f\ K A COIN OF EDWARD VII, Popular Novels by Fergus Hume THE SECRET PASSAGE Thi Albany E-vening yournal says: "Fully as interesting as his former books, and keeps one guessing to the end. The story begins with the murder of an old lady, with no apparent cause for the crime, and in unraveling the mystery the author is very clever in hiding the real criminal. A pleabing romance runs through the book, which adds to the interest." I2mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 THE YELLOW HOLLY The Philadtlphia Public Ledger siys: "'The Yellow Holly' outdoei any of his earlier stories. It is one of those tales that the average reader of fiction of this sort thinks he knows all about after he has read the first few chapters. Those who have become admirers of Mr. Hume cannot afford to miss 'The Yellow "°'^>'-"* izmo. Cloth bound, $1.25 A COIN OF EDWARD VIL T/te Philadelphia Item says: " This book is quite up to the level of the high Standard which Mr. Hume has set for himself in ' The Mystery of a Hansom Cab' and 'The Rainbow Feather.' It is a brilliant, stirring adventure, showing the author's prodigious inventiveness, his well of imagination never running dry." izmo. Cloth bound, $1.25 THE PAGAN'S CUP The Naihville American says: " The plot is intricate with mystery and prob- ability neatly dovetailed and the solution is a series of surprises skillfully retarded to whet the interest of the reader. It is excellently written and the denouement so BkJllfuUy concealed that one's interest and curiosity are kept on edge till the rerjr lait. It will certainly be a popular book with a very large class of readers. ' ' 1 2mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 THE MANDARIN'S FAN The Nash-ville American says : '* The book is most attractive and thoroughly novel in plot and construction. The mystery of the curious fan, and its being the key to such wealth and power is decidedly original and unique. Nearly every character in the book seems possible of accusation. It is just the sort of plot in which Hume is at his best. It is a complex tangle, full of splendid climaxes. Few authors have a charm equal to that of Mr. Hume's mystery tales. " I 2nio, Cloth bound, $1.25 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK "^^^ ■ UK. SAW TIIK KUilKK OV A WOMAN LYINU I-ACK DuWNWAKU U.N lilt: SNOU . A COIN OF EDWARD VII. A DETECTIVE STORY BY FERGUS HUME author of 'the mystery of a hansom cab"; "the pagan's cup"; "CLAUDE DUVAL OF 95 " ; "tHE RAINBOW FEATBEK," JETC. G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Copyright, 1903, by G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY A Coin of Edward VII. Issued February, igoj. 9P CONTENTS CHAP, f'AGE I. The Christmas Tree 7 II. An Anonymous Letter 16 III. A Mysterious Visitor 26 IV. The Churchyard 37 V. Afterwards 40 VI. The Case Against Anne 55 VII. Oliver Morley 65 VIII. The Irony of Fate 74 IX. A Strange Discovery • • 84 X. On a Fresh Trail 96 XI. Princess Kar.\csay 106 XII. Mrs. Parry's Tea 118 XIII. Mrs. Benker Reappears 129 XIV. Treasure Trove 139 XV. An Awkv^^ard Interview 148 XVI. The Unexpected Happens 159 XVII. Part of the Truth 169 XVIII. What Happened Next 180 XIX. The Clue Leads to London 1 90 XX. Many a Slip 'Twixt Cup and Lip 201 XXI. A Story of the Past 212 XXII. Olga's Evidence 223 XXIII. Mark Dane 233 XXIV. A Rat in a Corner 245 XXV. A Catastrophe 259 XXVI. The End of the Trolthle 272 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. CHAPTER I THE CHRISTMAS TREE TWO old ladies sat in the comer of the drawing-room. The younger — a colonial cousin of the elder — was listening eagerly to gossip which dealt with English so- ciety in general, and Rickwell society in particular. They presumably assisted in the entertainment of the children already gathered tumultuously round the Christmas tree, provided by Mr, Morley; but Mrs. Parry's budget of scandal was too interesting to permit the relaxing of Mrs. McKail's attention. "Ah yes," said Mrs. Parry, a hatchet-faced dame with a venomous tongue and a retentive memory, "Morley's fond of children, although he has none of his own." "But those three pretty little girls ?" said Mrs. McKail, who was fat, fair, and considerably over forty. "Triplets," replied the other, sinking her voice. "The only ease of triplets I have met with, but not his children. No, Mrs. Morley was a widow with triplets and money. Morley married her for the last, and had to take the first as part of the bargain. I don't deny but what he does his duty by the three." 8 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Mrs. McKail's keen grey eyes wander to the fat, rosy little man who laughingly struggled amidst a bevy of children, the triplets included. "He seems fond of them," said she, nodding. "Seems!" emphasised Mrs. Parry shrewdly. "Ha! I don't trust the man. If he were all he seems, would his wife's face wear that expression ? No, don't tell me." Mrs. Morley was a tall, lean, serious woman, dressed in sober grey. She certainly looked careworn, and ap- peared to participate in the festivities more as a duty than for the sake of amusement. "He is said to be a good hus- band," observed Mrs. McKail doubtfully. "Are you sure?" "I'm sure of nothing where men are concerned. I wouldn't trust one of them. Morley is attentive enough to his wife, and he adores the triplets — so he says ; but I go by his eye. Orgy is written in that eye. It can pick out a pretty woman, my dear. Oh, his wife doesn't look sick with anxiety for nothing!" "At any rate, he doesn't seem attentive to that pretty girl over there — the one in black with the young man." "Girl I She's twenty-five if she's an hour. I believe she paints and puts belladonna in her eyes. I wouldn't have her for my governess. No, she's too artful, though I can't agree with you about her prettiness." "Is she the governess?" Mrs. Parry nodded, and the ribbons on her cap curled like Medusa's snakes. "For six months Mrs. Morley has put up with her. She teaches the Tricolor goodness knows what." "The Tricolor?" "So we call the triplets. Don't you see one is dressed in red, another in white, and the third in blue? Morley 's idea, I believe. As though a man had any right to interest THE CHRISTMAS TREE 9 himself in such things. We call them collectively the Tri- color, and Anne Denham is the governess. Pretty? No. Artful ? Yes. See how she is trying to fascinate Ware !" "That handsome young man with the fair moustache and " "The same," interrupted Mrs. Parry, too eager to black- en character to give her friend a chance of concluding her sentence. "Giles Ware, of Kingshart — the head of one of our oldest Essex families. He came into the estates two years ago, and has settled down into a country squire after a wild life. But the old Adam is in him, my dear. Look at his smile — and she doesn't seem to mind. Brazen creature !" And Mrs. Parry shuddered virtuously. The other lady thought that Ware had a most fascinat- ing smile, and was a remarkably handsome young man of the fair Saxon type. He certainly appeared to be much interested in the conversation of Miss Denham. But what young man could resist so beautiful a woman ? For in spite of Mrs. Parry's disparagement Anne was a splendid- ly handsome brunette — "with a temper," added Mrs. Mc- Kail mentally, as she eyed the well-suited couple. Mrs. Parry's tongue still raged like a prairie fire. "And she know's he's engaged," she snorted. "Look at poor Daisy Kent out in the cold, while that woman monopolizes Ware! Ugh!" "Is Miss Kent engaged to Mr. Ware?" "For three years they have been engaged — a family ar- rangement, I understand. The late Kent and the late Ware," explained Mrs. Parry, who always spoke thus po- litely of men, "were the greatest of friends, which I can well understand, as each was an idiot. However, Ware died first and left his estate to Giles. A few months later Kent died and made Morley the guardian of his daughter Daisy, already contracted to be married to Giles." lo A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Does he love her?" "Oh, he's fond of her in a way, and he is anxious to obey the last wish of liis father. But it seems to me that he is more in love with that black cat." "Hush ! You will be heard." Mrs. Parry snorted. "I hope so, and by the cat herself," she said grimly. "I can't bear the woman. If I were Mrs. Morley I'd have her out of the house in ten minutes. Turn her out in the snow to cool her hot blood. What right has she to attract Ware and make him neglect that dear angel over there? See, yonder is Daisy. There's a face, there's charm, there's hair!" finished Mrs. Parry, quite unconscious that she was using the latest London slang. "I call her a lovely creature." Mrs. McKail did not agree with her venomous cousin. Daisy was a washed-out blonde with large blue eyes and a slack mouth. Under a hot July sky and with a flush of color she w'ould have indeed been pretty ; but the cold of winter and the neglect of Giles Ware shrivelled her up. In spite of the warmth of the room, the gaiety of the scene, she looked pinched and older than her years. But there was some sort of character in her face, for Mrs. McKail caught her directing a glance full of hatred at the governess. In spite of her ethereal prettiness, Daisy Kent was a good hater. Mrs. McKail felt sure of that. "And she is much more of the cat type than the other one is," thought the observant lady, too wise to speak openly. However, Mrs. Parry still continued to destroy a char- acter every time she opened her mouth. She called the rector a Papist; hinted that the doctor's wife was no better than she should be; announced that Morley owed money to his tradesmen, that he had squandered his wife's fortune ; and finally wound up by saying that he would THE CHRISTMAS TREE. ii spend Daisy Kent's money when he got it. "If it ever does come to her," finished this amiable person. "Did her father leave her money ?" asked Mrs. McKail. "He!'' snapped the other; "my dear, he was as poor as a church mouse, and left Daisy only a hundred a year to live on. That is the one decent thing about Morley. He did take Daisy in, and he does treat her well, though to be sure she is a pretty girl, and, as I say, he has an eye." "Then where does the fortune come from?" "Kent was a half-brother who went out to America, and it is rumored that he made a fortune, which he in- tends to leave to his niece — that's Daisy. But I don't know all the details of this," added Mrs. Parry, rubbing her beaky nose angrily ; "I must find out somehow. But here, my dear, those children are stripping the tree. Let us assist. We must give pleasure to the little ones. I have had six of my own, all married," ended the good lady irrelevantly. She might have added that her four sons and two daughters kept at a safe distance from their respected parent. On occasions she did pay a visit to one or the other, and usually created a disturbance. Yet this spite- ful, mischief-making woman read her Bible, thought her- self a Christian, and judged others as harshly as she judged herself leniently. Mrs. McKail was stopping with her, therefore could not tell her what she thought of her behavior; but she privately determined to cut short her visit and get away from this disagreeable old creature. In the meantime Mrs. Parry, smiling like the wicked fairy godmother with many teeth, advanced to meddle with the Christmas tree and set the children by the ears. She was a perfect Ate. Giles said as much to Miss Denham, and she nervously agreed with him as though fearful lest her assent should 12 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. reach the ears of Mrs. Parry. "She has no love for me," whispered Anne. "I tliink you had better talk to Daisy, Mr. Ware." "I prefer to talk to you," said Giles coolly. "Daisy is like her name — a sweet little English meadow flower — and I love her very dearly. But she has never been out of England, and sometimes we are at a loss what to talk about. Now you ?" "I am a gipsy," interrupted Anne, lest he should say something too complimentary ; "a she-Ulysses, who has travelled far and wide. In spite of your preference for my conversation, I wish I were Daisy." "Do you ?" asked Ware eagerly ? "Why ?" Anne flushed and threw back her head proudly. She could not altogether misunderstand his meaning or the expression of his eyes, but she strove to turn the conversa- tion with a laugh, "You ask too many questions, Mr. Ware," she said coldly. "I think Daisy is one of the sweetest of girls, and I envy her. To have a happy home, a kind guardian as Mr. Morley is, and a " She was about to mention Giles, but prudently suppressed the re- mark. "Go on," he said quietly, folding his arms. She shook her head and bit her lip. "You keep me from my work, I must attend to my duties. A poor gov- erness, you know." With a laugh she joined the band of children, who were besieging Morley. Giles remained where he was, his eyes fixed moodily on the ground. For more than five months he had fought against an ever-growing passion for the governess. He knew that he was in honor bound to marry Daisy, and that she loved him dearly, yet his heart was with Anne Denham. Her beauty, her brilliant conversation, her charm of manner, all appealed to him strongly. And he THE CHRISTMAS TREE 13 had a shrewd suspicion that she was not altogether indif- ferent to him, although she loyally strove to hide her true feelings. Whenever he became tender, she ruthlessly laughed at him : she talked constantly of Daisy and of her many charms, and on every occasion strove to throw her into the company of Giles. She managed to do so on this occasion, for Giles heard a rather pettish voice at his elbow, and looked down to behold a flushed face. Daisy was angry, and looked the prettier for her anger. "You have scarcely spoken to me all night," she said, taking his arm ; "I do think you are unkind." "My dear, you have been so busy with the children. And, indeed," he added, with a grave smile, "you are 5farcely more than a child yourself, Daisy." "I am woman enough to feel neglect." "I apologize — on my knees, dearest." "Oh, it's easy saying so," pouted Daisy, "but you know Anne " "What about Miss Denham?" asked Giles, outwardly calm. "You like her." "She is a very charming woman, but you are to be my wife. Jealous little girl, can I not be ordinarily civil to Miss Denham without you getting angry?" "You need not be so very civil." "I won't speak to her at all if you like," replied Ware, with a fine assumption of carelessness. "Oh, if you only wouldn't," Daisy stopped — then con- tinued passionately, "I wish she would go away. I don't like her." "She is fond of you, Daisy." "Yes. And a cat is fond of a mouse. Mrs. Parry says " "Don't quote that odious woman, child," interrupted Ware sharply. "She has a bad word for everyone." 14 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Well, she doesn't like Anne." "Does she like anyone?" asked Giles coolly. "Come, Daisy, don't wrinkle your face, and I'll take you out for a drive in my motor-car in a few days." "To-morrow ! to-morrow !" cried Daisy, her face wreathed in smiles. "No. I daren't do that on Christmas Day. What would the rector say? As the lord of the manor I mus^ set an example. On Boxing Day if you like.'' "We will go alone?" "Certainly. Who do you expect me to ask other than you?" "Anne," said Daisy spitefully, and before he could re- ply she also moved away to join the children. Giles winced. He felt that he was in the wrong and had given his little sweetheart some occasion for jealousy. He re- solved to mend his ways and shun the too fascinating so- ciety of the enchantress. Shaking off his moody feeling, he came forward to assist Morley. The host was a little man, and could not reach the gifts that hung on the top- most boughs of the tree. Giles being tall and having a long reach of arm, came to his aid. "That's right, that's right," gasped Morley, his round face red and shining with his exertions, "the best gifts are up here." "As the best gifts of man are from heaven," put in Mrs. Parry, with her usual tact. Morley laughed. "Quite so, quite so," he said, careful as was everyone else not to offend the lady, "but on this occasion we can obtain the best gifts. I and Ware and Mrs. Morley have contributed to the tree. The children have their presents, now for the presents of the grown- ups." By this time the children were gorged with food and THE CHRISTMAS TREE 15 distracted by many presents. They were seated every- where, many on the floor, and the room was a chaos of dolls, trumpets, toy-horses, and drums. The chatter of the children and the noise of the instruments was fearful. But Morley seemed to enjoy the riot, and even his wife's grave face relaxed when she saw her three precious jew- els rosy with pleasure. She drew Anne's attention to them, and the governess smiled sympathetically. Miss Denham was popular with everyone save Daisy in that happy home. i Meantime Giles handed down the presents. Mrs. Mor- ley received a chain purse from her affectionate husband ; Mrs. Parry a silver cream- jug, which she immediately priced as cheap; Mrs. McKail laughed delightedly over a cigarette-case, which she admitted revealed her favorite vice ; and the rector was made happy with a motor-bicycle. "It has been taken to your house this evening," ex- plained Morley. "We couldn't put that on the tree. Ha! ha!" ,; "A muff-chain for Daisy," said Giles, presenting her, with the packet, "and I hope you will like it, dear." j "Did you buy it ?" she asked, sparkling and palpitating. 1 "Of course. I bought presents both for you and Miss i Denham. Here is yours," he added, turning to the gov- erness, who grew rosy, "a very simple bangle. I wish it were more worthy of your acceptance," and he handed it with a bow. Daisy, her heart filled with jealousy, glided away. Giles saw her face, guessed her feeling, and followed. In a corner he caught her, and placed something on her fin- ger. "Our engagement ring," he whispered, and Daisy once more smiled. Her lover smiled also. But his heart ; was heavy. CHAPTER n AN ANONYMOUS LETTER AFTER the riot of the evening came the silence of the night. The children departed amidst the stormy laughter of Morley, and it was Anne's task to see that the triplets were put comfortably to bed. She sat in the nursery, and watched the washing and undressing and hair-curling, and listened to their joyous chatter about the wonderful presents and the wonderful pleasures of that day. Afterwards, when they were safely tucked away, she went down to supper and received the compliments of Morley on her capability in entertaining children. Mrs. Morley also, and in a more genuine way, added her quota of praise. "You are my right hand. Miss Denham," she said, with a smile in her weary blue eyes. "I don't know what I shall do without you." "Oh, Miss Denham is not going," said the master of the house. "Who knows?" smiled Anne. "I have always been a wanderer, and it may be that I shall be called away sud- denly." It was on the tip of Morley 's tongue to ask by whom, but the hardening of Anne's face and the flash of her dark •eyes made him change his mind. All the same he con- cluded that there was someone by whom she might be summoned and guessed also that the obeying of the call AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 17^ would come as an unwilling duty. Mrs. Morley saw no- thing of this. She had not much brain power, and what she had was devoted to considerations dealing with the passing hour. At the present moment she could only think that it was time for supper, and that all present were hun- gry and tired. Hungry Anne certainly was not, but she confessed to feeling weary. Making some excuse she retired to her room, but not to sleep. When the door was locked she put on her dressing-gown, shook down her long black hair, and sat by the fire. Her thoughts were not pleasant. Filled with shame at the knowledge of his treachery towards the woman he was engaged to marry, Giles had kept close to Daisy's side during supper and afterwards. He strove to interest him- self in her somewhat childish chatter, and made her so happy by his mere presence that her face was shining with smiles. Transfigured by love and by gratified vanity, Daisy looked really pretty, and in her heart was scornful of poor Anne thus left out in the cold. She concluded that Giles loved her best after all, and did not see how he every now and then stealthily glanced at the governess wearily striving to interest herself in the breezy conversa- tion of Morley or the domestic chatter of his wife. In her heart Anne had felt a pang at this desertion, although she knew that it was perfectly justifiable, and unable to bear the sight of Daisy's brilliant face, she retired thus early. She loved Giles. It was no use blinking the fact. She loved him with every fibre of her nature, and with a pas- ^"sion far stronger than could be felt for him by the golden- haired doll with the shallow eyes. For Giles she would have lost the world, but she would not have him lose his for her. And, after all, she had no right to creep like a i8 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. serpent into the Eden of silly, prattling Daisy. In her own puny way the child — for she was little else — adored Giles, and as he was her affianced lover it would be base to come between her and her god. But Anne knew in her heart that Giles loved her best. If she did but lift her hand he would leave all and follow her to the world's end. But lift her hand she would not. It would be too cruel to break the butterfly Daisy on such a painful wheel. Anne loved sufficiently to be large and generous in her nature, and therefore broke her own heart to spare the breaking of another woman's. Certainly Giles was as un- happy as she was ; that was patent in his looks and bear- ing. But he had forged his own chains, and could not break them without dishonor. And come what may, Giles would always love her best. Anne's meditations were disturbed by a knock at the door. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was close on mid- night, and wondering who wished to see her at so late an hour, she opened the door. Daisy, in a blue dressing- gown, with her golden hair loose and her face flushed, entered the room. She skipped towards Anne with a happy laugh, and threw her arms round her neck. "I could not sleep without telling you how happ\' I am," she said, and with a look of triumph displayed the ring. Anne's heart beat violently at this visible sign of the barrier between her and Giles. However, she was too clever a woman to betray her emotion, and examined the ring with a forced smile. "Diamonds for your eyes, rubies for your lips," she said softly. "A very pretty fancy." Daisy was annoyed. She would rather that Anne had betrayed herself by some rude speech, or at least by a dis- composed manner. To make her heart ache Daisy had come, and from all she could see she had not accomplished AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 19 her aim. However, she still tried to wring some sign of emotion from the expression or lips of the calm governess. "Giles promised me a ring over and over again," she said, her eyes fixed on Anne. "We have been engaged for over six months. He asked me just before you came, although it was always an understood thing. His father and mine arranged the engagement, you know. I didn't like the idea at first, as I wanted to make my own choice. Every girl should, I think. Don't you ?" "Certainly," Anne forced herself to say, "but you love Mr. Ware." Daisy nodded. "Very, ver>' much," she assented em- phatically. "I must have loved him without knowing it, but I was only certain when he asked me to marry him. How lucky it is he has to make me his wife !" she sighed. "If he were not bound " Here she stopped suddenly, and looked into the other woman's eyes. "What nonsense!" said Anne good-humoredly, and more composed than ever. "Mr. Ware loves you dearly. You are the one woman he would choose for his wife. There is no compulsion about his choice, my dear." "Do you really think so?" demanded the girl fever- ishly. "I thought — it was the ring, you know." "What do you mean, Daisy?" "He never would give me the ring, although I said it was ridiculous for a girl to be engaged without one. He [ always made some excuse, and only to-night But I : have him safe now," she added, with a fierce abruptness, i "and I'll keep him." "Nobody wants to take him from you, dear." "Do you really think so?" said Miss Kent again. "Then why did he delay giving me the ring?" Anne knew well enough. After her first three meet- ings with Giles she had seen the love light in his eyes, and 20 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. his reluctance to bind himself irrevocably with the ling was due to a hope that something might happen to per- mit his choosing for himself. But nothing had hap- pened, the age of miracles being past, and the vow to his dead father bound him. Therefore on this very night he had locked his shackles and had thrown away the key. Anne had made it plain to him that she could not, nor would she, help him to play a dishonorable part. He had accepted his destiny, and now Daisy asked why he had not accepted it before. Anne made a feeble excuse, the best she could think of. "Perhaps he did not see a ring pretty enough," she said. "It might be that," replied Daisy reflectively. "Giles has such good taste. You did not show me what he gave you to-night." Miss Denham would rather not have shown it, but she had no excuse to refuse a sight of the gift. Without a word she slipped the bangle from her wrist — Daisy's jeal- ous eyes noted that she had kept it on till now — and hand- ed it to the girl. "Oh, how sweet and pretty !" she cried, with artificial cordiality. "Just a ring of gold with a coin attached. May I look?" And without waiting for permission she ran to the lamp. The coin was a half-sovereign of Edward VII., with three stones — a diamond, an amethyst, and a pearl — set in a triangle. A thin ring of gold attached it to the bangle. Daisy was not ill pleased that the gift was so simple. Her engagement ring was much more costly. "It's a cheap thing," she said contemptuously. "The coin is quite common," "It will be rare some day," said Anne, slipping the bangle on her wrist. "The name of the King is spelt on AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 21 this one 'Edwardus,' whereas in the Latin it should be 'Edvardus.' I beHeve the issue is to be called in. Conse- quently coins of this sort will be rare some day. It was kind of Mr. Ware to give it to me." Daisy paid no attention to this explanation. "An ame- thyst, a diamond, and a pearl," she said. "Why did he have those three stones set in the half-sovereign ?" Anne turned away her face, for it was burning red. She knew very well what the stones signified, but she was not going to tell this jealous creature. Daisy's wits, however, were made keen by her secret anger, and after a few moments of thought she jumped up, clapping her hands. 'T see it — the initials of your name. Amethyst stands for Anne and Diamond for Denham." "It might be so," replied Miss Denham coldly. "It is so," said Daisy, her small face growing white and pinched. "But what does the pearl mean ? Ah, that you are a pearl!" "Nonsense, Daisy. Go you to bed, and don't imagine things." "It is not imagination," cried the girl shrilly, "and you know that well, Anne. What right have you to come and steal Giles from me ?" "He is yours," said Anne sharply. "The ring " "Oh, yes, the ring. I have his promise to marry me, but you have his heart. Don't I know. Give me that bangle." And she stretched out her hand with a clutch- ing gesture. "No," said Anne sternly, "I shall keep my present. Go to bed. You are overtired. To-morrow you will be wiser." "I am wise now — too wise. ,You have made Giles love you." B2 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "I have not; I swear I have not," said Anne, beginning to lose her composure. "You have, and you love him; I see it in your face. iWho are you to come into my life and spoil it?" "I am a governess. That is all you need to know." "You look like a governess," said Daisy, insultingly. *'I believe you are a bad woman, and came here to steal Giles from me." "Daisy!" — Anne rose to her feet and walked towards the door — "I have had quite enough of your hysterical nonsense. If you came here to insult me in this way. it is time you went. Mr. Ware and I were complete stran- gers to one another when I came here." "Strangers! And what are you now?" "Friends — nothing more, nothing less." "So you say; and I daresay Giles would say the same thing did I ask him." Anne's face grew white and set. She seized the fool- ish, hysterical little creature by the wrist and shook her. "I'll tell you one thing," she said softly, and her threat was the more terrible for the softness, "I have black blood in my veins, for I was bom at Martinique, and if you talk to Giles about me, I'll — I'll — kill you. Go and pray to God that you may be rid of this foolishness." Daisy, wide-eyed, pallid, and thoroughly frightened, fled whimpering, and sought refuge in her own room. Anne closed the door, and locked it so as to prevent a repetition of this unpleasant visit. Then she went to open the window, for the air of the room seemed tainted by the presence of Daisy. Flinging wide the casement, Anne leaned out into the bitter air and looked at the wonderful white snow-world glittering in the thin, chill moonlight. She drew several long breaths, and became more com- posed. Sufficient, indeed, to wonder why she had be- AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 23 haved in so melodramatic a fashion. It was not her custom to so far break through the conventions of civiUzation. But the insults of Daisy had stirred in her that wild negro blood to which she had referred. That this girl who had all should grudge her the simple Christmas present made Anne furious. Yet in spite of her righteous anger she could not help feeling sorry for Daisy. And, after all, the girl's jealousy had some foundation in truth. Anne had given her no cause, but she could not deny that she loved Giles and that he loved her. To end an impossible situation there was nothing for it but flight. Next day Anne quite determined to give Mrs. Morley notice, but when she found that Daisy said nothing about her visit, she decided to remain silent. Unless the girl made herself impossible, Anne did not see why she should turn out of a good situation where she was earning ex- cellent wages. Daisy avoided her, and was coldly polite on such occasions as they had to speak. Seeing this, Anne forbore to force her company upon the unhappy girl and attended to her duties. These were sufficiently pleasant, for the three children adored her. They were not clever, but extremely pretty and gentle in their manners. Mrs. Morley often came to sit and sew in the schoolroom while Anne taught. She was fond of the quiet, calm governess, and prattled to her just as though she were a child herself of the per- fections of Mr. Morley and her unhappy early life. For the sake of the children she forbore to mention the name of their father, who from her account had been a sad rascal. Giles came sometimes to dine, but attended chiefly to Daisy. Anne was content that this should be so, and her rival made the most of the small triumph. Indeed, so attentive was Giles that Daisy came to believe she had 24 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. been wrong in suspecting he loved the governess. She made no further reference to Anne, but when Miss Den- ham was present narrowly watched her attitude and that of Ware. Needless to say she saw nothing to awaken her suspicions, for both Giles and Anne were most careful to hide their real feelings. So far the situation was en- durable, but it could not continue indefinitely. Anne made up her mind to leave. On the day before New Year she was wondering what excuse she could make to get away when an incident hap- pened which set her duty plainly before her and did away with all necessity for an excuse. It occurred at breakfast. The little man was fond of his meals, and enjoyed his breakfast more than any other. He had the most won- derful arrangement for keeping the dishes hot — a rather needless proceeding, as he was invariably punctual. So were Mrs. Morley and Anne, for breakfast being at nine o'clock they had no excuse for being late. Nevertheless, Daisy rarely contrived to be in time, and Morley was much vexed by her persistent unpunctuality. On this occasion she arrived late as usual, but more cheerful. She ever greeted Anne with a certain amount of politeness. "There's a letter for you," said Morley, "but if you will take my advice you will leave it until breakfast is over. I never read mine until after a meal. Bad news is so apt to spoil one's appetite." "How do you know the news will be bad?" asked Daisy. "Most news is," replied !Morley, with a shade on his usually merry face. "Debts, duns, and difficulties !" and he looked ruefully at the pile of letters by his plate. "I haven't examined my correspondence yet." Anne said nothing, as she was thinking of what ar- AN ANONYMOUS LETTER. 25 rangement she could make to get away. Suddenly she and the others were startled by a cry from Daisy. The girl had opened the letter and was staring at it with a pale face. Anne half rose from her seat, but Mrs. Morley anticipated her, and ran round to put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Daisy, what is the matter?" "The — the — letter!" gasped Daisy, with chattering teeth. Then she cast a look full of terror at the aston- ished Anne. "She will kill me," cried the girl, and fell^ off the chair in a faint. Morley hastily snatched up the letter. It was unsigned, and apparently written in an uneducated hand on common paper. He read it out hurriedly, while Anne and Mrs. Morley stood amazed to hear its contents. " 'Honored Miss,' " read Morley slowly, " 'this is from a well-wisher to say that you must not trust the gov- erness, who will kill you, because of G. W. and the Scar- let Cross.' " Anne uttered a cry and sank back into her chair white as the snow out of doors. "The Scarlet Cross," she mur- mured, "again the Scarlet Cross." CHAPTER III A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR LATER in the day Mr. Morley called the three women into his library to have a discussion regarding the strange letter and its stranger accusation. Daisy had recovered from her faint, but was still pale and obviously afraid of Anne. The governess appeared perfectly com- posed, but her white face was as hard as granite. Both IMorley and his wife were much disturbed, as was natural, especially as at the moment Anne had refused any ex- planation. Now Morley was bent on forcing her to speak out and set Daisy's mind at rest. The state of the girl was pitiable. The library was a large square apartment, with three French windows opening on to a terrace, whence steps led down to a garden laid out in the stiff Dutch style. The room was sombre with oak and heavy red velvet hangings, but rendered more cheerful by books, photo- graphs, and pictures. Morley was fond of reading, and during his ten years' residence at The Elms had accumu- lated a large number of volumes. Between the book- cases were trophies of arms, medicTeval weapons and annor, and barbaric spears from Africa and the South Seas, in- temiixcd with bows and clubs. The floor was of pol- A xMYSTERIOUS VISITOR 27. ished oak, with here and there a brilliantly colored Persian praying-mat. The furniture was also of oak^ and cush- ioned in red Morocco leather. Altogether the library gave evidence of a refined taste, and was a cross between a monkish cell and a sybarite's bower. "Well, Aliss Denham," said Morley, his merry face more than a trifle serious, "what have you to say?" "There is nothing I can say," replied Anne, with com- posure, "the letter has nothing to do with me." "My dear," put in Mrs. Morley, much distressed, "you cannot take up this attitude. You know I am your friend, that I have always done my best for you, and for my sake, if not for Daisy's, you must explain." "She won't — she won't," said Daisy, with an hysterical laugh. "I would if I could," replied Anne, talking firmly, "but the accusation is ridiculous. Why should I threaten Daisy?" "Because you love Giles," burst out the girl furiously. "I do not love Mr. Ware. I said so the other night." "And you said more than that. You said that you would kill me." "Miss Denham," cried Morley, greatly shocked, "what is this ?" "A foolish word spoken in a foolish moment," said Anne, realizing that her position was becoming danger- ous. "I think so too," said Mrs. Morley, defending her. "It so happened, Miss Denham, that I overheard you make the speech to Daisy, and I told my husband about it the next morning. We decided to say nothing, think- ing — as you say now — that it was simply a foolish speech. But this letter" — she hesitated, then continued quickly, "you must explain this letter." 28 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Anne thought for a moment. ''I can't explain it. Some enemy has written it. You know all about me, Mrs. Morley. You read my credentials — you inquired as to my former situations at the Governess Institute where you engaged me. I have nothing to conceal in my life, and certainly I have no idea of harming Daisy. She came to my room and talked nonsense, which made me lose my temper. I said a foolish thing, I admit, but surely knowing me as you do you will acquit me of mean- ing anything by a few wild words uttered in a hurry and without thought." "Why did you make use of such an expression?" asked Morley. "Because I was carried out of myself. I have a strain of negro blood in me, and at times say more than I mean." "And your negro blood will make you kill me," cried Daisy, with an expression of terror. "I am doomed — doomed !" "Don't be a fool, child," said Morley roughly. "She is a trifle hysterical," explained Mrs. Morley, comforting the girl, who was sobbing violently, "Mr. Morley," said Anne, rising, "I don't know who wrote that letter, or why it should have been written. Mr. Ware and I are friends, nothing more. I am not in love with him, nor is he in love with me. He has paid me no more attention than you have yourself." "No, that is true enough," replied Morley, "and as Giles is engaged to Daisy I don't think he is the man to pay marked attention to another woman." "Ah ! Giles is all right," cried Daisy angrily, "but she has tempted him." "I deny that." "You can deny what you like. It is true, you know it is true." A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 29 "Daisy ! Daisy !" said Morley persuasively, whereupon she turned on him like a little fury. "Don't you defend her. You hate me as much as she does. You are a " "Stop!" said Mrs. Morley, very pale. "Hold your tongue, Daisy. My husband has treated you in the kind- est manner. When your father died you were left penni- less. He took you in, and both he and I have treated you like our own child. Ungrateful girl, how can you speak so of those who have befriended you ?" "I do. I shall. You all hate me!" cried Daisy pas- sionately. "I never wanted your help. Giles would have married me long ago but for Mr. Morley. I had no need to live on your charity. I have a hundred a year of my own. You brought that horrid woman down to steal Giles from me, and " "Take her away, Elizabeth," said Morley sharply. "I'll go of my own accord," cried Daisy, retreating from Mrs. Morley; "and I'll ask Giles to marry me at once, and take me from this horrid house. You are a cruel and a wicked man, Mr. Morley, and I hate you — I hate you ! As for you" — she turned in a vixenish man- ner on Anne — "I hope you will be put in gaol some day. If I die you will be hanged — hanged !" And with a stamp of her foot she dashed out of the room, banging the door. "Hysteria," said Morley, wiping his face, "we must have a doctor to see her." "Miss Denham," said the wife, who was weeping at the cruel words of the girl, "I ask you if Daisy has ever been treated harshly in my house?" "No, dear Mrs. Morley, she has always received the greatest kindness both from you and your husband. She is not herself to-day — that cruel letter has upset her. In a short time she will repent of her behavior." 30 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "If she speaks like this to Mrs. Parry, what will hap- pen?" moaned the poor woman, wringing her hands. "I'll have Mrs. Parry in court for libel if she says any- thing against us," said Morley fiercely. "The girl is an hysterical idiot. To accuse her best friends of — pshaw ! it's not worth taking notice of. But this letter, Miss Denham ?" "I know nothing about it, Mr. Morley." "Humph ! I wonder if Daisy wrote it herself." "Oliver!" cried Mrs. Morley in amazement. "Why not? Hysterical girls do queer things at times. I don't suppose Mrs. Parry wrote it, old scandal-monger as she is. It is a strange letter. That Scarlet Cross, for instance." He fixed an inquiring eye on Anne. "That is the one thing that makes me think Daisy did not write the letter. I fancied myself she might have done it in a moment of hysteria and out of hatred of me, but she could not know anything of the Scarlet Cross. No one in Rickwell could know of that." "The letter was posted in London — in the General Post Office." "But why should any one write such a letter about me,'* said Anne, raising her hands to her forehead, "and the Scarlet Cross? It is very strange." "What is the Scarlet Cross?" asked Mrs. Morley seri- ously. "I know no more than you do," replied Anne earnestly, "save that my father sometimes received letters marked with a red cross and on his watch-chain wore a gold cross enamelled with scarlet." "Did your father know what the cross meant?" asked Mrs. Morley. "He must have known, but he never explained the mat- ter to me." A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 31 "Perhaps if you asked him now to " "My father is dead," she said in a low voice; "he died a year ago in Italy." "Then this mystery must remain a mystery," said Mor- ley, with a shrug. "Upon my word, I don't like all this. What is to be done ?" "Put the letter into the hands of the police," suggested his wife. "No," said Morley decisively; "if the police heard the ravings of Daisy, Heaven knows what they would think." "But, my dear, it is ridiculous," said Mrs. Morley in- dignantly. "We have always treated Daisy like one of ourselves. We have nothing to conceal. I am very ■ angry at her." "You should rather pity her," said Anne gently, "for she is a prey to nerves. However, the best thing to be done is for me to leave this place. I shall go after the New Year." "I'm sure I don't know what the children will do with- out you," sighed the lady ; "they are so fond of you, and I never had any governess I got on better with. What will you do?" "Get a situation somewhere else," said Anne cheerfully, "abroad if possible; but I have become a bugbear to Daisy, and it is best that I should go." "I think so too, Miss Denham, although both my wife and I are extremely sorry to lose you." "You have been good friends to me," said Miss Den- ham simply, "and my life here has been very pleasant; but it is best I should go," she repeated, "and that let- ter, will you give me a copy, Mr. Morley?" "Certainly, but for what reason ?" "I should like to find out who wrote it, and why it was Z2 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. written. It will be a difficult matter, but I am curious to know who this enemy of mine may be." "Do you think it is an enemy?" asked Mrs. Morley. Anne nodded. "And an enemy that knows something about my father's life," she said emphatically, "else why was mention made about the Scarlet Cross? But I'll learn the truth somehow, even if I have to employ a detective." "You had much better leave the matter alone and get another situation. Miss Denham," said Morley sagely. "We will probably hear no more of this, and when you go the matter will fade from Daisy's mind. I'll send her away to the seaside for a week, and have the doctor to see her." "Dr. Tait shall see her at once," said Mrs. Morley, with more vigor than was usual with her. "But about your going. Miss Denham, I am truly sorry. You have been a good friend to me, and the dear children do you credit. I hope we shall see you again." "When Daisy is married, not before," replied Anne firmly; "but I will keep you advised of my address." After some further conversation on this point the two women left the library. Daisy had shut herself in her room, and thither went Mrs. Morley. She managed to sooth the girl, and gave her a sedative which calmed her nerves. When Daisy woke from sleep somewhere about five she expressed herself sorry for her foolish chatter, but still entertained a dread and a hatred of Anne. The governess wisely kept out of the way and made her prepa- rations for departure. As yet the children were not told that they were to lose her. Knowing what their lamenta- tions would be like, Mrs. Morley wisely determined to postpone that information till the eleventh hour. There was to be a midnight service at the parish church A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 33 in honor of the New Year, and Anne determined to go. She wanted all the spiritual help possible in her present state of perplexity. The unhappy love that existed be- tween her and Giles, the enmity of Daisy, the anxiety of the anonymous letter — these things worried her not a httle. She received permission from Mrs. Morley to go to the midnight service. "But be careful Daisy does not see you," said she anx- iously. "Is Daisy going also?" "Yes. Giles is coming to take her in his motor-car." "I hope she will say nothing to him about the letter." "I'll see to that. She is much quieter and recognizes how foolish she has been. It will be all right." Morley was much upset by the state of affairs. But a few days before and life had been all plain sailing, now there was little else but trouble and confusion. His ruddy face was pale, and he had a careworn expression. For the most part of the day he remained in his library and saw no one. Towards the evening he asked his wife not to bring the triplets to the library as usual, as he had to see some one on business. Who it was he refused to say, and Mrs. Morley, having no curiosity, did not press the question. After dinner the visitor arrived — a tall man muffled in a great-coat against the cold, and wearing a thick white scarf round his throat. He was shown into the library and remained with Mr. Morley till after nine. About that time Anne found occasion to go into the library in search of a book. She had not heard the prohibition of ]\Iorley, and did not hesitate to enter without knocking, supposing that no one was within. Meantime Daisy dressed herself very carefully in ex- pectation of Ware's arrival. He was to take her for a 34 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. ride in his motor before Church, and then they were to go to the service together. There was plenty of snow on the ground, but the nights were always bright with moonlight. Daisy had a fancy for a moonlight ride, and Giles was willing to humor her. She expected him about ten, and descended shortly after nine to watch for him from the drawing-room window. Outside it was almost as light as day, and the white sheet of snow threw back a reflection of the moonlight. Daisy gazed eagerly down the avenue, where the leafless trees rocked in the cutting wind. Unexpectedly she saw a tall man come round the corner of the house and walk swiftly down the avenue. She knew from Mrs. Morley that there was a visitor in the library, and wondered why he had elected to leave by the window, as he must have done to come round the house in this way. Being curi- ous, she thought she would tell Mr. Morley of what she had seen, and went in search of him. At the door of the library she had just laid her hand on the handle when it suddenly opened, and Anne came out. Her face was white and drawn, her eyes were filled with fear, and she passed the astonished girl in a blind and stumbling fashion as though she did not see her. Daisy saw her feebly ascend the stairs, clutching the ban- isters. Wondering at this, ]\Iiss Kent entered the room. Morley was standing by the window — the middle win- dow — looking out. It was open. He started and turned when Daisy entered, and she saw that he was perturbed also. "What is the matter?" she asked, coming forward. "Nothing. What should be the matter?" Morley spoke shortly and not in a pleasant tone. "I thought that Anne, that Miss Denham, looked ill," said Daisy. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 35 "Don't you think you had better leave Miss Denham alone, Daisy, seeing the mischief you have caused ? She has been weeping herself blind here." "Well, that letter " "Oh, that letter is rubbish !" interrupted Morley scorn- fully. "Miss Denham is a simple, kind woman, and you should take no notice of anonymous correspondence. However, she is going away to-morrow. I have just paid her her wages." "I am glad she is going," said Miss Kent doggedly; "I am afraid of her. You think she is an angel ; I don't." "I don't think anything about her; but I do think you are a very hysterical girl, and have caused a great deal of unnecessary trouble. j\Iiss Denham is not in love with Ware, and it is only your absurd jealousy that would ac- cuse her of such a thing. Besides, this morning you be- haved very badly to my wife and myself. You must go away for a time till we can get over your ungrateful words and conduct." "I am very sorry," said Daisy humbly, "but it was Anne Vv'ho disturbed me, and that letter. I was afraid." "Then you admit that we have behaved well ?" "You are my best friends." "Thank you. And now may I ask what you want ?" "I came to tell you that I am going to church. I thought you were engaged." "So I was ; but my visitor is gone." "I know ; he went out by that window. I saw him go- ing down the avenue. Who is he ?" "A friend of mine. That is all you need to know. Did you think it was some one who had to do with the anony- mous letter?" "No, no!" Daisy seemed to be thoroughly ashamed 36 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. of herself. "But you must admit that the letter was strange." "So strange that you had better say nothing about it. Don't mention it to Giles." -Why not?" "Because I will find occasion to tell him myself. I at least will be able to explain without showing jealousy of poor jMiss Denham." "I won't say anything," replied Daisy, with a toss of her head, "but you are all mad about Anne Denham. I don't believe she is a good woman. What is the matter with her now ? She seems ill." "For Heaven's sake don't ask me any further ques- tions," said Morley irritably. "What with your conduct of this morning and other things with which you have no concern I am worried out of my life." Daisy took the hint and walked away. When she got outside the library she came to the conclusion that Mor- ley's visitor was a bailiff, and that was why he had been shown out by the window. Decidedly her guardian was in a bad way financially speaking. "I shall marry Giles and get away from them all," said the grateful Daisy. "They may be sold up, and my hun- dred a year wall not keep me. What a mercy that Giles is so rich and loves me ! No, he does not love me," she said vehemently to herself. "It is that woman. But he is engaged to me, and I'll marry him if only to spite her." CHAPTER IVi THE CHURCHYARD TO Daisy that drive in the motor-car was like an ex- quisite dream. Her frivolous, shallow soul was awed by the vast white waste gleaming mysteriously in the moonlight as the car sped like a bird along the silent roads. There was not a cloud in a sky that shone like tempered steel ; and amidst the frosty glitter of innumer- able stars the hard moon looked down on an enchanted world With Giles' hand on the steering gear and Daisy beside him wrapped in a buflfalo rug, the machine flew over the pearly whiteness with the skimming swiftness of the magic horse. For the first time in her life Daisy felt what flying was like, and was content to be silent. Giles was well pleased that the Great Mother should still her restless tongue for the moment. He was doing his duty and the will of his dead father, but his heart ached when he thought of the woman who should be by his side. Oh that they two could undertake this magical journey to- gether, silent and alone in a silent and lonely world. He made no inquiries for Anne, and Daisy said nothing. Only when the car was humming along the homeward road to land them at the church did she open her mouth. The awe had worn off, and she babbled as of old in the very face of this white splendor. 38 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Anne's going away," she said abruptly. For the life of him Giles could not help starting, but he managed to control his voice and speak carelessly. "Ah, and how is that?" he asked, busy with the wheel. "She is going to-morrow. I suppose she is tired of the dull life here." "I expect she is," replied Ware curtly. "Are you sorry?" Giles felt that she was pushing home the point and that it behooved him to be extra careful. "Yes, I am sorry," he said frankly. "Miss Denham is a most interesting woman." "Does that mean " "It means nothing personal, Daisy," he broke in hastily ; then to change the subject, "I hope you have enjoyed the ride." "It is heavenly, Giles. How good of you to take me !" "My dear, I would do much more for you. When we are married we must tour through England in this way." "You and I together. How delightful ! That is if you will not get tired of me." "I am not likely to get tired of such a charming little woman." Then he proceeded to pay her compliments, while his soul sickened at the avidity with which she swallowed them. He asked himself if it would not be better to put an end to this impossible state of things by telling her he was in love with Anne. But when he glanced at the little fragile figure beside him, and noted the delicacy and ethereal look in her face, he felt that it would be brutal to destroy her dream of happiness at the eleventh hour. Of himself he tried to think not at all. So far as he could see there was no happiness for him. He would have to THE CHURCHYARD 39 go through life doing his duty. And Anne — he put the thought of her from him with a shudder. "What is the matter, Giles? Are you cold?" asked Daisy. "No ; I expect a white hare is loping over my grave." "Ugh ! Don't talk of graves," said Daisy, with a ner- vous expression. "Not a cheerful subject, I confess," said Giles, smiling, "and here we are in the very thick of them," he added, as the motor slowed down before the lych-gate. Daisy looked at the innumerable tombstones which thrust themselves up through the snow and shivered. "It's horrible, I think. Fancy being buried there!" "A beautiful spot in summer. Do you remember what Keats said about one being half in love with death to be buried in so sweet a place ?" "Giles," she cried half hysterically, "don't talk like that. I may be dead and buried before you know that a tragedy has occurred. The cards say that I am to die young." "Why, Daisy, what is the matter?" She made no reply. A memory of the anonymous let- ter and its threat came home vividly to her as she stepped inside the churchyard. W^ho knew but what within a few days she might be borne through that self-same gate in her coffin? However, she had promised to say noth- ing about the letter, and fearful lest she should let slip some remark to arouse the suspicions of Giles, she flew up the path. Already the village folk were thronging to the midnight service. The bells were ringing with a musical chime, and the painted windows of the church glittered with rainbow hues. The organist was playing some Christ- mas carol, and the waves of sound rolled out solemnly 40 A COIN OF EDWARD \'II. on the still air. With salutation and curtsey the villag^ers passed by the young squire. He waited to hand over his car to his servant, who came up at the moment, breath- less with haste. "Shall I wait for you, sir?" "No, take the car to the inn, and make yourself com- fortable. In an hour you can return." Nothing loth to get indoors and out of the bitter cold, the man drove the machine, humming like a top, down the road. The sky was now clouding over, and a wind was getting up. As Giles walked into the church he thought there was every promise of a storm, and wondered that it should labor up so rapidly considering the previous calm of the night. However, he did not think further on the matter, but when within looked around for Daisy. She was at the lower end of the church staring not at the altar now glittering with candles, but at the figure of a woman some distance away who was kneeling with her face hidden in her hands. With a thrill Giles recognized Anne, and fearful lest Daisy should be jealous did he re- main in her vicinity, he made his way up to his own pew, which was in the lady chapel near the altar. Here he took his seat and strove to forget both the woman he loved and the woman he did not love. But it was diffi- cult for him to render his mind a blank on this subject. The organ had been silent for some time, but it now recommenced its low-breathed music. Then the choir came slowly up the aisle singing lustily a Christmas hymn. The vicar, severe and ascetic, followed, his eyes bent on the ground. When the service commenced Giles tried to pay attention, but found it almost impossible to prevent his thoughts wandering towards the two women. He tried to sec them, but pillars intervened, and he could not catch a glimpse of either. But his gaze fell on the tall figure of a man who was standing at the lower end of THE CHURCHYARD 41 the church near the door. He was evidently a stranger, for his eyes wandered inquisitively round the church. In a heavy great-coat and with a white scarf round his throat, he was well protected against the cold. Giles noted his thin face, his short red beard, and his large black eyes. His age was probably something over fifty, and he looked ill, worried, and worn. Wondering who he was and what brought him to such an out-of-the-way place as Rickwell at such a time, Giles settled himself comfortably in his seat to hear the sermon. The vicar was not a particularly original preacher. He discoursed platitudes about the coming year and the du- ties it entailed on his congregation. Owing to the length of the sermon and the lateness of the hour, the people yawned and turned uneasily in their seats. But no one ventured to leave the church, although the sermon lasted close on an hour. It seemed as though the preacher would never leave off insisting on the same things over and over again. He repeated himself twice and thrice, and interspersed his common-place English with the lord- ly roll of biblical texts. But for his position, Giles would have gone away. It was long over the hour, and he knew that his servant would be waiting in the cold. When he stood up for the concluding hymn he craned his head round a pillar to see Daisy. She had vanished, and he thought that like himself she had grown weary of the sermon, but more fortunate than he, she had been able to slip away. Anne's place he could not see and did not know whether she was absent or present. Giles wondered for one delicious moment if he could see her before she left the church. Daisy, evidently wearied by the sermon, had gone home, there was no one to spy upon him, and he might be able to have Anne all to himself for a time. He could then ask her why she 43 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. was going, and perhaps force her to confess that she loved him. But even as he thought his conscience re- buked him for his treachery to Daisy. He fortified him- self with good resolutions, and resolved not to leave his seat until the congregation had dispersed. Thus he would not be tempted by the sight of Anne. The benediction was given, the choir retired with a last musical "Amen," and the worshippers departed. But Giles remained in his seat, kneeling and with his face hidden. He was praying for a strength he sorely needed to enable him to forget Anne and to remain faithful to the woman whom his father had selected to be his wife. Not until the music of the organ ceased and the verger came to extinguish the altar candles did Giles venture to go. But by this time he thought Anne would surely be well on her homeward way. He would return to his own place as fast as his motor could take him, and thus would avoid temptation. At the present moment he could not trust to his emotions. Outside the expected storm had come on, and snow was falling thickly from a black sky. The light at the lych-gate twinkled feebly, and Giles groped his way down the almost obliterated pathway quite alone, for everv one else had departed. He reached the gate quite expecting to find his motor, but to his surprise it was not there. Not a soul was in sight, and the snow was falling like meal. Giles fancied that his servant had dropped asleep in the inn or had forgotten the appointed hour. In his heart he could not blame the man, for the weather was arctic in its severity. However, he determined to wend his way to the inn and reprove him for his negligence. Step- ping out of the gate he began to walk against the driving snow with bent head, when he ran into the amis of a man THE CHURCHYARD 43 who was running hard. In the hght of the lamp over the gate he recognized him as Trim, his servant. "Beg pardon, sir, I could not get here any sooner. The car " The man stopped and stared round in amaze- ment. "Why, sir, where's the machine?" he asked, \vith astonishment. "In your charge, I suppose," replied Ware angrily. "Why were you not here at the time I appointed?" "I was, begging your pardon, sir," said Trim hotly; "but the lady told me you had gone to see Miss Kent back to The Elms and that you wanted to see me. I left the car here in charge of the lady and ran all the way to The Elms ; but they tell me there that Miss Daisy hasn't arrived and that nothing has been seen of you, sir." Ware listened to this explanation with surprise. "I sent no such message," he said; "and this lady, who was she?" "Why, Miss Denham, sir. She said she would look after the car till I came back, and knowing as she was a friend of yours, sir, I thought it was all right." Trim stared all round him. "She's taken the car away, I see, sir." The matter puzzled Giles. He could not understand why Anne should have behaved in such a manner, and still less could he understand why the car should have disappeared. He knew well that she could drive a motor, for he had taught her himself; but that she should thus take possession of his property and get rid of his man in so sly a way perplexed and annoyed him. He and Trim stood amidst the falling snow staring at one an- other, almost too surprised to speak. Suddenly they heard a loud cry of fear, and a moment afterward an urchin — one of the choir lads — came tearing dow^n the path as though pursued by a legion of fiends. 44 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Giles cauj:;^lit him by the collar as he ran panting and white-faced past him. "What's the matter?'' he asked harshly. "Why did you cry out like that? Where are you going?" "To mother. Oh, let me go!" wailed the lad. "I see her lying on the grave. I'm frightened. Mother! mother !" "Saw who lying on the grave?" "I don't know. A lady. Her face is down in the snow, and she is bleeding. I dropped the lantern mother gave me and scudded, sir. Do let me go ! I never did it !" "Did what?" Giles in his nervous agitation shook the boy. "Killed her! I didn't! She's lying on Mr. Kent's grave, and I don't know who she is." Ho gave another cry for his mother and tried to get away, but Giles, followed by Trim, led him up the path. "Take me to the grave," he said in a low voice. "I won't !" yelped the lad, and tearing his jacket in his eagerness to escape, he scampered past Trim and out of the gate like a frightened hare. Giles stopped for a mo- ment to wipe his perspiring forehead and pass his tongue over his dry lips, then he made a sign to Trim to follow, and walked rapidly in the direction of Mr. Kent's grave. He dreaded what he should find there, and his heart beat like a sledge-hammer. The grave was at the back of the church, and the choir boy had evidently passed it when trying to take a short cut to his mother's cottage over the hedge. The snow was falling so thickly and the night was so dark that Giles wondered how the lad could have seen any one on the grave. Then he remembered that the lad had spoken of a lantern. During a lull in the wind he lighted a match, and by the blue glare he saw the lantern almost at THE CHURCHYARD 45 his feet, where the boy had dropped it in his precipitate flight. Hastily picking this up, he hghted the candle with shaking fingers and closed the glass. A moment later, and he was striding towards the grave with the lantern casting a large circle of light before him. In the ring of that pale illumination he saw the tall tombstone, and beneath it the figure of a woman lying face downward on the snow. Trim gave an exclamation of astonishment, but Giles set his mouth and suppressed all signs of emotion. He wondered if the figure was that of Anne or of Daisy, and whether the woman, whomso- ever she was, was dead or alive. Suddenly he started back with horror. From a wound under the left shoulder- blade a crimson stream had welled forth, and the snow was stained with a brilliant red. The staring eyes of the groom looked over his shoulder as he turned the body face upwards. Then Giles uttered a cry. Here was Daisy Kent lying dead — murdered — on her father's grave ! CHAPTER V AFTERWARDS NEVER before had any event created such a sensation in the village of Rickwcll. From the choir boy and his mother the news quickly spread. Also Giles had to call in the aid of the rector to have the body of the unfortunate girl carried to The Elms. In a short time the churchyard was filled with wondering people, and quite a cortege escorted the corpse. It was like the re- hearsal of a funeral procession. Mrs. Morley had gone to bed, thinking the two girls might be reconciled in church and come home together. Her husband, not so sanguine, had remained in the libra- ry till after midnight, ready to play the part of peace- maker should any fracas occur. He appeared in the hall when poor dead Daisy was carried through the door, and stared in surprise at the spectacle. "Great heavens !" he cried, coming forward, his ruddy face pale with sudden emotion. "What is all this ?" Giles took upon himself the office of spokesman, which the rector, remembering that he had been engaged to the deceased, tacitly delegated to him. "It's poor Daisy," he said hoarsely. "She has been — " . "Murdered! No. Don't sav murdered?" AFTERWARDS 47 "Yes, we found her lying on her father's grave, dead ; a knife-thrust under the left shoulder-blade. She must have died almost instantaneously." "Dead !" muttered Morley, ghastly white. And he approached to take the handkerchief from the dead face. "Dead!" he repeated, replacing it. Then he looked at the haggard face of Ware, at the silent group of men and the startled women standing in the doorway, where the rector was keeping them back. "Where is her murderess ?" he asked sharply. "Murderess !" repeated Giles angrily. "What do you mean ?" "Mean? Why, that Miss Denham has done this, and " "You are mad to say such a thing." "I'll tax her with it to her face. Where is she? Not at home, for I have been waiting to see her," "She's run way on Mr. Ware's motor-car," volunteered Trim, only to be clutched violently by his master. "Don't say that, you fool. You can't be sure of that, Mr. Morley," he added, turning to the scared man. "Make no remark about this until we can have a quiet talk about it." "But I say " "You can say it to the police officer in the morning." "She'll have escaped by that time," whispered Trim to his master. Giles saw the danger of Anne — supposing her to be guilty, as the groom thought her — and made up his mind at once. "Go home, Trim, and saddle a couple of horses. We'll follow the track of the car, and when we find it " "You'll never find it," put in Morley, who had been listening with all his ears. "The falling snow must have 48 'A COIN OF EDWARD VII. obliterated any wheel-marks by this time. When did this occur?" "I don't know," replied Giles coldly. "And instead of chattering- there, you had better have the — the — " he stam- mered, "the body taken into some room and attended to. Poor Daisy," he sighed, "what an end to your bright young life!" Here Mr. Drake, the rector, thought it necessary to assert himself, and waved aside the throng. "All you men and women, go to your homes," he said. "Nothing can be done to-night, and " "The car might be followed," said a voice. "And the car will be followed," said Giles, pushing his way to the door. "Come, Trim, w^e'll ride at once. Did no one see the car pass out of the village?" No one had seen it, as most of the villagers had been inside the church and the rest in their homes. There was some talk and suggestions, but Ware, with a nod to Morley, took a hasty departure and disappeared into the stormy night. "He might track the car," said the rector. "He won't," repUed Morley bitterly ; "he'll lead Trim on a wrong scent. He liked Miss Denham too well to let her drop into the hands of the police." "Then you really think she did it?" asked Drake, hor- rified. "I am perfectly certain," was the reply. "Come into the library, and I'll show you what evidence I have." ]\Ieantime the hall was cleared of the eager listeners, and all present went to their homes less to sleep than to argue as to the guilt or innocence of Anne. The body of the girl was taken to her bedroom, and poor scared Mrs. Morley, roused from her bed to face this tragedy, did all that was needful, assisted by two old women, who AFTERWARDS 49 remained behind to offer their services. This was all that could be done till dawTi, and Mrs. Morley, thinking of the dead Daisy and the missing Anne, wept till the first streaks of daylight. As yet her limited understandmg could not grasp the horror of the thing. Morley conducted Mr. Drake to the library. He re- lated how his wife had heard Anne threaten to kill Daisy, produced the anonymous letter, detailed Daisy's accusa- tion that the governess was in love with Ware, and finally pointed out the damning fact of the flight. The rector was quite convinced by this reasoning that Anne was guilty. "And now I come to think of it," he said, stroking his shaven chin, "Aliss Kent was in church." "Yes, so was Miss Denham ; but I don't think they sat together, as they were on the worst possible terms. Did you see Daisy ?" Drake nodded. "She went out when I was half-way through my sermon. I remember that I felt a little an- noyed that she should leave when I was doing my best to inculcate good habits for the year in my congregation. She must have gone to pray at her father's grave, and there " Drake stopped with sudden terror in his eyes. "And there Miss Denham stabbed her. Ware said the wound was beneath the left shoulder-blade. That looks as though Daisy was struck from behind. I can see it all," cried Morley, with a shudder. "The poor child pray- ing by her father's grave, and the stealthy approach of that woman armed with a " "Ah !" interposed Drake, "there you are. We have not yet found the weapon ; and after all, Morley, the evidence is purely circumstantial. We do not know for certain that Miss Denham is the guilty person." "Why did she fly, then ?" demanded Morley fiercely. "If 50 'A COIN OF EDWARD \II. she were innocent — if she had not left the church until the others did — she would have returned, and now been in bed. But from what Trim says she fled on Ware's motor-car." "Humph ! She can't get far on that. Such a night, too." And the rector walked to the window to watch the still falling snow. Alorley shook his head. "Miss Denham knows the coun- try for miles and miles, and Ware taught her how to drive the motor. I shouldn't be surprised if she got away after all, in spite of the weather." Drake looked uneasy, and placed himself before the fire with a shiver. He rather admired Miss Denham, and could not yet bring himself to believe that she was guilty. Even if she were, he cherished a secret hope that she might escape the police. It was terrible to think that one woman should be dead, but it was more awful to look forward to the trial, condemnation, and hanging of the other. "I blame Ware a good deal for this," continued Morley gloomily. "He openly admired Miss Denham, and en- couraged her to flirt with him. A rash thing to do to one who has negro blood in her veins. I expect passion car- ried her beyond herself." "How do you know she has negro blood ?" "She said so herself." "Did you know that when you engaged her ?" "I never engaged her at all, Drake. ]\Iy wife did. I must say that Miss Denham's credentials were good. She had been governess in an Italian family, and ha! ." He stopped suddenly, and started up. "In Italy she might have procured a stiletto. From the nature of the wound AFTERWARDS 51 — which is small and deep — I should think it was inflicted with such a weapon." "How do you know that the wound is small and deep ?" "My wife told me when she came to the door that time. You did not hear her. She says the wound is quite small. In that case it must be deep, or the death would not have occurred so suddenly." Drake shook his head. "We don't know that it did oc- cur suddenly." Morley contradicted this angrily. "If Daisy had not died at once she would have had time to shriek, and the cry would have been heard in the church." "I doubt it. The people were deeply interested in my sermon." The other man shrugged his shoulders. It was scarcely worth while arguing this point with the rector. He re- lapsed into a brown study, until roused to reply to a ques- tion asked by his guest. "Have you ever seen a stiletto ?" asked Drake. "I have one here," replied Morley, running his eye along the wall ; "one that I got in Italy myself. It was said to have belonged to Lucrezia Borgia. I wonder where it is." "Rather difficult to discover it amidst all these weapons, Mr. Morley. Good heavens ! what is the matter ?" He might well ask. His host was clutching his arm in a vice-like hold, and was pointing to a certain part of the wall whereon hung a pair of ancient pistols, a crusader's shield, and an old helmet. "The stiletto was there. It is gone !" gasped Morley. "Impossible. Who can have taken it ?" "Miss Denham ! Miss Denham ! Oh, and you believe her to be innocent !'' cried the other. "She came into this very room at nine o'clock, or a little after. I was outside 52 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. on the terrace seeing a visitor off. She was alone in the room for a time. She must have taken the weapon." "No, no; why should she have?" "Because she intended to murder my poor Daisy. It was all arranged in her black heart. Drake," he added solemnly, "I have done my best to believe that woman innocent. I defended her against Daisy, and my wife de- fended her also. We tried to believe that she tad no ill intention, and see — see what comes of it. She steals the stiletto, and kills the child in the most brutal manner. I swear to hunt her down. I swear !" The rector caught down the uplifted hand which Mor- ley was raising to the heavens. "Be yourself," he said sternly ; "there is no need for a man to call upon God to witness a blood-thirsty oath. If the woman is guilty, let her be punished. But give her the benefit of the doubt. Appearances are against her, I admit. All the same, she may be able to prove her innocence." "You might as well talk to the wind as to me. She is a murderess ; I'll do my best to have her hanged." Morley spoke with such vehemence that Drake looked closely at him. He wondered if the man had any grudge against Anne Denham that he spoke of her with such bit- terness. Certainly her crime was a terrible one, and she deserved to be condemned. But it would only be fair that she should be first tried. Morley, on the contrary, had already judged her, without waiting to hear what she had to say in her own favor. "Well, Mr. Morley, there is nothing more to be said," he remarked coldly, for he disliked this melodrama: "we must wait till the police come in the morning. Meanwhile I shall go to my home and get some sleep." "I can't sleep with that in the house," replied Morley, abruptly rising; "I'll go with you." AFTERWARDS. 53 ''Where?" "To the churchyard — to the grave. I intend to look for the weapon. It may have been left there — tossed aside by the assassin after the crime." "But the night is dark — the snow is falling. You will not be able to do anything. Be advised, and " "No. I'll come with you now. If I find nothing, it is all the better for her. If I do " He shook his hand again fiercely. Drake argued no longer, seeing that the man's brain was in such a state that it was best to humor him. They went out together, but at the church-gate Drake excused himself and retired to his home. He had no wish to see Morley groping amongst the graves like a ghost. Pausing until the little man disappeared into the gloom, the rector went to his house, wondering at the sudden change in Morley's character. He had been a light-hearted and rather frivolous creature ; fond of gaiety and overflowing with the milk of human kindness. Now he was fierce and savage enough for a Caliban. "He must have loved that poor girl very dearly," sighed Drake, "but I can't believe that such a charming woman as Miss Denham committed so cruel a crime. There is some mystery about this," and in this last speech he was right. There was a mystery about the death, and a much deeper one than a shallow man like the rector could fathom. All through the long night IVIrs. Morley watched by the dead. She had placed candles on either side of the bed, and laid a cross on the poor child's breast. Drake was quite shocked when he saw this Papistical arrange- ment. But it afterwards came out that Mrs. Morley had been educated in a convent, and had imbibed certain no- tions of the Romish ritual for the dead that, her memory reviving, made her act thus, in spite of her openly con- 54 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. fessed belief in the communion of the Enghsh Church. While she was thus sitting and weeping, Morley looked in. He was wild and haggard, but in his eyes glared a triumphant expression which terrified his wife. She did not dare to move. He crossed the room, and looked at the body. "You shall be avenged, my dear," he said solemnly, and before Mrs. Morley could recover from her surprise and denounce this ill-chosen moment for a visit, he wheeled round and disappeared. He did not retire either, no more did the servants, who were collected in the kitchen steadying their nerves with tea. So it happened that when Giles, weary, wet, and worn, rode up to the door in the morning on a jaded beast, he was met by Morley. "Have you caught her?" asked the man. Giles dismounted and threw the reins to a groom. "No. Trim went one w^ay and I another. Where he is I don't know, but my horse gave in, and I returned." He entered the house. "Where is the body ?" he asked. "Up in the room it occupied during life," said Morley; "but come into the library, I have something to show you." Ware followed and sank wearily into a chair. He could scarcely keep his eyes open. Nevertheless he started up wide awake w^hen his host spoke. "Miss Den- ham killed Daisy," said Morley. "She took a stiletto from the wall yonder, and here it is." He produced it with a dramatic wave. "Where did you find it ?" "Beside the grave — on the spot of the murder." CHAPTER VT THE CASE AGAINST ANNE THE contradictory qualities of Mrs. Parry's nature came out strongly in connection with the Rickweli tragedy. When Miss Denham was prosperous the old woman had nothing but bad to say of her, now that she was a fugitive and generally credited with a crime, Mrs. Parry stood up for her stoutly. She made herself ac- quainted with all details, and delivered her verdict to Mrs. Morley, on whom she called for the express purpose of giving her opinion. "I never liked the woman," she said impressively, "she was artful and frivolous ; and to gain admiration behaved in a brazen way of which I thoroughly disapproved. All the same, I do not believe she killed the girl." "But the evidence is strongly against her," expostu- lated Mrs. Morley. "And how many people have been hanged on evidence which has afterwards been proved incorrect?" retorted Mrs. Parry. "I don't care how certain they are of her guilt. In my opinion she is an innocent woman. I am glad she has escaped." "I am not sorry myself," sighed the other. "I was 56 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. fond of Anne, for she had many good points. But Mr. Steel says " "Who is Mr. Steel?" "The detective who has charge of the case." "I thought the police from Chelmsford had it in hand." "Of course, Mr. Morley sent for the police the morn- ing after poor Daisy's death. That is three days ago. To-morrow the inquest is to be held. I suppose they will bring a verdict against poor Miss Denham." "Ha!" said Mrs. Parry, rubbing her nose, "and my greengrocer is on the jury. Much he knows about the matter. But this Steel creature. Where does he come from?" "Mr. Morley sent to London for him. He has a pri- vate inquiry office, I believe." "No such thing," contradicted Mrs. Parry, "he is from Scotland Yard. A genuine detective — none of your makeshifts." "I thought you knew nothing about him?" "Nor did I till this minute. But I now remember see- ing his name in connection with the theft of Lady Sum- mersdale's diamonds. He caught the thief in a very clever way. Steel — Martin Steel, I remember now. So he has the case in hand. Humph ! He won't accuse Anne Denham, you may be sure of that. He's too clever." "But he is convinced of her guilt," said the other tri- umphantly. "Then the man's a fool. I'll see him myself." Mrs. Parry did so the very next day after the inquest had been held and the verdict given. She possessed a small, neat cottage on the outskirts of Rickwell, standing some distance back from the high road. Seated at her drawing-room window, she could see all those who came THE CASE AGAINST ANNE 57 or went, and thus kept a watch over the morals of the village. This window was called "Mrs. Parry's e}e," and everyone sneaked past it in constant dread of the ter- rible old lady who looked through it. Beyond Mrs. Par- ry's cottage were the houses of the gentry and the church ; therefore she knew that Steel would pass her house on the way to The Elms, where he would doubtless go to report himself to Morley. To be sure Morley was to be at the inquest, but Mrs. Parry took no account of that. He and the detective would certainly return to The Elms to compare notes. , Also there was another chance. Steel might go on to see Ware at his place, which was a mile beyond the vil- lage. Giles had caught a cold after his midnight ride and search for the missing motor, and since then had been confined to his bed. His deposition had been taken down in writing, for the benefit of the jury, as he could not be present himself. Since he was deeply interested in the matter, Steel would probably go and tell him about the inquest. Mrs. Parry therefore posted herself at the window about twelve and waited for the detective. At half-past twelve she saw him come along, having on the previous day made herself acquainted with his per- sonality. He was a dapper pert little man, neat in his dress, and suave in his manners. Not at all like the de- tective of fiction as known to Mrs. Parry. There was no solemnity or hint of mystery about Mr. Steel. He would pass unnoticed in a crowd, and no one would take him for a bloodhound of the law. He did not even possess the indispensable eagle eye, nor did he utter opinions with the air of an oracle. In fact, when Mrs. Parry captured him and lured him into her parlor, she was exceedingly disappointed with his appearance. "No one would even 58 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. take you for a detective," said she brusquely, whereat Steel laughed cheerily. "All the better for mc, ma'am. Folk speak more freely when they don't know my business. But you will excuse me," he added, glancing at his watch, "I am in a hurry. You say you know something about this matter?" It was on this pretence that Mrs. Parry had got him into her house, else he would not have wasted his time on her. She had therefore to make good her words, but had not the slightest chance of doing so. "I know that Anne Denham is innocent," was all that she could say, but said it with the air of one who settles a difficult matter once and for all. "On what grounds, ma'am ?" "On no grounds, save those of my own common sense." "You have no evidence to ?" "I have the evidence of my own eyes. You haven't seen the woman. I have. She is not the kind of person who would act so." "The jury take a different view," said Steel dryly. "They have brought in a verdict of wilful murder against her." "Fools ! But what can you expect from a parcel of tradesmen? I wish to hear on what grounds they made such idiots of themselves." Steel was somewhat taken aback by this coolness. "You must really excuse me," said he, rising, "but I have to see Mr. Ware." All in good time. Steel," said the old lady coolly. You might do worse than spend an hour with me. There is precious little going on in this parish I don't know of. I might be able to help you in your search." "After this woman ?" Steel shook his head. "I don't think so. I expect she has escaped to foreign parts.'" THE CASE AGAINST ANNE 59 "Oh, I know all about that. I made Trim tell me. You know Trim, of course. He was a groom once."- "Isn't he a groom now?" "Well" — Mrs. Parry rubbed her nose — "you might call him an engineer. When Ware started a motor-car Trim refused to let anyone else attend to his young master but himself. He was the servant of old Ware, and thinks it is his duty to look after the son — not but what it's needed," added Mrs. Parry spitefully; "but Trim learned how to work the car, and so he is what you might call an engi- neer." "All very interesting ma'am, but I have an appoint- ment." "It will keep," replied Mrs. Parry suavely. "You had better wait, Steel. I have something to show you." "In connection with the case?" "In connection with Miss Denham." "What is it? Show it to me." "All in good time, Steel. I must first know what you think of the matter." "I think that this woman is guilty." "Oh, you do, do you. Humph! And I thought you clever. How easily one can be deceived ! However, you can sit down and tell me your grounds for this prepos- terous belief." Steel hesitated. In all his career — and it had been a varied one — he had never met before with anyone like this determined old dame. She took possession of him in the calmest way, and was evidently bent upon pumping him dry before he left the house. As a rule Steel was not a man to be pumped, but after some reflection he con- cluded that it was just as well to use a sprat to catch a mackerel. In plain English, he determined, with reserva- tions, to gratify Airs. Parry's curiosity, so that he might 6o A COIN OF EDWARD VII. get a sight of what she had to show him. If he were reticent, she would show him nothing ; whereas if he told her all about the evidence at the inquest — and that was public property — she would certainly open her mind to him. Moreover, Steel knew the value of having a gossip like Mrs. Parry to aid him in gaining knowledge of the neighborhood. Finally, he saw that she was a shrewd, matter-of-fact old person, and for the sake of making his work easy it would be as well to conciliate her. He therefore sat down with a cheerful air, and prepared him- self for an interesting conversation. "I shall be perfectly candid with you," said he, taking out his notes. "These are the memoranda I made at the inquest." "Humph! You have a bad memory I see. I," said Mrs. Parry, with emphasis, "I carry all I know in my head. Go on." Steel detailed the facts of the case. He related the threat of Anne against Daisy overheard by Mrs. Morley; read out a copy of the anonymous letter ; emphasized the presence of Anne in the library for the few minutes Mor- ley was absent, when she would have had time to secure the stiletto; and explained how Morley had found the very weapon near the scene of the crime. Then he con- tinued to relate what took place in church during the midnight service. "Martha James," said he, "was sitting not far from Miss Kent. The comer was rather dark " "The whole church is badly lighted," interrupted Mrs. Parry. "I never could bear smelly kerosene lamps." "The comer was dark," resumed Steel patiently, "and Martha, as she says, having a headache, was rather in- attentive to the sermon. She saw a man near the door — a tall man, with a great-coat and a white scarf. She THE CASE AGAINST ANNE 6l couldn't see his face plainly. He slipped along the wall during the sermon, when the attention of everyone was fixed on the preacher, and — as jMartha saw — slipped a scrap of paper into the hand of Miss Kent. She started, and bending towards a near lamp, read the paper." "Did anyone else see her read it ?" "No. She placed the paper in her prayer-book, and S3 contrived to read it without exciting suspicion. Martha saw the action, because she was well placed for observa- tion." "And couldn't mind her own business. I know Mar- tha James. Go on." "After a few minutes Miss Kent seemed to grow faint, and slipped out of the church. Another witness — Samuel Gibbs — says that as she brushed past him she murmured that she felt unwell. However, she went out." "And the tall man also?" "No. He remained for another ten minutes. Martha James watched him, because she could not think why he did not follow Miss Kent after giving her the paper." "Of course, Martha thought of something bad," sniffed Mrs. Parry; "no doubt she believed that the two had arranged to meet. So the tall man went out ten minutes afterwards. What about Anne?" "She was a few pews behind, and apparently inattentive, but a small girl called Cissy Jinks " "A most precocious child," interpolated the lady. "She is smart," admitted Steel. "Well, she declares that jNIiss Denham was watching the tall man all the time. Whether she saw him give the paper to Miss Kent no one seems to know; I think myself she must have done so, if she was as watchful as Cissy Jinks declares. More- over, she followed the tall man when he went out." "Immediately?" 62 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Five minutes afterwards." "Ha ! Then it was a quarter of an hour before she fol- lowed Daisy. Humph I Didn't Trim see them come out of the church ?" "The groom ? No, he was at the lych-gate with the car, and the snow was falling fast ; besides, the night was so dark that he could see nothing. The first intimation he had of Miss Denham was when she came through the lych-gate to tell him that his master was with Miss Kent on the way to The Elms and wished to see him. Trim followed, and left her in charge of the car. When he was gone she went off, leaving the body of the girl behind her. The case is dead against her." "As you make it out, it certainly is," said Mrs. Parry scathingly. "But what about the tall man — what became of him?" "He has vanished, and no one seems to know anything about him." "Ha!" said the old lady, with satisfaction; "well, I can enlighten you on that point. He was the man who called to see Mr. Morley, and who left just before Anne entered the library." "Are you sure Morley said nothing about that?" "Morley can hold his tongue when necessary," said the old lady dryly. "Yes, that was the man. The footman at The Elms told me that Mr. Morley's visitor wore a great-coat and a white scarf." "The same dress," murmured Steel, "and the man was afterwards in church. He passed a note and went out apparently to see IMiss Kent. I must question Mr. Mor- ley about him. I wonder if he went away in the motor also." "Of course he did," replied Mrs. Parry calmly. "Anne was watching him, according to Cissy Jinks, and she fol- THE CASE AGAINST ANNE 63 lowed him five minutes later. It would seem that she knew him, and after he killed Daisy helped him to es- cape. ' "What do you say," asked Steel, wrinkling his brows, "that this man killed Miss Kent?" "The evidence is nearly as strong against him as against Anne. He was in the library also and might have obtained the stiletto. It was he who lured Daisy out of the church. He was five minutes absent before Anne followed — quite long enough for him to kill the poor girl." "It sounds feasible, I admit," said the detective thought- fully ; "but even if this is true, it incriminates Miss Anne. She helped him to escape, according to your theory. She must, therefore, have known about the murder, and that makes her an accessory after the fact. In any case she should be arrested." "But not hanged," insisted IMrs. Parry. "I am sure she did not kill the girl. As for the man, she had a strong reason to get him out of the way, but that does not say she knew of the crime." "I don't see what other reason she could have had," said Steel. "I daresay you are right, and that this stran- ger did go with Miss Denham on the car. What a pity no one saw them !" "Did no one see the car ?" "No, it was found overturned in a hedge, near Til- bury." "I know," said Mrs. Parry, not liking to have her omniscience questioned ; "Trim told me. He came on the car by chance. It was quite cold — the furnace was ex- tinguished. It must have been abandoned for some time when he came across it. I wonder where the pair went then." "You seem certain that the stranger was with Miss Denham." 64 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Yes, I am quite satisfied on that point. Tilbury — ha ! they were making for Tilbury. Did you inquire there?" Steel nodded. "I could find no trace of them. No one saw them, or rather her, for I asked only after Miss Dcn- hani. It is my opinion that they must have got on boartl some ship, and have escaped to foreign parts. I could not learn of any ship having left that night, though. Well, that is all the evidence, Mrs. Parry, and you can see for yourself that the case against Miss Denham is almost conclusive." "All the same, I beHeve she is innocent," insisted the old lady ; "it vt^as the man who committed the crime. Ask Morley about him." "Do you think he knows anything?" "Not of the murder; but he must know the man's name. And now as you have been so frank with me I'll show you what I promised. Do you remember the anonymous letter and the reference to the Scarlet Cross?" "Yes. Miss Denham said that her father — who is now dead — wore a red-enamelled cross on his watch-chain." "I know. Mrs. Morley told me so. Now see here." Mrs. Parry opened her left hand, which for some time she had kept clenched. In her palm lay a small gold cross enamelled red. "Where did you get that?" asked Steel, astounded. "Mrs. Bates, the pew-opener, found it in the church and brought it to me. It was found near the spot where the stranger stood." "What?" Steel started to his feet. "Ah, you are beginning to see now !" said the old lady. "Yes, Steel, you may well look. Anne is innocent. On the evidence of this cross I believe that her father is not dead. He was the stranger ; he killed Daisy, and because he was her father Anne aided him to escape." CHAPTER VII OLIVER MORLEY IN due time the body of Daisy Kent was buried. Her remains were laid by those of her father in the very churchyard about which she had complained to Giles a short time before the tragedy of her death. Ware being still ill, did not attend the funeral, but a large concourse of people from all parts of the county followed the coffin to the grave. Morley was the chief mourner, and looked haggard, as was natural. Poor Mrs, Morley remained at home and wept. She did little else but weep in those days, poor soul! When Mr. Drake had finished the service, and the grave was filled up, the crowd dispersed. There was a great deal of talk about the untimely death of the girl and the chances of her murderess being caught. Everyone believed that Anne was guilty ; but as Steel had kept his own counsel and Mrs. Parry held her tongue, no mention was made of the tall man. The chatter of Cissy Jinks and Martha Gibbs certainly seemed to inculpate him in the matter, but only the vil- lagers talked of this especial point. It never reached the ears of the reporters, and did not get into the papers. (^ A COIN OF EDWARD VII. But the journals gave a good deal of space to the affair, and hinted that it was what the French call "un crime passional." Still, no paper was daring enough to hint at Giles and his presumed connection with the tragedy. It was merely stated that he had been engaged to the de- ceased girl, and felt her death so deeply, as was natural, that he had taken to his bed. Of course, this was an em- bellishment of facts, as Ware was simply laid up with an attack of pneumonia. But for the benefit of the public the journalists ascribed it to romantic and undying love. Giles, who was a matter-of-fact young Englishman, did not see these descriptions, or he would have been much disgusted at the sickly sentimentality. Meantime no news was heard of Anne. It was not known that the tall stranger had been with her, for sev- eral people had seen the car passing on its way to Tilbury. It was a lucky thought that had made Trim take that par- ticular direction, and merely by chance that he had stum- bled on the motor overthrown in a hedge. Evidently an accident had occurred, but no one was near at the time, as it took place some little distance from Tilbury and in a lonely part. But it was conjectured that the two occu- pants had proceded on foot to Tilbury. A boatman was found who related that he had taken a lady and gentle- man across to Gravesend, and that the gentleman walked a trifle lame. They landed on the Gravesend shore, and here the boatman lost sight of them. It was the lady who paid his fare, and he said that she appeared to be quite calm. He did not see the face of the man, but described that of Anne and her dress also. There was no doubt but what she was the fugitive. However, here the trail ended. Once in Gravesend, and all trace of the pair was lost. Steel made inquiries ever>'where, but without success. The two might have OLIVER MORLEY 67 got away in a ship, but this he could not learn. The night was foggy and dark, and no ship had gone out of the river, according to the boatmen. Steel could discover nothing, and resolved to throw up the case. But at the eleventh hour he stumbled on a clue, and followed it up. The result of his inquiries made him return at once to Rick well, where he sought out Mr. Morley. The little man had sent his wife and family away from The Elms, as the atmosphere of the house was melancholy in the extreme. Mrs. Morley, not averse to more cheerful surroundings, elected to go to Brighton with the triplets, and took two servants with her. Morley remained behind with a reduced staff, and promised to join her later. He desired to wait until he could see the detective. His wish was speedily gratified, for three days after the departure of his wife Steel made his appearance. Morley received him in the library. "How do you do, sir?" said the detective, as they shook hands. "I am glad to see that you are looking better." "I am getting over the shock," replied the other, "now that the poor child is buried ; there is no use mourning further. I have sent my wife and family to Brighton and propose to follow myself in a day or so." "I am lucky to have caught you, then ?" "What ? Have you found any clue ?" "I think so. It is connected with the Scarlet Cross." Morley, who was warming his hands over the fire, looked round eagerly, and his eyes flashed. "I thought there was something in that reference. You remember the letter, Steel ?" "Yes. And I showed it to Mrs. Parry." "To that meddlesome old woman. Why ?" "It's too long a matter to go into. But it was just as well I did. She gave me this little ornament." 68 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Morley turned over the enamelled cross and examined it carefully. "Humph ! It is the kind of thing Miss Den- ham said was worn by her dead father.'' "Exactly. Well, Mr. l\Iorley, either the father is dead as she told you and that cross was worn by a stranger, or the man who called to see you here was the father." "How do you make that out? What do you mean?" said Morley, and his face exhibited genuine amazement. For answer Steel related what Mrs. Parry had told him about the discovery of the cross, and how she had put two and two together. "And now, sir, you must see that in some way this stranger is connected with the crime. He called to see you. May I ask what you know of him ?" "Absolutely nothing," replied the other empliatically. *'Wait ! I must show you something." He rose and went to his desk. "Of course, I am telling you my private business," he added, opening a drawer, "so don't please speak about it." "If it has nothing to do with the murder I won't; but if " "Pshaw ! that is all right, I know as much about these things as you do. However, we can talk of that later. Meantime cast your eye over that," and he placed a docu- ment on the table. "A judgment summons for five hundred pounds," said Steel, with a whistle. "Did he serve this?" "Yes," replied Morley, returning to his seat with a gloomy face. "You will see that it is dated tiiree days before he came to me. I have outrun the constable, and have the greatest difficulty in keeping my head above wa- ter. This man — I don't know his name — said that he came from those solicitors " " 'Asher, Son, and Asher,' " read out the detective. OLIVER MORLEY. 69' Morley nodded. "Of twenty-two, St. Audrey's Inn, A firm of sharpers I call them. The money has certainly been owing a long time, but I offered to pay off the sum by degrees. They refused, and insist upon immediate payment. If they would only wait until the war is over, my South African shares would go up and there would be a chance of settling the matter. But they will not wait. I expect a bankruptcy notice next." 'T am very sorry for you, Mr. I\Iorley, and of course, I shall not betray the confidence you have placed in me; but the point is, what is the name of the man who served this?" "I don't know; I never asked him his name. He en- tered by the front door and served this here. I sent him out by the window, so that the servants should not see him again. He had the look of a sheriff's officer, and one can't be too careful here. I believe Mrs. Parry pays my servants to tell her what goes on in my house. I didn't want her to learn about this summons." "I can easily understand that," replied the detective; "and I see now why you let the man out by the window. You left the room with him ?" "Yes. I didn't say anything much at the inquest be- yond that he was a visitor, and I was relieved when I found that no questions were asked. But I walked with him to the end of the terrace and saw him go down the avenue. Then I returned to this room, and found Miss Denham waiting by the desk. I asked her what she wanted. She asked for her wages, as she was leaving the next day. I had no ready money, and promised to see to it before she departed. Then she went out, and shortly afterwards Miss Kent came in to say she had seen the man go down the avenue. She asked me who he was, and I 70 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. was rather short with her, pcK)r creature!" and Morhy sighed. "I wonder why the man went to church." "I can't say that ; but I can guess that when he knew who Daisy was he wanted to speak to her." "What about?" asked Steel eagerly. "About me and the summons. You see, Steel, there is a half-uncle of Daisy Kent's who went to Australia. He said that if he made his fortune he would leave the money to her. Whether he is dead or alive I don't know, but certainly she did not get any money left to her. Powell's solicitors are Asher, Son, and Asher " "Powell ? I thought the uncle would be called Kent, unless, of course, he was uncle by the mother's side." "I said half-uncle," said iMorley dryly. "Powell is his name — William Powell — and his solicitors are those who issued that judgment summons. I expect the clerk wanted to tell Daisy about my position and warn her against lending me money. As though I should have asked the girl for sixpence!" "I don't see why this clerk should warn Miss Kent." "Well, you see, Daisy had a hundred a year, and they pay it to her. As she might one day be an heiress, I sup- pose they think it as well to keep an eye on her. This man could not have known that Daisy was in church, and may have just gone there to kill time. But when he saw her and knew who she was, I daresay he wrote that note asking her to come outside and be told all about me." "It might be so. Was the note found?" "Not to my knowledge. But you should know, being a detective." "I'm not omniscient," replied Steel good-humoredly ; "it is only in novels that you get the perfect person who OLIVER MORLEY. 71 never makes a mistake. Well, to resume. I don't see why the clerk should have killed Miss Kent." "He did not kill her," insisted Morley. "I was in the room with him from the time he entered by the door to the time he left by that middle window. He had no chance of stealing the stiletto. Now Miss Denham had, for she was in the room alone for a few moments." "But why should she have taken the clerk with her on the car? If she killed the girl her object must have been to escape herself?" "I can't explain. Perhaps this clerk saw the crime and hoped to make money out of it. Had he given the alarm he wouldn't have gained any reward. So I suppose he mounted the car with her, so that she should not escape him." "A wild theory." "It's the only one I can think of," responded Morley; "but if you want to know more of this man go up to Asher, Son, and Asher. I daresay they will be able to give you his history." "And the Scarlet Cross?" "I know nothing about that. I did not even notice if the man had such a cross on his chain. In fact," added Morley frankly, "he was too shabby and poverty-stricken to have a chain. I think Anne Denham killed Daisy ; you think this man did, and " "Pardon," protested Steel. "I have not yet made up my mind. But the two fled together, and there must be some reason for that." "If so, it will be found in the past history of both, or either. You know where to look for the man. I can get from my wife the address of the Governesses' Insti- tute where she engaged Miss Denham. That is all I can do, unless I take up the case myself." •22 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Steel looked up with a laugh. He was copying the address of the solicitors from the summons, but could not help pausing to reply to this egotistical remark. "Why, Mr. Morley, what do you know of such work?" he asked, bantering. ''Much more than you would give me credit for. Did you ever hear of — by the way, this is another of my secrets I am telling you, so please don't repeat it." "Are you going to say that you were in the profession ?" "I am. You may have heard of Joe Bart." "I should think so," said Steel quickly. "He had a splendid reputation, and was much thought of. But he re- tired before I came to London. I was in the country police for a long time. But" — he started up — "you don't mean to say that " "That I am Joe Bart?" interrupted Morley, not ill- pleased. "Yes, I do. I retired over ten years ago, more fool I. You see, Steel, I grew wearied of thief-catching, and as I had a chance of marrying a widow with money, I took the offer and retired. But" — he looked at the sum- mons — "the game wasn't worth the candle. I have had nothing but trouble. Still, I am devoted to my wife and her children." "And you have forgotten your former glory," said Steel enthusiastically; "surely not. That Hatton Garden jewel robbery, the man with the red coat who committed the Lichfield murder, and " "I remember them all," said Morley, with gentle melan- choly. "I have a full report of all the cases I was en- gaged in yonder" — he nodded to a distant shelf. "Some- times I take those volumes down and think what an ass I was to retire." "But see here, Mr. Morley, You are hard up; you want monev. I am sure they would be glad to have you OLIVER MORLEY. -ji back at the Yard. Why not recommence your detective life with searching out this case ?" Morley, late Joe Bart, shook his head. "There is no difficulty about this case to tempt me," he said. "Anne Denham killed the girl. But I must say I should like to find out about this clerk, and why he went off with her. Still, it is useless for me to become a detective again. In the first place my wife would not like it, and in the sec- ond I have lost my keen scent. I am rusty — I am laid on the shelf. No, no, Steel, you look after this matter your- self. Any advice I can give you I shall, but don't tempt the old dog out of his kennel." Steel looked admiringly at his host. Bart had been a celebrated detective in his day, although not one of the best. Still, he had made a reputation on two or three cases, which entitled him to respect. "I should be proud to work with you, Mr. Morley." "Well, well," said Morley, rather pleased, "we'll see. At present I must put my wits to work to get money to prevent my being made a bankrupt. Now don't give me away, Steel." "I'll say nothing. I suppose yoi *- wife knows that you were " "Of course. But she made me promise to give it up. Therefore you see I can't take up the life again. But my advice to you — if you care to take it — is to look after the governess, and leave the clerk alone. She is guilty; he is not." "I'll look after both," said Steel firmly, "after both Mr. —Bart." IMorley laughed. "Report to me all you do," he said, and this Steel willingly promised. CHAPTER VIII THE IRONY OF FATE GILES was slowly recovering from his illness, but as yet was unable to leave his room. It was now over a month since the death of Daisy, and during that time all matters connected therewith had been reported to the invalid. Thus he knew of the funeral, of the ver- dict of the jurj', and of the search that was being made for Anne. Trim, who nursed his young master — and he would not allow any one else to do so — day by day, re- lated all that was taking place. The man himself quite believed that Miss Denham was guilty, but he did not offer this opinion to Ware, knowing how keenly Giles felt the untoward tragedy. The young squire could not bring himself to believe that Anne was guilty. Appearances were against her, and he could not conceive what excuse she could make for her flight with the lawyer's clerk. If she were innocent, she had gone the best way to work up a feasible case against her. But Giles was so deeply in love with her that the blacker became her character in the mouths of the gen- eral public, the more persistently he held to the belief that it was whiter than snow. Had he been able he would have followed her, in order to persuade her to THE IRONY OF FATE 75 return and face the worst with a frank story of the events of that terrible night. But he was chained to his bed, and even had he been sufficiently well, he could not have traced her whereabouts. Steel had called to explain his doings, but not even he could guess where Anne was to be found. And Giles rejoiced that this should be so. "What's the news this morning, Trim?" he asked lan- guidly. "Mr. Morley has come to see you, sir. He is waiting below." "I thought he had gone to Brighton with his wife and family?" "He did go some days back," assented Trim, "but he returned, sir — so he says — especially to see you." "How very good of him ! Ask him to come up." "Are you strong enough, Master Giles?" "Yes, you old tyrant. I hope to be up and about in a week." Trim shook his grey head. He was rather a pessimist, and did not believe in too sudden recoveries, insisting that such did not last. "You'll have a relapse, sir, and be worse than ever." Ware laughed, knowing Trim's ways, and motioned him out of the room. When the old servant left, grum- bling that his master should be disturbed, Giles began to wonder what had brought Morley back from Brighton. Perhaps he had come to speak of Daisy and her untimely end ; but he had already, on a previous occasion, said all that was to be said about that matter. Ware sincerely mourned Daisy, for in a way he had been fond of her. Still, he could not but confess that a marriage between them would have been a mistake, and that drastic as was the cutting of the Gordian knot, it relieved him from an impossible position. His love for Anne would always 76 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. have stood between himself and the unfortunate girl, and her jealousy would have ruined both their lives. Certain- ly he saw no chance of making Anne his wife, seeing that she was a fugitive and accused of a terrible crime. Nevertheless, since he had not to marry Daisy, the situa- tion was less difficult. But Ware, his heart aching for the woman he loved, found cold comfort in this reasoning. Morley entered, looking ruddy and cheerful, quite his old self, in fact. Evidently the sea air and the change had assuaged his grief to a considerable extent, and Giles could not help remarking cynically on his quick recovery. "I thought you were fond of Daisy," he said reproach- fully. "I was, and so was my wife," answered Morley, taking a scat beside the bed. "But what's done can't be undone, and I have been trying to get over my sorrow. But in spite of my looks. Ware, I have my bad moments. And you ?" "I sincerely mourn for the poor girl. It is terrible that she should be cut of? so suddenly. But I am just as sorry for Miss Denham, if not more sorry. It is those who are left behind that suffer most, Morley." "HumpH !" said the little man thoughtfully, "then you did love Miss Denham?" "Morley" — Giles started up on his elbow — "what do you mean?" "I am simply repeating what Daisy said." "She had a monomania on the subject," said Ware un- easily. "I never gave her any cause for jealousy." "Would you have married her had she lived ?" "Certainly," said Ware coldly. "I promised my father that the daughter of his old friend should be my wife." "I am sure you would have acted honorably," said Mor- ley gravely, "but it is just as well that you did not marry THE IRONY OF FATE 77 the girl. I think she had some reason to be jealous of Miss Denham." Ware groaned. *T tried my best to " He broke off with a frown. "This is my private business, Morley. You have no right to pry into these things." Morley shrugged his shoulders. "As you please. I shall say no more. But I don't expect you'll see Miss Denham again." "I don't expect I shall. Please leave her name out of this conversation." "For the moment I am agreeable to do so. But as I believe her to be guilty, I must ask you a question or two." "I shall answer no questions," responded Giles vio- lently. "Miss Denham is innocent." "Then why did she fly?" "I don't know. If I can only find her, I shall ask her to come back and face the worst. She can explain." "She will have to when she is caught. How do you propose to find her, Ware ?" "I don't know. Wait till I am on my feet again." "Well," said Morley cheerfully, "I'll give you a clue — the Scarlet Cross." "Rubbish! There's nothing in that in spite of the anonymous letter. What do you know about the matter ?" "Only what Steel told me. He found a boatman at Gravesend who declared that on the day of the crime — Steel gave him the date — a small steam yacht was lying in the river off the town. It was called The Red Cross. The next morning it was gone. The night was foggy, and no one saw it leave its moorings. It simply van- ished. What do you make of that, Ware?" "Nothing at all. What has this yacht to do with Miss Denham ?" 78 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Can't you see? The anonymous letter referred to a Scarlet Cross. Such an ornament was picked up in the church, and the boat was called " "The Red Cross — not The Scarlet Cross," interrupted Ware. "Only a difference of shade," said Morley ironically. "But I am certain that Miss Denham with her companion went on board that yacht. I can't think how else they escaped." "Why should this lawyer's clerk have gone on board ?" ''That's what Steel is trying to fiiid out. I expect he will make inquiries of Asher, Son, and Asher's office. But the name of the yacht, the fact that Miss Denham made for Gravesend, where it was lying, and its appear- ance and disappearance within twenty-four hours during which the crime was committed shows me that she fled and that she is guilty." Ware restrained himself with a violent effort. "Oh," he said ironically, "then you believe that Miss Denham arranged that the yacht should be at Gravesend, ready for her flight, after the death of Daisy." "It looks like that," assented IVIorley. "I believe my- self that the crime was premeditated." "And was the fact of my car being at the church gate premeditated ?" asked Ware angrily. "Why not? Miss Denham knew that your car was coming for you after the service." "Morley, I admit that things look black, but she is not guilty." "Humph ! You love her." "That has nothing to do with it." "As you will. Let us say no more on the subject. I ■wish to tell you why I came." "It is sure to be a more disagreeable subject," retorted THE IRONY of: FATE 79 Giles ; then felt compunction for the rude speech. "I beg your pardon, Morley, I am a perfect bear. But this ill- ness has made me peevish, and the events of the last few weeks have rendered my brain irritable. Forgive my bad temper." "Oh, that's all right. Ware," repHed his visitor heartily. "I can always make allowances for invalids. You'll be your old self again shortly." "I shall never be myself again," replied Giles gloomily. It was on the tip of Morley's tongue to make some fresh reference to Anne. But he knew that such a remark would only exasperate the invalid; and, moreover, Giles looked so ill and worried that IMorley generously re- frained from adding to his troubles. "Let us come to business," he said, taking some papers out of his breast coat-pocket. "Since you were engaged to Daisy I thought it right that you should be made aware of a communica- tion I have received from Asher, Son, and Asher." "About the summons you told me of?" asked Ware wearily. He did not take much interest in Morley's af- fairs. "No. I have managed to compromise that. The so- licitors have accepted payment in instalments. In this instance they write to me officially as Daisy's guardian. She has come into five thousand a year, Ware." Giles opened his eyes and sat up in bed excitedly. "Do you mean to say that her half-uncle Powell is dead?" Morley nodded. "Very ironical, isn't it?" he said. "She was always talking and hoping for the money, and now when it comes she is unable to enjoy it. What tricks Fate plays us to be sure !" "Poor girl \" sighed Giles ; "how often have we dis- cussed the prospect of her being an heiress ! I always 8o ' A COIN OF EDWARD VII. told her that I had enough for both, but she hankered after having money in her own right." "Look at the papers," said Morley, handing them to the young man, "and you will see that Powell died over four months ago in Sydney. His solicitors arranged about the estate in the colony of New South Wales, and then communicated with Asher as Powell had advised them before he died. There is a copy of the will there." "So I see. But tell me the chief points in it, I feel too tired to wade through all this legal matter." "Well, the money was left to Daisy, and failing her it goes to a man called George Franklin." "H'm ! He has come in for his kingdom very speedily, thanks to the death of poor Daisy. Who is he?" Morley glanced at a letter. "He was the brother-in- law of Mr. Powell — married Powell's sister who is dead. I don't know if there is any family. Asher's firm doesn't know the whereabouts of Franklin, but they are adver- tising for him. The five thousand a year goes to him without reservation." "Why did they tell you all this?" *T really can't say, unless it is because I was Daisy's legal guardian. I wish she had come in for this money, Ware, for I do not say but what I shouldn't have been glad of a trifle. And if Daisy had lived she would have paid m.e something. Certainly as I did what I did do out of slieer friendship with her father, I have no right to de- mand anything, but when Franklin hears "oi my circum- stances I hope he will lend me some money to get me out of my difficulties." "It all depends upon the kind of man he turns out to be. But I always thought, Morley, that it was your wife to whom Kent left his daughter. She was an old friend of his." THE IRONY OF FATE. 8i "Quite so; but Kent appointed me guardian, as Mrs. Morley refused to be legally bound. I am sure I did my duty," added the little man, with sudden heat. 'T am sure you did. You behaved like a father to her, and I am sorry she did not live to repay you." Giles thought for a moment or so, then added, 'T was engaged to Daisy, and I am rich. Let me help you, Morley." "No, thanks. It is good of you to suggest such a thing, but I am a very independent man. If this Franklin will do anything, I don't mind accepting a thousand from him ; otherwise — no, Ware." Giles admired the bluff way in which Morley said this. He knew well that for a long time Morley and his wife had done all they could for Daisy Kent, and that both of them deserved great praise. He suggested that Mrs. Morley might be induced "No,'' interrupted his visitor, "my wife wants nothing. She has her own money, and ample means." "Then why don't you ask for her help?" "My dear Ware, I married Mrs. Morley because I loved her, and not for her money. All her property is settled on herself, and I have not touched one shilling of it. She would willingly help me, but I have refused." "Isn't that rather quixotic on your part?" "Perhaps," responded Morley, with some dryness ; "but it is my nature. However, I see that I am tiring you. I only came to tell you of this irony of fate, whereby Daisy inherited a fortune too late to benefit by it. I must go now. My wife expects me back in Brighton to-mor- row." "When do you return to The Elms?" "In a month. And what are your movements?" Ware thought for a few minutes before he answered. At length he spoke seriously. 82 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Morlcy, I know you are prejudiced against Miss Den- ham." "I think she is guilty, if that is what you mean, Ware." "And I say that she is innocent. I intend to devote myself to finding her and to clearing up this mystery." "Well, I wish you good luck," said Morley, moving towards the door ; "but don't tell me when you find Miss Dcnham. If I come across her I'll have her arrested." "That's plain enough. Well, since you are her de- clared enemy, I shall keep my own counsel." He raised himself on his elbow, "But I tell you, Morley, that I shall find her. I shall prove her innocence, and I shall make her my wife." Morley opened the door. "The age of miracles is past," he said. "When you are more yourself, you will be wiser. Good-bye, and a speedy recovery." As the visitor departed Trim entered with the letters. He was not at all pleased to find Giles so flushed, and refused to hand over the correspondence. Only when Ware began to grow seriously angry did Trim give way. He went grumbling out of the room as Giles opened his letters. The first two were from friends in town asking after his health; the third had a French stamp and the Paris postmark. Ware opened it listlessly. He then ut- tered an exclamation. On a sheet of thin foreign paper was the drawing in pencil of a half-sovereign of Edward VII., and thereon three circles placed in a triangle, marked respectively "A," "D," and "P." Below, in a handwrit- ing he knew only too well, was written the one word "Innocent." "Anne, Anne!" cried Ware, passionately kissing the letter, "as though I needed you to tell me that !" And it was not till an hour later that he suddenly re- THE IRONY OF FATE. 83 membered what a narrow escape he had had from putting Morley on the track of Anne Denham. Had Morley seen that letter ? "Paris," murmured Giles, 'Til go there." CHAPTER IX A STRANGE DISCOVERY THE offices of Asher, Son, and Asher were situated in a dark, narrow street in the City, which led down to the river. In former days the place might have been respectable, and then the original Asher had set up his official tent in the neighborhood ; but civilization bad moved westward, and Terry Street was looked on askance by fashionable solicitors. Nevertheless the firm of Asher continued to dwell in the dingy office, where their pro- genitors had slaved for close on a hundred years. It was quite good enough, thought the present head of the firm, for such well-known lawyers. The firm did a good old-fashioned business, eminently respectable and safe. None of the three partners was a sharper, as Morley asserted; but as the firm had issued a judgment summons against the master of The Elms, he could scarcely be expected to think well of them. Old Mr. Asher rarely came to the office, preferring his coun- try house and melon beds, and the business was conducted by the son and the other Asher, who was a cousin. Both these gentlemen were over forty, and in spite of a modem education were decidedly old-fashioned. There was A STRANGE DISCOVERY 85 something in the musty air of the Terry Street office that petrified them into old men before their due time. The three clerks who sat in the outer rooms were also elderly, and the sole youthful creature about the place was the office boy, a red-haired imp who answered to the name of Alexander. His surname was Benker, but was not thought sufficiently dignified for use in so sedate a place of business. With some difficulty Steel found this musty haunt of the legal Muse, and sent up his name to the senior part- ner with a request for an interview. Alexander, whistling between his teeth, led him into a frowzy apartment lined with books and tin boxes, and furnished with a green baize-covered table heaped with legal papers, three chairs, and a mahogany sofa of the Early Victorian period. Mr. Asher, the son, might have belonged to the same epoch, in spite of his age, so rusty and smug did he look. His face was clean-shaven with the exception of side-whiskers ; his hair was thin on the top and sparse on the sides, and he was dressed in a suit of solemn black, with a satin tie to match. In fact, he was the typical lawyer of melo- drama, and Steel was surprised to find so ancient a sur- vival in these modem days. But when they began to talk Asher proved to be quite able to hold his own, and was not at all fossilized in brain, whatever he might be in appearance. He knew not only the name of Steel, but all about the case and Steel's connection therewith. He referred in feeling terms to Daisy's death. "A very charming girl, Mr. Steel," said the young- old lawyer. "On several occasions she has been here to draw her little income. It is sad that she should have met with her death at the hands of a jealous woman at the very time she was about to enjoy a legacy of five thou- sand a year." 86 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "You don't say so!" cried Steel, who had heard noth- ing of this. "Ah! Mr. Morlcy never informed you of the fact." "Well, no, he didn't; but then, I have not seen him for over a week. I beheve he is at Brighton with his wife. Who left this money to the late Miss Kent?" "A relative of hers who died lately in Australia." "And failing her who inherits?" Mr. Asher reflected. "I don't know that you have any right to ask that question," he said, after a pause. "Pardon me," replied the detective. "Miss Kent was murdered. I fancied that the money might have some- thing to do with the commission of the crime." "No, Mr. Steel. I read the evidence given at the in- quest. Jealousy was the motive of the crime, and Miss Denham is guilty." "I am somewhat of that way of thinking myself, Mr. Asher. And on the face of it there is no other way of accounting for the murder. Nevertheless it is just as well to look at the matter from all sides. The crime may be connected with the question of this fortune. You may as well tell me what I wish to know. I'll keep my mouth closed." "Are you going to accuse our client of the crime?" asked Asher dryly. "I fear you will waste your time if you do. Since you look at the matter in this way, I don't mind speaking about what after all is not your business." "That is as it may be," returned Steel eniginatically. Asher passed this remark over. "Failing Miss Kent, the five thousand a year goes to George Franklin, a brother-in-law of the testator. We lately received a let- ter from him, informing us that he intended to claim the money." "How did he know that he would inherit?" A STRANGE DISCOVERY 87 "We advertised for him. He is quite unaware of the death of Miss Kent, and I daresay thinks Mr. Powell left the fortune to him direct." "You can't be certain of his ignorance. However, let us give him the benefit of the doubt. Where did he write from ?" "From Florence, in Italy, where he has lived for four years. He will be in London next week, and if you want to see him " "I'll think of it," interrupted Steel. "There may be no need to trouble Mr. Franklin. At present I am searching for this clerk of yours, who went off with Miss Denham." The lawyer raised his eyebrows with manifest sur- prise. "A clerk of ours, Mr. Steel? I don't quite fol- low you." "I refer to the man who served a judgment summons on Mr. Morley." "A boy served that," explained Asher. "The boy who showed you in." Steel stared hard at the solicitor, trying to understand why he had made such a statement. "But that is ab- surd," he remarked. "I know that nothing was said at the inquest about the matter, as Mr. Morley did not wish it to be kno\vn that he was in such difficulties. But a tall man, with a reddish beard, dressed in a great-coat, with a white scarf, served the summons. Afterwards he went to the midnight service in the parish church, and lured Miss Kent outside bv means of a note, which we cannot find. From what I have gathered this man went with Miss Denham in Mr. Ware's motor-car. He fled with her, and I fancy he must be either the assassin or an accessory after the fact." Asher heard all this with extreme surprise. When Steel concluded he touched the bell. Alexander resnond- 88 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. ed with his usual cheerful and impudent air. His master addressed him with some severity. "What about that summons which was served by you on Mr. Morley, of Rickwell?" he demanded. The lad grew crimson to his ears, and looked at the floor much embarrassed. *T served it all right, sir," he mumbled. "You served it," struck in Steel, with emphasis. "That is quite untrue. A tall man with a red beard served it." "Alexander, tell the truth. What does this mean?" The boy began to sob, and drew his coat-sleeve across his eye with a snuffle. "I thought it was all right," he said, "or I should not have given it to him." "The summons ! You gave it to someone to serve?" "Yes, sir. To Mr. Wilson, mother's lodger," "Is he tall? Has he a pale face and a red beard?" asked Steel. "He has, sir. He's been with mother six months, and was always kind. When I got the summons he said that he was going into the country, and would serve it on Mr. Morley." "Alexander," said Asher in an awful tone, "I gave you money for your railway fare to go to Rickwell. What have you done with that money, wretched boy?" "I went to the Hippodrome with another boy," wept Alexander. "I thought as I'd take the holiday, as you'd think I was in the country. Please, sir, I'm very sorry, but I thought Mr. Wilson was all right." "Did Mr. Wilson come back to say that all was right?" demanded Steel sharply. "No, sir, he didn't. Mother and I ain't set eyes on him since he went away to serve the summons. I was afraid to tell you, sir," he added to his master, " 'cause A STRANGE DISCOVERY 89 I knew I'd done wrong. But I hope you won't be hard on me, sir." "Alexander," said Mr. Asher, "you have disgraced a most respectable office, and can no longer continue in it. You have spent money, you have wasted time, both given to you for a certain purpose. For the sake of your mother, who is a hard-working woman, I shall not take any legal steps. But from this day you cease to be in our employment. Your wages for the week shall be con- fiscated, since you have made free with my money. At five to-day, Alexander, you leave this place forever." "Oh, sir — please, sir — I didn't " "Alexander, I have spoken. You can depart." With a howl the boy went out of the room, and sat weeping in the outer office for at least ten minutes. He was wondering what he should say to his mother, for she was a terrible woman, with a short temper and a hard hand. His fellow-clerks demanded what was the matter, but Alexander had sense enough to keep his own counsel. All he said was that the governor had discharged him, and then he wept afresh. While thus employed Steel made his appearance. He had been discussing the matter with Asher, and had pro- posed a course of action in connection with the delinquent to which Asher agreed. He advanced to the weeping Alexander and lifted him from his seat by the collar. "Come, young man," said he, "take me home to your mother at once." "Oh, Lor'," cried Alexander, "she'll give me beans !" "You deserve the worst beating she can give you," said Steel severely, while the clerks grinned. "However, you must come with me. Where do you live ?" "Warder Street, Lambeth," snuffled Alexander, and 90 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. urged by the hand on his collar, went out of the office with the detective. "We'll take a hansom," said Steel, and shortly was ensconced in one with the miserable Alexander. As a rule a ride in a hansom would have been a joy to Master Benker, but he was too much afraid of the meeting with his mother to take any pleasure in the treat. However, he relied on the promise of the detective that he would sooth the maternal ire, and managed to reply fairly well to the questions Steel asked. These referred to Mr. Wilson. "Who is he?" demanded the detective. "Mother's lodger," replied Alexander; "he's been with her six months, and mother thought a deal of him. He was kind to me." "Ah! Was he well off?" "I don't knew. He paid his rent regular, but he wore shabby clothes, and was always out. I only saw him at night when I came home from the office." "Did he ask you many questions about the office?" "Oh, yes. He said he wished me to get on — that I was a smart boy, and a credit to my mother." "So you are," answered Steel genially. "I'm sure she'll give you a proof of her approval to-day. Now don't cry, boy." Steel shook Alexander, and then demanded suddenly, "You copy all the letters, do you not ?" "Yes, I do," answered Master Benker, wondering why this was asked. "And you read them sometimes ?" "Nearly always. I like to know what's going on. Mr. Wilson said I should make myself acquainted with everything." "I'm sure he did," muttered Steel ironically. "Did you read any letter saying that Miss Kent had inherited a A STRANGE DISCOVERY 91 fortune? Miss Daisy Kent, who lived with Mr. Mor- ley at Rickwell ?" Alexander thought for a moment, "Yes, I did. It was a letter to some lawyers in Sydney." "Did you tell Mr. Wilson about it ?" "Yes, sir. He was always talking about people coming in for money, and I said that a girl called Miss Kent had come in for five thousand a year." "I thought so. When did you tell Mr. Wilson this ?" "Three days after Christmas." "Before he offered to serve the summons?" "Why, I hadn't got the summons then," said Alexander. "Mr. Asher gave it to me the day before New Year. I said I was going into the country to Rickwell, for Mr. Wilson asked me what I was making myself smart for. He said he'd take the summons, and that I could go to the Hippodrome with Jim Tyler." "Which you did on your employer's money. You are a smart lad, Alexander. What did your mother say ?" "Mother was out when I came home with the summons, and after Mr. Wilson said he'd take it I didn't say any- thing to her." "Then she thought that on the day before the New Year you were at the office as usual ?" "Yes," snuffled Master Benker, "she did. Oh, Lor' !" as the cab stopped before a tidy house in a quiet street, "here we are." "And there is your mother," said the detective cheer- fully, as a severe face appeared at the white-curtained window. Alexander wept afresh as Steel paid the cabman, and positively howled when the door opened and his mother — a lean woman in a black dress, with a widow's cap — ap- 92 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. peared. He would have run away but that Steel again had a hand on his collar. "Alexander," cried his mother harshly, "what have you been doing?" "Nothing very dreadful, ma'am," interposed Steel. "It will be all right. Let me in, and I'll speak for my young friend." "And who may you be, sir?" demanded Mrs. Benker, bristling. "A personal friend of j\Ir. Asher's." On hearing this dreaded name Mrs. Benker softened, and welcomed Steel into a neat parlor, where he seated himself in a horsehair mahogany chair of the most slip- pery description and related what had happened. Alex- ander stood by and wept all the time. He wept more when his mother spoke. "I expected it," she said in quiet despair; "that boy is the bane of my life. I'll speak to you shortly, Alexander. Go to your room and retire to bed." "Oh, mother ! mother !" cried Master Benker, writhing at the prospect of a thorough whipping. "Go to your room, Alexander, and make ready," re- peated the widow, with a glare, and the boy retired slow- ly, wriggling and snuffling. When his sobs died away and an upstairs door was heard to close with a bang, Mrs. Benker addressed herself to Steel. "I hope you will induce Mr. Asher to overlook this,'* she said, clasping a pair of lean, mittened hands; "I am so poor." "I'll do my best," responded Steel ; "that is, if you will give me some information about your late lodger, Mr. Wilson." "Why should I do that?" asked Mrs. Benker suspi- ciously. A STRANGE DISCOVERY 93 "Because Mr. Asher wishes to know all about him. You see, your son allowed Mr. Wilson to serve this sum- mons, and it is necessary that Mr. Asher should learn where he is." "That's only fair; but I don't know. Mr. Wilson has not returned here since he left on the day before New Year." "Did he leave any luggage behind him ?" "No, sir, he didn't." Mrs. Benker paused, then con- tinued, "I'll tell you exactly how it occurred, if Mr. Asher will make some allowance for the wickedness of that wretched boy of mine." "I'll see what can be done, and use my influence with Mr. Asher." "Thank you, sir," said the widow gratefully. "Well, sir, I was absent all the last day of the year, as I was see- ing a married daughter of mine in Marylebone. Mr. Wilson was in the house when I left at ten in the morn- ing, but said nothing about going away. When I re- turned at six in the evening I found that he was gone bag and baggage, and that he had left his rent on the table. Also a note saying that he was suddenly called away and would not return." "Have you the note?" asked Steel, thinking it just as w^ell to have some specimen of Wilson's handwriting. Mrs. Benker shook her head. "I burnt it," she replied ; "it was only written in pencil and not worth keeping. I must say that Mr. Wilson always behaved like a gentle- man, although I saw little of him. He was queer in his habits." "How do you mean — 'queer'?" "Well, sir, I hardly ever saw him in the daytime, and when I did he usually kept his blinds down in his room, as he suffered from weak eyes. Even when he saw Alex- 94 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. ander in the evening he would hardly have any light. Then sometimes he would lie in bed all the day, and be out all the night. At other times he would stay at home the whole of the twenty-four hours. But he always paid his rent regularly, and gave little trouble over his food. Yes," added Mrs. Benker, smoothing her apron, "Mr. Wilson was always a gentleman. I will say that." "Humph !" thought Steel, taking all this in eagerly. "A queer kind of gentleman," he added aloud. "Did you know anything else about him, Mrs. Benker?" "No, sir." She drew herself up primly. "I never pry — never." "Did any one call to see i\Ir. Wilson?" "No one. All the time he was here not one person called." "Did he receive any letters?" "No. Not one letter arrived." "Queer," murmured Steel. "What newspaper did he take?" "The Morning Post. Also he took the World, Truth, Modern Society, and M. A. P. He was fond of the fash- ionable intelligence." "Oh, he was, was he? Would you have called him a gentleman ?'* "He always paid his rent duly," hesitated Mrs. Benker, "so far he was a perfect gentleman. But I have lived as a lady's maid in the best families, sir, and I don't think Mr. Wilson was what you or I would call an aristocrat." "I see. So you were a lady's maid once. In what families?" Mrs, Benker was not at all averse to relating her better days, and did so with pride. "I was with the Countess of Flint, with Mrs. Harwitch, and with Lady Susan Sum- mersdale." A STRANGE DISCOVERY 95 "Ha!" said Steel, starting. He remembered that i\Ior- ley had been concerned with Lady Summersdale about the robbery of her jewels. "Did you tell Mr. Wilson this ?" he asked. "Oh, yes. We had long talks about aristocratic fam- ilies." She repeated several tales she had told Wilson, and Steel asked her many questions. When he took his leave he asked a leading one : "Did IMr. Wilson wear a red cross as an ornament?" "On his watch-chain he did," said Mrs. Benker, and Steel departed very satisfied wuth his day's work. CHAPTER X ON A FRESH TRAIL IF Giles Ware had not been desperately in love and des- perately anxious to find Anne Denham, he would scarcely have gone to Paris on such a wild-goose chase. The postmark on the letter showed that she was, or she had been, in the French capital ; but to find her in that immense city was like looking for a haystack in a league- long desert. However, Ware had an idea — foolish enough — that some instinct would guide him to her side, and, therefore, as soon as he recovered sufficiently to travel he crossed the Channel with Trim. He left Rick- well about three weeks after his interview with Morley. Time enough, as he well knew, for Anne to change her place of residence. But he trusted to luck. For quite a fortnight he explored the city, accompanied by the faithful old servant. Trim had sharp eyes, and would be certain to recognize Anne if she came within eyesight. But in spite of their vigilance and observa- tion, the two saw no one even distantly resembling Anne. Certainly if Giles had gone to the authorities, who take note of all who come and go, he might have been more successful. But knowing that Anne was wanted by the English police, he did not dare to adopt this method. He ON A FRESH TRAIL 97 was forced to rely entirely on himself, and his search re- sulted in nothing. "It ain't no good, Master Giles," said Trim for at least the tenth time; "we've lost the scent somehow. Better go back to London. I don't want you to be ill over here, sir, with nothing but foreign doctors to look after you." "I shan't leave Paris until I am certain that she is not in the place," declared Ware resolutely. "Well, sir, I don't know how much more certain you wants to be. We've tramped them bullyvardes and Chamy Elizas till our feet are near dropping off. You're looking a shadow. Master Giles, if you'll excuse an old man as nursed you when you were a baby. She ain't here. Now I shouldn't be surprised if she were in London," said Trim wisely. "What, in the very jaws of the lion? Nonsense!" "Oh, but is it, sir? I always heard it said by them as knows that the jaws of the lion is the very last place any one expects to find them." Trim did not state what "them" he meant. "If she went back to Rickwell she would be safe, especially if she laid up in some cottage and called herself a widder." "Trim, you've been reading detective novels !" "Not me, sir ; I ain't got no time. But about this go- ing back " "We'll go back to-morrow. Trim," said Ware, with sudden resolution. And Trim joyfully departed to pack. It just struck Giles that after all Trim might be right, and that having thrown the police off the scent by going abroad in the yacht, Anne might return to London. She might be there now, living in some quiet suburb, while the police were wasting their time corresponding with the French authorities. Moreover, Ware thought it would be just as well to learn what Steel was doing. He had 98 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. charge of the case and might have struck the trail. In that case Giles wanted to know, for he could then avert any possible danger from Anne. And finally he rellected that he might learn something about Anne's friends from th'e people at the Governesses* Institute where I\Irs. Mor- ley had engaged her. If she returned to London it was not impossible that she might have gone to hide in the house of some friend. Any one who knew Anne could be certain that she was not guilty of the crime she was accused of, and would assuredly aid her to escape the un- just law. So thought Giles in his ardor; but he quite forgot that every one was not in love with Anne, and would scarcly help her unless they were fully convinced of her innocence, and perhaps not even then. Most peo- ple have a holy horror of the law, and are not anxious to help those in danger of the long arm of justice. However, Giles reasoned as above and forthwith left Paris for London. He took up his quarters in the Guelph Hotel, opposite the Park, and began his search for Anne again. Luckily he had obtained from Airs. Morley the number of the Institute, which was in South Kensington, and the day after his arrival walked there to make in- quiries. It was a very forlorn hope, but Ware saw no other chance of achieving his desire. The Institute was a tall red-brick house, with green blinds and a prim, tidy look. He was shown into a prim parlor and interviewed by a prim old lady, who wore spectacles and had a pencil stufTed in the bosom of her black gown. However, she was less prim than she looked, and had a cheerful old ruddy face with a twinkling pair of kindly eyes. In her heart IVIrs. Cairns admired this handsome young man who spoke so politely, and was more willing to afiford him the desired information than if he had been elderly and ugly. Old as she was, the ON A FRESH TRAIL 99 good lady was a true daughter of Eve, and her natural liking for the opposite sex had not been crushed out of her by years of education. Nevertheless when she heard the name of Anne she threw up her hands in dismay. "Why do you come here to ask about that unfortunate girl?" she demanded, and looked severely at Giles. Be- fore he could reply she glanced again at his card, which she held in her fingers, and started. "Giles Ware," she read, drawing a quick breath. "Are you " "I was engaged to the young lady who was killed," said Ware, surprised. Mrs. Cairns' rosy face became a deep red. "And you doubtless wish to avenge her death by finding Miss Den- ham?" "On the contrary, I wish to save Miss Denham." "What ! do you not believe her guilty ?" "No, Mrs. Cairns, I do not. Every one says she killed the girl, but I am certain that she is an innocent woman. I come to ask you if you can tell me where she is." "Wliy do you come to me?" Mrs. Cairns went to see that the door was closed before she asked this question. "I thought you might know of her whereabouts." "Why should I?" "Well, I admit that there is no reason why you should — at least, I thought so before I came here." "And now?" She bent forward eagerly. "Now I think that if she had come to you for refuge she would get help from you. I can see that you also believe her guiltless." "I do," said Mrs. Cairns in a low voice. "I have known Anne for years and I am certain that she is not the wom- an to do a thing like this. She would not harm a fly." "Then you can help me. You know where she is?" Mrs. Cairns looked at his flushed face, at the light in ICX3 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. his eyes. In her shrewd way she guessed the secret of this eagerness. "Then you love her," she said under her breath. "You love Anne." "Why do you say that ?" asked Giles, taken aback. He was not prepared to find that she could read him so easily. "I remember," said Mrs. Cairns to herself, but loud enough for him to hear, "there was a Society paper said something about jealousy being the motive of the crime, and " "Do you mean to say that such a statement was in the papers?" asked Ware angrily, and with a flash of his blue eyes. "It was in none of the big daily papers, Mr. Ware. They offered no explanation. But some Society reporter went down to Rickwell ; to gather scandal from the ser- vants, I suppose." "Off from Mrs. Parry," muttered Giles; then aloud, ''Yes?" "Well, this man or woman — most probably it was a woman — made up a very pretty tale, which was printed in The FircHy." "A scandalous paper," said Ware, annoyed. "What did it say?" "That you were in love with Anne, that you were en- gaged to Miss Kent, and that to gain you as her hus- band Anne killed the girl." "It's a foul lie. I'll horsewhip the editor and make him put in an apology." "I shouldn't do that if T were you, Mr. Ware," said the old lady dryly. "Better let sleeping dogs lie. I don't believe the whole story myself — only part of it." "What part. Mrs. Cairns?" "That part which says you love Anne. I can see it in your face." ON A FRESH TRAIL loi "If I can trust you " "Certainly you can. Anne is like my own child. I be- lieve her guiltless of this terrible crime, and I would do anything to see her righted. She did not kill the girl." "No, I believe the girl was killed by a nameless man who came to Rickwell from some firm of solicitors. I don't know why he murdered the poor child, no more than I can understand why Anne should have helped him to escape." "You call her Anne," said Mrs. Cairns softly. Giles flushed through the tan of his strong face. "I have no right to do so," he said. "She never gave me permission. Mrs. Cairns, I assure you that there was no understanding between Miss Denham and myself. I was engaged by my father to Miss Kent, and we were to be married. I fell in love with Miss Denham, and I have reason to believe that she returned my love." "She told you so?" "No, no! She and I never said words like that to one another. We were friends; nothing more. Miss Kent chose to be jealous of a trifling gift I gave Miss Den- ham at Christmas, and there was trouble. Then came an anonymous letter, saying that Anne wished to kill Daisy." "A letter, and said that?" exclaimed Mrs. Cairns in surprise. "But I can't understand it at all. Anne had no enemies, so far as I know. No one could hate so sweet a girl. Her father " "Did you know her father ?" asked Ware quickly. "No; but she often spoke of him. She was fond of her father, although he seems to have been a wandering Bohemian. He died at Florence." "I wonder if he really did die." "Of course. He — but it's a long story, Mr. Ware, and I02 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. I have not the time to tell it to you. Besides, there is one who can tell you all about Anne and her father much better than I can. The Princess Karacsay. Do you know her?" "I have seen the name somewhere." "Probably on a programme," said Mrs, Cairns com- posedly. "Oh. don't look so astonished. The Princess is really a Hungarian aristocrat. She quarrelled with her people, and came to England with very little money. To keep herself alive she tried to become a governess. Afterwards, having a beautiful voice, she became a con- cert singer. I hear she is very popular." "How should she know about Anne — I mean Miss Den- ham?" "Because if there is any woman to whom Anne would go in her distress, it would be the Princess. She met Anne here while she was a governess, and the two be- came great friends. They were always together. I do not know where Anne is, Mr. Ware. She did not come to me, nor has she written; but if she is in England the Princess will know." "Do you think she would tell me?" asked Giles eagerly. "I really don't know. She is romantic, and if she learned that you loved Anne she might be inclined to help you. But that would depend upon Anne herself. How is she disposed towards you?" For answer Giles related the episode of the foreign letter, with the drawing of the coin and the one word "Innocent." Mrs. Cairns listened quietly, and nodded. "Evidently Anne values your good opinion. I think you had better tell all this to the Princess." She hastily wrote a few lines. "This is her address." "Oh, thank you ! Thank you !" "And, Mr. W^are," added the old lady, laying a kind ON A FRESH TRAIL 103 hand on his arm, "if you hear about Anne, come and tell me. I hope with all my soul that you will be able to save the poor child." "If human aid can prove her innocence, you can depend upon me," was Ware's reply. And taking leave of Mrs. Cairns, he left the Institute with his heart beating and his head in the air. Giles was glad that his good fortune had led him to meet this true friend of the woman he loved. He was also glad that he had been so open with her about his passion, else she might not have sent him to the Prin- cess Karacsay. As the name came into his mind he glanced down at the paper, which he still held. The ad- dress of Anne's friend was "42, Gilbert Mansions, West- minster." Giles resolved to lose no time in looking her up. She w^ould be able to tell him where Anne was, and also might be able to explain the mysterj' of Anne's life in general, and her conduct at Rickwell in particular. For there was some mystery about Miss Denham. W^are v;as quite certain on that point. She had said that her father was dead, and circumstances pointed to the fact that her father was aHve and was the nameless man who had appeared and disappeared so suddenly. Then there was the strange episode of the anonymous letter, and the queer reference therein to the Scarlet Cross. Also the fact that the yacht in w^iich Anne had fled was called The Red Cross. All these things hinted at a mys- tery, and such might in some indirect way be connected with the death of Daisy Kent. Anne had not killed her ; but since she had aided the murderer to escape she must have condoned the crime in some way. Ware shuddered as he looked at the matter in this light. What if Anne knew something about the matter after all? The next moment he put the thought from him with anger. Anne 104 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. was good and pure, and her hands were clean from the stain of blood. Such a woman would not — could not commit a crime either directly or indirectly. When he saw her he would ask for an explanation, and once she opened her mouth all would be made plain. Arguing thus with himself, Giles wrote a letter to the Princess Karacsay and asked for an interview. He men- tioned that he had seen Mrs. Cairns and that the old lady had furnished him with the address. Also, he said that his wish in seeing the Princess was to ask for the where- abouts of Miss Denham. Having despatched this note, Giles felt that he could do no more until he received a reply. But he was too restless to remain quiet. It occurred to him that he might look up Steel and learn what fresh discoveries had been made in connection with the Rickwell crime. He went to New Scotland Yard and asked for the detective, but learned to his surprise and vexation that the man was out of town and was not expected back for a week. No one could say where he had gone, so Giles had to satisfy himself with leaving a card and promising to call again. The next day he received a note from the Princess Karacsay asking him to come the next evening at nine o'clock. She said nothing about Anne, nor did she vol- unteer any information. She simply appointed an hour and a place for the interview and signed herself Olga Karacsay. Giles felt that she had been intentionally curt, and wondered if she intended to give him a civil recep- tion. After some thought he decided that she meant to be kind, although the note read so coldly. He would go, and perhaps during the interview she might be persuaded to help him. After all, she must know that he had been engaged to marry the dead girl, and fancied — as Mrs. ON A FRESH TRAIL 105 Cairns had done — that he wished to have Anne arrested. The following evening he arrayed himself with par- ticular care and drove in a hansom to Westminster. The cab stopped before a great pile of brick buildings near the Abbey, and when Giles had dismissed it he entered a large and well-lighted hall with a tesselated pavement. Here a porter volunteered, on ascertaining his business, to con- duct him to the door of the Princess Karacsay's flat, which was on the first floor. Giles was admitted by a neat maid-servant, who showed him into a picturesque drawing-room, A tall woman in evening dress was standing beside the window in the twilight. Giles thought her figure was familiar and recognized the turn of her head. He uttered a cry. "Anne," he said, stretching his arms. "Anne, my dearest !'* CHAPTER XI PRINCESS KARACSAY EVEN as he spoke the room was flooded with the light of the electric lamps. The woman by the window turned and came forward smiling. With a feeling of bit- ter disappointment Giles recoiled. It was not Anne. He had been deceived by a chance resemblance. "I can quite understand your mistake," said the Prin- cess Karacsay. "It is not the first time that I have been taken for my friend." Indeed, she was very like Anne, both in figure and face. She had the some dark hair and dark eyes, the same oval face and rich coloring. But her expression was differ- ent. She was more haughty than Miss Denham, and there was less simplicity in her manner. Even as Ware looked at her the likeness seemed to vanish, and he won- dered that he should have made such a mistake. But for the twilight, the turn of her head, and her height, to- gether with the way in which she carried herself, he would not have been deceived. "One would take you for Miss Denham's sister," he said when seated. The Princess smiled oddly. "We are alike in many ways," she replied quietly. "I look upon Miss Denham PRINCESS KARACSAY 107 as my second self. You called me Anne when you mis- took me for her," she added, with a keen glance. "I have no right to do so, Princess, but " He hesi- tated, not knowing how to choose his words. She saw his perplexity and smiled. "I quite understand, Mr. Ware." "Anne — I mean Miss Denham — has told you about me?" "I have not seen her for months, Mr. Ware, not since that terrible event which has made a fugitive of her." Giles was bitterly disappointed, and his face showed his feelings. From what Mrs. Cairns had said he was certain that the Princess would be able to help him, and here she confessed an ignorance of Anne's whereabouts. Nevertheless Ware still hoped. He thought that not knowing his real errand, she was feigning ignorance for the sake of her friend's safety. "I am sorry she has not spoken to you about me," he remarked, "for then you would know that I wish her well." "Oh, I know that. Anne — I may as well call her Anne to you, Mr. Ware — wrote to me from Rickwell several times. She told me all about you. But I have not seen her since the death of your fiancee. I have no idea where she is now." "I thought — and Mrs. Cairns thought — that she would come to you in her distress, or at least communicate her whereabouts." "She has done neither, and I do not know where to address a letter." "What is to be done?" said Giles half to himself and much distressed. Princess Karacsay rose and glanced at the clock with a laugh. "Oh, if we talk, something may come of our putting our heads together," she said. "Meantime we io8 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. can make ourselves comfortable. Here are coffee and cigarettes, Mr. Ware. Would you prefer a cigar?" '"No, thank you, Princess. These look very good." "Both coffee and cigarettes are Turkish," said she, handing him a cup and afterwards a cigarette. "I get them from a cousin of mine who is an attache at Con- stantinople. Come now." She lighted a cigarette for herself and sat down on an amber divan near Ware's chair. "Let us talk before my friend arrives," "I beg your pardon, Princess, I hope my coming " "No, no," she explained hurriedly. "I asked my friend to meet you." "Indeed." Giles was much surprised. "I did not know we had a mutual friend." The Princess nodded and blew a cloud of smoke. "At ten o'clock you shall see him. I won't tell you who he is. A little surprise \ Mr. Ware." Ware looked at her sharply, but could make nothing of the enigmatic smile on her face. She was undeniably a very beautiful woman as she lounged amongst the am- ber-tinted cushions, but in her dress and general looks there was something barbaric. She wore a dinner dress of mingled scarlet and black, and many chains of sequins which jingled with her every movement. As Ware's eyes met her own she flashed a languorous look at him, and a slow smile wreathed her full red lips. Giles could not help admiring her, but he had a feeling that she was not altogether to be trusted. It behove him to be wary in dealing with this superb tigress. Yet, as another thought crossed his mind, he smiled involuntarily. "Why do you smile, Mr. Ware?" asked the Princess. She spoke the English language admirably, and with but a little foreign accent. "Pardon," replied Giles, still smiling, "but Mrs. Cairns PRINCESS KARACSAY 109 told me that at one time you aspired to become a gov- erness. I can't imagine you teaching children." "Ah, you have no imagination — no EngHshman has. Children are fond of me — very fond." She cast another look at his handsome face, and added with emphasis, "I can make any one I choose fond of me." "I quite believe it, Princess. You have wcwnan's im- perial sceptre — beauty." "A charming compliment," responded she, her mood changing, "but we are not here to exchange compliments. So you love Anne?" "With all my heart and soul," he replied fervently. His hostess appeared rather disconcerted by this reply. "You are a miracle of chivalry, my dear Mr. Ware," she said dryly. "But is it not rather a large heart you have to love two women at the same time?" "I understand what you mean," answered Ware quietly, "but my engagement to Miss Kent was purely a family arrangement. I loved Anne — I still love her. All the same, I would have married Miss Kent had she not been murdered." "You are very obedient, Mr. Ware." "And you very satirical, Princess. I could explain, but there is no need for me to do so. I want to find Anne. Can you help me?" "Not at present, but I may be able to do so. Of course, you don't believe that she killed your fiancee?" "Certainly not. I think the crime was committed by the man with whom she fled." "A tall man with a red beard and hair and black eyes?" "Yes, yes. Do you know him ? Who is he?" "I have had him described to me," responded the Prin- cess calmly, "but I know nothing about him." "Is he a friend of Anne's ?" no A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "That I don't know." She quietly selected another cigarette, lighted it, and looked with a serene smile at her visitor. Giles was an- noyed. "We don't seem to be getting on with our busi- ness. Princess," he said roughly. "What is our business f^' she demanded, looking at him through half-closed eyes. Her scrutiny made Giles un- comfortable, and he shifted his seat as he answered. "Mrs. Cairns said you could tell me about Anne." "So I can. What do you want to know, Mr. Ware?" "Who is she? Who was her father? Is he dead or alive? What do you know about the Scarlet Cross, and " He stopped, for the Princess had opened her eyes to their fullest extent. "The Scarlet Cross. You know about that also?" she asked. "Of course I do. There was an anonymous leticr " "I have seen the letter, or at least a copy." "Indeed," said Ware, much astonished, "and an enamel- led cross " "I have seen the cross also." "It appears to me, Princess, that you know everything about the case." She glanced again at the clock, and smiled as she re- plied, "I am a friend of Anne's, Mr. Ware. I daresay you would like to know who told me all these things. Well, you shall be enlightened at ten o'clock. Meantime I can tell you all I do know about Anne and her father." "You will speak freely?" he asked mistrustfully. "Absolutely. You — you — " she hesitated — "you love Anne," She gave him a searching look. "Yes. I see you do. I can speak openly. Will you have another cup of cofifce? No! Another cigarette. Ah, there is the box. A match. Now." PRINCESS KARACSAY in "Now," said Giles eagerly, "what about Anne?" "What about myself first of all, Mr. Ware. I am a Hungarian. I quarrelled with my people and ran away. Finding myself stranded in London with very little money, I tried to get a post as a governess. I went to Mrs. Cairns, and thus became acquainted with Anne. We be- came great friends. She told me everything about her- self. When I knew her history we became greater friends than ever. I was a governess only for a year. Then someone heard me sing, and " — she shrugged her beautiful shoulders — "but that is quite another story, Mr. Ware. I am a concert-singer now, and it pays me excel- lently." "I am very pleased with your success. Princess. But Anne?" She flashed a rather annoyed look at him. "You are scarcely so chivalrous as I thought, Mr. Ware," she said coldly. "No, say nothing; I quite understand. Let us talk of Anne. I will tell you her history." She re-lighted her cigarette, which had gone out, and continued, "Her father was a gambler and a wanderer. He lived mostly on the Continent — Monte Carlo for choice. Anne's mother" — here the Princess paused, and then went on with an obvious efifort — "I know nothing of Anne's mother, Mr. Ware. She died when Anne was a child. Mr. Denham brought up his daughter in a haphazard way." "Was his name really Denham ?" "So Anne told me. I had no reason to think that it was otherwise. He was a gentleman of good family, but an outcast from his people by reason of his reckless folly. I also am an outcast," said she pleasantly, "but merely because I am strong-minded. I am not foolish." 112 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "No, Princess," said Giles, looking keenly at her, "I should certainly not call you foolish." "Hut I can be foolish on occasions," said she quickly, and flushed as she glanced at him, "like all women. But Anne — I see we must get back to Anne. Well, she, hav- ing better moral principles than her father, grew wearied of their wandering life. She decided to become a gov- erness. Mr. Denham put her to school at Hampstead — a sister of Mrs. Cairns keeps the school, and that is why Anne is so intimate with Mrs. Cairns — and when her edu- cation was finished she took a situation in Italy, There she remained some years. Afterwards she rejoined her father for a time. He died at Florence — typhoid fever, I believe — and Anne found herself alone. She returned to England, and assisted by Mrs. Cairns, took various situations. She always returned to Mrs. Cairns when out of an engagement. It was on one of these occasions that I met her. We have been friends for a long time, Mr. Ware. Then Anne was engaged by Mrs. Morley, and — and the rest you know. There is no more to be said." "Is that all?" said Giles, disappointed by this bald nar- rative. The Princess shrugged her shoulders, and throwing aside her cigarette, leaned back with her hands behind her head. "What would you, Mr. Ware? Anne is a good woman. Good women never have any history." "Can you tell me anything about the Scarlet Cross?" "Anne never spoke of such a thing to me. But my friend may be able to tell you. Ah !" — the Princess raised her head as a ring came to the door — "there is my friend. Before his time, too. But we have finished our conversation, Mr. Ware." "For the present, yes." PRINCESS KARACSAY 113 She looked at him suddenly. "But certainly," she said in her vivacious way, "you must come and see me again. We will have much to talk of. You love music. I will sing to you, and " Here she broke off to greet a new-comer, much to the relief of Giles, who was begin- ning to feel uncomfortable. "How do you do, Mr. Steel?" With an exclamation Ware rose. It was indeed Steel who stood before him looking as round and rosy and cheerful as ever. "You are surprised to see me, sir," he said, with a twinkle. "I am very much surprised. I went to see you yester- day " "And found that I was out of town. So I was, so I am supposed to be, but the telegram of the Princess here told me that she expected you this evening, so I left my country business and came up." "You see," said the Princess, sitting down again amongst her cushions, "you see, Mr. Ware, I told you we had a mutual friend. Now you know hew I am so well acquainted with the case," and she laughed. "The Princess," explained Steel, seeing Giles' aston- ishment, "read all about the case. Being a friend of Miss Denham's and seeing that I had charge of the mat- ter, she sent for me. We have talked over the case, and I have received much assistance from Miss — I mean from this very clever lady, the Princess Karacsay," and Steel bowed. "But," stammered Ware, still puzzled, "you believe Miss Denham to be guilty. Surely the Princess will not " "No, no !" came from the divan in the deep-tcmed voice of the woman. "Anne is my friend. I would not help him to arrest her." 114 A COIN OF EDWARD VIL 'The fact is," said Steel easily, "T have chanp^ed my opinion, Mr, Ware, and I think Miss Denham is innocent. The man who killed Miss Kent is called Wilson." "Wilson. And who is Wilson, and why did he kill her?" "I don't know who Wilson is," replied Steel. "I am trying to find out. I am not quite certain why he killed her, but I am beginning to suspect that it was on ac- count of this inherited money. I told you that, Princess," he added, turning to the divan. "Yes, Mr. Steel. And I said then, I say now, I do not agree." "If you would be more explicit," said Ware, feeling helpless. Steel took no notice of him for the moment. "Then if it's not the money I don't know what the motive can be." He turned to Ware. "See here, sir. This Wilson, whom- soever he may be, lived with the mother of Asher's ofiice- boy — he was her lodger. The boy told him about the money coming to Miss Kent. Afterwards the lad had a summons given him to serve on Morley. Wilson offered to take it, and did so. He removed his effects from Mrs. Benker's house — she's the mother of the lad — and went down to Rickwell. You know what happened there. Now if he didn't kill Miss Kent on account of the money, why did he ask the office-boy about the matter?" Giles shook his head. "I can't say," he said, "no more than I can explain why Miss Denham helped him to es- cape." "Well," — Steel scratched his chin — "I have an idea about that. But you must not be offended if I speak plainly, Mr. Ware." "I shall be offended if you speak evil of my friend Miss Denham." This was from the Princess, who raised PRINCESS KARACSAY 115 herself up with her eyes flashing angrily. "I will not have it," she said. "Then am I to say nothing?" asked Steel ironically. "Nothing against Miss Denham," put in Giles. "You are both rather difficult to deal with," remarked Steel, with a shrug. "However, I'll explain, and you can draw your own inferences. It seems from what Mrs. Benker said that Mr. Wilson was mostly out all night and in all day. Also he was frequently absent for a long time. He likewise took much interest in Society newspapers and in the movements of the aristocracy. He also wore on his chain an ornament — a red-enamelled cross, in fact." "What!" cried Giles, with a start, and he noted that the Princess started likewise, and that her face grew pale. "He wore a red-enamelled cross," repeated Steel imper- turbably, "on his watch-chain. Mrs. Benker had been in the service of the late Lady Summersdale when the dia- monds of that lady were stolen. She remembered that a red-enamelled cross had been found in the safe whence the jewels were taken. Wilson was amused at this. He said that the cross was the emblem of a charitable society from which he received a weekly sum. Well" — he hesi- tated and looked at his listeners — "that clue came to an end. I lost sight of Wilson. I then went to look for The Red Cross — the yacht, I mean !" "What has the yacht to do with Wilson ?" asked Ware angrily. "If you remember, sir, I told you that Wilson was the man who served the summons on Mr. Morley, and who, as I beheved, killed Miss Kent. He afterwards fled with Miss Denham and went on board the yacht. Is not that the case, sir?" "So far as I can judge, it is," muttered Giles reluc- tantly. ii6 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Well, then," went on Steel triumphantly, while the Princess — as Giles observed — listened intently, "I looked after that yacht. I could not find her, but I am looking for her now. That is why I am in the countr)'. I came up this morning from Deal, and I go back there to-mor- row. I find, sir, that this yacht puts in at various places every now and then." "Most yachts do." "Yes, sir. But while most yachts are at anchor in a place does a burglary invariably occur? No, sir, wait," for Giles had sprung to his feet. "Lady Summersdale's place was on the seashore. Her diamonds were stolen. At the time this yacht was at anchor in the bay. A red cross was found in the safe. The boat is called by that name. Several times I find that when the yacht has been at a certain place a burglary has occurred. This man Wil- son wears a red cross on his watch-chain. Now, sir, I believe that he is one of a gang of burglars — that the cross is a sign. This explains his interest in the Society pa- pers. He wants to find out where the best swag is to be found, and " "But what has all this to do with my friend Anne?" cried the Princess. Steel shrugged his shoulders. "I sav nothing," he re- plied. "You can draw your own inferences." "Do you mean to say that Miss Denham " "I say nothing," interrupted Steel, catching up his hat. "Mr. Ware, I am at your service when you want me. Princess !" He bowed and went out. As the outer door closed Giles and his hostess looked at one another. "The man's a foul liar," burst out Giles furiously. "Yes." The woman was very pale. "Still, my friend Anne once told me " PRINCESS KARACSAY 117 'Told you what?" "What I will tell you if you come again," she said un- der her breath, and suddenly left the room. She did not return. CHAPTER XII MRS. parry's tea SIX months had passed away since the death of Daisy. The grass was now green above her grave. Where she had fallen there had she been buried beside her father, and the villagers often talked of the tragedy, and pointed out to strangers the spot where it had taken place. But she who had killed the girl — they still considered Anne guilty — had never been brought to justice. From the day she had fled on Ware's motor-car nothing had been heard of her. No one troubled about the dead girl. Daisy had not been ver}' popular during her life, and now that she was gone her name was scarcely mentioned. For a time Mrs. Morlcy had placed flowers on the green mound, but after her return from Brighton had desisted. The grass grew long, and the path beside the grave green. A tombstone of white marble had been erected by Giles, and already that was becoming discolored. Daisy and her resting- place were forgotten. The poor child might have been dead a hundred years instead of six months. Only the tale of her death remained as a fireside legend, to be am- plified and improved upon as the years went by. MRS. PARRY'S TEA 119 After that one sensation life went on in Rickwell very much as it had always done. Morley and his wife re- turned to The Elms, and instead of having a new gover- ness the triplets went to school. Mrs. Morley never spoke of Anne or Daisy, and seemed to grow no more cheerful than before even in the perfect summer weather. She still looked pale and subdued, and her eyes still had in their watery depths an anxious expression. Everyone said that she was regretting the death of Daisy and the wick- edness of Anne ; but others remarked that she had looked just as haggard and worn before as after the tragedy. Mrs. Parry gave it as her opinion that the poor lady had a secret sorrow, and tried by skilful questioning to learn what it was. But either Mrs. Parry was not clever enough or Mrs. Morley had no secret to reveal, for the scandalmonger learned nothing. The only thing that Mrs. Morley said was that she missed her girls. Where- upon Mrs. Parry told her that she ought to be ashamed of herself, seeing that the three were getting a good edu- cation. However, this did not seem to console Mrs. Mor- ley much, for she wept copiously in her usual fashion. The good old lady returned to her cottage very much disgusted. It was rather a dull time for her, as she had heard no news for a long time. Everyone was so well- behaved that there was no scandal going, and Mrs. Parry began to think that she ought to pay a visit to town. Her cousin, Mrs. McKail, had already gone back to New Zealand with a fearful opinion of English Society, for Mrs. Parry had blackened the country just as though she had been a pro-Boer. Then one day her little maid, who was called Jane, and had the sharpest ears of any one in the village, brought in breakfast with the remark that Mr. Ware had returned. 120 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Mrs. Parry sat up in bed, where she always partook of the first meal of the day, and looked excited. "When did he arrive, Jane ? How does he look ? What does he say ?" Jane, being experienced, answered these questions cate- gorically. "He came last night, mum, with Trim, and looks a shadder of hisself, but said as he was glad to be home again, and what was the news." "Ho!" said Mrs. Parry, rubbing her nose with a tea- spoon, "wants to hear the news, does he? I'll ask him to tea to-morrow — no, to-day. You can take a note up to his place, Jane." "Yes, mum," replied Jane, who was friendly with Giles*" housekeeper. "And don't let me hear that you've been gossiping with the servants, Jane," snapped Mrs. Parry, who was un- usually cross in the morning, and looked an ogress with- out her wig. "I hate gossip. You have two ears and one mouth, Jane ; that means you should listen twice as much as you speak." "Yes, mum," replied Jane, who had long since taken the measure of her mistress's foot. Then she went to the door, and was recalled to be told that the cook was to make a cake. She was going again, and had to return for instructions about some particular tea. Then there was the silver to be especially polished, and various other mat- ters to be gone into, until Jane's head was whirling and her feet ached. She went down to the kitchen and told the cook that the old vinegar bottle was more fractious than usual. If only Mrs. Parry had heard her! But she thought Jane was afraid of her. whereas Jane was meek to her face and saucy behind her back. The old lady heard MRS. PARRY'S TEA 121 all the gossip in the neighborhood, but she never knew the remarks that were made in her own kitchen. However, it thus came about that Giles received a civil note from Mrs. Parry, asking him to come to afternoon tea. His first thought was to refuse, but he then reflected that if he wanted to learn all that had taken place during his absence, Mrs. Parry was the very person who could tell him. He knew she was an old cat, and had a danger- ous tongue. Still, she was much better than a newspaper, being, as her enemies said, more spicy. He therefore ac- cepted the invitation, and appeared in the little parlor about five. He had been for a ride, and having put his horse up at the inn, asked the old lady to excuse his dress. Mrs. Parry did so with pleasure. Giles was a splendid figure of a man, and looked a picture in his trim riding-dress. The old dame had an eye for a fine man, and cast an approving glance at his shapely legs and slim figure. But she frowned when her eyes rose to his face. It was thinner than she liked to see; there was not the old brave light in his eyes, and his fair moustache had lost the jaunty curl, which, to her romantic mind, had made him such a gallant lover. Giles was one of the few persons Mrs. Parr}- did not abuse, for his good looks and many courtesies had long since won her foolish old heart, although she would never confess to it. But then, Mrs. Parry was softer than she looked. "Who had been taking the heart out of you, Ware?" she asked in her gentlemanly way, which Giles knew and had often laughed at. "No one," he answered gloomily, "unless you call Fate some one." "I call Anne Denham some one," she replied coolly, "so you haven't found her yet, poor soul !" 122 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "No; I have looked everywhere. She has vanished like a bubble.'' "It is just as well. You couldn't possibly marry her and bring her back to Rickwell as your wife." "Why not? She is innocent. You said yourself that she was." "And I believe it. I have stood up for her all through. All the same, Ware, there would be a scandal if she came back as Mrs. Ware." "I don't care two straws for that," said Giles, flinging back his head. "No," she replied dryly, "I know that. You're an ob- stinate man, as any one can see with half an eye. Well, I'm glad to see you again. Sit down in the armchair yon- der and tell me what you have been doing all these months. No good, if your face is the index of your mind." Ware laughed, and sitting down managed to stow his long legs out of the way — no easy matter in the little room. Then he accepted a cup of excellent tea from Mrs. Parry and some of her celebrated cake. He did not reply immediately, as he did not want to tell her the truth. She had too long a tongue to be told anything which it was necessary to keep secret. He put her off as he best could with a general answer. "I have just been going to and fro." "Like Satan," sniffed I\Irs. Parry. "He's your model, is he? So you have been searching for Anne. Where?" "In Paris and in London. P.ut I can't find her." "She doesn't want you to find her," replied the old lady. "If she did. you would stand face to face with her soon enough." "That goes without the speaking," retorted Ware. "However, my adventures would not amuse you, Mrs. MRS. PARRY'S TEA 123 Parry. Suppose you tell me what has been going on in these parts?" "As if I knew anything of what was going on," said Mrs. Parry. Giles laughed. It was a fiction with Mrs. Parry that she never inter- fered with other people's business, whereas there was not a pie within miles into which she had not thrust her finger. But he knew how to start her tongue. "The Morleys, what about them?" "No change, Ware. The Tricolor has gone to school — I mean the three children — although I can't get out of the habit of calling them by that ridiculous name. Mrs. Mor- ley is as dismal as ever, and seems to miss Anne ver)' much." "As well she might. Anne was a good friend to her. And Morley?" "He has found a new friend," said Mrs. Parry trium- phantly, "a man called Franklin." "George Franklin !" cried Ware, startled, for he had heard all about the fortune from Steel. "He is the man who inherited the five thousand a year that Powell left to Daisy. Steel, the detective, told me, and, now I think of it, Morley told me himself when I was ill." "It's the same man. Ware. He has been here two months, and has taken the Priory." "That's a cheerful place," said Giles. "Why, it has been standing empty for three years." "I know. The last tenants left because they said it was haunted." "Rubbish! And by what?" "By a white lady. She wanders up and down the park, wringing her hands. But this Franklin evidently does not 124 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. believe in ghosts, for he has been there these two months, and never a word from liim." "What kind of a man is he?" "A tall man, with very black eyes, and a black beard. No," added Mrs. Parry, correcting herself, "I am wrong. He had a beard when he first came, and now has ihaved it off." "Have you seen much of him?" "Hardly anything. Morley is the only person with whom he is intimate in any degree. He hardly ever comes out, and when people call he is not at home. Why the man should have five thousand a year I can't make out. He does no good with it." "Any family? a wife?" "There is a daughter, I understand, but she is an in- valid, and keeps to her room or to the grounds. Weak in the head I should say, seeing how secluded her father keeps her." "Have you seen her?" "Yes, I came on her unexpectedly one day — or rather one evening. A short girl, with red hair and a freckled face. She looks a fool, and was dressed in all the colors of the rainbow. I don't wonder he — I mean Franklin — keeps her out of sight." "Humph !" said Ware, rather astonished by the extent of Mrs. Parry's information, "did the servants tell you all this?" "There are no servants," retorted Mrs. Parry, with scorn. "The man is a mean creature. You may not be- lieve me, Ware, but he has only three people to do the work of that huge house." "Then there are three servants?" "Some people might call them so," retorted Mrs. Parry, determined not to give up her point, "but they are a queer MRS. PARRY'S TEA 125 lot — not at all like the domestic I have been used to. An old man, who acts as a kind of butler; a woman, his wife, who is the cook; and a brat of fifteen, the daughter I expect, who does the general work. Oh, it's quite a fam- ily affair." ''A queer household. Does this man intend to stop long?" "He has taken the Priory on a seven years' lease." "And Morley visits him ?" "Yes, and he visits Morley. They are as thick as thieves. Perhaps they may be thieves for all I know." "Does this man Franklin go about much ?" "Not a great deal, but he occasionally takes a walk into the village. Sometimes he comes to church, and I be- lieve the rector has called. I wish any one but him had taken the Priory. We want company in this dull place. Will you call and see him ?" "I ought to," replied Ware slowly, "seeing that I was engaged to Daisy, who should have had the money. But from what you say I should not think Franklin would care to see me, and certainly he does not seem to be a de- sirable neighbor." "He's quite a mistake," snorted Mrs. Parry. "I tried to be friendly, but he gave me to understand that he pre- ferred his books to my company. He's a great reader, I understand." Evidently the good lady was somewhat sore on the sub- ject, for she shortly changed it for another. First she began to talk of Daisy ; secondly, wonder who had killed her, and why ; and thirdly, she made mention of the grave. "There's something queer about that," she remarked, rub- bing her nose, a sure sign of perplexity. "How do you mean, queer?" "Well " Mrs. Parry looked thoughtfully at her 126 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. guest. Then, before replying, she gave him permission to smoke. "I like the scent of a cigar about the place," she said ; "it reminds me of the Colonel. He was an awful man to smoke. The one habit I could not break him of." Giles lighted a cigarette willingly enough, and repeated his question. This time he got an answer that surprised him. "It's this way," said the old lady, taking up her knitting, "for some time the grave was quite neglected." "No, I gave orders that it should be looked after. I told Drake and my gardener. He's a friend of the sex- ton's, and I thought there would be no trouble." "There has been, then," said Mrs. Parry triumphantly. "The sexton and your gardener quarrelled, and have not been on speaking terms for months. Thomas, the sexton, won't let Williams do anything to the grave, and out of spite won't touch it himself, so it went to rack and ruin. The grass is long — or rather was long — and the flowers all gone to seed. A sore wreck, Ware." *T am most annoyed. I'll see about it to-morrow." "There is no need. The grave is now as neat as a new pin. The grass is clipped, and fresh flowers were planted a month ago. I never saw a grave better kept. Quite a labor of love." "And who has done this ? Mrs. Morley ?" "Pish !" said the old dame pettishly. "As though that woman had the gumption to do anything. Humph ! No one knows who has done it." "What do you mean ?" Ware looked puzzled. "What I say; I usually do. The grave has been put to rights. At first few people noticed it. because few go into that corner; but one day some imp of a choir boy saw the improvement, and told old Thomas. He came and looked at it, and others came. No one knew v/ho MRS. PARRY'S TEA 127 had put it to rights. Then," continued Mrs. Parry im- pressively, "it was discovered that it was done at night." "At night?" "Yes ; but no one seems to know by whom or at what time. Every morning some fresh improvement was noted. Some people watched, but saw no one coming. Yet when the watching was dropped there was something fresh done. It may be a brownie," added Mrs. Parry, with a sniff, "but it's a mystery. Even I can't find out the truth." "It's very strange," said Ware thoughtfully. "It's worse; it's improper," cried Mrs. Parry in her sternest voice. "I see no reason why such a thing should be done in the darkness of night. Though to be sure," she continued, rubbing her nose, "we have had moonlight lately." "I must see into this," said Ware, rising. "You'll find nothing. Everyone has watched, but to no purpose, my friend. Now the idiots talk of ghosts, and what not." "What do you think yourself?" asked Giles. "Why, that some one who loved Daisy better than you did has taken pity on her neglected grave, and " "Don't!" he cried, wincing. "I did my best to make her happy. The engagement was unfortunate." "The marriage would have been still more so. It is just as well the poor girl died. No, no, I don't blame you. But Anne " "Don't say a word against Anne," he interrupted quick- ly. Then, before his hostess could reply, he took his leave. "I must be going now." Mrs. Parry was not at all pleased, but knowing how far she could go, decided that she had reached the limit of his forbearance. With feminine craft she smothered her resentment, and parted from him in the most cordial man- 128 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. ner. All the same, she still held to her opinion that Anne was not the wife for her favorite. Giles went at once to the churchyard to view Daisy's grave. He found everything in good order. The grass was shorn, the llovvers were blooming, and the white mar- ble of the stone had been cleansed carefully. Wondering who had performed this labor of love, he returned to get his horse. At the gate of the churchyard a tall man passed him with bent head. As he brushed past the young squire he raised it suddenly. Giles saw a clean- shaven face, large black eyes, and a sallow complexion. He stood aside to let him pass. "Rather a nice day," said Ware pleasantly. "Very," responded the man, and continued his walk. Giles knew very well that he was the new tenant of the Priory. It was in his mind to speak to him, but on second thoughts he decided to do so on a more propitious occasion. Standing at the gate, he looked thoughtfully after the retiring figure. There was something familiar about it and about the face of the man. His eyes especi- ally aroused a vague recollection in his mind, but he could not, as the saying goes, "put a name to it." But while walking to the inn it suddenly flashed into his brain that this was the man whom he had seen in church on that fatal New Year's Eve. "It's the clerk," he said breathlessly. "He has shaved his beard. He is Wilson, the man who fled with Anne, who murdered poor Daisy I" CHAPTER XIII MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS THE more Giles thought about Franklin, the more he was certain that he was the man for whom search was being made. To be sure there was no distinguishing mark of identification ; the evidence that he was one and the same amounted to the facts that he had large black eyes, and that his height and figure resembled the so- called Wilson, Moreover, although other people in the village had seen the clerk, no one but Giles seemed to recognize him. In fact, this recognition was rather due to an instinct than to any tangible reason. But in his own mind he w^as convinced. He recalled how the man had suddenly removed his scarf as though he were stifling on that night. He remembered the wan face, the dark, anxious face, and the rough red beard and hair. To be sure Franklin was dark-haired and sallow in complexion ; also he w^as clean-shaved, and even when not — according to Mrs. Parry — had worn a full black beard. But the red hair and whiskers might have been assumed as a disguise. Giles did not know very well how to verify his suspicions. Then he determined to confide in Morley. Steel had told him that the proprietor of The Elms was an ex-detective, and Giles thought that for the 130 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. sake of avenging Daisy's death he might be induced to take up his old trade. With this idea he called at The Ehns. Morley was delighted to see him and welcomed him in the most cheerful manner. He and Giles were always good friends, and the only subject of contention between them was the question of Annes g^jilt. Morley still be- lieved that the governess had committed the crime and asked after her at the outset of the interview. "Have you found her?" he asked, just as Mrs. Parry had done. Giles knew quite well of whom he was speaking. "No, I have not," he answered; "and if I had I certainly should not tell you." "As you please," replied the little man complacently ; "you will never see the truth." "It is not the truth. But see here, Morley, what is the use of our discussing this matter? You believe Miss Den- ham to be guilty. I am certain that she is innocent. Let the difference between us rest there. Still, if I could prove the innocence of Miss Denham " "I should be more than delighted," responded Morley quickly, "and would make all the amends in my power for my unjust suspicions. But you have first to prove them unjust. Believe me. Ware, I admired Miss Denham as much as my wife did, and thought much of her. I defended her from poor Daisy's aspersions, and would have stood her friend all through but for this last act of hers. Well ! Well, don't get angry. I am willing to be shown that I am wrong. Show me." Giles reflected for a moment, then went straight to the point. "I have been with Steel," he said abruptly, "and he tells me that you have been in the detective line yourself." MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS. 131 Morley nodded. "Quite so," he answered, "although I asked Steel to say nothing about it. I am a private gen- tleman now, and I don't want my former occupation to be known in Rick well. A prejudice exists against detec- tives. Ware. People don't like them, because every one has something to conceal, and with a trained man he or she is afraid lest some secret sin should come to light." "It may be so, although that is rather a cynical way of looking at the matter. But you are really Joe Bart?" "Yes. And quite at your service. Only keep this quiet." "Certainly. I quite appreciate your reasons for want- ing the matter kept quiet. But see here, ]\Ir. Morley — I shall call you so." "It will be better," replied the ex-detective cheerfully ; "and I have a sort of right to the name. It was my mother's." "Very good. Then as Morley why should you not ex- ercise your old skill and help me to find out who killed Daisy?" "I should be delighted, and what skill remains to me is at your service. But I am rusty now, and cannot follow a trail with my old persistence or talent. Besides, my mind is made up as to the guilt " "Yes, yes," interposed Giles hastily; "you think so, but I don't agree with you. Now listen to what I have to tell you, and I am sure you will think that it was the man who killed Daisy." "But he had no motive." "Yes, he had. I'll tell it to you concisely." Morley looked surprised at Giles' insistence, but nodded without a word and waited for an explanation. Giles related all that he had learned about Wilson, and how Steel had connected him with the supposed clerk who had 132 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. served the summons on Morley. Then he proceeded to detail Steel's belief that the so-called Wilson was a bur- glar, and mentioned the fact of the yacht with the strange name. Morley listened in silence, but interrupted the recital with a laugh, when the scarlet cross was mentioned in connection with the robbery at Lady Summerdale's house. "Steel has found a mare's nest this time," he said cool- ly. "He knew better than to come to me with such a cock and bull story, although he has imposed very suc- cessfully on you and on that Hungarian Princess you talk of. I had the Summersdale case in hand." "I know. Steel said that you carried it through suc- cessfully." Morley demurred. "I don't know if you can say that I was successful. Ware. It was not one of my lucky cases. I certainly got back the jewels. I found them in their London hiding-place, but I did not catch one of the thieves. They all bolted." "In TJi-e Red Cross yacht." "Oh, that's all rubbish," said Morley frankly ; "there were a great many yachts at Bexleigh on that occasion. I don't remember one called The Red Cross. And even if one of that name was there, it does not say that it is the same that was ofT Gravesend the other day." "Six months ago," corrected Giles gravely; "but how do you account for the fact that wherever that yacht has been burglaries have taken place?" "I can't account for it. and Steel has yet to prove that there is any connection between the yacht and the rob- beries. He thinks it a kind of pirate ship evidently. Not a bad idea, though," added Morley musingly; "the goods could be removed easily without suspicion on board a good-looking yacht." MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS 133 "And that is what has been done." "It wasn't in the matter of Lady Summersdale's jewels," retorted the ex-detective. "I found those in Lon- don, and have reason to beheve that they were taken there by train. Besides, there was no connection between the yacht and that robbery." "Steel said that a scarlet cross was found in the safe, and " "And," interrupted Morley, "there you have the long arm of coincidence. Ware. That cross belonged to Lady Summersdale, and was one of the trinkets left behind. If you want proof on this point, you have only to ask Lady no, I forgot, she is dead. However, I daresay her son or daughter will be able to prove that the cross was hers." Giles was much disappointed by this explanation, which seemed clear enough. And if any one should know the truth, it would be the man who had taken charge of the case. Failing on this point, Giles shifted his ground. "Well, Morley," he said, "I am not very anxious to prove this man Wilson a burglar. He is a murderer, I am sure, and the greater crime swallows up the lesser." "That sounds law," said Morley, lighting a cigar. "Well, Ware, I don't see how I can help you. This man Wilson, whether he is innocent or guilty, has van- ished; and, moreover, his connection, if any, with the Summersdale robbery of ten years ago won't prove him guilty of my poor ward's death." "I only mentioned that to show his connection with the yacht at Gravesend. But as to this Wilson, I know where he is." Morley wheeled round with an eager light in his eyes. "The devil you do. Where is he?" "At the Priory." 134 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Is this a joke?" cried Moriey angrily. "If so, it is a very poor one, Ware. The man who lives at the Priory is my friend Franklin " "He is also the man who was in the church on New Year's Eve — the man who killed Daisy, as I truly be- lieve." Giles went on to state what his reasons were for this belief. All at once Moriey started to his feet. "Ah ! I know now why something about him seemed to be familiar to me. What a fool I am ! I believe you are right, Ware." "What? That he is this man Wilson?" "I don't know what his former name was," replied IMorley, with a shrug, "but now you mention it I fancy he is the man who served the summons on me." "You ought to know," said Ware dryly; "you saw him in this room, and in a good light." "True enough, Ware ; but all the time he kept his col- lar up and that white scarf round his throat. His chin was quite buried in it. And then he had a rough red — wig, shall we say? and a red beard. I didn't trouble to ask him to make himself comfortable. All I wanted was to get him out of the way. But I remember his black eyes. Franklin has eyes like that, and sometimes I catch myself wondering where I have seen him before. He tells me he has lived in Florence these six years and more. I fancied that when I was a detective I might have seen him, but he insisted that he had not been to London for years and years. He originally came from the States. And I was once a detective! Good Lord, how I have lost my old cleverness ! But to be sure I have been idle these ten years." "Then you think Franklin is this man ?" "I think so. but of course I can't be sure. Naturally he will deny that he is, and I can't prove the matter myself. MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS 135 But I tell you what, Ware," said Morley suddenly, "get that woman Wilson lodged with down, and see if she will recognize Franklin as her former lodger. She, if any one, will know him, and perhaps throw him off his guard." Ware rose. "A very good idea," he said. "I'll write to her at once. I am certain this is the man, especially as he has inherited Daisy's money. He killed her in order to get the fortune, and that was why he kept asking Asher's office boy about money left to people." "Ah !" Morley looked thoughtful. "So that was the motive, you think?" "I am sure of it, and a quite strong enough motive for many people," said Ware grimly. "If Mrs. Benker can verify this man, I'll have him arrested. He will have to explain why he came here instead of the office boy, and why he fled on that night." "Yes, yes!" cried Morley excitedly. "And he might perhaps explain why the governess helped him to escape." "Ah !" Giles' face fell. "So he might ; but if he dares to inculpate her in this crime " "Ware," said Morley, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "if I were you I should do nothing rash. Every one thinks that Miss Denham is guilty. If this Franklin is the man who fled with her, he will accuse her to save himself. Certainly there is the motive of the money, but that might be explained away." "I don't see how it can." "Nor I; still, there is always the chance. Again, he may take alarm — always presuming he is the man — and fly. I tell you what. Ware, you bring Mrs. Benker down, and take her into the grounds of the Priory. I will ar- range that Franklin, without suspecting her or us, shall meet her, accidentally, at some place where we can hide. Then we can overhear if he is the man or not." 136 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "He'll deny that he is." "Why should he ? There is nothing, so far as he knows, that Mrs. Bcnker can lay hold of. If he is the man he will admit his identity, if not, he will explain who he is. Whereas if we show ourselves and show that we suspect him, he will be on his guard. No, Ware; better let the woman meet him by chance." "It's a good plan," replied Giles, shaking hands hearti- ly with Morley. 'T am delighted that you should co- operate with me. We will yet prove that Anne is inno- cent." "I hope so," cried his host, slapping Giles on the back. "Ofif with you, Ware, to do your part. I'll attend to Franklin. But say no word of our plan to any one. Upon my word," cried he jubilantly, "I feel just as though I were in the profession again." And thus laughing and joking, he sent his visitor away in the best of spirits. Delighted that he had some one to help him, Giles lost no time in performing his part of the business. He sent a letter to Mrs. Benker, asking her to come down for a couple of days. It was his intention to invite Alexander also, as the boy would also be useful in identifying Frank- lin as his mother's former lodger; but since leaving Asher's Alexander had been taken up by Steel, who saw in him the makings of a good detective. If Alexander learned anything he would certainly tell his master, and then Steel would come down to interfere. Ware did not want him to meddle with the matter at present. He wished to be sure of his ground first, and then would ask the assistance of the detective to have Franklin arrested. Of course, he had every confidence in Steel, but for the above reason he determined to keep his present action quiet. Also, Steel was on the south coast, hunting for evidence concerning The Red Cross yacht, and would not MRS. BENKER REAPPEARS iZ7, be pleased at being taken away to follow what might prove to be a false trail. Ware therefore said nothing to Mrs. Benker about what he desired to see her, but simply asked her to come down on a visit. There was a prospect of his having another visitor, and one he did not much wish to meet. This was the Princess Karacsay. Several times he had called to see her, but she had always put off her promised explanation on some plea or another. Instead of attending strictly to the business which had brought them together, she made herself agreeable to Giles — too agreeable he thought, for he had by this time got it into his head that Olga Karac- say was in love with him. He was not a vain young man, and tried to think that her attentions were merel}- friend- ly; but she was so persistent in her invitations and — in the slang phrase — made such running with him, that he grew rather nervous of her attentions. Several times she had proposed to come on a visit to Rickwell, but hitherto he had always managed to put her off. But her letters were becoming very imperative, and he foresaw trouble. It was quite a relief to Giles when the post arrived with- out a letter from this too persistent and too charming lady. However, she did not trouble him on this especial occa- sion, and he was thus enabled to give all his time to Mrs. Benker. That good lady duly arrived, looking more severe than ever and with several new tales about the iniquities of Alexander. She expressed herself greatly obliged to Giles for giving her a day in the country, and got on very well with the old housekeeper. But when Ware told her his reason for asking her, Mrs. Benker grew rather nerv- ous, as she did not think how she could support an inter- view, and, also, she wanted to know what the interview was for. To some extent Giles had to take her into his 138 A COIN OF EDWARD \II. confidence, but he suppressed the fact that he suspected Franklin of the crime. He merely stated that Steel — who had introduced Giles to Mrs. Benker — had reason to be- lieve that the so-called Wilson was wanted by the police. All that Mrs. Benker had to do was to see if Franklin was really her fomier lodger. After much talk and many objections, she consented to do what was wanted. This was to wander in the park of the Priory and meet Franklin accidentally near a ruined summer-house, near what was known as the fish-ponds, Morley had arranged that Franklin should meet him there, and was to be late, so as to afiford Mrs. Benker an opportunity of speaking to the man. Morley and Ware concealed themselves in the summer-house and saw Mrs. Benker parading the grass. Shortly Franklin arrived, walking slowly, and Mrs. Ben- ker saluted him. CHAPTER XIV TREASURE TROVE < ^ f BEG your pardon, sir," said Mrs. Benker to the new- 1 comer, "but I do hope I'm not Why" — she changed her tone to one of extreme surprise — "if it ain't Mr. Wilson !" The man did not move a muscle. Ware, who was watching, was disappointed. At least he expected him to start, but the so-called Wilson was absolutely calm, and his voice did not falter. "You are making a mistake ; my name is Franklin." "It isn't his voice," muttered the landlady, still staring; "but his eyes are the same." "May I ask you to go?" said Franklin. "You are tres- passing." Mrs. Benker shook her rusty black bonnet. "You may change your hair from red to black," she declared, "and you may shave off a ginger beard, but you can't alter your eyes. Mr. Wilson you are, and that I'll swear to in a court of law before a judge and jury. Let them say what they will about me being a liar." "Of what are you talking, woman ?" "Of you, sir ; and I hope I may mention that you were more respectful when you boarded with me." 140 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Boarded with you !" Franklin stared, and spoke in an astonished tone. "Why, I never boarded with you in my life!" "Oh, Air. Wilson, how can you? What about my little house in Lambeth, and the dear boy — my son Alexander — you were so fond of?" "You are raving." "I'm as sane as you are," said the landlady, her color rising, "and a deal more respectable, if all were known. Why you should deny me to my face is more than I can make out, Mr. Wilson." "My name is not Wilson." "And I say it is, sir." Both the man and the woman eyed one another firmly. Then Franklin motioned Mrs. Benker to a seat on a mossy bank. "We can talk better sitting," said he. "I should like an explanation of this. You say that my name is Wilson, and that I boarded with you." "At Lambeth. I'll take my oath to it." "Had your boarder red hair and a red beard?" "Red as a tomato. But you can buy wigs and false beards. Eyes, as I say, you cannot change." "Had this Wilson eves like mine ?" asked Franklv eager- "There ain't a scrap of difference, Mr. Wilson. Your eyes are the same now as they were then." "One moment. Had this man you think me to be two teeth missing in his lower jaw — two front teeth?" "He had. Not that his teeth were of the best." Franklin drew down his lip. "You will see that I have all my teeth." "H'm!" Mrs. Benker sniffed. "False teeth can be bought." TREASURE TROVE 141 "I fear you would find these teeth only too genuine," said the man quietly. "But I quite understand your mis- take." "My mistake ?" Mrs. Benker shook her head vehement- ly. "I'm not the one to make mistakes." "On this occasion you have done so; but the mistake is pardonable. Mrs. — Mrs. — what is your name ?" "Mrs. Benker, sir. And you know it." "Excuse me, I do not know it. The man who was your lodger, and whom you accuse me of being, is my brother." "Your brother !" echoed the landlady, amazed. "Yes, and a bad lot he is. Never did a hand's turn in all his life. I daresay while he was with you he kept the most irregular hours?" "He did — most irregular." "Out all night at times, and in all day? And again, out all day and in for the night ?" "You describe him exactly." Mrs. Benker peered into the clean-shaven face in a puzzled manner. "Your hair is black, your voice is changed, and only the eyes remain." "My brother and I have eyes exactly the same. I guessed your mistake when you spoke. \ assure you I am not my brother." "Well, sir," said the woman, beginning to think she had made a mistake after all, "I will say your voice is not like his. It was low and soft, while yours, if you'll excuse me mentioning it, is hard, and not at all what I'd call a love- voice." Grim as Franklin was, he could not help laughing at this last remark. "I quite understand. You only confirm what I say. My brother has a beautiful voice, Mrs. Benker ; and much harm he has done with it amongst your sex." "He never harmed me," said Mrs. Benker, bridling. "I 142 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. am a respectable woman and a widow with one son. But your brotlicr " "He's a blackguard," interrupted Franklin; "hand and glove with the very worst people in London, You may be thankful he did not cut your throat or steal your furni- ture.'' "Lord!" cried Mrs. Benker, astounded, "was he that dangerous ?" "He is so dangerous that he ought to be shut up. And if I could lay hands on him I'd get the police to shut him up. He's done no end of mischief. Now I daresay he had a red cross dangling from his watch-chain." "Yes, he had. What docs it mean?'' "I can't tell you ; but I'd give a good deal to know. He has hinted to me that it is the sign of some criminal fraternity with which he is associated. I never could learn what the object of the cross is. He always kept quiet on that subject. But I have not seen him for years, and then only when I was on a flying visit from Italy." "Have you been to Italy, sir?" "I live there," said Franklin, "at Florence. I have Hved there for over ten years, with an occasional visit to Lon- don. If you still think that I am my brother, I can bring witnesses to prove " "Lord, sir, I don't want to prove nothing. Now I look at you and hear your voice I do say as I made a mistake as I humblv beg your pardon for. But you are so like Mr. Wilson ^" ' "I know, and I forgive you. But why do you wish to find my brother? He has been up to some rascality, I suppose?" "He has, though what it is I know no more than a babe. But they do say," added Mrs. Benker, sinking her voice, "as the police want him." TREASURE TROVE 143 "I'm not at all astonished. He has placed himself with- in the reach of the law a hundred times. If the police come to me, I'll tell them what I have told you. No one would be more pleased than I to see Walter laid by the heels." "Is his name Walter ?" "Yes, Walter Franklin, although he chooses to call him- self Wilson. My name is George. He is a blackguard." "Oh, sir, your flesh and blood." "He's no brother of mine," said Franklin, rising, with a snarl. "I hate the man. He had traded on his resem- blance to me to get money and do all manner of scoundrel- ly actions. That was why I went to Italy. It seems that I did wisely, for if I could not prove that I have been abroad these ten years, you would swear that I was Wal- ter." "Oh, no, sir — really." Mrs. Benker rose also. "Nonsense. You swore that I was Walter when we first met. Take a good look at me now, so that you may be sure that I am not he. I don't want to have his ras- calities placed on my shoulders." Mrs. Benker took a good look and sighed. "You're not him, but you're very like. May I ask if you are twins, sir?" "No. Our eyes are the only things that we have in common. We got those from our mother, who was an Italian. I take after my mother, and am black, as you see me. My brother favored my father, who was as red as an autumn sunset." "He was indeed red," sighed Mrs. Benker, wrapping her shawl round her; "and now, sir, I hope you'll hum- bly forgive me for " "That's all right, Mrs. Benker. I only explained myself 144 A COIN OF. EDWARD VII. at length because I am so sick of having my brother's sins imputed on me. I hope he paid your rent." "Oh, yes, sir, he did that regularly." "Indeed," sneered Franklin ; "then he is more honest than I gave him credit for being. Because if he had not paid you I should have done so. You seem to be a de- cent woman and " "A widow !" murmured Mrs. Benker, hoping that he would give her some money. But this IMr. Franklin had no intention of doing. "You can go now," he said, pointing with his stick to- wards an ornamental bridge ; "that is the best way to the high-road. And, Mrs. Benker, if my brother should re- turn to you let me know." "And the police, sir," she faltered. "I'll tell the police myself/' said the man, frowning. "Good day." Mrs. Benker, rather disappointed that she should have received no money, and wishing that she had said Walter Franklin had not paid her rent, crept off, a lugubrious fig- ure, across the bridge. Franklin watched her till she was out of sight, then took off his hat, exposing a high, bald- ish head. His face was dark, and he began to mutter to himself. Finally, he spoke articulately. "Am I never to be rid of that scamp?" he said, shak- ing his fist at the sky. "I have lived in Italy — in exile, so that I should not be troubled with his schemes and ras- calities. I have buried myself here, with my daughter and those three who are faithful to me, in order that he may not find me out. And now I hear of him. That woman. She is a spy of his. I believe she came here from him with a made-up stor}\ Walter w'ill come, and then I'll have to buy him off. I shall be glad to do so. But to be blackmailed by that reptile. No! I'll go back to Florence TREASURE TROVE I45 first." He replaced his hat and began to dig his stick in the ground. "I wonder if jMorley would help me. He is a shrewd man. He might advise me how to deal with this wretched brother of mine. If I could only trust him?" He looked round. '1 wonder where he is ? He promised to meet me half an hour ago." Here Franklin glanced at his watch. 'T'll walk over to The Elms and ask who this woman, Mrs. Benker, is. He may know." All this was delivered audibly and at intervals. Giles was not astonished, as he knew from Mrs. Parry that the man was in the habit of talking aloud to himself. But he was disappointed to receive such a clear proof that Franklin was not the man who had eloped with Anne. Even if he had been deceiving Mrs. Benker (which was not to be thought of), he would scarcely have spoken in soliloquy as he did if he had not been the man he asserted himself to be. Giles, saying nothing to his companion, watched Franklin in silence until he was out of sight, and then rose to stretch his long legs, Morley, with a groan, followed his example. It was he who spoke first. "I am half dead with the cramp," said he, rubbing his stout leg, "just like old times when I hid in a cupboard at Mother Meddlers, to hear Black Bill give himself away over a burglary. Ay, and I nearly sneezed that time, which would have cost me my life. I have been safe enough in that summer-house — but the cramp — owch !" "It seems I have been mistaken," was all Giles could say. "So have I, so was Mrs. Benker. We are all in the same box. The man is evidently very like his scamp of a brother." "No doubt, Morley. But he isn't the brother himself." "]\Iore's the pity, for Franklin's sake as well as our 146 A COIN OF EDWARD MI. own. He seems to hate his brother fairly and would be willinjj^ to give him up to the law — if he's done anything." "Well," said Ware, beginning to walk, "this Walter Franklin — to give him his real name — has committed mur- der. I am more convinced than ever that he is the guilty person. But I don't see what he has to do with Anne. Her father is certainly dead — died at Florence. Ha ! Mor- ley. Franklin comes from Florence. He may know — he may have heard." Morley nodded. "You're quite right, Ware. I'll ask him about the matter. Humph !" The ex-detective stop- ped for a moment. "This involuntary confession clears George Franklin." "Yes. He is innocent enough." "Well, but he inherited the money," said Morley. "It's queer that his brother, according to you, should have killed the girl who kept the fortune from him." "It is strange. But it might be that Walter Franklin intended to play the part of his brother and get the money, counting on the resemblance between them." ■'That's true enough. Yet if George were in Italy and W'ithin hail, so to speak, I don't see how that would have done. Why not come to The Elms with me and speak to Franklin yourself? He will be waiting for me there." "No," answered Ware after some thought, "he evi- dently intends to trust you, and if I come he may hold his tongue. You draw him out, Morley, and then you can tell me. Mrs. Benker " "I'll say nothing about her. I am not supposed to know that she is a visitor to Rickwell. He'll suspect our game if I chatter about her. Ware. We must be cautious. This is a difficult skein to unravel." "It is that," assented Giles dolefully, "and we're no further on with it than we were before." TREASURE TROVE H7 'Nonsense, man. We have found out Wilson's real name." "Well, that is something certainly, and his brother may be able to put us on his track. If he asks about ]Mrs. Benker, say that she is a friend of my housekeeper. You can say you heard it from your wife." "I'll say no more than is necessary," replied Morley cunningly. "I learned in my detective days to keep a shut mouth. Well, I'll be off and see what I can get out of him." When Morley departed at his fast little trot — he got over the ground quickly for so small a man — Giles wan- dered about the Priory park. He thought that he might meet with the daughter, and see what kind of a person ^he was. If weak in the head, as Mrs. Parry declared her to be, she might chatter about her Uncle Walter. Giles wished to find out all he could about that scamp. He was beginning to feel afraid for Anne, and to wonder in what way she was connected with such a blackguard. However, he saw nothing and turned his face home- ward. Just as he was leaving the park on the side near the cemetery he saw something glittering in the grass. This he picked up, and was so amazed that he could only stare at it dumb-founded. And his astonishment was little to be wondered at. He held in his hand a half- sovereign with an amethyst, a diamond, and a pearl set into the gold. It was the very ornament which he had given Anne Denham on the night of the children's party at The Elms — ^the coin of His Most Gracious Ma- jesty King Edward VII. CHAPTER XV AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW THE discovery of the coin perplexed Giles. It was certainly the trinket attached to the bangle which he had given Anne. And here he found it in the grounds of the Priory. This would argue that she was in the neighborhood, in the house it might be. She had never been to the Priory when living at The Elms, certainly not after the New Year, when she first became possessed of the coin. He decided, therefore, that at some late period — within the last few days — she had been in the park, and there had lost the coin. It would, indeed, be strange if this trifling present which he had made her should be the means of tracing her to her hiding-place. And that hiding-place was the Priory. Giles felt sure of this. If she was in the neighborhood and walking about openly, she would be discovered and arrested. Therefore she must be concealed in the house. She had gone off with Walter Franklin, and here she was under the wing of his brother George. The case grew more mysterious and perplexing as time went on. Giles did not know which way to turn, or what advantage to reap from this discovery. Certainly, if he could get into the Priory and search AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 149 the house, he might discover Anne. Or, it might be, that if he confided in Franklin and told him of his love for Anne, the man might tell the truth and let him have an interview. But the matter took some thinking out. He decided to let it remain in abeyance at present. After kissing the coin — had it not been Anne's? — he slipped it into his waistcoat-pocket and returned home. Here a surprise, and not a very agreeable one, awaited him. He reached his house just in time to dress for dinner, and found a letter, which had been delivered by hand. It was from Olga Karacsay, and announced that she and her mother were stopping at the village inn. She asked Giles to come over that evening, as she wished to introduce him to the elder Princess. Ware was vexed that this inopportune visit should have taken place at the moment. He did not wish to be introduced to Olga's mother, and had more to do than to chatter French to a foreign lady. However, being naturally a most polite young gentleman, he could not refuse the request, and after dinner proceeded to the village. Morris, the landlord of "The Merry Dancer" — which was the name of the inn — was a burly man, and usually extremely self-important. On this night he excelled him- self, and looked as swollen as the frog in the fable. That two Princesses should stay in his house was an honor which overwhelmed him. To be sure, they were foreign- ers, which made a difference; still, they had titles, and plenty of money, and for all Morris knew — as he observed to his flustered wife — might be exiled sovereigns. Mor- ris received Giles in his best clothes, and bowed himself to the ground. "Yes, Mr. Ware, their Highnesses are within — on the first floor, Mr. Ware, having engaged a salon and two bedrooms." 150 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "I didn't know you had a salon, Morris!" said Giles, his eyes twinkling. "For the time being I call it such," replied the land- lord grandly. "My daughter is a French scholar, Mr. Ware, and called the sitting-room by that name. Me and Mrs. Morris and Henrietta Morris wish to make their Highnesses feel at home. Allow me to conduct you, sir, to the salon of their Highnesses. The garkong is en- gaged with the dejune, along with the femmie de cham- bers, who also waits." "You are quite a French scholar, Morris." "Henrietta Morris, my daughter — or I should say, mon filly — has instructed me in the languidge, sir. This way to the salon, sir," and Morris marshalled the way with the air of a courtier of Louis XI\^. Giles entered the sitting-room, which was pretty and quaint but extremely unpretentious, bubbling over with laughter. Olga came forward, and catdiing sight of his face, laughed also as she shook hands with him. "I see you know the jest," she said. "Morris informed me of it as soon as I entered his door. Why have you come down to this dull place, Prin- cess ?" "Ah, no" — she made a pretty gesture of annoyance — "you must to-night call me Olga " "I should not think of taking such a liberty," said Giles quickly. Olga pouted. "Then, Mademoiselle Olga," said she, "my mother you must call the Princess Karacsay. Will you allow me, Mr. Ware, to present you to my mother?" She led the young man forward, and he found himself bowing to a stout lady, who at one time must have been beautiful, but in whom age had destroyed a great amount AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 151 of her good looks. She was darker than her daughter, and had a languid, indolent air, which seemed to account for her stoutness. Evidently she never took exercise. Her face was still beautiful, and she had the most glori- ous pair of dark eyes. Her hair was silvery, and con- trasted strangely with her swart face. One would have thought that she had African blood in her. She wore a yellow dress trimmed with black lace, and many jewels twinkled on her neck and arms and in her hair. Her tastes, like her appearance, were evidently barbaric. In this cold, misty island she looked like some gorgeous trop- ical bird astray. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Ware," she said in soft, languid tones, yet with a kind of rough burr ; "my daugh- ter has often talked of you." Her English was very good, and there was little trace of a foreign accent. Yet the occasional lisp and the frequent roughness added a piquancy to her tones. Even at her age — and she was considerably over fifty — she was undeniably a fascinating woman : in her youth she must have been a goddess both for looks and charm. Olga was regal and charming, but her mother excelled her. Giles found himself becoming quite enchanted with this Cleopatra of the West. "You have been long in England. Princess ?" he asked. "But a week. I came to see Olga. She would have me come, although I dislike travelling. But I am fond of Olga." "It is more than my father is," said Olga, with a shrug; "he would not come. I suppose he thinks that I have disgraced him." "My dear child," reproved her mother, "you know what your father's opinion is about this wild life you lead." "A very hard-working life," retorted her daughter; 152 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "singing is not easy. For the rest, I assure you I am respectable." "It is not the hfe for a Karacsay, my dear. If you would only come back to Vienna and marry the man your father " "I choose for myself when I marry," flashed out Olga, with a glance at the uncomfortable Giles. "Count Taroc can take another wife." The Princess, seeing that Giles found this conversa- tion somewhat tr\'ing, refrained from further remark. She shrugged her ample shoulders, and sipped her coffee, which she complained was bad. "You do not know how to make coffee here," she said, unfurling a fan, "and it is cold, this England of yours." "Princess, to-night is warm !" expostulated Ware. "Nevertheless I have had a fire made up," she answered, pointing with her fan to the end of the room ; "the land- lord was so surprised." "He no doubt considered it to be an eccentricity of Her Highness," said Olga, with a laugh ; "a cigarette, mother?'' The Princess took one languidly, and moved her chair closer to the fire. The night — to Giles — was quite hot, and he could scarcely bear the stifling heat of the room. Windows and doors were closed, and the fire flamed up fiercely. Also some pastiles had been burnt by Olga, and added a heavy, sensuous scent to the atmosphere. Ware could not help comparing the room to the Venusberg. and the women to the sirens of that unholy haunt. Which of the two was Venus he did not take upon himself to de- cide. "T am used to the tropics," explained the Princess, puffing blue clouds of smoke. "I come from Jamaica; AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 153 but I have been many years in Vienna, and in that cold Hungary," she shivered. "Ah, now I see, Princess, why you speak English so well," said Giles, and he might also have added that he now guessed why she was so Eastern in appearance and so barbaric in her taste ?or crude, vivid colors. She had negro blood in her veins he decided, and Olga also. This would account for the fierce temperament of the latter. "I left Jamaica when I was twenty-two," explained the Princess, while her daughter frowned. For some reason Olga did not seem to approve of these confidences. "Prince Karacsay was travelling there. He came to my father's plantation, and there he married me. I am sorry I did not marry someone in Jamaica," she finished lazily. "My dear mother," broke in her daughter petulantly, "you have always been happy in Vienna and at the Castle." "At the castle, yes. It was so quiet there. But Vien- na, ach ! It is too gay, too troublesome." "You don't like noise and excitement, Princess?" She shook her imperial head with the gesture of an angry queen. "I like nothing but rest. To be in a hammock with a cigarette and to hear the wind bend the palms, the surf break on the shores. It is my heaven. But in Hungary — no palms, no surf. Ach !" She made a face. "You are different to Mademoiselle Olga here," said Ware, smiling. "Quite different," cried Olga, with a gay laugh. "But I am like my father. He is a bold hunter and rider. Ah, if I had only been born a man ! I love the saddle and the gun. No wonder I got away from the dull Society life of Vienna, where women are slaves." "I like being a slave, if rest is slavery," murmured her mother. 154 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "Would not your father let you ride and shoot, Made- moiselle Olga?" "Ah yes, in a measure. But he is an Austrian of the old school. He does not believe in a woman being inde- pendent. My mother, who is obedient and good, is the wife he loves." "The Prince has been very kind to me. He does not trouble me." "He wouldn't let the air blow too roughly on you, mother," said Olga, with a scornful laugh. "He is a descendant of those Magyars who had Circassian slaves, and adores them as playthings. I am different." "You are terribly farouche, Olga," sighed the elder woman. "Your father has forgiven you, but he is still annoyed. I had the greatest difficulty in getting his per- mission to come over here." "He doubtless thinks you will be able to bring me back to marry Count Taroc," replied Olga composedly, "but I stay." She looked at Giles again, as if he were the rea- son she thus decided. To change the conversation he stood up. "I fear I fatigue you ladies," he said, looking very straight and handsome. "You will wish to retire." "Certainly I retire," said the Princess. "But my daugh- ter " "I shall stop and talk with Mr. Ware." "Olga !" murmured her mother, rather shocked. "I fear I have to go," said Giles uneasily. "No. You must stop. I have to talk to you about Anne." "Who is this Anne?" asked the Princess, rising lazily. "No one you know, mother. A friend of Mr, Ware's. Now vou must retire, and Katinka shall make you com- fortable." AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 155 "You will not be long, Olga ? If your father knew — " "Aly father will not know," broke in her daughter, lead- ing the elder woman to the door. "You will not tell him. Besides" (she shrugged), "we women are free in Eng- land. What would shock my father is good form in this delightful country." The Princess murmured something to Giles in a sleepy tone, and lounged out of the room bulky but graceful. When she departed and the door was closed, Olga threw open the windows. "Pah !" she said, throwing the pas- tiles out of doors, "I cannot breathe in this atmosphere. And you, Mr. Ware?" "I prefer untainted airs," he replied, accepting a cigar- ette. "The airs of the moors and of the mountains," she ex- claimed, drawing herself up and looking like a huntress in her free grace. "I also. I love wide spaces and chill winds. If we were in the Carpathians, you and I, how savage our life would be !" "An alluring picture. Princess." "I am not Princess at present. I am Olga !" "Mademoiselle Olga," he corrected. "And what about Anne?" She appeared annoyed by his persistence. "You think of nothing but that woman," she cried impetuously. "Your friend, mademoiselle." "Ach ! How stiffly you stay that ! My friend ! Oh, ves. I would do much for Anne, but why should I do all?" "I do not understand, mademoiselle." With a strong effort she composed herself, and looked at him smiling. "Is it so very difficult to understand?" she asked softly. "Very difficult," replied Ware stolidly. 156 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "None so blind as those who won't see," muttered Olga savagely. "Quite so, mademoiselle." He rose to go. "Will you permit me to retire?" "No! I have much to say to you. Please sit down." "If you will talk about Anne," he replied, still stand- ing. "From what you said at our first interview, she evidently knows something of the Scarlet Cross, and " "I don't know what she does know. She was always careful." "I thought she spoke freely to you," "Oh, as a woman always does speak to one of her own sex. With reservations, Mr. Ware. Still, I could tell you something likely to throw some light on the mystery." "If you only would." "It would not lead you to her hiding-place." "What if I knew it already, mademoiselle?" She stood before him, her hands clenched, her breath- ing coming and going in quick, short gasps. "You can't know that." "But you do," he said suddenly. "I may, or I may not," she replied quickly; "and if you know, why not seek her out ?" "I intend to try." "To try ! Then you are not sure where she is ?" said Olga eagerly. "Before I answer that, mademoiselle, I must know if you are my friend or Anne's — enemy," and he looked at her straightly. "You have put the matter — the position in the right way. I am your friend and Anne's — no, I am not her enemy. But I won't give her to you. No, I won't. You must guess that I " "Mademoiselle," he interrupted quickly, "spare your- AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW 157 self and me unnecessary humiliation. You know that I love Anne, that I love no one but her. I would give my life to find her to prove her innocence." ''Even your life will not bring her to you or save her from the law. Giles" — she held out her arms — "I love you." "The heat of the room is too much for you. I will go." "No!" She flung herself between him and the door. "Since I have said so much, I must say all. Listen ! I have been making inquiries. I know more about the Scar- let Cross and Anne's connection with it than you think. Her fate is in my hands. I can prove her innocence." "And you will — you will !" "On condition that you give her up." "I refuse to give her up," he cried angrily. "Then she will be punished for a crime she did not commit." "You know that she is innocent." "I can prove it, and I shall do so. You know my price." "Olga, do not speak like this. I would do much to save Anne " "And you refuse to save her," she replied scornfully "I refuse to give her up !" "Then I shall do so — to the police. I know where she is." "You do — that is why you are down here." "I did not come here for that, but to see you. To make ^ my terms. I love you, and if you will give her up, I shall save her " "I can save her in spite of you," said Giles, walking hastily in the door. "Your presence here confirms a fancy that I had. I can guess where Anne is, and I'll save her." 158 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "You will bring her to the light of day and she will be arrested. I alone can save her." "You will. Oh, Olga, be your better self, and " "You know my price," she said between her teeth. "I can't pay it — I can't." "Then you must be content to see her ruined." "You are a devil !" "And you arc most polite. No; I am a woman who loves you, and who is determined to have you at any cost." "Can you really save Anne?" "I can." "Will you give me time to think?" A flash of joy crossed her face. "Then I am not so indifferent to you as you would have me suppose," she said softly. "You are not so — no, no ! I can't say it ! Give me time ! give me time !" He opened the door. "Wait, wait !" she said, and closed it again. "I will give you two days. Then I return to London. If I have your promise, Anne shall be set free from this accusa- tion. If you tamper in the meantime with her — for you may know where she is — I'll have her arrested at once." "I will do nothing," he said in muffled tones. "Swear! swear!" She placed her hands on his shoul- ders. Giles stepped back to free himself. "I will swear noth- ing," he said in icy tones. "I take my two days." So saying he opened the door, but not quickly enough to prevent her kissing him. "You are mine ! you are mine !" she exclaimed exult- ingly. "Let Anne have her liberty, her good name. I have you. You are fnine ! — mine !" "On conditions," said Giles cruelly, and went away^ quickly. CHAPTER XVI THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS GILES left 'The Merry Dancer" quite determined to deceive Olga if it were possible. No faith should be kept with such a woman. She had power, and she was using it unscrupulously for selfish ends. Moreover, come what might, Giles could not bring himself to make her his wife. He loved Anne too deeply for that. And then he began to ask himself if he were not selfish also, seeing that he would not lose his own gratification to save the woman he loved. Nevertheless, he could not contem- plate giving up Anne with equanimity, and set his wits to work in order to circumvent the treacherous Olga. In the first place he now felt certain that Anne was in the neighborhood, and, as he shrewdly suspected, in the Priory. The discovery of the coin and the presence of Olga in the village made him certain on this point. In some way or another she had got to know of Anne's whereabouts, and had come here to make capital of her knowledge. If he consented to surrender Anne and make Olga his wife, she would probably assist Anne to escape, or else, as she asserted, clear her of complicity in the crime. On the other hand, should he refuse, she would then tell the police where the unfortunate governess was to i6o A COIN OF EDWARD VII. be found. It might be that Anne could save herself. But seeing tliat she had fled immediately after the murder, it would be difficult for her to exonerate herself. Also, the reason she had then to take the guilt upon her own shoul- ders might again stand in the way of her now clearing her character. Nothing was left but to marry Olga and so free Anne, or seek Anne himself. Ware determined to adopt the latter course as the least repugnant to his feelings. But Olga was no mean antagonist. She loved Giles so much that she knew perfectly well that he did not love her, and this knowledge taught her to mistrust him. As her passion was so great she was content to take him as a reluctant husband, in the belief that she, as his wife, would in time wean him from his earlier love. But she was well aware that, even to save Anne, he would not give in without a struggle. This being the case, she considered what he would do. It struck her that he would see if he could get into the Priory, for from some words he had let fall she was con- vinced that he thought Anne was concealed therein. Olga had her own opinion about that ; but she had to do with his actions at present and not with her own thoughts. For this reason she determined to watch him — to be in his company throughout the time of probation. Thus it happened that before Giles could arrange his plans the next day — one of which entailed a neighborly visit to Franklin — Olga made her appearance at his house, and expressed a desire to see his picture gallery, of which she had heard much. Her mother, she said, was coming over that afternoon to look at the house, which, as she had been told, was a model of what an English country- house should be. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS i6i Giles growled at this speech, being clever enough to see through the artifices of Mademoiselle Olga. 'The house is as old as the Tudors," he expostulated ; "your mother should look at a more modem one." "Oh, no," replied Olga sweetly. "I am sure she will be delighted with this one ; it is so picturesque." "I am afraid that I promised to pay a visit this after- noon." "Ah, you must put it off, Mr. Ware. When two ladies . come to see you, you really cannot leave them alone." "If the next day will do " "I don't think it will. My mother and I leave the next day. She is due in town to a reception at the Austrian Embassy." Ware made other excuses, but Olga would listen to none of them. She stopped all the morning and looked at the pictures, but she never referred to their conversation of the previous night. There was a tacit understanding between them that it should remain in abeyance until the time given for the reply of Giles was ended. Still, Ware could not forget that burning kiss, and was awkward in consequence. Not so Olga. She was quite cool and self-possessed, and although alone with him for close on two hours, did not show the least confusion. Giles, much disgusted, called her in his own mind "unmaidenly." But she was not that, for she behaved very discreetly. She was sim- ply a woman deeply in love who was bent on gaining her ends. Considering the depth of her passion, she re- strained herself very creditably when with the man she loved. Giles now saw how it was that she had defied her family and had taken her own way in life. "I won't stop to luncheon," she said, when he asked her; "but I and my mother will come over at three 1 62 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. o'clock." It was now close on two. "I am sure we shall have a pleasant afternoon." Giles tried to smile, and succeeded very well, consider- inj::;- what his feelings were at the moment. If he could only have behaved brutally, he would have refused the honor of the proposed visit, but it is difficult to be rude to a charming woman bent upon having her own way. Ware kicked as a man will, but ended in accepting the inevitable. Olga returned to the inn. and found the Princess seated on the sofa fanning herself violently. Mrs. Morris was in the room, fluttering nervously as she laid the cloth for luncheon. Olga looked at her mother. "Did you take your walk?" she asked. The Princess nodded. "I am very warm," she said. "What do you think now?" asked her daughter impa- tiently. "I think that you are a very clever woman, Olga," re- plied the Princess ; "but I am too hungry to talk just now. When I have eaten and am rested we can speak." "But just one word. Am I right?" "Perfectly right." This conversation was conducted in French, and Mrs. Morris could make nothing of it. Even if she had known the sense she would not have understood what it meant. However, Olga and her mother reverted to English for the benefit of the landlady, and chatted about their pro- posed visit to Ware's mansion. After that came lunch- eon. Shortly after three mother and daughter were with Giles. He received them with composure, although he felt quite otherwise than composed. The Princess pro- nounced him a charming young man. "And what a delightful place you have here!" she said, looking at the quaint Tudor house, with its grey walls THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 163 and mullion windows. "It is like a fairy palace. The Castle" — she meant her husband's residence in Styria — "is cruel-looking and wild." "It was built in the Middle Ages," said Olga. "I don't think any one was particularly amiable then." "I would rather have stayed in Jamaica," sighed the Princess, "Why did I ever leave it?" Olga, who always appeared annoyed when her mother reverted to her early life, touched the elder woman's el- bow. The Princess sighed again, and held her peace. She had a fine temper of her own, but always felt that it was an effort to use it. She therefore usually gave in to Olga. "It saved trouble," she explained. But her good temper did not last all the afternoon, and ended in disarranging Olga's plans. After a hearty after- noon tea on the lawn the Princess said that she did not feel well, and wished to go home. Olga demurred, but Giles, seeing the chance of escape, agreed that the Prin- cess really was unwell, and proposed to send them back to the inn in his carriage. Princess Karacsay jumped at the offer. "It will save me walking," she declared fretfully, "and I have done so much this morning." "Where did you go?" asked Giles, wondering that so indolent a woman should exert herself on such a hot day. "To some woods round a place they call the Priory." "To the Priory!" he exclaimed, astonished. "Do you know Mr. Franklin?" "My mother said the woods round the Priory," ex- plained Olga, with an annoyed glance at the elder lady. "She did not enter." "No," said the Princess, "I did not enter; I do not know the man. Oh, my dear Olga, do come back. I don't feel at all well." i64 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. *'I will order the carriage," said Giles, rising. "And you will come back with us?" "Really, you must excuse me, Mademoiselle Olga," he answered; "but even a country squire has his work to do." And with that he hurried away. In half an hour he had the satisfaction of seeing the carriage roll down his avenue with a very disappointed young lady frowning at the broad back of the coachman. Then he set about see- ing what he could do to circumvent her. It was too late to call on Franklin, as it was nearly six o'clock. Still, Ware thought he would reconnoitre in the woods. It was strange that the elder Princess should have been there this morning, and he wondered if she also knew of Anne's whereabouts. But this he decided was impossible. She had only been a few days in Eng- land, and she would not likely know anything about the governess. Still, it was odd that she should have taken a walk in that particular direction, or that she should have walked at all. Here was another mystery added to the one which already perplexed him so greatly. However, time was too precious to be wasted in solilo- quizing, so he went ofif post-haste towards the woods round the Priory. Since he wished to avoid observa- tion, he chose by-paths, and took a rather circuitous route. It was nearly seven when he found himself in the forest. The summer evenings were then at their longest, and under the great trees there was a soft, brooding twilight full of peace and pleasant woodland sounds. Had he gone straight forward, he would have come on the great house itself, centred in that fairy forest. But this was the last thing he wished to do. He was not yet prepared to see Franklin. He looked here and there to see if any human being was about, but unsuccessfully. Then he took his THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 165 way to the spot where he had found the coin of Edward VII. To his surprise he saw a girl stooping and search- ing. At once he decided that she was looking for the lost coin. But the girl was not Anne. Looking up suddenly she surveyed him with a startled air, and he saw her face plainly in the quiet evening light. She had reddish hair, a freckled face, and was dressed — as Mrs. Parry had said — in all the colors of the rainbow. Giles guessed at once who she was, and bowed. "Good evening, Miss Franklin," he said, lifting his hat, "you seem to be looking for something. Can I assist you ?" The damsel looked at him sternly and scowled. "You're trespassing," she said in rather a gruff voice. "I fear that I am," he answered, laughing ; "but you'll forgive me if I assist you in your search, won't you ?" "Who are you?" questioned Miss Franklin, quite un- moved by this politeness. "I never saw you before." "I have just returned from London. My name is Ware." "Ware!" echoed the girl eagerly. "Giles Ware?" "Yes. Do you know my name?" She took a good look at him, and seemed — he was vain enough to think so — rather to soften towards him. "I have heard Mrs. Morley speak of you," she declared bluntly. "Ah ! You have not heard a lady speak of me ?" Miss Franklin stared. "No, I never heard a lady talk of you," she replied, with a giggle. "What lady?" "The lady who is stopping in your house." Her eyes became hard, and she assumed a stony ex- pression. "There is no lady in the house but myself." "Not a lady who lost what you are looking for?" This time she was thrown off her guard, and became i66 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. as red as her hair. She tried to carry off her confusion with rudeness. "I don't know what you're talking of," she said, with a stamp and a frown! "you can just clear away off our land, or I'll set the dogs on you." "1 see. You keep dogs, do you ? Bloodhounds prob- ably?" "How do you know that?" asked Miss Franklin, star- ing. "Yes, we do keep bloodhounds, and they will tear you to pieces if you don't go." "You seem to forget that this is a civilized country," said Giles quietly. "If you set your dogs on me, I shall set the police on you." "The police!" She seemed startled, but recovered her- self. "I don't care for the police," she declared defiantly. "You might not, but Walter Franklin might." "Who is he ? Never heard of him." "Never heard of your uncle ?" said Giles, and then won- dered how he could let her know that he had heard it with- out confessing to the eavesdropping. It suddenly oc- curred to him that Franklin had — he supposed — on the previous day made a confidant of Morley. This supposi- tion he took advantage of. "Mr. Morley told me that your father had mentioned his brother." The girl started and thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean Uncle Walter," she said, after a pause. "Yes, but we never talk of him." This little speech did not ring quite true. It seemed as though the girl wished to back up the saying of her father, whether she believed it or not. "Is that why you pretended ignorance?'' he asked. "That was why," replied IMiss Franklin, with brazen assurance. She was lying. Giles felt certain of that, but he could not bring the untruth home to her. He suddenly revert- THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 167 ed to the main object of his interview, which had to do with the possibiHty of Anne being in the Priory. "What about that coin you are looking for?" "I am looking for no coin," she replied, quite prepared for him. "I lost a brooch here. Have you found it ?" "Yes," replied Giles, his eyes watchfully on her face. "It is an Edward VH. coin in the form of a brooch." He thought Miss Franklin would contradict this, but she was perfectly equal to the occasion. "You must have found it, since you know it so well. Please give it to me." "I have left it at home," he answered, although it was lying in his pocket-book, and that next his heart. "I will give it to you to-morrow if you tell me from whom you got it." "I found it," she confessed, "in the churchyard." "Ah !" A sudden light flashed into the darkness of Ware's mind. "By the grave of that poor girl who was murdered?" "I don't know of any murdered girl," retorted Miss Franklin, and looked uneasy, as though she were con- scious of making a mistake. "Yes you do, and you know the lady who cleans the stone and attends to the grave. Don't deny the truth." Miss Franklin looked him up and down, and shrugged her clumsy shoulders. "I don't know what you are talk- ing about," she declared, and with that turned on her* heel. "Since you will not take yourself off like a gentle- man, ril go myself" ; and she went. "Don't set the bloodhounds on me," called out Giles. But she never turned her head; simply went on with a steady step until she was lost in the gloom of the wood. Giles waited for a time. He had an idea that she was watching. By-and-by the feeling wore off, and know- i68 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. ing by tliis time that he was quite alone, he also departed. He was beginning- to doubt Franklin, for this girl had evidently something to conceal. He was sure that Anne was being sheltered in the house, and that it was Anne who cleaned the gravestone. Perhaps George Franklin was giving her shelter since she had helped his rascal of a brother to escape. Thus thinking, he went through the wood with the intention of going home. A glance at his watch told him it was after eight. Suddenly it occurred to him that it would be a good time to pay a visit to the graveyard and see if anything new Had been done to the grave. All the people were within doors at this hour, and the churchyard would be quiet. Having made up his mind, he walked in the direc- tion of the church and vaulted the low wall that divided that graveyard from the park. He saw Daisy's grave. Bending over it a woman. She looked up with a startled cry. It was Anne Denham, CHAPTER XVII PART OF THE TRUTH FOR a moment the lovers stared at one another in the luminous twilight. The meeting was so strange, the place where it took place so significant of the trouble that had parted them, that both were overcome with emo- tion. Anne was as white as the marble tombstone, and looked at him with appealing eyes that beseeched him to go away. But having found her Giles was determined not to lose her again, and was the first to find his tongue. "Anne!" said he, and stepped towards her with open arms. His voice broke the spell which held her chained to the ill-omened spot, and she turned to fly, only to find her- self on his breast and his dear voice sounding entreatingly in her ears. "Anne," he said in a hoarse whisper, "you will not leave me now ?" After a brief struggle she surrendered herself. There was no danger of any one coming to the churchyard at this hour, and since they had met so unexpectedly, she — like the tender, sweet woman she was — snatched at the blissful moment. "Giles," she murmured, and it was the first time he had heard her lips frame his name. "Giles !" 170 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. Again there was a silence between them, but one of pure joy and transcendental happiness. Come what mij:rht, nothing could banish the memory of that moment. They were heart to heart and each knew that the other loved. There was no need of words. Giles felt that here was the one woman for iiim ; and Anne nestled in those beloved arms like a wild bird sheltering from storm. But the storm which buffeted her wings would tear her from this refuge. The passionate delight of that second of Eden passed like a shadow on the sun dial. From heaven thy dropped to earth, and parted once more by a hand-breath, stared with haggard looks at one an- other. The revulsion was so great that Anne could have wept ; but her sorrow was so deep that her eyes were dry. For the gift of the world she could not have wept at that hour. But she no longer felt an inclination to fly. When she saw how worn and thin her lover looked, she knew that he had been suffering as much as she had, and a full tide of love swelled to her heart. She also had lost much of her beauty, but she never tliought of that. All she de- sired was to comfort ths man that loved her. She felt that an explanation was due to him, and this she deter- mined to give as far as she could without incriminating others. Taking his hand in her own, she led him some little distance from the grave of Daisy ; and they seated them- selves on a flat stone in the shadow of the church, and a stone's throw from the park wall. Here they could con- verse without being seen, and if any one came they could hear the footsteps on the gravelled path, and so be warned. And throughout that short interview Anne listened with strained attention for the coming step. At the outset PART OF THE TRUTH 171 Giles noted her expectant look and put his arm round her. "Dearest, do not fear," he said softly. ''No one will come ; and if any one does I can save you." "No," she replied, turning her weary eyes on him. "I am under a ban. I am a fugitive from the law. You cannot save me from that." "But you are innocent," he said vehemently. "Do you believe that I am, Giles ?" "Do I believe it ? Why should you ask me such a ques- tion ? If you only knew, Anne, I have never doubted you from the first. Never! never!" "I do know it," she said, throwing her arms round his neck. "I have known all along how you believed in my innocence. Oh, Giles, my darling Giles, how shall I be able to thank you for this trust ?" "You can, Anne, by becoming my wife." "Would you marry me with this accusation hanging over me?" "I would make you my wife at this moment. I would stand beside you in the dock holding your hand. What does it matter to me if all the foolish world think you guilty ? I know in my own heart that you are an inno- cent woman." "Oh, Giles, Giles!" Then her tears burst forth. She could weep now, and felt the better for that moment of joyful relief. He waited till she grew more composed, and then began to talk of the future. "This can't go on for ever, Anne," said he decisively; "you must proclaim your innocence." "I can't," she answered, with hanging head. "I understand. You wish to protect this man. Oh, do not look so surprised. I mean with the man you fled with — the man Wilson." 17-2 A COIN OF EDWARD VII. "I don't know any one called Wilson." "Anne!" — he looked at her keenly — "I implore you to tell me the truth. Who is this man you lied with to Gravesend — with whom you went on board the yacht?" "Is that known?" she asked in a terrified whisper. "Yes. A great deal is known." "Portia never told me that," she murmured to herself. "W1io is Portia?" "She lives at the Priory, and " "I see. She is the red-haired, freckle-faced girl — the daughter of Mr. Franklin. Morley told me that. Por- tia ! What a stately name for that dreadful young per- son !" "But indeed, Giles, she is a goo