“ What is the matter? ” said Mary, beginning, in
spite of herself, to get a little excited. “ Why won’t
you write this letter when I ask you? What is the
difficulty? ”
“ You want me to certify,” said Rebecca, “ to your
quiet and orderly conduct, also to your honesty. Are
you honest? ” _
Mary felt her pale face turning crimson. There
was a rage within her heart at that moment which could
have murdered the handsome girl who looked up at her
so calmly.
“ How dare you say such a thing to me? ”
said Mary. “Remember, I have a husband whose
province it is to protect me. You had better be
careful; although you are rich there is such
a thing in the world as depriving a girl of her
bread, and if you, by any words of yours, do so, the
law is on my side.”
“ It is not a question of law,” said Rebecca. “ I
merely ask you a question: are you really, in the full
sense of the word, honest? Forgive me, Mary; I must
finish what I was about to say. I don’t mean for a
moment that you have pilfered; you have not robbed
my father or me of money, or of silver spoons. You
have been careful and methodical, and have rendered
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up the account weekly of the cash you spent in house-
keeping. Nevertheless, I do ask you if in your heart
of hearts you can give yourself a character for perfect
honesty, for openness. Can you, on all occasions,
declare yourself to be above board. For instance,
Mary, I will come to the point at once. Why did you
tell Lady Jane Halliday the story you did? ”
“ Oh,” said Mary, “ we are coming to the point at
last; you mean about that diamond.”
“ You needn’t clutch hold of the table as though
you wanted to keep yourself from falling.”
“ Yes, I know about the diamond; it is rather
dangerous for you to wear it.”
“ I admit nothing,” replied Rebecca; “ but why
did you tell that story? If you have any knowledge
you must have got it by dishonest means. That is why
I hesitate to give you a character for honesty.”
Mary laughed.
“ If'having wits means being dishonest,” she said,
“ I will tell you at once that I am guilty of that offence.
Your father wore a black ribbon round his neck; on
all occasions he wofe that ribbon, and, for that matter,
it is transferred at the present moment to your neck.
I see it peeping up above the collar of your dress.”
Rebecca rose. She was trembling violently.
"‘ Go,” she said, “ go! When you left this house it
was understood between us that you were not to return.
Go, and never let me see your face again.”
“ I won’t stir,” said Mary, “ until you give me that
letter. I want the post as Lady Jane Halliday’s
companion, and I will have it! You have no right '60
withhold from me the qualities you would give Lucy
or any servant in this house.”
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The Fountain of Beauty
“ Ah,” said Rebecca, “ if I could only regard you
as I do Lucy.” She considered for a moment, then
she said briefly, “ I will write a letter to Lady Jane
and send it to her by post.”
“ That won’t do. I must take it.”
Rebecca considered a little further.
“ Very well,” she said slowly.
She then wrote a few lines on the black-edged
paper.
“ DEAR LADY JA1~IE,—At Mrs Deepe’s request I
write to say that she lived in this house with my father
and me as companion to me, and as housekeeper, for
five years. During that time we found her capable,
quiet and orderly.—Believe me, dear Lady Jane,
yours with afiection, REBECOA H:mNsnA1.L.”
The moment Rebecca began to write the letter
Mary went and stood at the opposite side of the fire-
place.
“ I can’t find. any envelope,” said Rebecca suddenly.
“ Please go to my davenport and bring me a packet.”
“ There is one staring you in the face,” said Mary.
Rebecca took it up. She remembered long after-
wards that it was not exactly in point of texture like
one of her own envelopes, but it gave her no uneasiness
at the time. She directed the envelope to Lady Jane
Halliday, put the enclosure within, and, raising the
flap to her mouth, wet the gum with her tongue in
order to fasten the envelope. The next moment she
fell forward with a faint groan. '
4
1
1

159




CHAPTER XII
WHEN Rebecca came to herself Lucy was standing over
her. She was lying on a sofa, and Lucy was fanning
her.
“ Oh, ma’am! ” said Lucy. “ I am so glad you have
opened your eyes. I got such an awful fright about
you.”
“ Why, what has happened? ” said Rebecca.
She spoke in a puzzled, dreamy sort of voice. It
was with great difficulty that she could bring her mind
back to the present.
“ Oh, ma’am,” said Lucy, “ it was Mrs Deepe who
rang the bell, and when I came upstairs you were over
there with your head against the chair, and your face—-
so queer, quite grey, ma’am, and your breath coming
ever so short. Mrs Deepe told me that you had fainted
suddenly, and advised me to send for the doctor if you
didn’t soon come to.”
“ Mrs Deepe? ” said Rebecca, sitting up and rubbing
her eyes.
Memory was quickly returning to her. The effects
of whatever had caused her to faint were passing away.
Her head no longer reeled, ' but a terrible, nameless
dread was over her.
“ Lucy,” she said, “ I am all right; take the tea-
things away. How long is it since Mrs Deepe left? ”


160


The Fountain of Beauty
“ About ten minutes ago, ma’am.”
“ I am quite all right now; I can’t imagine why I
fainted; I am not accustomed to fainting. I feel
rather sick, too. Oh, but that’s nothing; it will soon
pass. Take the tea-things and go, Lucy; go at once.”
Lucy wondered at the change in her mistress’s
manner. She stood quite still for a minute, gazing at
her, and considering whether she might take the initi-
ative and ask Dr Harris to call.
Rebecca became peremptory.
“ Go—go! ” she said. “ I wish to be alone.”
The girl left the room unwillingly. She went down to
the kitchen and began to relate her experiences to cook.
Cook had been in the Henshall family for over ten
years, and was devoted to her young lady.
“ I do wish,” said Lucy, “ that horrid Mrs Deepe had
had never come to the house; I thought we were rid of
her once and for all. She must have done something
to my missis. A healthy lady like Miss Henshall
wouldn’t faint off for nothing.”
“ Miss Henshall has gone through a deal,” said cook.
“ Don’t you talk to me, Lucy; you’re a young gel that’s
never known sorrow; but to part with a parient is no '
slight afifliction, and her keeping up as she did but
makes her feel it all the more when she does give way.
Why, a faint—it’s as common, as common as that day
follows night.”
But Lucy continued to shake her head.
“ Not that sort of faint,” she said. “ She looked so
queer and grey, and that horrid Mrs Deepe was bending
over her! I hate that woman; she was terribly
flustered, and anxious to get out of the house, never so


L 161


The Fountain of Beauty
1
which Lady Jane and Mrs Lorrimer had given her.
She could not herself understand why Mary, knowing
that she wore the black ribbon round her neck, did not
try to steal the gem while she was unconscious. Her
head ached. Suddenly a new terror possessed her.
Was it possible that the real gem was stolen and that
this was an artificial one? She took ofi the ribbon
again and looked at the diamond. There were certain
marks about it, however, which could not possibly
deceive her. She pressed the wonderful, glittering
thing with all its dancing lights suddenly to her lips,
then once again restored it to its hiding-place.
That night Lucy’s father slept at 9 Paddock Row,
and both cook and Lucy were well pleased with the
arrangement. Lucy, secretly and unknown to Rebecca,
kept the front door on the chain, always taking care to
remove it when her mistress went upstairs to get ready
to go out. Rebecca began to forget the circumstances
of her faint. She had felt a good deal of lassitude and
some headache on the day that it occurred; but these
symptoms had all passed, and she was well and as strong
as usual. She had a great deal of business to attend to,
and each day a- deeper sense of satisfaction filled her as
she remembered that Gerard Lonsdale was coming to
claim the diamond.
“ When he has it -I shall be -free. I never knew
that anything so valuable could be such a curse,”
thought the girl. “ That black ribbon might be
weighted with lead, that diamond might be a stone
dragging me to earth, so weary am I of carrying it on my
person. All day it haunts me, and all night I live
through fearful dangers in my dreams.”
I
163



CHAPTER XIII
Mas Dnnrr: walked calmly down the street. She had
not gone a dozen yards, her hands demurely folded in
her mufi, her exquisitely neat and pretty little person
looking smart and trim, before a man joined her.
“ Well? ” he said.
She looked up at him. Her lips tried to move, but
she could not get any words out.
“ Well? ” he said again imperiously.
With an effort she took one of her hands from her
muff, put something into his hand, which immediately
closed over it, and then clung with desperation to his
arm. She found her voice after a minute.
“ I am sorry I did it. I left her like one dead. Did
you put poison, real poison, on the flap of the envelope,
Arnold? ”
“ Only enough to render her unconscious. She will
come to and be as right as rain to-morrow; never mind
her. Mary, you are the pluckiest, the bravest, the
dearest woman on earth. I cannot believe that I hold
it in my palm.”
“ You do; but we are not safe,” said Mary. “ I
never was so terrified. She will discover the false
diamond as soon as ever she looks into her case. We
shall be pursued, and I shall be arrested—we’ll beth
be arrested. Arnold—I am in terror! ”
164


The Fountain of Beauty


“ Don’t be a goose,” said Arnold Deepe. “ Come;
we’ll get into a hansom, and I will take you home.
Think of our pretty home, our dear little flat. Think
of all the furniture paid for, and thousands and thousands
of money in the bank, and you and I not needing to
work again. By the way, did she give you the letter? ”
“ I have it; I shall never take it to Lady Jane
Halliday. We must burn it—at once. On the flap
the poison still lingers.”
“ Give it to me! ” said Arnold, a little roughly.
Mary took it from her pocket.
“ I am so shaken I cannot stand,” she said.
Deepe held up his umbrella for a passing hansom.
It drew up at the kerb, and the two got in. Deepe
drove with his wife to their flat in Bayswater. He
desired the man to wait for him, and took her upstairs.
She was still shaking, and was in a very queer and weak
condition. Deepe looked at her with undisguised
contempt.
“ A woman can never be a good criminal,” he said
to himself. “ She can go a long way for the love of a
man, but her feelings always upset her at the crucial
moment. Now, instead of being calm and cool as ice,
instead of knowing that she has just executed about
the cleverest piece of daring that was ever done in the
annals of crime, my wife is nervous because of that silly
girl who treated her so badly. Really and truly, if I
were not here to prevent her I believe she’d take the
diamond bac .”
As Deepe thought he went straight to the glowing
fire and dropped the letter which Rebecca had written
into the heart of the flames.
165


The Fountain of Beauty


“ There it goes!” he said with a sigh of relief.
“ That is safe, anyhow.”
Mary sat on the edge of a chair and shivered.
“ You do look woe-begone,” said her husband. “ I
never saw anything like it. I could not believe that
my brave Mary had nerves.”
“ But to do a thing like this, and—-—and-—-nearly to
kill her! ” said Mary. “ And then, of course, it will be
discovered.”
“ It won’t be discovered for some weeks at least,
and by that time we, my darling, will have secured our
money and be well out of the country.”
“ Oh, are we going abroad? ” said Mary. “ I am
glad of that. I’d much, much rather leave England
now.”
“ We’re going—no matter where,” said Deepe.
“ There’ll be a hue and cry, of course; for when that
fellow Lonsdale comes back he will want to sell his
treasure, and some plain truths will be told to him.
But this is the eighth; he doesn’t return until the
twentieth; and, in all probability, nothing will 000111.
for a few more days.”
“ But Rebecca herself—oh, you don’t know h0W
clever she is! She has studied the history of gems
because her father was always so keen about them.”
Deepe looked down at his wife with a pitying smile-
“ You seem to think,” he said after a pause, “ that
your husband is absolutely without brains.”
Mary looked up at him solemnly.
“ I know you’re the cleverest man in the world,
Arnold.”
“ Oh, not that,” said Arnold Deepe, modestly;


166 .


The Fountain of Beauty.
“ but I have got some ability, and at the most crucial
moment in my life I am scarcely likely to take a false
step.”
Mary spread out her small, pretty hands towards
the blaze. Arnold continued to look down at her.
After a time Mary said:
“ You never saw the diamond, nor have I ever seen
it. How can you possibly have got another to resemble
it in all particulars? ”
“ I will tell you, little girl; I will set your mind at
rest.”
Arnold Deepe drew a chair forward, laid his big
hand on Mary’s cold one, and began to talk.
“ I have a friend-you had best not know his name
—-he hails from Persia.”
“ Persia! ” said the girl, looking up with fresh
alarm.
“ Yes, from Persia. He knows all—all—the story
of the stolen diamond; he knows the exact shape of the
gem, the exact colour, all its peculiarities. The special
diamond, which I still hold in my other hand, is known
in Teheran as ‘ The Fountain of Beauty,’ and was stolen
by a certain high official from the Shah himself. My
friend, the Persian, hoping to recover the real gem,
has had an exact facsimile of it made—done so beauti-
fully that only an expert who employs the usual
tests could possibly discover the difference. Rebecca
Henshall wears that imitation stone against her heart
now, and I hold the real gem. Come, Mary, put your
head next mine; don’t be frightened; let’s look at the
‘ Fountain of Beauty.’ ”
Deepe opened the palm of his hand. Within,
unguarded even by a piece of paper, lay eighty thousand

167


The Fountain of Beauty
pounds’ worth of treasure—a clear, limpid, living,
leaping, palpitating thing, the rose light shining from
its many facets, every colour of the rainbow seeming
to leap from it until the eyes ached with looking, and
the hearts of both these young people ached also with
longing to keep it for their own.
“ I could go mad over a thing like that! ” said Mary
Deepe. “ I feel as if I’d give all the world to possess
it. Give it to me for one minute, just—just to kiss.”
“ No,” said Deepe, “it is too valuable; it doesn’t
leave my hands. Don’t long for the diamond itself,
Mary; but the essence of the diamond will be yours
from this hour forward.”
He opened his pocket-book, slipped the stone into
one of the compartments, put the said book inside his
breast pocket, buttoned his coat securely, and, telling
his wife that he would return to her in time for dinner,
left the flat.
Deepe desired the hansom driver to take him as
far as the Bank of England. He there dismissed the
man, paying him a generous fare. Having done so, he
stood for a minute or two in the crowd. His object
was to perceive if the hansom driver by any chance was
following him. He felt fearfully excited, but also
intensely nervous. A straw would have knocked him
down, and he knew that his whole system was so highly
strung that for days at least he could not endure the
slightest touch of opposition.
The hansom driver, however, knew nothing to induce
him to follow the gentleman who had paid him liberally.
1 5. He quickly secured another fare and went off again
towards the west.

168


The Fountain of Beautyq
With a sigh of relief Deepe now plunged into
Cornhill; from there he made his way into Leadenhall
Street, and, after many twists and turns, suddenly
entered a small court. This court was one of the
surprises which meet a traveller in London. It was
perfectly quiet, and there was an ancient tree growing
in its centre—a tree in a stunted and sooty condition,
but nevertheless one that bore feeble leaves in summer,
and was much appreciated by the people who lived in
the court.
The court went by the name of Peacock Buildings.
It contained about half-a-dozen houses, each of which
was old, but also in good preservation. “The lower
parts of these houses were let as offices, and business
men of all sorts swarmed in and out, and one or two of
them now pushed against Deepe as he made his way
across the court with the certain tread of one who
knows what he is doing.
He stopped at a house exactly facing the entrances
and ran up some broad, low steps, and found himself
in the entrance. There was a great wooden slab
fastened to the wall, inside of which were painted the
names of the different people who did business in this
house—solicitors not a few, some diamond merchants,
who occupied the ground floor, and on the fourth floor
was one solitary name—Nadir J ulaver. All the names
were painted in white on black, and stood out distinctly.
Deepe mounted to the fourth floor, and tapped
against a door, on which also were written the words
“ Nadir Julaver.”
A voice said “ Come in.’ The voice was very
silvery and flute-like. Deepe immediately entered.
3
I69


The Fountain of Beauty

A tall man in a dressing—gown, wearing a turban on
his head, turned slowly to look at him. The man was
dark, with that depth of colour and dusky hue which
immediately proclaims the Oriental. He had hand-
some, glittering, black eyes, a straight and beautifully
formed nose, thin lips, and a quantity of coal-black
hair, which he wore flung back from a lofty forehead.
His dressing-gown was a marvel of rich colouring, and
the “ fez,” which he removed from his head when Deepe
appeared, was studded with jewels. He was a long,
thin, well-made person, with sinewy limbs, hands
beautifully white and tapering, and altogether a look
of repose and good breeding about him.
He spoke in excellent English, and showed not the
slightest surprise at the sight of his visitor.
Deepe’s heart was thumping against his breast.
“ I have got it, your Excellency,” he said.
“ Don’t call me that,” was the reply, still spoken
in those high-bred and silvery tones. “ My name to
you is Mr Julaver. Lock the door, please, Mr Deepe,
and take that chair. Will you join me in a pipe? ”
Deepe nodded. Julaver pushed a jar of tobacco
and a small spirit lamp towards him. But Deepe,
although he had accepted the invitation to smoke, was
too much excited to comply.
“ Your Excellency,” he said again, with a heavy
pant, “ I—I beg your pardon—Mr Julaver; I believe,
I am sure that your dearest wish—the whole reason
of your being in London—will be gratified to-night.”
Deepe felt the diamond burning a hole against his
heart. He knew that its vivid flame was of the nature
that could consume, and at that moment he longed as _
170


The Fountain of Beauty
earnestly as Rebecca had done to get rid of the
“ Fountain of Beauty.” But he was a wary man.
He had committed a gross crime in order to possess the
gem, and he would not part with it until he was sure
of his reward.
“ Your marvellous imitation of the diamond, Mr
J ulaver, has been used to good effect, and I can to~night,
. provided you pay me the sum agreed upon, hand you
39,
the real ‘ Fountain of Beauty.
“ I said I would give you thirty thousand pounds,”
said Nadir Julaver, taking his pipe from his mouth and
looking calmly at Deepe. “ You have the diamond
on your person—give it to me. I must test it before I
part with my money.”
“ No—no,” said Deepe, nervously, “ I haven’t got
it on my person. I must see your cheque first—I must
know that your cheque will be honoured. Thirty
thousand pounds is a large sum of money. The young
man, Gerard Lonsdale, arrives in London on the
twentieth. He goes straight to Miss Henshall, and
receives from her the sham diamond. He will natur-
ally try to dispose of it, or at least to get rid of it. The
imposture will be detected. There will be even worse
to follow-I shall be deprived of my liberty, my young
wife will share my fate. Mr J ulaver, there must be no
attempt at foul play in this matter. I can give you the
‘ Fountain of Beauty,’ but first of all I must make
certain that you bestow upon me thirty thousand
pounds.”
The Persian did not speak at all for a minute, then
he said, with sham emphasis: “ You have the diamond
at the present moment concealed against your breast.

171


The Fountain of Beauty

You are a tall, strong man, but you are exceedingly
nervous. My nerves are of steel, and I know no fear.
There is a much greater Persian in 'London at the
present moment than myself; I allude to the all-
powerful Mirza Kara Yusuf. When Lonsdale becomes
the possessor of the imitation diamond he will take it
straight to Yusuf. But long before then I shall be on
my way back to Persia. I shall restore the lost diamond
to the Shah, will receive my due reward, become one
of his favourite ministers, and will have the pleasure
of instigating inquiries and putting knowledge into the
head of my Sovereign which will cause Mirza Kara .
Yusuf to be assassinated. I tell you all this to show
you that thirty thousand pounds is but a small matter
when so much is involved. Give me the diamond and
go. It was stolen from -the Shah’s throne by no less
a person than the great Mirza himself. The Shah has
not yet discovered his loss. When he does, Mirza’s
life will not be worth an hour’s purchase. Mirza has
lived for the last seven years in daily and hourly terror
of the discovery being made. Now, having put you iI1
possession of all these facts, surely you are man enough
to trust me.”
“ I believe you are quite a gentleman,” said Arnold
Deepe.
Julaver smiled that inscrutable smile which belongs
so essentially to the East.
“ I have much to do,” he said, “ and was, when you
interrupted me, taking my customary rest. I am here
on important business in connection with the Shah’s
affairs, but hope to settle all things and to return t0
Persia with the missing diamond the day after to-
172


The Fountain of Beauty
_~
morrow. Now, give me the gem and no more
wor .”
-“ I want the money first. Then I will go and fetch it.”
Julaver rose very slowly.
“ Do you imagine for a single moment,” he said,
“ that I will let you see even one of your English
sovereigns—even one gold piece—until I become the
owner of the ‘ Fountain of Beauty’? Now, do not
hesitate another moment.”
As Julaver spoke he walked across the room, but
Deepe was too quick for him. He reached the door
before J ulaver did, unlocked it swiftly, opened it, and
found himself in the passage.
“ Get your cheque-book; I will be back in five
minutes with what you want,” said Deepe.
He fled downstairs, his knees trembling under him.
J ulaver did not follow him. He stood still for a
minute in thought, then he tinkled a small bell. A
servant, also a Persian, immediately appeared from an
inner room.
“Have you been watching as I told you to do,
Abbas? ” said J ulaver, speaking in Persian.
The man made a deep “ salaam,” almost touching
the ground as he did so.
“ I watched through the eye-hole,” he said, and he
pointed swiftly to a tiny slit, which was partly concealed
by an Oriental curtain.
“ You would know the man again?” said J ulaver.
“ For ever and ever, until the Judgment,” was
Abbas’s reply.
“ Follow him; don’t let him out of your sight.
Go; hurry, no violence; only keep him within sight.”
17 3


The Fountain of Beauty

Quick as thought the man darted through the door
and ran downstairs. He was, in every respect, an
Eastern, but wore English dress, and, once in the crowd,
was unremarkable except for his great power of dodging
here and there, and squeezing himself into almost im-
possible places, and for the cunning way in which,
while apparently looking neither to right nor left, his
brilliant eyes took in all that was passing.
Deepe had fled from Nadir J ulaver in an agony of
apprehension. The conviction seized him that he had
‘been trapped, that J ulaver would take the gem and
give him nothing in its place. This was more than he
could stand. The judgment and cleverness which, as
a rule, characterised him were strangely lacking on this
occasion. J ulaver would think very little of murdering
anyone, but he was a man of his word. He wanted
that marvellous gem known as the “ Fountain of
Beauty,” and would have thought thirty thousand
pounds a small sum to pay for it.
When Deepe reached the street he plunged farther
and farther into that part which led to the East End.
He found himself in Bishopsgate Street Within, then
in Bishopsgate Street Without, then in Commercial
Road. He walked so fast that he almost ran, and each
moment he got more and more afraid. He imagined
himself pursued; he thought that J ulaver would follow
him. Once his terrors were so great that he turned and
looked behind him.
A little dark, unimportant man pushed past him,
knocking against his sleeve. Deepe did not kn0w
Julaver’s servant Abbas. The dark man made n0t
the slightest impression on him. He heaved a sigh of
174


The Fountain of Beauty


relief. J ulaver himself, who always wore his Oriental
dress, and who was distinguished for extreme courtliness -
of manner and remarkable beauty, could not be easily
overlooked. Deepe felt satisfied so far.
He plunged suddenly down a court. He went
across the court to a blind alley into which it opened.
He knew that his life was more or less in danger here,
for roughs of the worst description abounded on- this
horrible spot. It was dark night now, and the court
was but ill lighted. The gas burned sullenly, and there
was a fog overhead. It was bitterly cold, but Deepe
felt no sensation except those of overmastering fear.
The “Fountain of Beauty” seemed to scorch him.
He scarcely knew how he was to endure the terror of
retaining the famous stone much longer in his possession.
A ruffianly-looking man followed him on tip-toe,
for Deepe was well dressed, and doubtless possessed a
gold watch and chain. The man thought him worth
robbing. He could easily come behind Deepe and
fetch him a blow which would knock him to the earth,
and he would have done so, had not a little dark man
tripped him up by a sudden move—a little man of about
half his size—and before he could rise and rush with
the roar of a wounded animal upon his adversary the
lithe form had disappeared into the darkness. It con-
tinued to follow Deepe into the blind alley. When
Deepe stopped before a house and tapped on the closed
shutter the queer little figure stepped into black shadow
and remained there absolutely motionless.
Abbas felt no fear, for he was armed with a dagger
which had never yet failed him. His object was at
once to follow and to guard Arnold Deepe. -
Arnold Deepe’s knock was responded to by a girl
vs


The Fountain of Beauty 1
purchase. Look you here, Jenny; you’re a good
girl, you’ll never tell? ” The girl came close.
“ Would you like to see the most marvellous,
beautiful thing that the world—this old earth of
ours—has ever produced? ”
Her brown eyes shone. She was wonderfully
refined for her class. She lived with her people in the
lowest part of the slums, yet kept herself neat, modest,
retiring, and absolutely transparently honest and pure.
Her name was Jenny Sherlock; and old Sherlock,
her father, would scarcely hesitate at any crime which
could effect his purpose.
He was a money-lender and a receiver of stolen
goods. He and his wife pursued their nefarious trade
to their own advantage, heaping up money—for
Sherlock was a very rich man—and taking good care
of Jenny. It was their strange pride that they should
be wicked of the wicked, but their girl good with the
pathetic goodness of a flower that will live on, with no
apparent nutriment, under murky skies and stony
conditions.
Ben Sherlock and his wife tried to keep the know-
ledge of evil from Jenny. She cared for them after a
crude yet passionate fashion. She knew they were
wicked, but felt that she would shield them and their
wickedness with her life.
Deepe now laid his hand on her shoulder. She
started back at once.
“ Don’t touch me, mister.”
“ Then you won’t let me show you the—the—
beautiful thing? ” .
“ Yes, I will; but I can stand here and you there.”
M I77


‘The -Fountain of Beauty



She stood so that an angle of the centre table was
placed between herself and Deepe.
“ You will never tell,” he said; “ honour bright? ”
“ I will not teH,” she answered simply.
“ I believe you speak the truth, Jenny.”
“ Yes, mister. Lies are harmful things. They
belong to the devil. A girl who wants to be good in
a place like this must keep far from the devil and his
wor .”
“ True—quite true. Then I can trust you? ”
“ Yes, mister.”
Deepe took the stone out of his pocket. He held
it in his hand and the girl bent forward to gaze.
Suddenly she gave a cry. Her cry was one of pure
ecstasy.
“ Put it against something dark—something to
light it up,” she said.
As she spoke, she ran to the window and took a
small crimson cover which hung on the back of a chair.
“ Put it there—just there! ” she shouted; “ and
let’s turn the gas up higher.”
A face looked in through a chink in the shutter.
178


CHAPTER XIV
MARY DEEPE took special pride in preparing a nice
dinner for her husband. Arnold was particular with
regard to his food; that is, he had become particular
since the day Mary had dawned upon his horizon with
two hundred and twenty-five pounds in her pocket.
He liked good wine and carefully-prepared dishes, soup
with flavour in it, and fish that was really fresh. He
hated sweets, but liked savouries.
Mary, who was an excellent housekeeper, was able
to gratify all his tastes. She had got an inexpensive
servant, but she could train her, and did so with ex-
cellent results.
Now, as the hour approached for the meal, Mary
Deepe, who had recovered much of her nerve, saw,
first of all, that the table with its new damask—white
as snow, and with a proper gloss upon it—was properly
laid with shining silver and sparkling glass. She gave
directions with regard to the fire, and saw that the
curtains were drawn. Then she went into her bed-
room.
She had not wasted her two hundred and twenty-
five pounds in buying much dress; but she had a few
old evening dresses which she used to wear when an
inmate of Mr Henshall’s house. She put one on now


I79


The Fountain of Beauty
of very pale blue crepe-de-chine. It suited her well,
clinging to her lissom young figure, adding to her height,
and making her look her best.
Mary felt excited. On the events of this day all
her future hung. She and Arnold would be rich. They
could easily let the flat, and they themselves would go
away. In a few years they might return under another
name, or they might stay in New York, or Sydney, or
Melbourne, or some other big town in a distant part of
the world, and, as Mary expressed it, play the game
to some advantage. She felt quite happy. Her fears
were lulled. It never once occurred to her even for a
single moment that Arnold Deepe could fail in nerve,
could show lack of courage at a crucial moment. She
had got him the diamond. She had done the deed.
Having first acted the disgraceful part of eavesdropper
when poor Mr Henshall lay dying, she had now added
still further to her sin. She had gone to see Rebecca
and laid a trap for her, into which the girl had quickly
fallen. She had all but poisoned Rebecca, but—she
had won her cause. A false diamond was substituted
for a real one, and Arnold Deepe had gone away with
the real stone in his pocket to convert it into glittering
gold. Of course, Rebecca had recovered by now, for
Arnold had assured his wife that the effect of the poison
was only to produce a sudden and immediate torpor
which would pass in a short time.
Mary, therefore, found it possible to forget Rebecca.
She returned to her little sitting-room and sat down.
She wished Arnold would not keep her waiting so long.
It was tiresome to stay for so many hours alone; for
she had been accustomed to such a bustling life.




18o


The Fountain of Beauty
She poked the fire, and looked at her own pretty
reflection in the glass, and wondered what their first
steps would be after Arnold had secured the money.
He would bring it back with him to-night—thousands
upon thousands of pounds! Mary resolved that,
whatever the consequences, a part, at least, of this
delicious sum should be spent on her own wardrobe.
She had been satisfied without a proper trousseau, but
there was no earthly reason why she should not get it
now that she had, so to speak, earned the money herself
for its purchase. Her little maid, Agnes by name, put
her head in at the drawing-room door.
“ It’s past seven, ma’am. Do you want dinner
served, or will you wait for Mr Deepe? ”
“ Oh,” said Mary, rousing herself, “ put the things
back as much as you can, Agnes. Mr Deepe ought to
be here in a moment.”
Just then Arnold’s latchkey was heard in the lock,
and Mary felt herself trembling.
“ There is your master,” said Mary, turning to the
servant. “ Go back to the kitchen at once and bring
in dinner when I ring.”
She felt impatient at the girl’s presence-impatient
of everything but her frantic desire to learn the news.
In her pretty blue dress she ran into the little hall.
Arnold was there, hanging up his coat. He removed
his hat and put it on the hat-stand.
“ Well, Arnold—well? ” said Mary.
He turned and looked at her.
“ Dinner is ready,” she said. “ Won’t you get tidy
—won’t you change your dress? ”
“ No! ” he said.
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The Fountain of Beauty
“ Good Heavens! You haven’t lost it? ”
“ I know where it can be found. I did what I am
afraid is a mad thing. I pawned it to a man of the
name of—oh! I had best not tell you-——a man I know.
He recognises its value and I can redeem it to-morrow.
I will, of course, I’ll have more nerve then. I got one
thousand pounds for it-—in notes, too. Here they are.”
He thrust his hand into his pocket and took out a
lot of dirty notes. _
“ That’s why I am so late,” said Deepe. “I had
to go past the city into the East End to find the man.
Bah! it was a dirty job, and he is a horrible creature.
He’ll give me back the gem to-morrow night for an
additional hundred pounds. He has promised not to
sell it to anybody else during that time.”
Mary turned deadly pale while her husband was
speaking, but after a moment she steadied herself.
This was no hour to scold. The man was broken down.
“ There’s hot water in your dressing-room,” she
said, “ and I have laid out your evening things.”
“ I—I can’t dress.”
“ You can—and shall. Be quick; Agnes will bring
the dinner in exactly ten minutes. It’s the sort you
love—s0up, turbot, a pair of grouse, and a cheese
savoury. I’ve got that special Burgundy also that you
like, and some of your own cigarettes. Now, be quick,
go and dress.”
He gave her a wondering, half-stunned sort of
glance, and then went away to his dressing-room.
Mary had insisted on his providing himself with proper
evening dress. She was accustomed to it, she said, at
9 Paddock Row, and did not mean to do without it.
I83


The Fountain of Beauty


" .
I
Deepe looked almost handsome and quite gentle-
manly in his well-fitting clothes. The pile of dirty
notes still lay on the table in the drawing-room. Mary
took them up now and folded them.
“ Dinner is served, ma’am,” said Agnes.
Mary thrust the notes into the bosom of her dress.
“ You are not going to keep them there? ” said her
husband.
“ Never mind,” she replied. “ Come and dine;
I made that soup myself; it is the best oxtail.”


I84


WT
CHAPTER XV
WHEN dinner was over, and Deepe had eaten with
appetite, for the food was good and exactly to his
taste, Mary motioned him to follow her to the drawing-
room.
“ You can smoke,” she said, curling herself up
gracefully in a soft easy chair, “and you may prepare
one of those cigarettes for me. We needn’t talk for a
quarter of an hour.”
He looked at her in some surprise and a renewal of
the dread which had troubled him during all the after-
noon. But Mary had closed her eyes. When Deepe
provided her with a cigarette she gently puffed little
rings of smoke into the air. Deepe felt comforted,
and smoked luxuriously himself. He liked a pipe best.
The pretty, fresh drawing-room became clouded with
a sort of aromatic cloud. The smoke lay against the
new curtains and perfumed Mary’s davenport and the
very chairs in which the couple sat.
Sharp to the minute Mary opened her eyes. She
flung the end of her cigarette into the fire.
“Now it’s time to talk,” she said. “ There is no
one to listen. Agnes has gone to bed; I told her to go
early. She is an innocent country girl and is not
accustomed to late hours. Tell me why you did what
you did. Why did you lose your nerve? ”

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“ It was the feel of the thing against my breast,”
said Deepe.
He had not meant to tell Mary any of his sensations,
but her calm blue eyes and firm thin lips seemed to draw
his confidence from him.
“ Yes,” he continued, “ I cannot explain to you
what I felt. You know what a marvellous thing it is-—
unlike anything we have ever looked at before.”
“ We know all that,” said Mary. “ Hurry on,
Arnold, do.”
“ I can’t talk faster; I must tell my story my own
way,” said Arnold, sulkily.
“ All right, but please remember that I am in your
secret, that I was your accomplice to-day in a matter
which might very easily have meant murder, that I
brought you the ‘ Fountain of Beauty ’—”
“ For God’s sake, don’t talk so loud,” said the
man.
“ I’ll talk as I please,” said Mary; “ all this 10w
whispering and muttering attracts attention. If you
had half my spunk not a living soul would suspect
you.”
“ I have—as a rule,” said the man. “ As a rule I
have plenty of nerve, but—but-it was that living
uncanny thing itself that upset me.”
“ You had much better have left it with me. I
could have gone to your Persian with it, and he’d have
given me the money fast enough, and we’d have been
a rich couple to-night. But there—I don’t want t0
scold. Tell me what you did.”
“ Don’t be angry with me, Mary,” said Deepe-
“ I am awfully broken down. I’ve got such a fit of
shivering over me I can scarcely hold myself together;
186


The Fountain of Beauty
and you are my wife, Mary—my—my bride—and I
love you dearly.”
“ Yes, that is all right,” said Mary. “ If I didn’t
suppose that you loved me, Arnold,” she continued,
with just a touch of softening in her voice, “ do you
suppose I could have linked my life with yours? Well,
I’ve done it, and can’t undo it, worse luck.”
“ Why do you say that? ”
“ Isn’t what you have done worse luck? ” she said
passionately. “ If I had given you up I’d have
received two thousand pounds, but after commit-
ting the most deadly crime you come back with one
thousand. Oh, no, Arnold; I keep the money. You
took most of the money which I brought you that day
to your lodgings, and I was satisfied, for I thought you
just magnificently wicked. I thought you so wicked
that you knew no fear, and that you would not stoop
to small things. Now, however, I am changing my
mind. Once and for all—I will not stay with a man
who is a coward. Go on; tell me what you did.”
“ Where’s the use? You say you will not stay with
me. I was a coward-worse than you can dream of.”
Mary was silent. She shut her hard, straight lips.
Her eyes grew flinty. Arnold looked at her. His face,
compared to hers, was passionate with suppressed fury.
Suddenly he put out his hand and touched her knee.
“ I swear solemnly to you, Mary, that I will never
lose my nerve again. By to-morrow evening we’ll have
the thirty thousand pounds; we’ll leave here-—yes, at
once.”
- “ All right,” she said, recoveringher former gracious-
ness of manner. “ I’m sorry I spoke so harshly to you,
Arnold. But really, you drove me mad. Now—pull

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The Fountain of Beauty
I shall have the ‘ Fountain of Beauty ’ back. I will take
it to Nadir Julaver to-morrow. I won’t get into a funk.
He will give me the thirty thousand he promised.”
Mary sat very still. After a time she put her hand
into the bosom of her dress and drew out the dirty notes.
They were mostly ten-pound notes; a few were worth
twenty-five pounds, a few fifty. They smelt of tobacco
and dirt. Mary folded them up into a neat roll. She
held the roll in her hand.
“Where do you intend to get the extra hundred
pounds? ” she said.
“ There’s a hundred of your money still left,” was the
reply. “ You must lend it to me. We’ll have our
thirty thousand to-morrow.”
“ Arnold, I think you have taken leave of your
senses.”
“ Don’t scold me ! ” he said piteously; “ only help me.”
“ Now listen,” she said in an authoritative voice.
“ You are afraid to manage this business. You must
leave it altogether to me.”
“ To you! But you cannot possibly go to that
abominable back alley. It would be as much as yo.11.
life is worth.” j
“ I am not at all afraid; I shall go early to-morrt W
morning.”
“ And with that money on your person? ”
“ I tell you I am not afraid. Now get to your roo 0,
and to bed. You are so nervous you cannot possil y
recover unless you sleep.”
The man obeyed her. Already he was feeling l §1.
power. He did not for a single moment mean her to lo
his dirty work for him on the next day. He felt qu t9
sure that sleep would restore his mental balance, that 18

190


The Fountain of Beauty
accustomed, bold, impudent swagger would return to
him, that he would be able to hold his own once more.
But when he opened his eyes on the following
morning, it was to see Mary, neatly, but very plainly
dressed. She was wearing the costume of a nurse.
“ How did you get that? ” he said in astonishment.
“ I always keep it by me,” she said. “I was a
nurse for a year. Nobody ever attempts to molest a
nurse. I can go anywhere in this dress.”
“ ’Pon my word and it suits you,” he said. “ You
look quite beautiful in it.”
He stretched out his hand to take hers. He wanted
to raise it to his lips.
“ But you can’t do this for me, Mary. Oh! my
God! I feel as shaky as ever.”
She smiled.
“ I mean to do it,” she said. “ You are no more
fit for this work to-day than you were yesterday.
Besides, it will not do to have you going a second time
to Ben Sherlock.”
“ Oh—you will be murdered! Poor, poor Mary! ”
“ Not at this hour. Besides, my dress protects me.
Now, give me the hundred pounds which you still
possess of mine.”
He fidgeted. Eventually he gave her the money,
taking it from an inner pocket of his waistcoat.
“ There,” he said, “ when this is spent we shall only
have twenty-five over, and all this furniture has to be
paid for. We have been ruinously extravagan .”
“ As if that matters,” said Mary, “ when I am
coming back with thirty thousand. Oh! why didn’t
I do this yesterday? -”
She went into the kitchen, gave a few directions to
191


The Fountain of Beauty


Agnes, told her husband to wait for her, and went out.
She had already got explicit directions as to how to find
the dreadful slum off the Commercial Road, and she
well knew Peacock Buildings in the City. She reached
the court which was the entrance to the blind alley soon
after nine. The men who worked had gone to work.
Several of the miserable children were at school, and
many of the women were busy over their charing or
household matters.
-The court looked horrible, but it was comparatively
empty. Mary walked quickly and steadily through it,
a train of small gutter children following her.
“ Come and see my sick sister, nurse. . . .” “ Oh,
nurse, come and look in on father; he has broke his
arm, and he’s wurry bad.”
Mary smiled at them and said she was busy with
another patient, and went straight to Sherlock’s'house.
She asked there for Jenny Sherlock. A woman with a
coarse and bloated face opened the door. She said that
Jenny was out and that neither she nor her man could
see anyone.
“ I have come on very special business,” said Mary,
“ and I must see Mr Sherlock. Let me in, please.”
Her manner was so firm and determined that the
woman, soddened with drink, gave way before her.
Mary entered the house. A minute later she found
herself in the little parlour where Deepe had shown the
diamond to Jenny. Hardly any light penetrated
through the dirty window. The room was greasy and
sickening in the extreme. It smelt of foul tobacco. It
had that indescribable smell which is only known in the .
worst East-end habitations.
Mary drew her breath several times sharply and _
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The Fountain of Beauty
quickly. All of a sudden she hoped that she would not
faint. No wonder poor Arnold lost some of his nerve
in a place like this.
Just then the door was opened, and a shaggy man,
coarsely dressed, with a dirty shirt and a coat covered
with grease, and a long beard of several weeks’ growth,
entered the room.
He was a powerful man, with a cast in one eye,
a crooked mouth, and altogether a most repulsive
appearance.
“ Now what do you want? ” he said roughly.
“ We ain’t none of us ill that I know of.”
“ ’Tisn’t a case of illness,” said Mary, speaking in
her clearest, sharpest, firmest tone. “ I put on this
nurse’s dress for safety, for a respectable woman hasn’t
much chance in the place where you live, Mr Sherlock.”
“ Keep your reflections to yourself,” growled
Sherlock.
“ I will, after I have explained my errand. I have
come here for my husband, Arnold Deepe. I am his wife.
This is his card. He has written some directions on it.”
The man stared furtively at Mary—then an odd
expression came over his face.
“ You want the bauble back? ” he said.
“ That’s about it,” said Mary.
“ Well, you ’a come in good time; but I must have
my hundred pounds on the loan. Eleven hundred
pounds in my hand and you get the bauble again.”
Mary very calmly took the roll of money from inside
her dress. She counted the notes deliberately, then
she held her hand clenched firmly over them.
“ Put the diamond in here,” she said, opening her
other hand, “ and you can have the notes.”

N I93


The Fountain of Beauty
S11
“ There’s nothing like doing things boldly,” she said
to herself.
The - entrance to the court was too - narrow
for a carriage to pass through, and Mary had
to walk the few yards which lay between the
entrance and the house where Nadir Julaver lived.
Again she felt her knees trembling. She went up
the shallow steps, worn with age, wor n with the tread
of thousands of feet. She found herself in the en-
trance. She looked at the names painted in white
on the blackboard.
Nadir Julaver: this name alone stood for the pos-
sessor of the fourth floor. She went up the dirty, wor
n
stairs. She paused for breath on each landing. She
wondered why her breath came so fast and why that
growing terror, greater and greater each minute, assailed
her.
At last she reached the Persian’s floor. The landing
was somewhat wide, and there were several rooms.
Mary’s eyes, however, took in nothing but one fact. A
sheet of paper was tacked lightly on the door of the main
entrance—the door which bore the name of Nadir
Julaver. In a handwriting which almost resembled
print, so legible was it, Mary read a few words: “ Nadir
Julaver has left town for the present. Any letters
which come for him will be kept at his office until
further notice.”
Mary’s head truly reeled. How she went down
those stairs, how the diamond seemed to burn more and
more against her heart, she could never tell. Her
hansom was waiting for her. She knew that Deepe had
missed his great, his golden chance—missed it because
of his sudden pusillanimity.
I95


The Fountain of-Beauty I


They must sell the diamond now for what it was
1 l
1 worth.
'l . She drove home. She felt tired, reckless. She
knew well the difficulty which Deepe would have in dis-
posing of the gem; but at least she had got it; that was I
one consolation. There were surely people to be found I
in London who would give ten—perhaps twenty-— 1
thousand pounds for anything so unique, so glorious, so l
splendid. Her spirits rose a little. She paid her cab-
man and went upstairs.
She
It was Deepe himself who opened the door.
came in at once and motioned him to follow her into
their dining-room.
“ I have got it,” she said, “ but he is gone.”
“ What? what? ” said Deepe.
“ Nadir Julaver has left London. I went to his
rooms. There was a notice on his door to say that he
.had gone. There was no address. His letters were t0
be kept for him.”
Deepe sank into a chair. His face was the colour oi
death.
l '. “ Gone!” he muttered, “ gone! My God, ‘J13’
God! But, Mary, you have got it? ”
“ Yes. You sent me to a loathsome place. I
. bad as that man Ben
Sherloc .” .
“ Mary, we must get rid of it; we mustn’t keel’ 117.
Nadir Julaver knows that I have it. He will get ll?
from me—he will get it from me somehow. He 1s
clever—as clever as the devil. That move of hie,
going away, means unutterable things. Mary, give
it to me.”
“ Sell it for the best price you can get,” she said-

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The Fountain of Beauty
less, I have an assurance within my heart that my time
will not be wasted, and that I, who am rich, can do much
with my money.”
Rebecca’s reflections were pleasant, her hands lay
loosely in her lap, her beautiful eyes were fixed on
the fire. She was seeing pictures in the dancing flames,
and each picture represented Gerard Lonsdale in a
different attitude—in a new position. It seemed to her
that she was looking at his life, watching his adventures,
seeing him—first in his poverty, then in his gradually-
acquired wealth, then in danger, then in prison. She
was wondering to herself what a Persian prison was like.
She knew that he was coming to London followed by
danger. She hoped that all would be well that very
night, and that when her life was free from the burden of
the diamond his life would also be set at rest. -
Presently she bent forward and rang her bell. Lucy,
looking prim and bright and pretty, appeared.
“ Lucy, I am expecting a gentleman to call this after-
noon. He will give his name as Mr Lonsdale. If he
comes, admit him. I shall not be at home to anyone
else.”
“ Very well, ma’am.”
“ You can bring tea in soon, Lucy. If the gentle-
man is late get fresh tea for him when he does come.
Thank you; that is all.”
Lucy retired. She was pleased to see more anima-
tion on Rebecca’s face than it had hitherto worn. She
went down to the kitchen to consult with cook.
“ Our missis is picking up a bit,” she said.
“ And why shouldn’t she? ” replied cook. “ ’Taint
natural for the young to be always grieving, even if they
do lose a parient.”

199


The Fountain of Beauty


“Now, is she? ” said Emma. She put her arms
akimbo and looked thoughtful.
“ And no one else is to be let in to-day,” continued
Lucy. “ ‘ I’m expecting of him, Lucy,’ she said, ‘ and
his name is Mr Lonsdale,’ she said; ‘ and you’re not to
let no one else in.’ ”
“ Oh, my word,” said cook, “ he’s a fortune-hunter.
You tell me what sort of expression he has on his
face when he calls, Lucy.”
“ I will,” said Lucy.
“ Our missus is in great danger,” said cook, “ bein’
so rich; she’ll have them fortune-hunters surrounding
her like bees—or wasps, rather, I should say. Each of
them want, not her, but her money. I know. Poor
young lady, it’s a pity the master didn’t wed her to some
one afore the Lord took him.”
“ She’s a deal too young to be wed,” said Lucy.
“ She’s not twenty.”
“ She looks her age,” said cook, “ and could do very
well with a husband——-if he worn’t a fortune-hunter.”
“ There’s a ring at the front door,” said Lucy.
She rushed upstairs and opened the door. Rebecca
felt herself trembling. She stood up, undecided
whether to receive her visitor standing or sitting. She
was about to seat herself again when Lucy flung open
the door.
“Mr Lonsdale,” she said, and a man entered.
He was very tall and thin, but broad-shouldered and
muscular-looking. His face had a great deal of life
about it. His eyes were dark and animated. His eyes
were good, but the rest of his features were plain. They
were irregular; he had high cheek bones. His colour
was bad, too, being dull and sallow in tone. His fore-

201


The Fountain of Beauty

head was high and slightly bald, his dark hair fine. His
chin, too, was firm. Altogether, Rebecca felt that she
liked the face of Gerard Lonsdale.
“ Sit down, won’t you? ” she said. “ I have been
expecting you.”
He gave her a very courteous glance, bowed, and
took a chair which she indicated.
“ I called at your father’s office to-day,” he said,
after a moment’s pause, “ where your letter was at once
given to me. I cannot even try to express my s0rr0w
at not seeing him again”
Rebecca had begged of all her friends not to condole
with her on the subject of her father’s death; but, some-
how, she liked these words from the lips of the
stranger.
“ Mr Lonsdale,” she said suddenly (her eyes filled
with tears, the slight artificiality which had character-
ised her until this moment melted, she was her natural
and best self), “ you were one of the last people {BY
father spoke of before hedied. He took a great liking
to you. He wished to see you again.”
“ He saved me,” said Lonsdale, with fervour.
He drew his chair impulsively a little nearer to the
fire
“ Shall I tell you all about it? ” he said after a peuee»
“ or would you rather I didn’t? It may be painful f0I‘
you to hear your father’s name mentioned. He 011137
died a very short time ago.” .
“. Not a month ago yet,” said Rebecca.- “ one of the
last things he read was your letter, and your letter com-
forted him inexpressibly.” _
Lucy entered with tea. She glanced at the stranger,
observed that her mistress had a faint touch of colour in
202


The Fountain of Beauty
her face, and felt a sense of satisfaction. Having
arranged the tea equipage she went downstairs.
“ I had a good look at him,” she said to cook, “ and
he ain’t no fortune-hunter.”
“ Before you say anything more to me,” said
Rebecca to Lonsdale, “ you must have some tea. It is
a cold day; you look col .”
The stranger had shivered slightly. Rebecca poured
out tea, and gave it to him. He found himself talking
to her in a gentle, mellow sort of voice, a voice with no
harshness in it—the refined voice of an English gentle-
man. Already he seemed to understand Rebecca, her
reticence, and her grief. It seemed to Lonsdale that his
office was to draw her out of herself, to get her to talk of
matters other than those which immediately pressed
round her. He thought her environment too narrow
for her personality. Her character, he felt certain, was
strong. He was interested, too, in her face, although it
puzzled him. VVhen the eyes danced he looked at the
sad mouth, and felt bewildered.
“ That girl is complex, but she is good,” he said to
himself.
Not until tea was over, and Lucy had removed all
traces of the little meal, did Rebecca alter her manner.
“ Now,” she said; “ you have come to see me on
business, have you not? ”
“ I have come to see you, Miss Henshall, on the
subject of my letter.”
“ I understand,” said Rebecca. “ I have the letter
by me. May I fetch it? ”
Lonsdale bowed. Rebecca went to her davenport,
opened a drawer, and took out the letter which bore the
postmark of Teheran. She returned to her seat and read

203


The Fountain of Beauty

the letter slowly over. She had read it many, many
times, and felt that she knew it by heart. When she
had finished she raised her eyes and fixed them on
Lonsdale’s face.
“ Were my father alive you would, according to that
letter, have a strange tale to tell him—one which you
did not dare to put on paper. You have, however, in-
formed him in the letter he never read that you have
been in prison and in peril of your life, and that even
when you wrote you were a hunted man; you say
further that when you hold the diamond in your clasp
and give it to the one who demands it back you will
be able to breathe freely.”
“ That is quite true,” said Lonsdale. “ You have
repeated the important part of my letter with admirable
exactitude. I want the diamond back. When it is
mine once more, I shall return it to the man who stole it.”
“ The man who stole it! ” said Rebecca.
“ Yes; he is waiting for me in London. I hope to
give it to him to-night.”
“ But why? ” said Rebecca. “ Pardon me. Why
should you give it to a thief, who in his turn will make
restitution? ”
“ The diamond will find its proper owner again. The
fact is, Miss Henshall, my life is in danger; I may he
assassinated at any moment unless that diamond is
restored to this man, who is all powerful, and in very
high authority at Teheran. You have it safe, have you
not? ”
Rebecca raised her hand and just touched that
portion of her dress beneath which the diamond rested.
“ I have it safe,” she said.
The stranger gave a sigh of the utmost relief.
204


The Fountain of Beauty
“Thank God for that! I feel that I can breathe
again. I cannot tell you what horrors I have under-
gone on my homeward journey; not that I for a single
moment doubted your father, but in a case of this kind,
and where Orientals are concerned, it is almost impos-
sible to be guarded against their wiles. They can employ
means of assassination, for instance, unknown to any
Western race. They are absolutely unscrupulous; their
wisdom is almost unfathomable, and when once they
determine to track a victim, that victim cannot by any
possibility escape them. I have found that out during
my residence in Persia. I am telling you what I
know.”
Rebecca was silent for a time. Then she said:
“ After all you did not understand my father.”
“ What do you mean? ” said Lonsdale. “ You
distress me.”
“ In all the world,” said Rebecca, “ there never was
anyone wiser or more honourable. In his hands the
stone you value was safe. It is safe now with me. It
will be in your possession almost immediately; but
first, may I ask you a question? ”
“ You may ask me a thousand questions, and I will
answer them to the fullest of my ability. But what I
wish to say before you ask me any question is this: I
did trust your father most absolutely. I only feared
that he might be unwittingly tricked by the dangerous
enemies of whom I spoke. I dared not write to him,
for my letters would have been traced. I knew that if
once the man who is waiting for me in London was
aware that your father possessed the diamond he would
not keep it for many hours. I believe firmly now that
no one in London had any clue to the fact that your

205




,--l-_ -.- :__. __._.=.fg-,_"
-'-.-_-e- .<.-.1-ri - -
The Fountain of Beauty
father possessed the stone-that he guarded his secret
we .” '
“ Until almost the end,” said Rebecca in a whisper.
“ Now, one person knows; indeed, I ought to add that
I believe two people know.”
“ My God! What do you mean? ”
“ Never mind,” said Rebecca. “ They tried to get
the stone from me, but failed. I want to listen to your
story now. I assure you the diamond is safe; I looked
at it only an hour ago.”
“ I will tell you as briefly as I can how matters
stan ,” said Lonsdale. “ I was engaged in a mercan-
tile house in Teheran, and was doing well. I was only
twenty-two years of age. I found the climate suited me
admirably, and I did not suffer as many Europeans do-
Then I got into difficulties. I trusted a fellow—an
Armenian. He induced me to put a little money that
I possessed into an investment of his own. I need not
worry you with these sordid details. Having got my
money from me-oh! I was a young greenhorn at the
time !—he -made away with it and made me responsible
for many debts which he-had incurred. If those debts
were not met I should lose my employment and be
obliged to return to England a disgraced and dis-
honoured man, and my poor old mother, who was alive
then, would be left without the necessities of existence.
“ You can imagine my position—the terrible sense»-
tions at being sorely done, and my hopeless outlook.
Five hundred pounds would save me, would enable
me to pay off everything—would silence the tongue oi
evil rumour which, let me tell you, Miss Henshall, in e
place like Teheran, often means imprisonment and death
to a foreigner. But I had as little chance of getting fiv e
206


The Fountain of Beauty
hundred pounds as I had of turning the stones in the
streets into gold.
“ I was seated on my verandah, musing over my
position and wondering how long I could avert the burst
of the storm, when a sly-looking Persian of a low grade
‘ salaamed ’ before me in the street. He called out to
know if he might come up and speak to me. I nodded
compliance. I had learned that my best plan was, as
far as possible, to humour these people. The man ap-
peared. He came gingerly forward, closing the door
which led to the verandah behind him. He took from
a belt which he wore round his waist the diamond which
you now have in your keeping. He offered it to me for
a sum which represents about five pounds in English
money. I beat him down to less than that sum, and
took the stone, thinking that I might some day in
England sell it at a profit. I knew nothing about
diamonds, but I could not help remarking on its size
and brilliancy. I thrust it into my pocket and went
out.
“ On that very evening at a restaurant I met your
father. It was a sort of half English, half French house,
where the cooking was tolerably good. I used to fre-
quent this place every day for dinner. I went there
now, the diamond in my pocket. No one suspected
me or seemed to observe me. I found myself at a small
table opposite to your father, who, finding that I was
English, greeted me cordially. We took a liking to ,§
each other on the spot. Before the meal was over I found that I was giving him my confidence. I did so without the ghost of an idea that he would personally ‘,1
help me. He listened to my story and accompanied me '
as far as my rooms.

1;¥‘~"~“;~1e.<‘?
207


The Fountain of Beauty
'1
“ As I was parting from him he asked me if I would
call on him the following day, and gave me his card. He
was staying in the best hotel at Teheran. I went to him
at the appointed time and he received me in a private
room.
“ ‘ Now, Mr Lonsdale,’ he said, ‘ I may as well tell
you at once that I am interested in you. I once knew
people of your name who lived in Yorkshire. Can you
possibly belong to the same family? ’
“ We had a little discussion over this, and I was able
to prove to him that I was a distant relation.
“ ‘ That clinches it,’ he said. ‘ Now listen. You
have got into a mess. I am an Englishman, and I don’t
like to see a young fellow of my country in hopeless hot
water. What will set you on your legs? ’
“ I named the sum, trembling as I did so. He
looked very grave. o
“ ‘ You are sure that is sufficient? ’ he said.
“ ‘Amply sufficient,’ I replied. ‘ But I have no
security to give you—nothing, and I am a stranger to
you.’
“ He bent forward then and spoke earnestly.
“ ‘ I believe I have a kind heart, Mr Lonsdale,’ he
said, ‘ but above all things I am a man of business. I
should infinitely prefer, both for your sake and mine, to
make this a business transaction. Have you nothing oi
any sort that you can give me as security for the
money? ’
“ While he spoke I suddenly thought of the diamond
which lay unguarded in my waistcoat pocket.
“ ‘ I don’t believe I have got anything,’ I replied—'
‘ but stay—do you know anything of gems? ’
“ ‘ A good deal,’ he said, his eyes sparkling. ‘ I em


208


The Fountain of Beauty
particularly interested in diamonds—in fact, their sale
makes part of my trade.’
“ ‘ Then you will tell me if this is valuable or not,’
I said; and I laid the sparkling gem in his hand.
“ He gave a perceptible start, and changed colour.
He got up abruptly and went to the window. He
caught up a piece of dark velvet and put it behind the
diamond. Then, closing his hand firmly over it, he
returned to where I sat.
“ ‘ How did you come by this? ’ he said sternly. I
looked at him in astonishment.
“ ‘ What do you mean, Mr Henshall? ’
“ ‘ I mean this,’ he replied. ‘ You have offered me
one of the most magnificent diamonds I have ever
looked at. It is worth a very large sum of money. It is
abundant security for the five hundred pounds which I
propose to lend you. But before I touch it I must find
out how it came into your possession.’
“ ‘ I didn’t steal_it, sir—if that is what you mean. I
bought it from a Persian, a low fellow, who oflered it to
me for a small sum of money yesterday.’
“ ‘ I shall leave Teheran to-night,’ your father said,
‘ and will take this with me. You have told no one
that it got into your possession? ’
“ ‘ No one,’ I replied.
“ ‘ Very well; these are my terms. I return to
England with the diamond. I keep it for you for seven
years from this date.’
“ It was the 20th of February seven years ago when
our interview took place, Miss Henshall. ‘ Any time
between the present moment and seven years hence you
can give me back the capital I have lent you with five
per cent. interest,’ said your father. ‘ At the end of
~-
o 209


T‘l
CHAPTER XVII
ABoU'r nine o’clock on the evening of that same day
Lonsdale’s hansom drew up outside the Carlton Hotel.
He sent in his card, made a certain inquiry, and was
presently asked by one of the servants to follow him up
a long, low flight of stairs. On reaching the top he was
taken down a corridor; then a door was opened.
The. servant announced “ Mr Gerard Lonsdale,”
and Lonsdale found himself in the presence of the great
Persian Minister.
Mirza Kara Yusuf was dressed as a European, and,
except for the fact that he wore a fez on his head, which
he instantly removed when Lonsdale appeared, he
might have been an Englishman.
He was a tall, powerful-made man with massive
features and a look at once of strength and cunning about
his face. His voice was smooth and melodious, as was
the voice of that other Persian, Nadir Julaver. Not a
trace of emotion or surprise passed over his features as
he rose slowly, with extreme dignity, and made the
slightest possible bow to Lonsdale.
The servant withdrew, closing the door behind him.
When he did so Mirza touched a small silver gong which
stood on the table by his side. Instantly two men in
the native dress of Persia appeared.
“ Draw the curtains to the door; stay outside in
case you are wanted,” was the Mirza’s command.
21 3


The Fountain of Beauty
.-.-_¢» __‘_ ___ .,__ _

The men salaamed and immediately withdrew.
Lonsdale felt a certain tightening about his heart.
Nevertheless, he knew that he was safe. He had the
diamond, the “ Fountain of Beauty,” on his person.
The Mirza looked at him from head to foot.
“ We have never met face to face before,” he said.
“ No,” said Lonsdale. _
“ You have very nearly cost me my life,” said the
Persian.
“ Unwittingly,” replied Lonsdale.
“ That matters nothing,” replied the Persian. “A
life for a li.fe—I could take yours now if I pleased; not a
soul would know.”
Lonsdale gathered courage from the imminence of
the peril.
“ In a great hotel like this,” he said, “ the man who
murders another must remember that he is in England,
and that however great his genius he cannot possibly
conceal this fact from the world at large.”
The Mirza gave the faintest ghost of a sardonic B11116-
Then he said slowly:
“ We of Persia carry our methods with us. Bub I
have no intention of murdering you, Mr Lonsdale, if] 011
have brought me back my diamond.”
“ I have, sir,” said Lonsdale.
Lonsdale had put the diamond into a little ¢ we
which he wore fastened to his gold chain. He was al >11i.»
to put his hand into his pocket, but withdrew it V1 B11
the Mirza interrupted him.
“ One moment,” said the Persian. “ You have 611
Nadir Julaver? ”
“ A long time ago,” replied Lonsdale.
“ I am well aware that it is years ago,” said he
214


The Fountain of Beauty
Mirza, “ but that matters little. With us in Persia time
is of no moment. What we mean to do to-day we do
to-morrow, or years hence; it is all the same; we invari-
ably do it. You gave Nadir Julaver certain informa-
tion when you were in prison.”
“It is of little moment what information I gave
him,” replied Lonsdale, recovering more and more of
his spirit as he recalled the fact that his feet were on
English ground. “ I hold the diamond now in my
possession, and I am prepared to give it back to you.”
“ Ah! ” said Mirza Kara Yusuf. “ But something
rather strange has happened. One of my servants will
perhaps enlighten you. Something has occurred which
puzzles me not a little.”
Again he touched his silver gong, and a third Persian,
in magnificent white embroidered garments, appeared.
“ Seleucus,” said his master, “ will you inform this
gentleman exactly what you have heard with regard to
Nadir J ulaver? ”
Seleucus turned his soft black eyes just for one
moment in Lonsdale’s direction. Then he dropped
them, allowing the long silky lashes to rest on his olive
cheeks. His words came slowly, but with great dis-
tinctness.
“ His Excellency, the great Nadir Julaver, visited
London, became acquainted with an Englishman, had
an interview with him, had rooms in a part of the city
called Peacock Buildings; sent his servant—one
Abbas—to follow the said Englishman into a den of
thieves in a low part of the city. Later on, that same
evening, Nadir J ulaver, completely disguised, wearing a
long white beard, and in the tattered robes of a beggar,
went to the said court and came away. The next day


215


The Fountain of Beauty
""‘-II-
he sailed from Tilbury, and is now on his way back to
Persia, accompanied by his servant—one Abbas.”
“ Thank you,” said the Mirza, “ you can go,
Seleucus.”
The man noiselessly withdrew, letting the velvet
curtain drop behind him. Lonsdale -"found the great
dark eyes of Mirza Kara Yusuf fixed upon him.
“ Now,” he said, “ I will confide in you. You know
much, but you may as well know all. My life depends
on the recovery of the diamond. I am by nature a man
of keen ambitions. I hold a position in Teheran second
to the Shah himself in importance. There are possi-
bilities with regard to my future which need not concern
you, sir, but suffice it to say that it is one of my whims t0
order my palace in all respects as the Shah orders his.
My amusements, when I do condescend to amuse myself,
are the same as those of the Shah, and it is my great
delight to fill my palace with treasures almost as great
as those which are contained in the palace of the
Shah.
“ The Shah has what is called his Brilliant R0011-
So have I, Mr Lonsdale. The Shah’s room is full of
mirrors—its floors have silken carpets. The chairs,
tables, even the wainscoting of the room are of g0 11-
My room is similarly arranged, Mr Lonsdale. The S1: tll
has what is called the Peacock Throne Room, and i. is
my pleasure to have a Griffin Throne Room, for I I6
not use the exact same name in my own palace. it be
Griffin Room is my secret delight. Only th se
thoroughly initiated into my life and plans are alloi ed
to enter it. In the centre of it I have a throne, jus. as
the Shah has a throne in his room. At the back of he
Shah’s throne, which resembles what you in Engl Id



216


T‘!
The Fountain of Beauty
would call a camp bed, is a star of brilliants which make
the eyes blink. I also have my star of brilliants.
“ The Shah knows nothing of my imitation of his
grandeur. It is my secret pleasure to look as like him as
I dare, to follow in all respects his life, his way, his magni-
ficence—so dear to us of the East. I am his favourite
Mirza. In short, I stand to him much as your Prime
Minister in England stands to the King. Daily I am
admitted to his presence, and he trusts me as he would
trust himself. He does not know that once when he
was absent from the Peacock Throne Room I managed
to possess myself of the greatest diamond, perhaps, in
the world—that one which is called the ‘ Fountain of
Beauty.’ I put an inferior stone, but a real one, in its
place, and to this day the Shah is unaware of the fact
that the real stone has been removed. The other stone
is also of great value, but there is a flaw in it which only
the keenest expert would notice. I secreted the stone
I had stolen, knowing well that if my theft were dis-
covered I should be arrested and beheaded on the spot.
“ A day or two after I had secured it, it was missing
—taken by a minion of my palace. That happened
seven years ago, and all this time I have been searching
for it. I have many spies—hundreds, in fact—who are
all in my pay, and who tell me everything that is going
on. I believe these men to be faithful, because the
smallest action of betrayal would mean their immediate
death.
“ Strange to relate, the Shah has not yet missed the
most famous diamond in the world, but believes it to
glitter at the back of his throne. Now, however, a
terrible and serious difficulty arises. There is not the
slightest doubt that for some time Nadir Ju1aver—a
!
l
217


The Fountain of Beauty

rival of mine, and one of the Shah’s personal friends-
has discovered my secret, and that he is using it to my
ruin. His kindness to you, his liberating you from
prison, proves it all too well. Can you swear, sir, that
you told him nothing, that you gave him no information
which he could go upon with regard to that stone which
you purchased for a beggarly sum from the wretched
man who stole it from me? ”
“ I can swear it, your Excellency,” said Lonsdale.
The Mirza was now so excited that he rose from his
seat and began to pace up and down the room. His
steps resembled those of a panther, so swift were they,
so restless, and withal so silent. His lithe body seemed
to turn without the least effort on his part. His strange,
deep, unfathomable eyes sought the ground as though
in thought. He held his hands behind his back. On
his fingers glittered gems of dazzling brilliancy.
He suddenly turned to Lonsdale.
“ The recovery of the stone, the great stone, the
‘ Fountain of Beauty,’ matters little to me,” he said-
“ But if, before I have time to put it back, my T6811
master discovers that I stole it from the Peacock Throne
Room, nothing could possibly appease his wrath at such
all 8131?, and my death would be certain. I should die by
slow torture, which is his way of avenging himself on his
enemies. Now, sir, can you tell me why Nadir Julavef
came to London? Why did he see an Englishman?
Why did he go in disguise to a den of thieves? WW
has he left London so swiftly and suddenly? Can You
answer any of these questions, Mr Lonsdale? ”
“ None,” replied Lonsdale. “ I have never laid eyefl
on Nadir J ulaver since the day when he kindly inter‘
fered to have me liberated from prison.”
218


The Fountain of Beauty
“May the curse of the Prophet rest upon him! ”
said the Mirza. “ If you lay rotting now in that
dungeon where I threw you I should be in less danger
than I am at the present moment.”
“ Sir,” said Lonsdale, “ forgive me; the matter lies
henceforth in your own hands. You have but to be first
at Teheran and all will be well. You have but to
restore the stolen property, to put it back in its place
in the Peacock Throne Room, and no words on the part
of Nadir J ulaver will injure you.”
“ True,” said the Mirza. “ But how is it to be
done? ”
“ That, sir, is your part; I have brought you back
the stone.”
The Mirza held out his hand.
“ Give it to me,” he said.
Lonsdale instantly took the precious gem from its
case. The Mirza’s hand closed over the stone. He
then laid it on a piece of velvet which was on the centre
table. Lights innumerable leaped from the gem. The
diamond seemed immediately to dominate the entire
room.
“ I have to prove whether this stone is genuine or
not,” said the Mirza.
Lonsdale threw back his head proudly.
“ The stone is genuine,” he replied. “ It was kept
for me all these years by a man whose honour is irre-
proachable. Please remember, Mirza Kara Yusuf, that
the stone you call the ‘ Fountain of Beauty ’ is in reality
no more yours than mine. No, sir, I am not going to be
afraid of you. I have returned it to you, and lost the
chance of securing a large sum of money. You stole it,
sir. I bought it from a poor Persian, being a young
219


The Fountain of Beauty
“ Both of you follow that gentleman. Bring me the
particulars I require. Go at once.”
They salaamed and departed. The Mirza then took
up the stone and looked at it. He flung it with some
petulance on the velvet cushion. He touched his little
silver gong. The Persian whose name was Seleucus
entered, and salaamed to his master. He was a glitter-
ing object, sparkling all over with heavy gold embroidery
on his white dress.
The Mirza took the gem and tossed it into the
servant’s hand.
“ Test it, Seleucus, and bring it back to me,” he
said.
Without the slightest movement of surprise the man
withdrew.
While he was absent the Mirza continued to pace up
and down the room. His movements resembled those
of a panther more and more each moment. Seleucus
presently returned. He salaamed twice.
“ Well? ” said the Mirza.
“ Very well done indeed, sir,” was the Oriental’s
reply. “ N o Western could have accomplished this
piece of work. The gem has been imitated by a son of
the East.” _
“ Ah! ” said the Mirza, not showing a trace of anger
or the faintest touch of surprise. “ Nadir J ulaver—no
doubt.”
“ That is my opinion, Your High Excellency,” said
Seleucus.
The Mirza sat down by a table, drew the stone
towards him, and looked at it for a minute, an evil
glitter in his eyes.
“ Then our course is quite clear,” he said. “ There

_
221


The Fountain of Beauty

is not the faintest shadow of doubt that Nadir Julaver
has got the real gem—the real ‘ Fountain of Beauty.’ ”
The Persian was silent, standing still as a statue,
with folded hands.
“ When did he sail, Seleucus? ” asked his master.
“ The day before yesterday. He went from Tilbury
in a merchant vessel called the Amaryllis. He may,
and probably will, change to one of the great liners at
Marseilles, but he cannot get there for several days.”
“ Good,” said Mirza Kara Yusuf. “ You, Seleucus,
must meet Nadir Julaver at Marseilles. G0 on board
whatever vessel he sails in for Persia, and get the
diamond. If necessary to accomplish this job, you must
even scuttle the ship. Pause at nothing. A high
reward is yours if you succeed; death by torture lies
before you if you fail. Leave London to-night; g0 110
Marseilles and—wait. Take ofi that dress. Disguise
yourself as you know how. Go on board in any form-
Here’s money for you. I shall wait in England for a day
or two until I have settled the Englishman, Lonsdale,
and will then follow you. We shall meet at Teher an
in five weeks from now.”
As the Mirza spoke he thrust his hand into 1is
pocket, produced some notes and gold, and gave their to
the Persian, who, silently and without uttering a WC 'd,
left him.


222


CHAPTER XVIII
REBECCA HENSHALL slept soundly that night. A load
was removed from her life. She felt light-hearted
and like a young girl once again. She was interested,
too, in Lonsdale, and hoped he would call and finish his
romance. She wondered when she should see him next.
She liked his face, his manner, his upright bearing. The
fact, too, that her father had taken a fancy to him
could not but prejudice her enormously in his favour.
She was a girl who hitherto had taken no notice what- .
ever of men as men. She had been so placed in life that
she made but few friends. Her father was the idol of
her life. He was all-sufficient to her. What she did,
she did for him.
She tolerated Mary Gray until she found her out, but
she never cordially cared for her. Mrs Lorrimer, who
was only a few years older than Rebecca, had taken a
fancy to her and endeavoured to introduce her into
Society. The girl was glad to go out occasionally. She -
was bright and pleasant in the presence of all those men
and women whom she met, but she made no very special
friends. Lady Jane Halliday was also anxious to be
good to the young heiress. She came to see Rebecca on
the afternoon following that on which Lonsdale had
called. She noticed the girl’s improved appearance and
congratulated her.
“ By the way, my dear,” she said, “ you remember
that young woman, Mrs Deepe? ”
—||“|. an _
_
22 3


The Fountain of Beauty


“ Of course I do,” said Rebecca.
“ Well, you know, I took a sort of fancy to her; I
thought she would prove useful to me.”
“ She is quite clever enough to be useful to any-
body,” said Rebecca.
“ You never liked her.”
“ But that fact has nothing to do with your finding
her useful,” replied the girl.
“ Well, no; but I agree with you about her.”
“ Why? ” said Rebecca. “ What has she done? ”
“ She wrote to me accepting my situation. I offered
it to her immediately after I saw you. It was arranged
that she was to come on a certain day and take up her
work. Well, she never turned up at all. I have heard
nothing of her from that day till now.”
It was Rebecca’s turn to look astonished.
“ How strange! ” she said. “ But surely you sent
her to me requiring a written testimonial? ”
‘-‘ I sent her to you requiring a written testimonial! ”
cried Lady Jane. “ My dear Rebecca, what do you
mean? I did nothing of the kind. Your word whenl
saw you was all-sufficient. What could the young
woman have. meant? ”
“ I don’t know,” said Rebecca. She felt a queer
sense of doubt stealing over her. “ Certainly MI9
Deepe was admitted into my presence-or rather, she
forced herself into this room against my vvil1——e11d
pleaded so hard for a letter that I was forced to give it t0
her. It was just a very ordinary letter, stating that she
possessed the ordinary qualifications for your post, L855’
Jane. I remember I got ill immediately after signing
the letter, or rather, after directing the envelope-
When I recovered Mrs Deepe had gone.”
224


The Fountain of Beauty
“ I am glad I never had her,” was Lady J ane’s re-
joinder. “ How queer of her to go to you, and why did
you get ill, my dear? Did she do anything to frighten
you? ”
“ Oh, no,” said Rebecca, “ nothing at all, but I
have taken an antipathy to her.”
Just at that moment Lonsdale was announced.
Rebecca felt herself colouring as she rose to greet him,
and she further knew that Lady Jane was cognisant of
the fact.
“ How do you do? ” she said to the young man.
Then she turned to Lady Jane. “ This gentleman, Mr
Lonsdale, is an old friend of my father’s. They met
seven years ago at Teheran.”
“ Dear me! ” said Lady Jane. “ I am very glad
indeed to see you, Mr Lonsdale; and have you just come
from Persia? It must be a most interesting place? ”
“ I find England far more delightful,” said Lonsdale.
He was at that moment in as high spirits as .Rebecca
herself. Lady Jane looked at himpprovingly.
“ And so you are an old friend of dear Mr Hen-
shall? ” she said softly.
“ It is most kind of Miss Henshall to put it in that
way,” answered the young man. “ As a matter of fact
Mr Henshall, when in Teheran, helped me round a tight
corner, put me on my legs again; and, by so doing,
earned my undying gratitude.”
“ Won’t you have some tea? ” said Rebecca, into
whose pale cheeks a lovely rose bloom had crept.
“ And I have done my tea, and am forgetting that
time flies,” said Lady Jane. “ Well, Rebecca, what
you have told me with regard to Mrs Deepe is most ex-
traordinary. What a mercy I never got the young
~
P 225


leave I shall insist on your c
Have you an engagement for
“ Oh, I don’t go out yet,’
“ But I shall be alone, qui
specially object to Mr Lonsdale’s presence I meant to
ask him to come also. I am so much interested in
Teheran. I once had a nephew there-a scapegrace
i good-looking. Youwill
llow enough, but very
Mr Lonsdale, aid
young fe
come, of course you will, Rebecca.
me in persuading her.”
“ I will come,” said Rebecca in a grave voice.
“ And you-Mr Lonsdale? ”
“ Thank you,” he replied.
Lady Jane left the house, mentally rubbing lief
hands. She was a born match-maker. She felt certain
that Rebecca liked Lonsdale already.
had a good face. Even if he were poor
greatly matter; Rebecca herself was rich.
“ I shall be doing a kindness to my old friend,
“if I bring it
Robert Henshall,” she said to herself,
match about between those two. What a mercy il1“
into my fam1lyl
’ said Rebecca.
te alone—and unless you
I never got that woman Deepe
Really, dear Mrs Lorrimer is right, and I am not half
careful enough.” _
Meanwhile Lonsdale accepted the cosy chair whlfih
Rebecca offered him. _
“ You look much better to-day,” said the QM’
speaking in her frank tone.
“ Like yourself I have a 10911
“ I am,” he replied.
ofi my mind.”
“ Did you, Mr Lonsdale, give th
that fearful personage, Mirza Kara Yusuf? ”
e diamond back '°°

226


The Fountain of Beauty

“ I gave it to him last night.”
“ You saw him personally,” said the girl.
“ Yes; I had an interview with him.”
“ Was that the first time you ever spoke to him? ”
“ Yes; a great Mirza like Kara Yusuf never conde-
scends to speak to ordinary people. I have seen him
driving by in his carriage surrounded by his retinue.
You can have very little idea, Miss Henshall, what
magnificent state is kept up in the East.”
“ I have read about it,” said Rebecca, her eyes
glistening. “It seems to me like the Arabian Nights
Entertainments over again. The account fascinates
me. I hope, Mr Lonsdale, you will tell me plenty of
stories of the magnificence of the East.”
“ I will, with pleasure, if you will give me the oppor-
tunity,” said the young man. “ This Mirza ranks next
to the Shah in magnificence. Well, he has got the
diamond. It is a g0od—a very good thing that you
were able to protect the real stone, for he assured me
that if I had played him any trick my life would not be
worth a minute’s purchase.”
“ Ah, yes, my father and I took care of the stone for
you,” said Rebecca with a smile.
They talked together a little longer, finding many
subjects of natural interest; but for some reason Lons-
dale did not care to describe any more of his Persian
experiences that day. He said once:
“ It rests me to talk of the things that concern old
England. It is indescribably soothing to be in my
native land again.”
Rebecca felt that his presence also soothed her.
She asked him many questions about his mother. He
described her patient, self-sacrificing, noble life. He

227


CHAPTER XIX 1

et been known to disturb
Mirza Kara Yusuf. After Lons-
dale’s departure on that special night, when he had sent
to Marseilles, in order to shadow
his servant Seleucus
Mirza sank quietly into a chair,
Nadir Julaver, the
folded his delicately-made hands on his knees, and gazed
into the glowing fire.
“ The English ways,” he repeated once or twice to
himself—“ the English folly ma
wisdom! Hal ha! ”
' h without a
' ent in it. He then
vestige of anything but pure en]oym
. ' ' g. Two of his retinue
the calm of the great
appeared.
“ Bring supper,” he said.
“ Your Excellency,” said one of the men, “ your
servants, Sn and Kfim, have returned, and would speak
with you.”
“ Admit them,” said the Mirza.
The men withdrew, and a moment lat
who had followed Lonsdale stood just within the
portiére curtain. The Mirza glanced at them without
speaking.
“ Your Excellency,’
steps and making a very low salaam,
er the Persians
’ said Kum, advancing a few
“ we have followe

2 3 2


The Fountain of Beauty
acterised the speech of Nadir J ulaver. Mary, after her
first terrors, became more composed, and her fleeting
courage began to return.
“ I have come on your business, Mirza,” she said.
“ You will perhaps understand this when I tell you that
I am the wife of an Englishman, Arnold Deepe.”
The Mirza did not show a trace of any feeling on his
features.
“ Proceed,” he said. His words were very gentle.
“My husband and Ihave information to give you with
regard to the diamond known as the ‘ Fountain of Beauty.’
That diamond lay in my hand not many hours ago.”
“ Madam! ”
“ Yes,” repeated Mary, “ not many hours ago—-
forty-eight hours perhaps, not longer. Through an
inadvertence we have lost it.”
“ You come here to tell me this? Are you aware of
your danger? ” asked the Mirza.
“ I am in no danger,” said Mary, stoutly, “for I
have come with my husband’s knowledge to say that he
and I can help you to find it. I will speak frankly.
You have an enemy, Mirza. His name is Nadir J ulaver.
My husband and I were on his side; we now go over to
you. We can help you to recover the diamond from
Nadir J ulaver before he enters the Shah’s palace at
Teheran.”
The Mirza did not speak at all for a few minutes.
Then he rose and began again his walk up and down the
room. He had done so an hour and a half ago in Lons-
dale’s presence. Once more his hands were clasped
behind his back, and Mary saw the glittering jewels, and
noticed the sinewy strength of the hands themselves.
After a pause she said:


235


The Fountain of Beauty I-
“ I am prepared with a scheme which I can unfold to
your Excellency.”
On hearing these words the Mirza came a
within a foot of the girl.
“ Speak! ” he said.
“ Nadir Julaver is on
nd stood -,
his way to Teheran,” said 1I
Mary. “ He sailed yesterday morning in the merchant
ship Amaryllis. He will reach Marse'lles in five days’ ,
time. I propose to meet him there, and go on b .
vessel, and before the ship reaches the other side to
obtain the diamond for myself. I will bring it back to
77
” asked the
Mirza.
“ My husband has seen him, but I do not know him.”
“ He has never laid eyes on you.? ”
“ Never.”
“ Let me look at you.”
The Mirza looked the slight young woman all over.
“ You are like many other English women,
—“ small, of no reputation, and of no beauty.”
Mary winced but held her ground. Presently she
tapped her forehead.
“ I have intelligence,” she said.
“ Ah,” he answered, “ you have craft. I can see
that in your eyes.”
“ Yes,” she replied unabashed.
“ You think you can get me the diamond? ”
“ I think so.”
“ You must do more.”
“ What do you mean? ”
“ There will be a man on
He is my servant. His name is Seleucus.


#----ill‘
236


The Fountain of Beauty
permit me to say so,” said Mary. “ Now why canl
not, with the assistance of your servant, Seleucus, play
the trick upon Nadir J ulaver which he has already
played on you, and substitute for the real stone the
false one? If I can manage that, need his life be sacri-
ficed? Even if he does reach Persia and the palace of
the Shah before you, you have but to appear boldly soon
afterwards and prove him a liar, for he presents the false
stone to the Shah, whereas you, your Excellency, bring
him the real ‘ Fountain of Beauty.’ ”
The Mirza made no reply. He resumed his restless,
noiseless movements up and down the room. After B-
time he returned to Mary.
“ You will do,” he said, “ exactly as my servant
Seleucus requires of you. You will follow his directions
in all respects. You are a woman—a clever one. You
ought to have been an Eastern, you were thrown away
on the West. Name the reward you require for the
service you propose to render me.”
“ Ah! ” said Mary. (The Mirza looked at her with
the faintest smile hovering round his lips.) “ I would
ask,” she said, “ thirty thousand pounds in English g0l<l
on the day that I place the ‘Fountain of Beauty’ in
your Excellency’s hands.”
“ You shall have it, woman. Now go.”
“ I want money for my journey.”
“ I-Iow much? ”
“Three hundred pounds, Excellency.”
The Mirza touched his silver gong, and the man,
Kum, entered the room.
“ Fetch gold and notes to the amount oi three
hundred pounds, and bring them here,” said the
Mirza.


.__ i
238


The Fountain of Beauty
The man departed, brought back the money, and
then immediately withdrew.
“ Take this money and go,” said the Mirza. “ My
servant, Seleucus, will know all about you when you
arrive. This little ring on your finger—allow me to put
it on myself, madam ”-(the Mirza slipped a small ring
with a tiny glittering diamond on Mary’s smallest
finger)—“ will ensure your recognition. Go. Under-
stand the great peril of failure, and the reward—the
brilliant reward—of success.”
“ I shall not fail,” said Mary Deepe.
The velvet curtains were opened, and she passed out.
When she had gone, Mirza Kara Yusuf sat for some
time in deep thought. Then he drew his writing
materials towards him and wrote carefully in the
Persian tongue a letter of directions to Seleucus. He
addressed it to a small hotel at Marseilles, where he
knew his servant would wait for the arrival of the ship
Amaryllis. His letter was brief and emphatic. It gave
directions which would have caused Mary’s heart to
- shudder if she but knew them. Was he not a great
Eastern potentate, cruelly revengeful, regardless of life?
Mary had, by her own doing, placed herself as a tool in
his hands. He smiled as he thought how, and in what
fashion, she would bear the consequences.

239



CHAPTER XX
HITHERTO in all her life Rebecca Henshall had been
carefully dealt with, kindly nurtured, looked after,
potted, loved. All of a sudden, after a few brief days,
she found herself deprived of her father. At the same
time she was burdened with a secret of some magnitude,
and was more or less in the hands of a clever, wicked
and designing woman. Then Gerard Lonsdale had ap-
peared on the scene. The diamond, with its burden of
misery, had been given to him. He had been to see her.
He had told her that the diamond was restored to llfirza
Kara Yusuf. Both these young people had owned in
their hearts to a feeling of relief and rejoicing. T115)?
were of the sort of folk who do not put money fiIlt-
They both had enough for their requirements. Gre at
wealth held out no temptations whatever to the n-
But friendship, kindliness, the society of those tl ay
cared for, could and would make sunshine in their lir *3-
The fact was that each was mutually attracted to 19
other; each read in the eyes of the other sincer y,
fortitude, and a certain unworldliness which is morn )1‘
less rare in the present day.
There was a side, however, of Rebecca’s chara 3?
which had hitherto not been touched. She had 1'
herited it from her father, who was as brave a me- is
could be found. She was essentially faithful,


240


The Fountain of Beauty
where those she loved were concerned knew no fear.
She would not whisper to her own heart that she had
any real feeling of love for Gerard Lonsdale. Neverthe-
less she regarded him as her friend. She acknowledged
to herself that he might possibly become a very great
friend, and she rejoiced in the fact that her father had
taken a great liking to this young man.
Mary’s letter, which she read at first with only dim
understanding, then again with a sense of the wildest
indignation, awoke within Rebecca’s heart such a
tumult of emotion as she had never before experienced.
Rage, horror, a determination to save an innocent man
from unknown peril visited her with such force that for
a time she was scarcely mistress of herself. She—she—
had brought Gerard Lonsdale into this cruel and terrible
position unwittingly—oh, yes, unwittingly. She had
been a victim; he was a victim. Oh, how wicked was
the world! What a terrible thing it was that her dear
brave father was dead!
She quickly recovered herself, putting aside all out-
ward semblance of emotion. The danger to Lonsdale
was imminent. He was in the hands of the worst foe in
the world—an Easter n enemy, who was now in London,
and who would certainly revenge himself on him when
he discovered that the stone was false.
Rebecca left the drawing-room, ran downstairs, and
put on her out-door things. She was met when she
came down by Lucy.
“ It is getting late, ma’am,” said the girl. “ Do you
wish dinner postponed, or will you be long out? ”
“ I cannot exactly tell when I shall return, Lucy,”
said Rebecca. “ Tell cook to put the dinner back.
Don’t keep me now.”


9 241


The Fountain of Beauty
“ But shall I not whistle for a hansom for you,
ma’am? ”
“ No, thank you,
Lucy opened the door
some inward trepidation.
she went down
“ I don’t like it,” she said when
to cook. “Our missis looks very queer. And why
should one like her go out all by herself in the dark
and not so much as ’ave a ’ansom to take her where
she wants to go? You’re to keep back the dinner,
Emma. Our missis will be in-she don’t rightly know
I am going to walk.”
for her young mistress with
“ She’s took with love for that young man, to my
way o’ thinking,” said Emma. “ You leave her alone,
Lucy. We’re all alike when we’re in love-—n0t, s0 to
t us to interiere,
speak, responsible. She don’t wan
that’s plain. Oh, I’ll keep the dinner; there ain’t I10
trouble about that.”
Meanwhile Rebecca walked down the stre .
us and got inside. By-and-
corner she hailed an omnib
by she found herself oppos.te the Metropole Hotel. She
d entered the great building. She in-
There was a
approached an
quired at once if Mr Lonsdale were in.
dark, silent-looking man, wearing the livery of the hotel,
who came up to her when she spoke.
“ I will inquire, madam,” he said.
Rebecca looked at his face, felt a queer senfle ol
being puzzled, but told him curtly to get her the infor-
mation she required.
The man withdrew to ring Lonsdale up on the tel?/'
' respectfully
phone. He presently came b
to Rebecca that the gentleman was in, and W1el1ed lo
know his visitor’s name.

242


The Fountain of Beauty
for a flash under an electric light. The man grinned to
himself.
“ I will save you,” said Rebecca. “ Walk faster.”
” he said then.
“ You cannot save me,
“ Why? ” she replied; “ what do you mean? ”
“ There is no way,” he answered, speaking
You are, indeed,
gently. “ You are not to blame.
much to be pitied; your own life, Miss Henshall, is far
from safe. As to mine-oh, don’t fret. We must die 1
once.”
“ Of course we must,” said Rebecca, stoutly, “ when ‘
You are young, you are not
our time comes, not before.
thirty yet. Do you think that I, my father’s daughter,
will permit this grievous thing? You must leave
London to-night.”
“ And what good will that do? ”
“ I know a place you can go to,” said Rebecca.
“ Even the great Mirza, who is so powerful, cannot
follow you where I suggest that you should stay H1
concealment.”
“ To escape is impossible,’
had to do with an ordinary foe,
Englishman, or even a Russian,
’ said Lonsdale. “ Ii I
if my enemy were an
I might have some
from the wiles and
chance. But there is no way out
cunning of the East. Those fellows have intuitions that
you have not the slightest idea of. Believe me, my 011°
great regret is that you in any manner should be mixed
up in this.”
Rebecca suddenly stopped.
“ We are followed,” she said.
w tone. At that
The words were uttered in a lo
moment the dark man in the overcoat
past them. He did not turn his

went very sl0wlY
head. The 1161"


244


The Fountain of Beauty

minute he had hailed a passing omnibus and climbed up
on the roof.
“ That man has been watching us,” said Rebecca.
“ I know it.”
“ So do I,” said Lonsdale. “ I will tell you some-
thing more about that man. He is an emissary of the
Mirza. He has been in the hotel for the last couple of
days. I saw him this morning. He wears the hotel
livery. How he got the situation I cannot tell. He
came to wait on me at breakfast and I recognised him as
an Eastern at the first glance. He stays at the Metro-
pole to keep me in tow. It is all quite in keeping.”
“ You must get out of his power,” said Rebecca.
“ There is no possible way.”
“ I have thought of a plan. Do you speak
German? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Let us talk in that language for a few moments,
and please remember that the servant from the Metro-
pole is no longer following us.”
“He has gone,” said Lonsdale, “ to communicate
with the Mirza.”
“Then now is our time,” said Rebecca. “ This is
my plan: it is very simple indeed; there is no guile
about it. By its very simplicity it may succeed.”
“ Well? ”
“ Please go straight home to my house. Ask Lucy
to let you go up to my father’s room. You and my
father were about the same height and size. Put on an
overcoat of his and leave yours behind. Wear his old-
fashioned top hat and take his walking-stick. Have
you money about you? ”
“ Yes, plenty.”
~i
=45


The Fountain of Beauty

“ Then go,” continued Rebecca, “ straight to King’s
Cross and take the night train to Scotland. I have an
old nurse who lives there. Her name is Jean Duncan.
She is unsuspicious, sure, faithful. You have but to
mention my name and she will give you a royal welcome.
Get out at Aberdeen, and ask to be directed to a place
called Swanshore. It is a desolate place, quite unin-
habited except for Jean’s cottage. In summer a few
people come to it, but in winter those houses are empty-
They will be empty now. Ask Jean to take you in-
You can spend whole days alone at Swanshore-no one
will look for you there. If there is danger you have en
instant mode of escape at hand. Just below the cottage
are deep sea caves—three or four. Get some provisions
and put them into one of the caves; and if necessary,
and you find yourself pursued, take shelter. Have You
fire-arms? ”
“ I am carrying now a small loaded revolver on my
person.” _
“ Then you are really quite safe for you can defend
the narrow entrance to one of these caves in case of
attack until old Jean brings the coastguard to Y0“:
rescue. Do this at once.” _
“ But don’t you suppose that Eastern fellow W1ll
follow me? Your plan is too simple.”
“ Leave that part to me; I shall manage to thI”0w
dust in his eyes. Will you go, for both our sakes?
“ Yes.”
“ Very well; you have not an instant to lose. .130
you see that crowd of people up there by the corner?
Good-bye; get into the middle of the crowd; lose you!-
self there. Then get on top of the first omnibus that
passes and drive to the corner of Paddock Row. 0139
246


The Fountain of Beauty
is the red omnibus—the Favourite. One will go past
that corner in a minute or two.”
“ I am amazed—stunned! ” said Lonsdale, “ but
somehow I cannot help having the greatest trust in you.
I will obey.”
The moment he left her Rebecca turned quickly and
went back to the hotel. She entered through the swing-
doors and sat down in the hall. A man came up to her.
She said she was waiting for Mr Lonsdale, who would
join her presently. '
By-and-by the servant who had followed Rebecca
and Lonsdale came in. He was reprimanded for being
ofi‘ duty, apologised humbly, and stared at Rebecca.
He managed to pass close to Rebecca, and Rebecca said,
in a low tone:
“ I am waiting here for Mr Gerard Lonsdale. He
was transacting a little business on his own account,
and was to meet me at the hotel.”
The man did not show by his face that he heard
anything. Rebecca presently ordered a meal to be
specially cooked for her, and, on one excuse or another,
remained at the Metropole until about midnight.
Long before then the train to the north was on its
rapid journey. She went away at last, saying that she
should not wait any longer for her friend, and desired
the dark-looking servant to give him a message to that
efiect when he arrived. She then requested a hansom
to be summoned, and drove back to Paddock Row.
Lucy was still up, and was full of important and sup-
pressed news.
“ I know all about it, Lucy,” said her mistress, “ but
don’t say anything to-night: I will question you in the
morning.”



247


The Fountain of Beauty
says the message, whatever it may be that you wish to
convey to her, is to be in writing.”
With the most wooden face imaginable the servant
from the Metropole gazed full into Lucy’s eyes. She
wondered at the depth, darkness and craft of his own.
“ You’re quite a pretty girl,” he said.
Lucy coloured with indignation
“ I don’t want you to tell me so,” she replied. “ If
you have no written message for my missis I want to
shut the door, for it’s a very cold, nippy sort of day.”
The man gave a gentle and sad smile. He then pro-
duced a letter from his waistcoat pocket.
“ You will take this to the young lady,” he said. “l
should have preferred to see her, but this will convey the
message.”
“ Thank you,” said Lucy.
“ Shall I wait to know if there is an answer? ”
“ No,” replied Lucy.
“ Then I will call again in about an hour, for that
letter contains something urgent.”
The man bowed in his gracious way
the steps. 
Lucy felt that she hated him. Holding the letter
gingerly between her finger and thumb, she fetched e
salver, placed the letter on it, and brought it to Rebecca.
“ He’s the queerest man I ever saw, miss. He el1lii
so to speak like any Englishman. He had the manners
of a prince, and his eyes are black as night, and his sm1le
so sad, it might a’most make you weep. He Boll‘ of
fascinates me, miss, and yet I hate him. He tried t0
pay me compliments, but I soon shut him up. I am e11
English girl, thank goodness, and don’ttake to foreigners’
I shouldn’t wonder now if he’s a Nihilist. D0, for the

and went d0wI1


A------I
250


The Fountain of Beauty

Lord’s sake, be careful how you open that letter. Shall
I lay it on the table? I do hope to goodness there’s no
danger in it.”
“ It’s perfectly safe,” said Rebecca with a smile.
When Lucy had gone Rebecca opened the letter.
It’s contents were brief:
“ The Mirza Kara Yusuf requests the pleasure of
Miss Henshall’s company to lunch to-day at the Carlton
Hotel, in order to speak with her on the subject of her
friend, Mr Gerard Lonsdale. To obey is to be wise.”
251


CHAPTER XXI
REBEOOA dropped the letter into the fire. She was wise __
enough not to let herself into such a trap. She ran
upstairs, got Lucy to call a hansom, told the girl to give \
the messenger no information if he should arrive again,
and then drove to Lady Jane Halliday’s house.
Lady Jane, in a loose morning wrapper, was fidgeting
about her drawing-room. She was fond of dusting some
of her special curios, doing so with the aid of a feather
brush and a silk handkerchief.
“ y dear! ” she said, dropping both the brush and
the handkerchief when the girl entered; “ what 8-11
ly to
early call you are paying me; but never too ear
secure a welcome. How are you, Rebecca? You look
very pale, dear.”
reat kindness,” seHi
Rebecca. “ May I come to you as your guest for a few
delighted, my dear child. You kI10w
how I long to have you, Rebecca.”
“ I know your great kindness,” . replied Rebecca,
But it is
“ and you may be sure that I appreciate it.
only fair to say that I come now as to a place of refuge-
It is not safe for me to stay for the present in my ow“
house.” _
I always said
“ My dear child, what do you mean? _
that valuable diamond was dangerous. Has 51119
mystery anything to do with it? ”

I----—--Illi
252


The Fountain of Beauty
wave of colour rising to her face. It passed, and the
elder lady noticed how utterly tired and worn she
seemed. The good lady rang the bell, and gave a neat-
looking servant directions. Presently she returned to
Rebecca’s side.
“ I have ordered the dressing-room, which can only
be communicated with through my bedroom, to be got
ready for you, Rebecca. For if you are really in the
danger you give me to understand, you need watching
day and night. No one can molest you at night unless
the person comes through my room, which is always well
locked and bolted. But, my dear child, how long ie
this state of things to last? ” -
“ A day or two—-I hope no longer,” replied Rebecca.
She went up presently to the luxurious room which
had been prepared for her. Here, surely, she must he
safe. Lonsdale by now must be far from Lond0!1-
Rebecca felt more and more sure that he had managed
to leave the Metropolis without the Eastern servant
tracing him. Each moment as it passed increased hle
chance of safety. She felt convinced that neither the
servant nor his master, the great Mirza, would trouble
her did they really know where Lonsdale was. He/I
heart beat with pleasure and hope revived. She felt
more sure than ever that she had managed by the
brilliancy of her scheme to outwit the great Eastern
potentate. _
An hour passed. Rebecca’s reflections were dis-
turbed by a gentle knock at the door. She opened 1h
and found Lady J ane’s own elderly maid, Silver, 9l"a’nd'
ing outside. Silver presented her with a perfumed 11o“
“ The messenger is waiting for an answer,” said tlle
woman in her most respectful tones.


254


The Fountain of Beauty
Rebecca, standing near the door, took the note and
opened it. It was dated from the Carlton Hotel, and
ran as follows:
“ The Mirza Kara Yusuf awaits Miss Henshall’s reply
to his invitation. He trusts she will see her way to call
upon him, as requested. There is danger in delay. In
haste and swiftness lies the path of safety.”
Rebecca raised her eyes.
“ Please, Silver,” she said, “ tell the messenger that
there is no answer to the letter.”
Silver went slowly downstairs. A man with a dark
face was standing in the hall.
“ You had best go,” said Silver in a curt tone. “ The
young lady has no answer to give to the letter.”
The man gave a gentle smile, and tip-toed to the
door. A servant with grey hair, wearing Lady Jane
Halliday’s livery, let him out.
In his spacious apartment at the Carlton Hotel,
M.irza Kara Yusuf waited with what patience he could
for Kum to return. When the man entered and
salaamed before him he said, in that quiet tone which
always hid the intense turmoil of his real feelings:
“ The letter please—your note with regard to Gerard
Lonsdale.”
Kum salaamed twice, each time bowing lower so
that his head almost touched the ground.
“ Alas, alas! your Excellency,” he said. “ What is
your poor faithful slave to do? The Englishman, Lons-
dale, is not to be found, and the lady, Miss Henshall,
refuses to give any answer to your letter.”
The Mirza was silent for a few minutes. He went
and sat down in his chair, placing the tips of his long


WT
255


The Fountain of Beauty

looking attentively at his
turned to the servant, who
limb, notwithstanding his
white fingers together and
hands. After a minute he
stood shaking in every
Eastern stoicism.
“ You understand that you
“ Your Excellency, the wis
young lady are beyond the conception of a son of Persia.
I saw her in a passing omnibus, and climbed up to send
your Excellency a message—when I returned the young
lady and gentleman had parted. I have not seen Mr
Lonsdale since.”
“ Enough,” said the Mirza, speaking in
“ You have utterly failed. I have other servant
in future will attend to my business. Get ready to
leave London to-day.”
A look at once of relief and
on the Eastern’s face.
“ You will go to Marseilles and put yourself into the
hands of Seleucus. He will need you. On the faithful-
ness with which you discharge the duties he will set you
to execute, your chance of life depends. Get ready;
you are useless in London. I will take this matter into
my own hands.”
The man salaamed obediently and l
have failed? ”
dom and guile of that
despair came like a flash
eft the Mira/.a’s
presence.
a was driving
In a quarter of an hour the great Mirz _
His Eastern servants drove h1s
abroad in his carriage. _
horses through the London streets. Their dress, “ch
with all the pomp of Persia, attracted attention. The
horses were coal black, and most magnificent animals-
he carriage-
The Mirza, unaccompanied, was seated in t _
He was dressed like an Englishman, except for hls fel-
His face was very dark, very inscrut
256


The Fountain of Beauty
your house of the name of Henshall-—-Miss Rebecca
Henshall of 9 Paddock Row.”
“ What of that? ” asked Lady Jane, who felt that
she must be careful, and yet could not see why she need
deny the fact that Rebecca was visiting her.
“ I am anxious to have an interview with that young
lady,” said the Mirza.
“ How very interesting,” thought Lady Jane. She
could not possibly connect danger with the fact that so
gracious, handsome, wonderful a man wanted to see her
friend. Still, however, she felt herself hesitating.
The Mirza read her thoughts as clearly as though
she had spoken them aloud. He was a profound
thought-reader, and prided himself on the fact.
“ Madam,” he said very gently, “ I have a most
important message to give Miss Rebecca Henshall, but
the fact is she is afraid of the one who would be her best
friend.”
“ Is it possible? ” cried Lady Jane.
“ Yes, dear madam,” said the Mirza, speaking in the
saddest of voices and putting on a pathetic smile that
would melt a heart of stone, “ it is true. I have
written twice to the young lady, requesting the pleasure
of her company in order to do her an inestimable
service, and she will not even reply to my letter. She
is afraid of me, but without cause. If she were to see
me everything would come right.”
“I am very much puzzled,” said Lady Jane. “ I
cannot understand Rebecca’s rudeness. It really does
seem rude not to have even answered your letter. Did
you say you wrote twice? ”
“ Yes, madam; once to her own house, and once I
took the liberty of addressing a letter here.”


259


The Fountain of Beauty
you come alone? But I shall hope to see you
bot .”
“ I will do my utmost to bring Rebecca,” said Lady
Jane, “ and in any case I shall be delighted to go. I am
much interested in Persia, and I am certain that you
can tell me delightful stories about it. You will, per-
haps, permit me to send you a card of invitation for my
next ‘ At Home ’? ”
“ Dear madam, I shall be proud to be amongst your
guests.”
A minute or two later the Mirza had departed, but
not before he had raised the jewelled hand of Lady Jane
Halliday to his lips.


261



CHAPTER XXII
Eastern had gone Lady Jane went
She entered her own room, which was
ul with sunlight and firelight. Her
one of her lady-
As soon as the
eagerly upstairs.
bright and cheerf
maid, Silver, was standing arranging
ship’s dresses.
“ Have you seen
“ No, my lady.”
“ Go to her door, please, Silver, and say that I shall
be glad to have a word with her. Ask her to come to
me to the drawing-room.”
Lady Jane turned and went downstairs.
few minutes Rebecca entered the room. _ _
“ Come here, dear,” said Lady Jane, speehmg m
great excitement. “ Such a wonderful thin
pened. Your friend, one of the Mirzas of Persia, hee
been here—a very great man, I assure you- Wl1Y,how
pale you look, my child! But don’t be frightened. He
came to see me——he came on account of you. He takes
the deepest interest in you. His intentions are of the
friendliest. He admitted that you were in some danger,
Miss Henshall? ” asked Lady J ane.
In a very
but said that a word from him wo
right. He must, however, say th
self. Rebecca, he really is a most
and you cannot do better than trust
He would not come here surely on your
meaning were not most kindly. In short, dear’ he as
262


The Fountain of Beauty
!
own judge of what is correct. It is more polite of me to
leave the letter in person than to send it.”
Rebecca, seeing that no more could be done, presently
left the room. She joined Lady Jane at lunch. Before
the servants Lady Jane Halliday was perfectly silent,
but when the meal was over she again begged of Rebecca
to change her mind.
The girl was firm.
“ I must not go,” she said. “ I will not go—no,
Lady J ane, I would rather not go out driving with you
to-day, please. My head aches, and I would rather stay
in the delightful room you have given me.”
“ Very well, my love, you certainly do look very tired.
Lie down, and go to sleep, and Silver will wait on you.”
Presently Lady Jane went to her own room to pre-
pare to go out. She meant to make one or two calls,
and, in consequence, directed her maid to dress her in
her best and most costly sables. She looked every inch
a great lady as she went downstairs soon after three
o’clock and entered her beautiful carriage (however
cold the weather, Lady Jane always drove in an open
carriage); and after a little hesitation she gave the
direction of the Carlton Hotel.
“ Poor man! He won’t be expecting us so early as
this,” she thought. “I am sorry—Rebecca is a most
perverse girl—really, now, I wonder if I must send up
this letter. I should so like to see how he lives. Report
says that he keeps up his Eastern magnificence even in
the midst of our modern London. I am devoured with
curiosity.”
Just as Lady Jane reached the hotel, who should be
standing on the steps talking to an Englishman but the
lVIirza himself! He came forward at once with one of


!
l
l

265


The Fountain of Beauty

his most respectful bows and, before the footman could
opened the carriage door.
ne, dear lady. But never
You doubtless bring
prevent him,
“ I see you have come alo
mind—you are thrice welcome.
me an explanation.”
” began Lady Jane. She
“ I bring you a—note—
knew well that she was talking feebly, and the tempta-
tion was running riot in her heart to see the Mirza in hie
own apartments; to be waited on by Eastern servants;
to get him to tellher some of the mysteries of his country.
She would give worlds, for instance, to hear him describe
the beauties of the Shah’s palace.
Meanwhile the Mirza was holding out his arm.
“ Let me help you to alight,” he said. “ You can
give me the note upstairs.”
the words that
Somehow Lady Jane could not say _
She mumbled something, and, qhhh
entered the hotel by the MiIZe’e
side. In a few minutes she was conducted in the liit t0
his suite of apartments on the first floor. I
They were some of the finest that the hotel contal1lell
Lady Jane lost herself in wonder and delighh The
Mirza walked round his room,
this curio and the other. Lady J ane,
for collecting curious things
more enamoured of the won
“ I feel transported out o
feel the glamour of the East stealing over me._ d
Mirza, these things are too fascinating. This httle he?”
of jade, for instance, what a perfect specimen! ’ _ ,
“ Will the gracious lady accept it? ” Wee the Mum e
response.
Lady Jane coloured with pleasure.
came to her lips.
forgetful of Rebecca,
266


The Fountain of Beauty
“ No, no,” she said, “ it is too valuable.”
“ Then perhaps,” said the Mirza, “ the gracious lady
will take it in payment for a little service which I hope
she will render me.”
For the first time Lady Jane felt slightly frightened;
but just then two of the servants came in, bearing tea in
a massive silver service. Cakes and all sorts of dainties
followed. The Mirza offered his distinguished visitor a
seat, and the servants helped her to tea.
Presently they withdrew, and then the Mirza began
to talk, opening up the storehouse of his mind for Lady
J ane’s benefit. He related to her a succession of
marvels, all of which she accepted as gospel truth. Her
eyes grew wide with excitement and her cheeks were
flushed. She absolutely forgot the flight of time. By-
and-by the Mirza touched his silver gong. The velvet
partiére curtains were folded back, and the servant in
Easter n dress entered and took away the tea equipage.
Once again the curtains fell into place, and the door of
the room was safely closed
“ How wonderful all this is! ” said Lady Jane.
“ The very air of this place soothes me; your noiseless
servants, with their exquisite dress, delight me. Oh,
how much richer, how much more full of colour, how
much more full of pleasure, is your life than ours.”
“ The life of the West has also its advantages,” said
the Mirza. -“ It has not, for instance, the subtlety of
the East, and perhaps, as a rule, its more commonplace
path leads to less danger.” He suddenly drew his chair
near Lady Jane. “ You will permit me, dear lady; that
little head of jade would fetch for you any time you
would like to sell it some hundreds of pounds. It is
yours, but I ask for a very small recognition of the gift.”
.-—§Qk I
267


The Fountain of Beauty

Lady J ane’s heart began to beat. She looked up at
the Mirza as though her slight intelligence could unravel
his mighty one. He smiled at her; his eyelids slightly
narrowed, his eyes looking soft and black as night.
“ Dear English lady,” he said, bending forward, “ I,
Mirza Kara Yusuf, have the most profound respect for
you and your country people. You belong to the great
ladies of England. In our land you would be a princess
and be surrounded by a court. I recognise your reIll!
and offer you my allegiance. But now, let us attend to
this brief matter of business, so easily arranged-—].11et
the merest trifle, the very slightest trouble on your part,
and yet of inestimable service to me.”
“ What is it? ” said Lady Jane. She half rose from
her chair, but sank back again. “ The fa_-ct is,” she
continued, “ I think I ought to be go’ng, and of course,
Mirza, I thank you most heartily, but I really cannot
accept the little head of jade.”
_‘ You will remain seated for a minute,” said the
Mirza.
He spoke with swift authority, and the lady sank
again into her chair.
“ Do not be the least alarmed, dear lady; you have
nothing to fear, and it would grieve me much if you left
me to-day without the trifling curio I want you to eerry
away in remembrance of this visit. It was given to me
by my master, the Shah, and you will understand the91
value it on that account alone.”
“ What—what am I to do? ” said Lady Jime-
She said to herself, “ I have nothing whatever t0
fear,” and yet she knew she was afraid.
“ I observed,” said the Mirza, “ thet You did not
bring Miss Rebecca Henshall with you.”
268


\ The Fountain of Beauty
“ She would not come, Mirza. I did what I could to
induce her to accompany me.”
“ You spoke, when I had the honour to help you to
alight from your carriage, of a letter which you brought
with you,” said the Mirza. “ Was it for me? was it
from Miss Henshall? ”
“ The letter was not from Miss Henshall; it was from
me.”
“ Can I see it? ”
“ It is unnecessary for you to see it now.”
“ Nevertheless, oblige me,” said the Mirza. And
Lady J ane, her cheeks becoming crimson, put the letter
into his hand.
He opened it, read its contents in a flash, and
dropped it into a waste-paper basket which stood near.
“ So you, too, were afraid? ” he said, raising his eyes
and giving the lady an inscrutable smile.
“ Not really,” she answered. “ How could I be? ”
“ This letter was written at the instigation of your
young friend.”
“ Yes.”
“ Then she really is afraid of me—of me, who would
be her benefactor.”
“ It seems so,” said Lady J ane. “ I cannot under-
stand it. Now, Mirza, I must go.”
“ I think,” said the Mirza, speaking very slowly,
“ not quite yet. Your carriage is waiting below, is it
not? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Two of my servants stand outside the door of this
room. You will have the goodness, lady, to write in
your own hand a letter to Miss Rebecca Henshall.”
“ I don’t understand,” said Lady J ane.


259


The Fountain of Beauty
“ You will in a minute.”
The Mirza himself put paper, pen and ink before the
lady.
“ Is that pen to your liking? ” he asked.
Lady Jane grasped it in nerveless fingers.
“ Take ofi your gloves,” said the Mirza.
She obeyed.
“ Now kindly write to my dictation.”
“ I would much rather not.”
“ And I would much rather you did. Say this!
‘ Lady Jane Halliday remains as a guest of the Mirza
Kara Yusuf until Rebecca Henshall calls to see her.’ ”
“ But I cannot remain as your guest—it is impos-
sible! ” said the lady, speaking in great excitement.
“ You will have every attention,” said the Mime-
“ Two rooms to yourself and a kind woman to wait 011
you. But the fact is, you do not leave these rooms until
Miss Rebecca Henshall appears to give you your libertY-
Now write, please. The young lady will of course come
to you at once.”
Lady Jane wrote.


270


The Fountain of Beauty
_- -Lg-a--_2cI i- _



-.
___:q_-; 1;. \gin_-'1 _l-_


always quick in his movements, and although Lady
Jane felt the minutes turning into hours while she
remained a prisoner at the Carlton Hotel, yet in reality
it was but a little after four o’clock when the carriage
returned and Lady J ane’s letter was put into Rebecca’s
hands.
The girl read it once; she read it twice: “Lady
Jane Halliday remains as a guest of the Mirza Kara
Yusuf until Rebecca Henshall calls to see her.”
The immaculate footman, George, had brought
the letter to Rebecca, who was in the drawing-room-
She looked up at him at once. “ Please tell the coach-
man that I want the carriage immediately,” said
Rebecca. “ This letter is from your mistress, George.
She has given me a message which must be attended t0
at once.”
Rebecca flew to her room. Silver was in her
mistress’s bedroom. _
“ Silver,” said the girl, “ will you come W1tl1
me? ”
“ Where to, and why? ” asked Silver in some
astonishment. ,
“ It is on account of your mistress, and I can eXP!am
nothing, but I think there ought to be two of us. Ceme
at once.”
“Has anything happened to Lady Jane? ” 9-Bked
Silver in a voice of astonishment.
“ I hope not,” replied Rebecca, “ but she has asked
me to go to her.”
“ Where is she, ma’am? ”
“ She is at the Carlton Hotel. She went to see the
Persian gentleman who called this morning.”
“ Oh, the gentleman with a queer name? ”
said
272


The Fountain of Beauty
to liberate you, but I do not expect for a single moment
that anything serious will happen. This is the best that
I can suggest for the time.”
Here the Superintendent spoke through a telephone,
and in a very few minutes a grave, nice-looking, middle-
aged man in the ordinary dress of an Englishman
entered the room.
“ A word alone with you, Mr Saunders,” said the
Superintendent.
He took the man into another room. They returned
in a minute or two. Saunders bowed to Rebecca.
“ I am at your service, madam,” he said.
Rebecca and Saunders entered Lady J ane’s carriage.
“ To the Carlton Hotel,” said Rebecca, and they
drove in that direction.
Poor Silver was looking cold and frightened, and the
appearance of Saunders mystified her so much that she
scarcely knew herself.
“ I have all directions,” said Saunders in a low voice,
just bending towards Rebecca as they approached the
big hotel. “ I know exactly what to do. If you are
asked any questions about me you must say that I am
your cousin, who has called unexpectedly to see you at
Lady Jane Halliday’s house.”
“ But that’s a lie! ” burst from Silver.
“ It is necessary, madam,” said the detective. “ I
will explain to you later on.”
“ I wish I hadn’t come,” said Silver. “ Oh, my
poor mistress! what can have happened to her! It’s
broad daylight, and here are we driving through London
to one of the most fashionable hotels in the place, and
yet anyone would think we were going to a den of
thieves where we’d all be murdered.”


277


The Fountain of Beauty
aloud, will you? ”
“ You will not say a word of this
ur sensations to
said Saunders. “ You will keep yo
yourself. You are in a position of trust, and it lies in
your power, if the worst happens—which I by no means
expect—to save both your mistress and this young
lady.”
“ What am I to do, sir? I am sure I will do any-
thing,” said the poor woman.
“ When we arrive at the Carlton—”
“ No, sir,” interrupted Silver, speaking with great
“ I won’t—I won’t go in! ”
’ answered Saunders in a
main in the carriage.
Will soon join you,
in the
decision.
“ We don’t ask you to,’
gentle voice. “ You have just to re
I trust Lady Jane and Miss Henshall
but your part in the present business is to wait
carriage forlfurther orders.”
“ Heaven preserve us! ”
“ Now listen,” said Saunders.
servants on the box. You are in a
murmured Silver.
“ Not a word to the
position of trust,
remember.”
“ Mum I’ll be,” answered Silver.
They reached the hotel. Rebecca immediately
entered, followed by Saunders. He was a good-looking’
sked if the Mimi
and when Rebecca a _
ervant immediately
inquired if she were
gentlemanly man,
Kara Yusuf was Within, a dark s
came forward, and, with a low bow,
Miss Henshall.
Rebecca replied in the affirmative. _
“ Then my master expects you, madam,” he said.
H q “ May I take you this way? ” '
1-: -" . Rebecca and Saunders were taken to _
- ‘- in the lift. They walked down a spacious corndor and
l - - paused before a closed door. Two men in Persian dress
the first floor

278


The Fountain of Beauty
that is, it stood thick, black and upright from his fore-
head. He was wearing a sort of slouch hat, which he
took ofi‘ as though he found it oppressive, and Mary’s
quick eyes immediately noticed the cut of his hair and
his general features.
These features were dark and regular, his eyes
almond-shaped and intensely black. He wore a thick,
black moustache, but the rest of his face was clean-
shaven. He walked on quickly, not appearing to notice
anyone, and disappeared into the oflices of the Messagerie
line of steamers.
Mary smiled to herself when she noticed this. The
man did not stay very long—he came out after a bit,
and commenced to pace up and down the quay. Occa-
sionally he put on a pair of pince-nez and surveyed the
landscape, just as though he were waiting for a certain
vessel to arrive. Mary took in all details. After a
moment she approached a step nearer.
“ Pardon me,” she said, “ perhaps you can give me
information. I am on my way to Batum, en route for
Baku. I have failed to get full particulars as to when
the next Messagerie boat leaves the Mediterranean for
the Black Sea.” .
The man stared at her. At the same moment Mary
pulled a glove from her left hand and revealed the
sparkling ring which she wore on her smallest finger.
“ Ah! ” said Seleucus, for it was he. He dropped
his voice. “ You are Mrs Deepe? ”
Mary nodded.
“ I know all about you,” said Seleucus.
“ And I know something about you,” said Mary.
“ It is good,” answered the Persian. “ You are
here to help me, madame.”




281


The Fountain of Beauty
of the hotel. As they were doing so he put a question
to her.
“§Have you a private sitting-room, Madame Deepe?”
“ No,” replied Mary, “ I do not require it.”
Seleucus gave a bow, which was a little too Oriental
had anyone been there to observe.
“ Will you do me the honour to secure such a room,
and put the account to my master’s expense?”
“ Why? ” asked Mary.
“ It will be necessary for me to confer with you
often. You are, I perceive, madame, a lady of much
acumen; your brains are worthy of the East.”
Mary smiled.
“ I will order a private sitting-room immediately,”
she said.
“ And I will do myself the honour of calling on you
this evening,” said the man.
He withdrew. Mary went into the hotel, which
was large, dirty and rambling. She secured a small
sitting-room on the ground floor, which she immediately
took possession of. She longed for her husband to be
with her, but he and she had parted company at Lyons,
where he would wait until the arrival of further news.
It was impossible for them to be seen together at
Marseilles, as Nadir Julaver would recognise Deepe at
once.
Mary had not for a single moment repented of her
resolve. Everything depended on this last venture.
She had gone from one wickedness to another, and she
would not turn back now. Nevertheless, there was a
queer trembling over her, and she felt that she disliked
Seleucus more than anyone she had ever met. She had
always imagined herself to be calm, but beside his im-


283


The Fountain of Beauty
emed to be the mere echoes of a
.1 1
ii ' i- storm. His inscrutable eyes could hold a secret without
betraying the faintest gleam of knowledge, whereas hers,
cold as they were, must appear to his superior vision
_-..I. . like an open book.
. . uq She sat down and thought. A German waiter
= . "— bustled in, inquiring if the lady wanted anything.
It was done. It smoked
‘ - l . Mary desired a fire to be ht.
1,"-' - atrociously. ' he dirty 100111
. and tried to look '
windows. Marseilles was by no
liking. The sun had now gone in too,
wind which sent the puffs of smoke so per
the chimney grew worse and
“ We will haf in zee nig
said the German waiter, as
ntleman who wish to
room; “ and there is a she
with madame. Shall I beg off him to enter dees room?
Mary said, “ Yes; show the visitor in.”
She considered that Seleucus had not left her much
time; but so much the better.
“ Now is the crucial mome
“ I must not pause or hesitate for a sin le instant all
depends on the next few days.” _
The waiter threw open the door, an1101111@1I1E>
Seleucus entered the room. .
in which Mary might treat this


penetrable calm hers se
sistently down
“ Monsieur Lavo,” and
There were two ways
foreigner. She might be subservient and show the fear
ent—-indeed,
she really felt, or she might be independ
he latter course-
almost rude. She quickly decided on t _
time,” she said.
Lavo,” was
“ You haven’t given me much
“ You, madame, will call me Monsieur _ i
the beloved city o
his remark. “ I have come from

284


The Fountain of Beauty
Paris; I am on my way to Baku, and perhaps I will go
as far as Resht, but my movements are uncertain.”
M. Lavo uttered this sentence in French. Mary
nodded to him intelligently. Then she rose and shut
the door firmly.
“ Mr Seleucus,” she said, “it is necessary that we
should have plain speaking. I will call you, before
others, ‘ M. Lavo,’ or any name you please, but if you
want me to help you, you must tell me how.”
The man laughed. After a moment he said:
“ I but obey the great Mirza, as you, madame, also
obey him.”
“That is true,” she said. “He has, of course,
written to you about me.”
“ He has. Now I have a plan to propose. Nadir
Julaver arrives at Marseilles this evening. The
Amaryllis is already signalled, and will arrive in port
about nine o’clock. I wish to bring Nadir Julaver to
this hotel—the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, and I think it
probable that you can help me in carrying out my
design.”
“ Ah,” said Mary, “ but he is a great, rich man. I
have chosen this hotel because it is not expensive.”
“ It can all be managed. Nadir Julaver knows
nothing about Marseilles; he will expect to sail im-
mediately to Batum, but even for him none of the
Messagerie boats bound for the Black Sea will start
before next Tuesday. He must linger, therefore, in
'Marseilles, madame; our opportunity to do what we
want lies between this evening and Tuesday morning.
You are anxious to receive your reward. You would
be glad to rejoin your husband. You have no special
desire to take that tiresome voyage to Batum, and from
~_
285


The Fountain of Beauty

and to cross the Caspian Sea, and then
It would be a cold and dreary
believe me, not unaccompanied
by dangers. I would suggest, therefore, that you and I,
aided by Kum—a servant of the Mirza’s, a person who
will do just what he is told and is absolutely possessed of
' omplish our little scheme
This hotel is built for the
thence to Baku,
go overland to Teheran.
journey, madame; and,
between now and Tuesday.
very purpose. Marseilles is the very town where we
could best hope to succeed. These back streets, these
rough people, these dirty surroundings, are all in keep-
ing. We have but to lure Nadir J ulaver into the Hotel-
des Ambassadeurs to make him an easy prey.
“ But he will not come,” said Mary; “ end,” ehe
As she uttered these words Seleucus went
and looked her in the face.
“ You know, I presume, woman,” he said, “ whet
lies before you? Two things—life or death.”
“ I know,” she said, shrinking away from him.
“ You are in my toils,” he continued. “ The com-
mands of my great master are absolute. I am to make
use of you. If you fail us you are to be put out of the
way; if you succeed you are
treat you with all courtesy, madame,
me with courtesy. I shall often appear here, and You
will introduce me to Nadir J ulaver, whose acquaintallee,
ening as an old friend
I trust, you will make this very ev
I can talk the Fre11ch
of yours, a professeur from Paris.
I am a Persian I think I am
97
lingo well, and although
clever enough to hoodwink
“ But doesn’t Julaver bring his
him? ” said Mary.
286


The Fountain of Beauty
“ He brings a servant, one Abbas, the man who
followed your husband when he took the diamond to
the Jew, Ben Sherlock.”
Mary shivered and covered her face.
“ Abbas we can quickly dispose of. Abbas is my
affair,” continued Seleucus.
“ Then what am I to do? ” said Mary.
“ You are to induce J ulaver to come to this hotel.”
“ I don’t even know him.”
“ That is nothing to the purpose. Mark my words.
The very moment he lands he will cross the quay and go
to the office of the Messagerie Line. You are to go
there at the same time. You are to stand by his side,
and you are to express regret at the unavoidable delay.
J ulaver can be gentlemanly if he likes. He will be tired
and sick of his voyage, for the Amaryllis is by no means
an inviting vessel for a man to spend a week in. It has
been a stormy week too; and his experiences of the Bay
of Biscay have been, doubtless, not exhilarating. You
are to contrive to get him to come to the Hotel des
Ambassadeurs. Once here, all is safe.”
“ But when he sees the place,” said Mary.
“ Bah! ” said Seleucus. “ An Oriental won’t notice
the dirt, and there are big rooms upstairs. Come with
me now, immediately; we will make preparations, and
the hotel shall send down its omnibus to the quay. It
is very doubtful whether any other hotel will provide
omnibuses to meet such an unimportant boat as the
Amaryllis. He will step into the trap laid for him as
surely as steel turns to the magnet. Now, come with
me and we’ll make preparations.”
“ You are wonderfully clever,” said Mary.
“ Clever? ” said Seleucus. “ I do not understand
287



CHAPTER XXV
NADIR J ULAVER was induced without the slightest difi.1-
culty to put up at the Hotel des Ambassadeurs. Seleucus
was right when he said that a Persian would not notice
the dirt. The Persian wished for lofty and large rooms.
He required food to his liking, coffee made after the
Turkish manner, fruit, and an abundance of opium.
He was much chafed and weary at the delay which sud-
denly prevented his leaving Marseilles, but, being a true
Oriental, he kept his feelings to himself.
He made his_ acquaintance with Mrs Deepe just in
the fashion which Seleucus had planned, and when he
stepped into the omnibus which was to bear him to the
Hotel des Ambassadeurs she followed him into the same
vehicle. His servant, Abbas, came after with Julaver’e
luggage; a porter from one of the quays brought it to
the hotel in question. They passed several gorgeoi1e
and fine-looking hotels on the way, but Abbas wee
silent as the grave, and no more commented than did
Julaver himself on the.bad street and gloomy 011111001‘
where the Hotel des Ambassadeurs was situated.
Abbas waited on his master assiduously, quietly»
noiselessly. M. Lavo visited Mary Deepe once or tw10e-
J ulaver took not the slightest notice of this, although he
saw the good-looking, smart young Englishwomefl
welking With the Frenchman. But Abbas made ob'
servations. Abbas was exceedingly 019%?’ wd he
the features
began to watch for certain characteristics in
290


The Fountain of Beauty
of M. Lavo which might tell him that the man was not
a genuine Frenchman.
Seleucus, however, was also watching Abbas, and so
was Kum, who kept quite in the background.
Julaver arrived at the hotel on Wednesday night.
Thursday passed without anything special occurring.
J ulaver did not go out; his spacious rooms satisfied him.
VVhatever his thoughts they were turned inwards. He
was near the great triumph of his life. He was pictur-
ing the moment when he would open the eyes of the
Shah and reveal to him the perfidy of his favourite
servant. With the downfall of the Mirza Kara Yusuf
all the hopes, the dreams, the desires of Nadir Julaver
would be realised. He had ofiered thirty thousand
pounds for the possession of the great diamond, but
through his own wit and daring, and the cleverness of
his spy, Abbas, he had secured it for next to nothing.
He reflected with pleasure on his cunning in substituting
the false gems, made from an old receipe known in
J ulaver’s family, for the real. The false stones were
made with such daring and cleverness that only the eye
of an expert could detect the difference. -
Occasionally, as Nadir J ulaver paced up and down
his great sitting-room, he laughed short laughs of con-
tentment to himself. Everything was going well. The
annoying part, however, was the delay. It was intoler-
able to have to stay idling at Marseilles for the greater
part of a week. He dared not charter a vessel for
himself or he would have done- so, for this would
immediately have caused remark; and, besides, he
could not have got beyond Batum without further
expense and further gossip. In short, the only thing
before him at the present moment was to stay quiet.

291-


-The Fountain of Beauty
Thursday passed, therefore, in peace. That evening
Julaver stretched himself on one of the uncomfortable
sofas, desired his servant, Abbas, to prepare his opium
l pipe and then to leave him.

J ulaver felt safe enough here. Surely no one would
follow him to Marseilles, and, last of all, to this hotel in a
back street. Abbas grumbled a little at the accommo-
dation. There were grander hotels with finer views.
more light, better food. Julaver told the man to hold
his tongue. Abbas stood still looking down at his
master. He was no more faithful than any other
person would have been in his position, but as he knew
that faithfulness meant life, and fa'thlessness death, he
was as canny as he could be, and as anxious for Julaver’s
personal safety.
“ The lady downstairs,” he said, “ the English lady! ”
“ What of her? ” said J ulaver.
“ I like her not,” said Abbas.
J ulaver made no answer. He was already prep
to enjoy his opium and did not want to be disturbed.
“ And I neither like nor trust that French gentleman,
M. Lavo.”
“ Leave me now, Abbas,” said Julaver, ‘
your likes and dislikes to yourself.”
Abbas withdrew softly. With velvet steps he went
downstairs, and, a minute or two later, was in the street.
There, unknown to him, Kfim, the Persian, followed
him at a respectful distance. Kum was dressed as an
Englishman. He wore a disguising moustache and false
beard, and a slouch hat. To Abbas, however, his fl1oV°'
ments alone would have betrayed him. K151" was
aware of this, and kept in the background.
plunged into a low part of the city, and by-end by
aring
‘ and keep
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The Fountain of Beauty
entered an opium den. If his great master, Nadir
Julaver, enjoyed the delights of the opium pipe, why
should not he also have that pleasure? Why should not
his dreams be golden? Why should he not think of
that time when, having performed his part worthily
here, the great Prophet might take his faithful servant
into the Elysium which he had always been taught to
believe in?
Abbas was stretched upon a sofa, enjoying his pipe in
the company of many other victims of the same vice,
when Kum appeared. Abbas had already almost
closed his eyes in sleep. Kum asked for a pipe, but did
not smoke; he was watching the other man. After a
minute he rose, took Abbas by the arm and roused him
roughly.
“ Your master, Nadir Julaver, is in danger. You
are to meet him at the Quay Alexandra without a
moment’s delay.”
The man awoke, gazed with lack-lustre eyes at Kum,
who tore ofl" his false beard and moustache, and revealed
at once the face of a true Persian.
“ Be quick! ” said Kum.
The men left the opium den. The head of Abbas
was reeling from the effects of the opium. It seemed to
him as he followed Kum that it was all part of a dream.
He was perfectly happy and contented. His brain was
so dull with the narcotic that he had not the smallest
sense of fear.
They reached the quay, where a man was seated in a
boat. Klim jumped in, dragging Abbas after him.
The man rowed out to a small sailing boat. Kum and
Abbas got on board, and in a few minutes’ time the
vessel sailed away, leaving Marseilles far behind.
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The Fountain of Beauty
will complete his repose, madame, and we will secure
from his person the great diamond, the ‘Fountain of
Beauty.’ ”
“ From his person? ” said Mary, turning very white.
“ Yes; he wears it just above the hip—in the hollow
just above the hip—in a woollen pad. I know it—I
have marked the spot. Madame, we are safe; our task
is nearly over. Abbas and Kum have sailed to a distant
port, and by no possibility can be back at Marseilles
under a week. You and I win our great reward, and I
shall to-day send a telegram to the Mirza Kara Yusuf
which will, I fancy, please him much. Madame, if I
mistake not, it is the great Mirza who will sail in the
good ship Herculus to Batum, and it is Nadir Julaver
who will remain behind.”
Mary looked full at Seleucus, an expression of dis-
tress and alarm on her face.
“ I have said—” she began, and her lips trembled.
He bent towards her.
“ I am listening, adorable madame,” he said.
“ I have said that I will go far, very far, to fulfil the
object of this expedition. But I will not take ”—her
voice dropped—“ life. I draw the line at that—y0u
understan .”
“ Perfectly, madame. And,” continued Seleucus,
“ I respect your scruples as my great master, the Mirza
Kara Yusuf, has already respected them. He wrote to
me about you, madame, and gave me full directions
with regard to the part you were expected to play.”
“ If you understand it is all right,” said Ma1'y, “ and
I will do my best.”
“ It is, as I have assured you,’ said Seleucus, “ a
case of life-or death for both of us. Failure spells
7
297


The Fountain of Beauty
went out. He walked down the narrow, dirty street,
found himself in a broad street, and entered the General
Post Office. There he, too, dispatched a telegram.
“ To the Mirza Kara Yusuf, from Seleucus, other-
wise M. Lavo.—The ‘ Fountain of Beauty ’ in my poses-
sion. Come without a moment’s delay to the Hotel
des Ambassadeurs, Rue du Petit-Pont, Marseilles.”
When Mary Deepe, an hour later, returned to ale’-
jeuner at the hotel she found a little note, written in
excellent English, waiting for her by her plate. She
opened it and read as follows:
“Nadir Julaver requests madame, whose name he
has not the pleasure of knowing, and also M. Lavo, to
sup with him to-morrow evening at nine of the clock,
when he will produce for their benefit the pipe of peace.
He regrets having to postpone to-night’s entertainment,
owing to a sudden indisposition.”
299



CHAPTER XXVI
IT was about six o’clock on that eventful winter’s even-
ing when Rebecca Henshall entered the presence of the
Mirza Kara Yusuf. She came in breathlessly, her eyes
very bright, her cheeks pale. He received her with 8»
low salaam. He was holding in his hand the yellow
envelope of a lately-received telegram.
“ Ah,” he said, “ it has been hard to get you here,
and the lady, the gracious lady, the English lady Oi
high rank is tired of waiting. Will you go to her to the
room where she awa'ts your presence? ” .
Rebecca, astonished and relieved at this apparently
mild reception, crossed the great and stately apartment,
being led by one of the Persian servants. A door was
flung open, and she found herself in a bright-looking
room furnished in the English style, where poor Lady
Jane, her face swollen with crying, her whole appear-
ance dishevelled almost beyond recognition, was waiting
for her.
“ I have come,” said Rebecca. “ Oh! what is the
matter? What has happened? ” “
“ My dear,” said Lady Jane, in a choked voice, l
know you will blame me ; I am prepared for any amount
of censure. Don’t, my dear child, don’t, at least for a
little, my nerves are so overstrung. Can we get out Oi
this? ”
“ Of course we can,” said Rebecca. “ What 18 to
keep us here? ”
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The Fountain of Beauty
She walked boldly towards the door of the room.
Lady Jane clasped and unclasped her hands.
“ You can’t get out that way,” she said. “ The
door is locked.” But Rebecca still went towards it.
“ It is not locked,” she said. She opened the door.
“ Come, dear Lady Jane.”
She drew the old lady’s hand through her arm.
Saunders immediately came forward.
“ Will you see us to our carriage? ” said Rebecca to
the man.
He accompanied them downstairs. They entered
the carriage, where Silver, with a gasp of ecstasy, almost
threw her arms round her beloved mistress’s neck.
“ Oh! dear, dear lady! I thought never to see your
face again.”
“Nonsense! ” said Lady Jane, who, now that she
was out of the trap, felt inclined to make as little of it as
possible. “ Don’t make a fuss, Silver, and for goodness
sake don’t be seen crying in the street. Rebecca, you
were a brick to come to me. I will tell you afterwards
what occurred.”
“ One minute first,” said Rebecca.
She bent towards Saunders, and said a few words to
him in a low tone. In consequence he took ofi his hat
politely to both ladies and walked away. They drove
back at once to Lady Jane’s house in Portland Place.
The door was opened by George, looking just as
though nothing special had occurred. The peaceful
sensation of being at home again had a tonic effect on
Lady J ane’s nerves. Nevertheless, she was much
shaken, and drew Rebecca with her into the dining-room.
“ Now, my dear, shut the door,” she said. “ I must
relieve my mind. You were right, Rebecca, and I was
301


The Fountain of Beauty


wrong. The Mirza is a terrible, incomprehensible man.
Of course he is fascinating, my love. I really felt myself
in Persia while I listened to him and his wonderful
stories. But I could quite see that he was sinister. Oh,
my dear Rebecca, I had thrills through my whole body
as I observed the strange, unearthly sort of light in his
dark eyes. And he was so cold and firm. Do you
know, Rebecca, he absolutely gave me the most ex-
quisite little head of jade, and jade is so costly, dear,
and this was such a perfect specimen. I have it in my
bag; I will show it to you presently.
“ Well, he made me write for you. I was afraid to
refuse. Of course I had no right to go in at all. But
there—I did go, and I confess it, dear, the first part of
my visit was enjoyable. Then I began to get frightened-
He forced me to write that letter, and I saw he meant it,
and that nothing would make him change, so I just had
to do it. Immediately afterwards he himself con-
ducted me into that -cold little room where you found
me. He said an English servant would wait on me‘,
but nobody came—not that I wanted anyone. I,
course, went straight to the door to get out, but it was
locked, and oh! then I had such a fit of terrors. Iwds
nearly wild—I was so terribly afraid that you would not
come.”
“ Did you think I would leave you? ” said Rebecca-
“ Of course I came as quickly as ever I could-” _
“ Well, my child; you did take some time about It.,
it was past six o’clock before you arrive , _
to despair of you. I tried to summon the hotel offic1els,
but there was no electric bell in the room, 01113’ ‘me 0
those horrible telephones, which I haven’t the lee-Bi? idea‘
how to use. So I was virtually a pris0I1eT, and I grew
302


The Fountain of Beauty
more and more alarmed each moment. Why were you
so long, dear Rebecca? ”
“ I was taking steps,’ said Rebecca.
“ Steps, my love? What do you mean? ”
“ I thought the position very serious, dear Lady
Jane, and I went to Scotland Yard and got a detective
to come with me to the Carlton.”
“ You did? A detective? Horrors! Oh, Rebecca,
they are such alarming, fearful men.”
“ He was a very nice young man,’ said Rebecca,
“ and had there been danger he would have been useful,
but as things turned out there did not seem to be any
danger. I cannot imagine what the Mirza wanted. As
soon as I arrived he had nothing whatever to say to me,
and simply bowed me into your presence, and then we
found that the door of your room was not locked at all.
What can it mean, Lady Jane? ”
“ I don’t know, I never shall know,” said Lady Jane.
“ But at least I have got the little head of jade, and I’m
exceedingly glad to be home again. Oblige me, my
love, by passing me that bag, and I will show you the
precious little curio.”
During the days that followed Lady Jane was ex-
ceedingly pleased to relate her adventures to her
numerous friends and acquaintances. She regarded
herself as quite a heroine, and could not dilate enough on
the majesty of the Mirza’s bearing, the great and fearful
dangers she herself had undergone, and Rebecca’s
courage in going to Scotland Yard in order to help her in
case of need. There was a special case made for the
little jade head, which Lady Jane declared she would
keep as long as she lived in memory of about the biggest
adventure of her whole life.
9
7
303


- __ 1 1 _
i -- “ The Fountain of Beauty
t Lady Jane’s house, nothing
no mysterious letters arriving
--, l
, . _ at all special occurring,
with regard to Gerard
. ,1. , for her, and no news whatever
la Lonsdale. No news, in his case was ood, however,
9
i - — - ll- _- and she made the best of circumstances.
One day when she was out a lady met her, who told
her that a friend of hers who was staying at the Carlton
saw the Mirza with all his belongings and his vast retinue
leave the hotel about an hour after Rebecca and Lady
Jane had done so, en route for the Continent.
“ Beyond doubt,” said the lady, “ that great, inter-
esting, dark, inscrutable man is no longer in London-
Whatever mysterious designs he had upon poor, dear
old Lady Jane have come to naught-we shall probably
hear nothing more about him.”
Rebecca, on getting this information,
Lady J ane, told her what ha
she was about to return to 9
day.
“ But is it safe, my love? ”
can never be up to the wiles of those Easterns-
man may be in London all the time.”
“ I don’t think so,” said Rebecca. ,
I can never thank
said the old lady; “
you enough for all your great
That evening Rebecca we
where she had spent her ear
letters awaiting her, one wi
kl l other evidently posted from a d
.7 ' Her heart beat as the two letters were p t into her hen -
“ They both arrived this morning,” Bel

oh! it’s cook and me who are glad to have . Q”
again. And shall I give y draw1ng-room.
ou tea in the
304


The Fountain of Beauty
Rebecca went there. How cheerful and homelike
was the little room! How glad and thankful she was to
be home once more!
Lucy brought in the tea and then left her mistress to
herself. Rebecca scarcely noticed the pretty and
brightly-polished tea equipage. Her eyes were fixed on
the bold handwriting of that letter which hailed from
the north of the British Isles. She tore it open eagerly.
It ran as follows:
“ I feel that I cannot keep silent any longer. I have
been here, well and safe, for more than ten days.
Nothing has occurred in the least remarkable. Your
dear old servant, Jean Duncan, received me with open
arms. I have never once found it necessary to take
possession of that hiding-place which you suggested.
I am now becoming hardened to the sense of danger,
and, in short, must run the risk of writing to you in
order to find out how things are. I can never, as long
as I live, forget your goodness to me, nor how nobly
you have helped me at the risk of personal danger. I
may as well tell you here that riches as riches are a
matter of indifference to me, as I believe they are to you;
and my one desire is that the terrible incubus which has
seemed to come between us should be buried in the
depths of the sea. Write to me if you can and dare.-
Yours ever with all faithfulness,
“ GERARD LoNsnALE.”
Rebecca read the letter once; she read it twice.
Then a deep sigh of thankfulness escaped her lips. How
marvellously easy the whole thing had been! The
simplicity of the inspiration had ensured its success.


U 305


The Fountain of Beauty

the higher part o
the tide, would affo
Gerard Lonsdale ther
For, if the worst came to the worst, he c
life atone of those narrow openings, and by no possi-
bility could he be taken unawares.
Gerard Lonsdale had gone to Scotland. Jean
knew she would,
Duncan had received him, as Rebecca
Ten days had passed by, but there
uit; the exciting
was no news; there was no one in purs
to an end.
chase had to all appearances come _
“ Has it? ” thought the girl. “ Is this in reahty
only the calm before the storm?
I have felt impelled of late to d
It was only to get
ensure his safety.
ould fight for his
rd a safe refuge.
e to practically
over.”
Rebecca wa
letter from Scotland th
her lap. Now,
rested on it.
hand began to tremble vi
This letter was from Mary Deep
distinguish on the envel0Pe the Posl'*maT "'Lyon5' She
had a great dread over he held the unop°“?d
She knew the
e, and Rebecca c0
her as s
letter in her hand. She bega
distasteful. d.d
1
Summoning courage, ever, to her aid, sim
how
306


The Fountain of Beauty
tear open the envelope, and soon all her attention and
all her thoughts were absorbed in the closely-written
words.
ar-
“ 8 Rue on Siavnzs, Lyons.
“ Rebecca, you may as well know the worst and the
best. We have all, in a measure, failed, but at least you
and I, my husband and that man Lonsdale, have
escaped with our lives, which, under the circumstances,
is much to be wondered at. I speak of myself first, as
the most important person to me. I am a poor woman,
but I am at least sound in health and limb. I have not
committed the ghastly crime which I was almost
entrapped into doing, and I am with Arnold. Arnold’s
future and mine need not concern you. We have a
little, a very little money still left; and when this letter
reaches you will be out of Europe. Now, I mean to tell
you the end of an exciting story, and as there is no
special need for further reticence I will speak freely.
“ My dear Rebecca, when I found that Nadir J ulaver
had played that abominable trick upon Arnold and
myself of substituting the false diamond for the real, I
threw myself on the mercy of another man, namely,
the enemy of Nadir Julaver—Mirza Kara Yusuf. The
Mirza supplied me with money to follow Nadir J ulaver
and gave instructions that I was to put myself under the
complete guidance of a Persian servant of his called
Seleucus. I reached Marseilles, and there discovered
that there was no Messagerie boat to take me on to
Batum—the first stopping-place en route for Teheran-
for nearly a week. I was," therefore, obliged to stay at
Marseilles for several days.
“ While I was waiting on the quay a dark-looking


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The Fountain of Beauty

it in itself so unpleasant. But now I scarcely noticed
the furniture, so absorbed was I in watching the Nadir
and in wondering at the preparations for the opium
treat. There were four little lamps in the room, of the
queerest shape you can imagine-quite round, with an
opening at the top. Each lamp stood on a tray. There
were also pipes-four pipes, and long things, sharp at
one end, which the Nadir assured me were called dippers.
There was also, of course, a bowl full of opium, which
was of the consistency of black, st'fi treacle.
“ Nadir Julaver was in his pleasantest mood, and
began to explain to me how I must take the opium-
My dear, the process was quite extraordinary, and if I
had not been so fascinated I might have been afraid
the ordeal which lay before me. In addition to the ioilf
lamps, and four pipes, and the four dippers, and the i0\1Y
trays on which the lamps were placed, were a
very deep armchairs, which might have been almost need
as beds, they went back so far. Each chair was arr
close to a lamp, which stood upon its own tray an
burned brightly, and on the tray lay, _
queer-looking opium pipe and the long-pointed <l1PPeT-
“ ‘ Now, my dear lady,’ said the Nadir t0 me, i you
will require very little opium to give yon those Pleas“?
able and delightful dreams which are the opium—Bin0l_ieT 5
paradise, whereas I and my friends, w
opium smokers, will require several pipes‘,
be satisfied with one, and I shall have the honour of
myself preparing it for you.’
“ ‘ How will you do it? ’ I asked.
“ ‘ I shall take your dipper,
into this bowl of opium, twisting
until I get a large drop of the fluid to adll
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The Fountain of Beauty
of the dipper. Still twisting it round to prevent it fall-
ing, I will hold the drop over the flame of the lamp and
twirl it round and round in order to roast it. You
could not do this, my esteemed friend, properly, for it
requires much dexterity. When the drop of opium is
roasted and rolled to my satisfaction, I will gently heat
the centre of the bowl of the pipe. Here, you can see
for yourself, where there is this small orifice. Then I
will thrust the end of the dipper into the orifice, twirl it
round sharply, and withdraw it. A bit of opium, the
size of a grain of hemp seed, will remain in the orifice.
When this is done you will put the stem of the pipe to
your lips and hold the bowl of the pipe over the lamp.
The heat will cause the opium to frizzle, and you will
take three or four deep inhalations. That will be quite
sufliicient for you on the first occasion of your using the
opium pipe, my dear madame.’
“ ‘ Thank you,’ I answered when he had done speak-
ing. ‘ This all sounds very interesting. But, forgive
me,’ I added, ‘ I see there are four lamps and four pipes
ready. Are you expecting another guest? ’
“ ‘ You have penetrated the truth, gracious lady,’
he answered. ‘ I look for a friend from London.’
“ ‘ From London, Nadir Julaver! ”
“ ‘ Yes, a very great friend. He will join us in our
pipe of peace. We will await his arrival before we enter
our paradise.’
“ The Nadir began to talk to me on indifferent
matters, desiring me to sit close to my own lamp, my
_ own pipe, my own dipper. After a time Seleucus came
in. He was dressed carefully as a Frenchman. His
smart and fashionable dress was made by a_well-known
Parisian tailor. We all began to talk in the French
311


The Fountain of Beauty

tongue. Then all of a sudden the Nadir said, ‘ Will you
both excuse me for a moment, I have forgotten some-
thing.’ He left the room and withdrew into his bed-
room, closing the door behind him. The moment he
did this Seleucus said:
“ ‘ Now is our time. The opium and the pipes are
ready. Madame, you and I must share the glories of
this conspiracy between us. Give me the pipe of Nadir
J ulaver. See where it stands.’
“ I started up. I did not dare to disobey.
“ ‘ You are not going to kill him? ’ I said.
“ He replied with a laugh. ‘ What I do will pro-
duce very deep insensibility.’ He then took a smell
bottle from his pocket. It was full of colourless liquid-
He carefully wet the o 'fice of the pipe with the liquid,
and also the mouthpiece. The colourless liquid dried at
once, and the pipe looked as it had done before. I
returned the pipe to Nadir Ju1aver’s tray.
“ ‘ But who is this fourth lamp for? ’ he said then,
‘ and for whom is this fourth pipe prepared? ’ .
“ ‘ Seleucus,’ I said, ‘ the Nadir is expecting a irlend
from London. He will not begin to smoke the pipe of
peace until his friend arrives.’ _
Seleucus considered deeply for a minute, then wlth
a smile he crossed the room, took up the other PiP°»9'nd
administered the same colourless liquid to the orifice and
to the mouthpiece of the pipe.
“ ‘ They shall both sleep soundly,’ he said. ‘ They
shall not interfere with us.’ _
“ Seleucus and I were both talking pleasantly In the
French tongue when Nadir Julaver re-entered the ro0u_1-
He looked calm and unsuspicious, and sat down 111 111s
own chair, near his own lamp and pipe, in
3 1 2


The Fountain of Beauty
waiting. Suddenly the room door was flung open, and
no less a person than Mirza Kara Yusuf appeared.
“ I never was so startled in my life, but neither
J ulaver—who, I am sure now, expected him—nor
Seleucus, who certainly did not, showed a vestige of
astonishment. Nadir J ulaver was the essence of polite-
ness. Mirza Kara was equally lofty and gracious.
Seleucus continued to act the part of a French gentle-
man to perfection.
“ After a few minutes J ulaver asked the Mirza if he
would not like to smoke, and at the same moment, with
the most indescribable courtesy and a sweet smile play-
ing round his features, he substituted his own lamp and
tray for those which were close to the Mirza’s
side.
“ ‘ You will honour me,’ he said. He placed the
Mirza’s lamp and tray by his own side, but a little delay
ensued while the N adir, as he had promised, prepared
my morsel of opium for me. My dear Rebecca, I do not
think I ever lived through a more terrifying moment,
for his eyes, glittering like stars, and an expression
round his face which told me that he had seen through
Seleucus and myself, took all my courage from me.
When I began to smoke, however, all feeling of fear
vanished.
“ ‘ Draw up the contents of the pipe very, very
gently, madame, and take deep inhalations,’ said a voice
in my ears; and I did so more and more gently, in a
feebler and feebler fashion, until at last, my dear
Rebecca, the whole room became dream-like. Visions
passed before my eyes. I dropped the pipe and sank
back against the cushions. There was such a thing as
the great diamond. The ‘ Fountain of Beauty ’ was to be

313


The Fountain of Beauty

secured. There was a desperate man whom I, strange
and weak as I am, fervently loved. There was im-
miment danger around me. Yes; failure meant death;
success meant life, and yet I cared for nothing, nothing
at all at that moment but sleep.
“ When I came to myself, Rebecca, everything had
changed. I was lying in a small, ill-furnished room in a
very poor part of Marseilles. The Nadir’s apartment
had faded away. The Hotel des Ambassadeurs was no
longer my dwelling-place. I raised my head, .
ached profoundly. A slovenly young Frenohwo1l1hn
opened the door and came in.
“ ‘ Are you better, madame? ’ she asked.
“ I eagerly inquired where I was and how
reached my present quarters. She informed_me that I had
been brought to the house about midnight in a
insensibility; that the landlady had offered me ahfhhll
room on the condition that if I were not better in the
brought you, madame, in a voiture,’ said the girl, ‘ and
I make no doubt that he paid madame a handsome
to receive you; and here’s a letter which was to be glf/‘eh
to you when you awoke.’ She thrust an envelope into
Nadir J ulaver. They sleep the sleep of the lust’ and
their awakening will be in the Elysium of the ghee:
Prophet. As for me, I go with the “ Fountain ofI5
to restore it to my master, the Shah of Persia. Aély
attempt to follow me, or to return to
4..--It
314


1
.
I
A
The Fountain of Beauty
1




“ Are you disappointed? ” she said. “ But no; I
can read your character aright. You could never have
endured to think of money obtained in such a way.”
“ The diamond is gone," was his reply, “ but you
are here. Give me something that I prize ten thousand
times more than all the wonderful gems in the world.”
She coloured. She tried to look in his face. Then
she lowered her eyes.
“ My darling! ” he said. He came up to her and
took her hand. “ I have loved you from the moment
I looked at you. I think in a sort of way I have loved
you, Rebecca—for I must call you by your Christian
name—before I met you face to face. In your father’s
letters to me he spoke so often about you, and——and my
life has been lonely. Since my mother died no woman
has cared for me. Is there any hope? ”
“ I think it is very much the same with me," eaid
Rebecca. “ I have thought of you even before I saw
you, and now-”
“ We have lived through great danger together,”
Lonsdale’s reply. “ That poor unhappy woman, MTS
Deepe, I am sorry for her, but she has gone out of our
lives.”
“ Yes, thank God! ” said Rebecca, shuddering
slightly.
“ Never mind her now,” said Lonsdale.
not yet answered my question.
me even a little? ” .
“ It is not my way to love a little,
“ If I love I love all in all, and—” B1111 the next words
were unnecessary, or at least they wer '
lover’s ear; so low, too, that even
catch their meaning. But Lonsdale knew by the b69"fi'
w818
’ 316


The Fountain of Beauty
ing of her heart that he had won the best of women, for
Rebecca was strong, faithful and true.
“ Oh, let us never think of the diamond again,” he
said. “I have got what is far, far more valuable—a
loving heart, to be my very own.”
It was in this fashion that Rebecca Henshall and
Gerard Lonsdale became engaged. The “Fountain of
Beauty ” was not altogether productive of evil. It had
done one good thing. It had been the means of drawing
two faithful hearts together. Lonsdale, notwithstand-
ing the loss of the diamond, was well ofi. Rebecca had
plenty of money. There was no reason why they should
delay their marriage. All their friends congratulated
them. Their story was thought intensely romantic, for
there was no longer the slightest reason to hide the
adventures of the “ Fountain of Beauty.” Rebecca for
a short time became the rage amongst those people who
frequented Lady Jane Halliday’s house. There were
one or two who even went the length of saying that her
eyes were brighter than any diamonds that had ever
been formed in the secret places of the earth.
Gerard Lonsdale was thought a very happy man, and
Lady Jane insisted on the wedding taking place from
her house. One of the first people Rebecca wrote to
announcing her engagement was old Aunt Martha. In
this letter she said:
“ I have news which will surprise you. You need no
longer be anxious about me, for I am going to marry the
best man I ever met. Our wedding will take place
within a month from now, and part of our honeymoon
we intend to spend with you in Greek Street. When
there, if you like to ask me, I will tell you the true story
3 17


The Fountain of Beauty



of the piece of black ribbon which I wore round my
neck.”
“ There,” said Aunt Martha, when she got the
letter. “ I knew I’d ferret that out by hook or crook.”
She wrote a long letter of congratulation to her niece
telling her that she should have a hearty welcome when
she and her husband came to Greek Street. Then the
good old woman hustled about to make things as bright
and charming as she possibly could for the girl whom,
one year ago, she scarcely knew anything about. The
story of the “Fountain of Beauty,” confided In full '00
Aunt Martha during the honeymoon of the Lonsdales,
became a piece de résistance for the rest of the old lady’e
life.
She gave several very select tea-parties in honour of
it, telling it in every possible detail, and awakening at
once the admiration and horror of her listeners. When
her teas came to an end she invariably said:
“ Gerard Lonsdale is a good fellow, and it is my
private opinion that in Rebecca’s eyes he has secured
the true ‘ Fountain of Beauty.’ ”
THE END
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