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Indeed it seemed to her as if Miss Cheyne had but one obsession: to see the Cheyne Court jewels. Her inexplicable antipathy even against Ailsa Lorne seemed to have died a natural death. When Lady Margaret, albeit a trifle timidly, ventured to hint at a visit to her newly found friend, Miss Cheyne said pleasantly enough:

"Yes, if you like my dear, after we come back from London, then there is no reason at all why you should not see your friends."

To say that this lifted a load off the girl's mind, is to express the matter in the mildest terms imaginable. Her failure to hear either from Lady Brenton or her lover, as well as from Ailsa Lorne herself, had filled Lady Margaret's mind with strange forebodings. She almost felt that she would be willing to lose every stone among the heirlooms if her aunt could be made so much pleasanter to live with.

And downstairs, Miss Cheyne said aloud with a queer little chuckle, when the girl had left the room:

"See your friends? So you shall, my dear. After we come back!"

CHAPTER VII
IN THE TIGER'S CLUTCHES

Despite the mysterious fact that the Honourable Miss Cheyne's photo had been found in the dirty little shop in Crown Court, Drury Lane, Cleek could find no visible connection between it and the fact of the murder. Its presence was also speedily accounted for, owing to the information garrulously volunteered by Mrs. Malone. It appeared that "Madame" had been in the service of the Honourable Miss Cheyne. "Hupper 'ousemaid, she were," said that lady, "and when she left to get married, the mistress gave her half-a-crown and her photo to remind her wot a fool she was to do it. 'Er very own words, sir, not but what she wasn't 'appy enough – Still, it's a man wot's killed 'er, so the old girl wasn't far out."

"How do you know that?" asked Cleek, to whom she was talking at the time.

Mrs. Malone bit her lip.

"Stands to reason it was so, sir. I'll not be speaking the black word against anybody, but sure an' I belave I know the man what did it – "

"What's that? What do you mean?"

"Well, sir," said the woman, "I wasn't 'ere myself all day, but it might have been the man who used to come in 'ere and pump 'er all about 'er old 'ome and 'er first place – which was 'er last, too. It were Cheyne Court itself down on the river somewhere, I don't exactly know where, but poor 'Madame' was bred and born there, and loved the place like 'ome. This man was always a coming in, after he spotted that dratted photograph there. Talk, talk, talk 'e would. What was the place like and how far away was it? And ever so many more such-like questions. But Madame always shut up and once when 'e offered to buy the picture itself, she nearly broke his neck with a broom handle."

Cleek sat very still, his eyes half closed. To all appearances he was half asleep. But his thoughts were racing at topmost speed. So he was right. There was some connection between this murder and the Cheyne Court mystery; but what? What was it that this stranger wanted to learn, and why had he been so persistent in his inquiries? He could find no answer to his mental queries, and eventually he was obliged to own himself beaten. But that in nowise prevented his taking the impression of the finger-prints on the dagger with which the grim deed had been perpetrated. The case was left in the hands of the jury with the result that the verdict was one he had prophesied, "wilful murder against someone or persons unknown." Notwithstanding its practical passing into oblivion, Cleek felt that the case was connected in some way with the Cheyne Court mystery, and as he left the grimy regions of Drury Lane behind him his thoughts went back to Lady Margaret.

Meanwhile, the object of his solicitude was apparently far from needing it. "Lady Margaret Cheyne, the Honourable Miss Cheyne and maid," the latter, the furtive-faced "Aggie," had registered their arrival in a quiet little hotel in Craven Street, W. Once in London Miss Cheyne had shown an amazing knowledge of its thoroughfares and shopping centres, despatching the girl, in the company of Aggie, on delightful expeditions that sent the child, for she was little more, almost delirious with delight. After being pent up in the austere walls of that convent abroad it was small wonder that to have all the bewildering splendour of feminine fashions at her command turned her head a little.

Only one little thing gave her cause for dissatisfaction, and that was the presence of the ever-watchful Aggie.

"If only you would come, too, Auntie," she cried, on the third morning of their stay, previous to setting forth on another whirl of purchasing. "Aggie hasn't an atom of taste, you know. She would cheerfully let me buy a green hat to go with a mauve skirt, and I don't think even an orange blouse would upset her equanimity."

"Well, why should it?" demanded Miss Cheyne. "I like a bit of colour myself."

This coming from her aunt, whose clothes were always of the darkest and dowdiest combinations of gray or black that could be imagined, left Lady Margaret almost breathless.

"Don't be too long to-day," said Miss Cheyne, apparently totally unconscious of the effect her words had produced. "Don't forget that we have an appointment with the solicitors this afternoon, and I shall want all my energies to see you are not done out of those jewels."

Lady Margaret laughed gaily.

"No, I don't suppose they will like giving them up after all these years."

With a little nod she passed out and was soon on her way westward. In Trafalgar Square she stopped to stare skyward at the Nelson monument. So absorbed was she that she did not see the start of glad surprise which a stalwart young man gave as he came rushing to her side.

It was not, indeed, until the sound of her own name spoken in glad, joyous tones fell on her ears that she came back once more to her surroundings.

"Edgar," she said breathlessly, clapping her hands like a little child. "Isn't this just wonderful; meeting you like this? Why, where did you spring from, and why haven't you been near me?"

Without waiting for his reply she led him round till they found a seat on the stone steps.

"I jolly well haven't had a chance of seeing you, my darling," said the young man as he devoured the radiant young face with his eyes. "I've fairly haunted the grounds of Cheyne Court but didn't dare to face your old dragon after the drubbing she gave me last week. I suppose she's all right?" he asked, a little irrelevantly.

Lady Margaret looked at him in surprise.

"Why, of course she is all right. She has been good to me, though she seems queerer than ever. But, Edgar, what do you think, she says my jewels will be a good wedding present for us! What do you say to that?"

"What!" cried the young man. "Do you mean you tackled her – you brave darling. I wonder she didn't snap your pretty head off."

"I did expect an outcry, when I said I was going to marry you," she said, shaking her fair head, "but she said I might, and should have the Cheyne Court jewels, too."

"Considering they're your own property, my darling, that's just like her cheek," retorted Sir Edgar. "But I'm hanged if I can understand it, for when I saw her last, as I told you, she abused me like a pickpocket."

Lady Margaret laughed aloud in childish glee.

"Well, we'll just take the goods the gods send," said she. "She can keep the old jewels if she likes, if only she gives her consent to our marriage."

Her voice dropped tenderly upon the words, and the wild-rose colour bloomed for a moment in her cheeks until Sir Edgar, impetuous young man that he was, gave a hasty look round at the practically empty square and snatched the kiss he had been longing for ever since he had caught sight of her.

"And now," he said, when Lady Margaret, blushing deeper than ever, had reproved him for his audacity, "what are you going to do next?"

"Go back to the hotel, Maxell's, in Craven Street, and get ready for those horrid old lawyers," she responded, laughing, as she surveyed Aggie's broad figure some distance away. "Auntie won't rest till she gets those precious jewels home."

"Jove, Meg darling, but you don't mean to tell me you're going to be mad enough to take the Cheyne jewels back to that old rookery of a place?" exclaimed Sir Edgar.

"It does seem a bit of a risk," she admitted, "but Auntie is keen on it and I don't care so long as she lets me see you. I really must go now, Edgar. I shall have to go right back instead of shopping."

"I'm coming with you," Sir Edgar said, jumping to his feet. "I won't let you out of my sight if I can help it."

"But you must. I don't want Auntie to be upset again; now be a dear, sensible Edgar! See, here is Aggie, she's a new servant of Auntie's and I can see she is getting cross. I will get back, and when we return home this evening you must meet me on the terrace. I will talk Auntie into playing the fairy godmother."

There was no gainsaying the wisdom of this line of reasoning, and unwillingly enough the ardent young lover watched the figure of the girl he loved run lightly across the great square and vanish, with a parting wave, in the whirl of the Strand.

Meanwhile, Lady Margaret, back at the hotel, lost no time in acquainting her aunt of this chance encounter with her lover, but strangely enough, save for a gruff remark about the waste of time, Miss Cheyne was apparently content to waive her dislike of the Brenton family. The girl was too elated at this unexpected abeyance to grumble at her aunt's non-attention, or the haste with which lunch was partaken of in order to keep the dreaded legal appointment.

Once in the lawyer's grimy office, Miss Cheyne was curiously subdued, and her mien was that of one decidedly ill at ease.

It was Mr. Shallcott, the senior partner, a short-sighted old-fashioned gentleman who shook hands with the ladies and congratulated Lady Margaret on her "accession to her throne," as he jokingly put it.

His face, however, when she expressed her intentions of removing all the precious heirlooms down to Cheyne Court, was a study in dire dismay.

"But it's utter madness, my child!" he said gently. "Why, every jewel thief in Europe will be after them, don't you agree with me, Miss Cheyne?" he peered over at the old lady as she sat immersed in shadow.

"To a certain extent I do," was the amazing response, and coming from one who had been so intensely insistent on their removal it caused Lady Margaret's blue eyes to widen to their fullest extent.

As in a dream she heard her aunt continue blandly:

"But I think the child's whim may be safely granted, Mr. Shallcott, for I have had special safes made to hold them and they can be returned into your safe custody directly Lady Margaret is presented."

"Well, of course, my dear lady, it is no business of mine," responded the little lawyer tersely. "Your dear brother left them entirely at Lady Margaret's disposal, and if she has made up her mind to have them, well, I suppose a wilful young woman must have her way, eh?" he smiled a little at Lady Margaret's preoccupied face. "Perhaps I can persuade her to change her mind."

"No, no, certainly not," snapped Miss Cheyne. "Now, Margaret, speak up, and don't act like a child. You do want them, do you not?"

She glared across at the girl, who, fearing the wrath that would doubtless be vented upon her should she speak out, was impelled to answer in the affirmative and Mr. Shallcott became reluctantly content.

Therefore, orders were given to the clerk to get the cases out of the safe wherein they had been placed when fetched from the Safe Deposit Vault.

"There is no need for that ill-fated pendant, I hope?" he inquired anxiously.

"The Purple Emperor?" said Miss Cheyne. "Oh, yes, let her have it as well as the others; not a soul but ourselves will know of their removal from here, and I promise you they will come to no harm. You see," she whispered, "I am taking her to a big county ball next week, and, well, youth is youth, after all. She can only be young once."

Mr. Shallcott nodded in understanding, and with a little sigh of the futility of argument with a woman, allowed the fatal stone to be included.

Half an hour later an unpretentious, weather-stained portmanteau was bundled into the four-wheeler in which Miss Cheyne insisted on being driven to Waterloo Station. If the cabman had but known what he was handling, a bag, cheap by reason of its contents at half a million pounds sterling, he might have regarded it with more interest than he did.

It was nearly five when they reached Hampton. Lady Margaret's head ached unceasingly and she felt tired and worn with the strain of things. But Miss Cheyne was curiously elated. She talked and chuckled over her own jokes till the girl felt glad that it had given her so much pleasure to gaze on the family jewels. They might very well have been left to her during her own lifetime, even if they had to pass on to her niece when the aunt had gone beyond earthly vanities.

As they crawled down the lane in the cab, toward Cheyne Court, they passed Sir Edgar Brenton who had travelled down by the same train. His eyes met Lady Margaret's and she could have cried aloud at the relief of her lover's nearness.

John was awaiting their arrival and again she felt that twinge of doubt as she saw the ill-concealed maliciousness upon his face, and caught his question: "All right?" as he lifted the bag into the hall.

"Quite," was Miss Cheyne's remark. "We are tired, and Lady Margaret would like a cup of tea in her room, I am sure."

The girl started to deny this, but John had already vanished. Depressed and filled with sore foreboding, Lady Margaret ascended the staircase.

Once in her own room, she scolded herself for her doubts. "I am like a nervous cat!" she said to herself. "I don't care what Auntie says now, she may have the old jewels but I am going to meet Edgar."

Like a guilty schoolgirl, indeed she was little more than a child, she sped down the stairs, stopping, however, to look into the small ballroom whence issued sounds of uproarious laughter. And the sight which met her eyes filled her with unspeakable horror. One illuminating glance was enough. She turned and fled, speeding to the dining-room window, where on the terrace outside she knew her lover awaited her.

Her face was white and panic-stricken. Who were these dreadful people who laughed, joked, and drank with her aunt as though they were equal in station?

The horror of what she had seen seized her again. Forgetting all else in her mad desire to break away from this house forever, she jumped out upon the terrace, her shrill voice raised in despair:

"Edgar, Edgar, save me! save me!" she cried wildly and turned to fly. But her entry into the ballroom had been noticed by the occupants. They had stopped in their merriment and stared in dumb amazement at her unexpected appearance.

Like a flash they were upon her heels out on the terrace, and Sir Edgar himself, startled by the sudden turn of events, was only just in time to see the figure of the woman he loved struggling in the arms of a servant before she was dragged back and lost to his view. His furious assault on the glass took him into the room but there he was only to find a closed and locked door.

CHAPTER VIII
COMPLICATIONS AND COMPLEXITIES

The Cheyne Court affair, as it was to be called afterward in the days of its publicity, had faded in Cleek's mind, but he was to be reminded of it very speedily. Within three weeks of that memorable drive through the moonlit lanes of Hampton he entered the sacred precincts of Mr. Maverick Narkom's room to find him in deep conversation with a fair-haired, slightly built young man in whom he immediately recognized no less a person than Sir Edgar Brenton himself.

In a second of time Cleek had altered his identity so suddenly and completely that, thick-headed, dull-witted George Headland stood where a moment before Cleek had been. Mr. Narkom was quick enough to note the change, and introduced him accordingly. There was an undercurrent of excitement visible in his tones that Cleek was constantly aware of.

"This is Mr. George Headland, Sir Edgar, one of our sharpest men. I don't mind telling you, he'll soon get to the bottom of your little affair." He turned to Cleek and motioned with his hand in the young man's direction. "This is Sir Edgar Brenton. He's come from Hampton where there seems to be some mysterious goings on at a place – What did you say its name was, Sir Edgar?"

"Cheyne Court, Mr. Narkom, the Honourable Miss Marion Cheyne's place and the home of my fiancée Lady Margaret Cheyne. I tell you," he added excitedly, "she is in danger, and I mean to rescue her from the clutches of that old harridan before another day is over."

Mr. Narkom set the tips of his fingers together and nodded blandly.

"So you shall, Sir Edgar," he assented, as he turned to smooth some papers on his desk.

"Oho!" said Cleek to himself. "So there is that element in the case, eh?" Then he bowed to Sir Edgar. "P'raps you'll be good enough to tell me the facts, sir," he said, looking stolidly across the table.

Sir Edgar restrained himself with evident effort.

"They are only too few, Mr. Headland," he said irritably. "Lady Margaret has just returned from a convent school in Paris. In fact, she came back just three weeks ago to-morrow. I met her more than a year ago when my mother and I – we are neighbours, by the way – were staying in Paris, and we became engaged. I had no idea that Peggy, Lady Margaret I mean, was to return to England till I heard through my servant. For Miss Cheyne dislikes me intensely and – "

"Any reason for that, sir?" queried Mr. Headland with an air of bland politeness.

"Well, to a certain extent, yes," was the grudging reply. "My father, I believe, was engaged to her at one time, but finding her temper intolerable, made his escape, and Miss Cheyne has hated my mother and myself in consequence. When she heard from Peggy that we had met, and fallen in love with each other, she was furious, and kept my dear girl almost imprisoned in that confounded convent. It was impossible for us to hold any communication directly, but when I heard she was expected back, like an ass I rushed over to Cheyne Court, to beg permission to meet her at the station. This was refused. Indeed, the old wretch went so far as to threaten me with a revolver, and I believe she would have attacked me, too, had I not snatched it from her, and beat a retreat."

"And what time did you say that was?" put in Cleek with ill-concealed interest.

An innocent remark enough, but one Sir Edgar seemed to resent strongly.

"What the devil's that to do with you, I should like to know?" he demanded fiercely. "How dare you try to badger me with foolish questions! As a matter of fact, it was quite early in the day. Somewhere near lunch time, if you must know."

A little smile creased Cleek's face, but his tones were quite smooth as he said, "I see, sir; and you didn't go back?"

Again Sir Edgar flushed and frowned.

"No, I did not, sir," he retorted savagely. "I was at a dinner-party. And I haven't come here to be cross-examined by a common policeman. I want to know how I can get my fiancée out of that house."

Here Mr. Narkom flung himself into the breach.

"Has she come of age?" he asked quickly, and thereby voiced the thought that was passing in Cleek's own mind.

"Legally, no, and that is just the difficulty. By Lord Cheyne's will she takes possession of her property on her eighteenth birthday though she can only marry with the consent of Miss Cheyne. Now yesterday was her birthday, and by a sheer piece of good luck here in London I came across Lady Margaret herself and without Miss Cheyne. When she told me that they had come up to fetch all the family jewels and to remove them to Cheyne Court, you can imagine my feelings."

"Good Heavens," blurted out Cleek, involuntarily startled by this announcement. "Do you mean to tell me two helpless women have risked burdening themselves with such priceless jewels down in a lonely place like Cheyne Court? Why, every sneak thief in Europe could attack it – " He broke off sharply, for Sir Edgar was looking at him in a startled way that made Cleek mentally kick himself for having been momentarily thrown off his guard and betraying his own knowledge of the place in question. "Surely someone could have prevented it!" he concluded weakly.

"No, that is just what they could not do," responded Sir Edgar. "I saw the family lawyer but he told me that Peggy has the right to do what she likes with her own fortune, the only thing Lord Cheyne had to leave her, but I certainly agree with Mr. Shallcott that it was at that old harridan of an aunt's instigation."

"What made him think that?" Cleek asked.

Sir Edgar frowned.

"Mr. Shallcott couldn't define it," he responded, "only he felt that if he had seen her alone he could have persuaded her to have left them or at least the bulk of them in safety. Especially the very valuable pendant – "

"Not the Purple Emperor!" blurted out Cleek. Once more he betrayed more knowledge than he had meant to in the beginning.

To his surprise it seemed as if the young man's face became almost gray with fear. "You know of that stone, Mr. Headland?" Cleek scratched his ear.

"Heard of it, sir? Lor, bless yer, we policemen have to pass a regular examination in all the famous jewels of history and that stone is amongst them," he lied glibly. "And if there are thieves who know the 'Emperor' is loose, so to speak, the quicker your young lady and it part company, the better for her, I say."

"Yes, that's it. She is in danger, that's why I came to the Yard. She shrieked out to me, just as I broke the glass in the window."

"What's that?" rapped out Cleek. "Broke the glass of the window, you say? Whose window and why did you break it?"

"Because she was afraid. Because she wanted me to run away with her and keep her safe from those devils in Cheyne Court!"

Cleek's eyes shot a look of sympathy.

"Suppose you tell us all about it, Sir Edgar," he said in a kindly tone, "then we'll be able to get to the bottom of it all the sooner."

"I ran from one side of the house to the other," Sir Edgar went on. "But every door and window seemed to be bolted and barred. At last I smashed in the dining-room door with a spade I found outside and rushed through the house, but it was absolutely empty!"

"Empty!" chimed in Mr. Narkom, excitedly, while Cleek sucked in his breath.

"Absolutely empty!" said Sir Edgar; "as regards human beings, that is. I tell you, man, I went nearly mad with the horror of it, and the fear for my darling girl! There was not a sign, no trap-doors or panels, nothing, and I simply had to give up in the dark, and now I want your help! By Heaven they shall suffer if a hair of that angel's head is so much as touched – the devils. I don't care if Miss Cheyne is killed, she deserves it, but Peggy – "

He broke down, turning his haggard face in his hands and his shoulders shook spasmodically.

A brief moment and Sir Edgar pulled himself together with a jerk.

"Sorry," he gulped, apologetically, "made an ass of myself, but you can't think what a night I've spent – "

"That's all right, sir," said Mr. Headland with an air of the proper respect due from him. "But I don't think as there's anything to be done till me and my mates come down and have a peep at the place. That's about it, don't you think so, sir?" He turned to Mr. Narkom, who, though puzzled by Cleek's strange aloofness, still knew his methods too well to do anything else but agree with him.

"Certainly, Headland," he returned. "We'll go down to Hampton as quickly as you like."

"I think it would be best for the young gentleman to get back to Hampton first, and we'll come down and look round casual like," said Mr. George Headland in an off-hand manner. "Ten chances to one but wot the young lady's tied up in one of the upper rooms, don't you know."

"Now I never thought of that!" threw in Sir Edgar quickly. "Yes, you're right. I will get back and leave it in your hands."

"And you may safely do so," said Mr. Narkom, shaking the young man's hand sympathetically as he took his departure.

"What do you think about it, Cleek?" he cried excitedly, when the door had closed.

"Think? I think a good many things, my dear fellow," retorted that gentleman serenely, "and one of them is, why didn't Sir Edgar break the dining-room door down at once before he made that fruitless rush around the house. He might have known that the doors would be locked at evening time."

"I never thought of that!" said Mr. Narkom. "Still, I don't see what that has to do with it. You are not insinuating that the man would harm his own sweetheart? Where is the incentive?"

"The Purple Emperor might be, or its value," was the reply. "Mind, I am not saying it is so, but I would like to know the young gentleman's financial status. Secondly, I would like to know why he has made no effort to see the girl this past fortnight since she has been back. Don't forget I met him that night, when a murder was committed at Cheyne Court. For I still hold that that woman was dead when I found her in the ballroom and the young gentleman's story about a revolver which he snatched away from her in the afternoon is all tommy-rot. The weapon was lying by her side when I saw her, and I'll take my oath there was a revolver in his own pocket when I lurched up against him in the lane. No, my friend, there are one or two points about Sir Edgar Brenton's tale that I should like to see cleared up satisfactorily, and I think I'll betake myself down to the Hampton Arms where you can join me."

Speaking, he gave a little friendly nod to Mr. Narkom, writhed his features into their semblance of the stolid policeman once more, and strode from the room.

Once outside the portals of Scotland Yard, Cleek looked keenly around at the casual people who invariably appear to haunt the precincts of the law. There was the usual street loafer and errand boy, but half-concealed by an abutting arch there stood the figure of a man, evidently on the watch for someone. Cleek, with his usual caution, slouched past, then crossed so as to get a better view.

For a second Cleek paused, then switching on his heel, turned and walked back, past the watcher once more, and into Scotland Yard. That the man outside was waiting for someone to come out was obvious, but for whom? Cleek gave vent to a little laugh. "A dollar to a ducat but whom he waits for is Lieutenant Deland," he said to himself, "and he shall have his wish."

He dashed lightly up the stairs again to Mr. Narkom's room and locked the door behind him.

"You never mean to let him see you!" said the Superintendent blankly when Cleek had related his story.

"That's just what I do mean. Give me time to make the change. That man saw Lieutenant Deland go in, and he shall see Lieutenant Deland come out. You can follow with the limousine if you like."

A minute later he sallied forth, and the little one-sided smile looped up his face as he saw the watcher detach himself from the shadowing wall and follow in his wake, unconscious, however, that he, too, was being shadowed in his turn by Mr. Narkom in the car. It was not until they emerged upon the open embankment that Cleek turned to see his pursuer. To his supreme astonishment, the man had disappeared!

Cleek laughed to himself as he strode onward toward Mr. Narkom and the limousine which had slowed down some distance ahead. There was certainly something up, but what that something might be he was not so sure.

"Mr. Narkom," he said, as he threw open the door of the car and climbed in beside the Superintendent, "the plot thickens. That man was the butler at Cheyne Court."