Chapter III: Part 3

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

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

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

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

Wilfrid shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*CHAPTER XIII*

*AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE*

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

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

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

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

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

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

The negro hesitated and appeared to be confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*CHAPTER XIV*

*RUSSELL EXPLAINS*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swan Russell chuckled as if something amused him greatly.

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

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

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

Russell's reply was to the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A look of surprise crossed Russell's face.

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

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

Russell chuckled.

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

*CHAPTER XV*

*THE REAL THING*

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

"Now tell me your story," Russell suggested.

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

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

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

Russell smote his hand vigorously on the cushions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Wilfrid whispered.

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

"Are you not well?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*CHAPTER XVI*

*THE YELLOW HAND*

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

"He interests you?" Wilfrid asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice glanced uneasily at her companion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beatrice leaned towards her companion.

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

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

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

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

*CHAPTER XVII*

*THE DIAMOND MOTH*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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