Kitabı oku: «The Mandarin's Fan», sayfa 12

"What," cried Olivia, "does Mr. Burgh dare. Why he accuses Dr. Forge, himself. Rupert certainly wrote to the detective Mr. Rodgers, but Mr. Burgh has to substantiate his statement."

Miss Pewsey jumped up. "What," she said, much more her own evil self, "did Clarence accuse my Theophilus? It's a lie – a lie. I have kept silence too long – much too long."

"About what?"

"About the murder," screamed Miss Pewsey, "it was Clarence who killed my Sophia – yes – you may look and look Olivia – but it was Clarence himself. He took the tie from the coat-pocket. I told him, you had given it to him, and – "

"But he gave it to Dr. Forge."

"He did not. Clarence took Sophia out on to the steps – at least he appointed to meet her there, to tell her about the fan. Then he strangled her, thinking your husband would be accused. Theophilus came on Clarence when he was picking up the fan. Sophia held it in her death grip, and it was some time before he could get it loose. Theophilus came, and hearing steps, Clarence ran away down to the beach. Then he returned to the ball-room by the front of the hotel."

"But the fan?"

"Theophilus Forge has it," said Miss Pewsey, setting her face, "and I expect he has taken it with him."

"Why didn't you tell this at the inquest."

"Because I didn't. Clarence is my own sister's son. I could not see him hanged. He had to hold his tongue, although he wanted the fan back again. But I insisted that Theophilus should make the money out of it. This is Clarence's revenge. Because the fan is kept from him he threatens Theophilus; oh Olivia, do ask your husband to leave the matter alone. I will give up that mortgage – "

"I can do nothing," said Olivia, "it isn't in my husband's power. He has written to Rodgers – "

"But he has not told him anything," said Miss Pewsey eagerly.

"No. He merely asked him to call."

"Then he shall see me, and I'll tell him of Clarence's wickedness. But the fan – the fan – we'll get the money and Theophilus will come back to be loved and respected. I don't love him, but I see we can make a lot of money together. The fan," said Miss Pewsey counting on her lean fingers, "the money from Lo-Keong – the money of Sophia and – "

"Oh," cried Olivia in disgust, "go away you miserable creature, and think of the hereafter."

Miss Pewsey gave a shrill laugh. "You can't help me, and your husband can't help me, so I'll go. But when I come back here, it shall be as mistress. I hate you Olivia – I have always hated you – I – I – oh you" – she could utter no more, but gasping, shook her fist and ran out of the window and down the avenue with an activity surprising in a woman of her years.

After dinner and while they were seated in the library, Olivia told Rupert of Miss Pewsey's visit and accusation. He declined to believe the tale. "If Burgh was guilty he wouldn't have brought an accusation against Forge," he said, "as the doctor, if this is true, knows the truth. And Forge, if innocent, would not have cleared – "

While Ainsleigh was thus explaining, the door was burst open and Mrs. Petley, white as chalk, rushed in. "The ghost – the ghost," said she dropping into a chair, "the monk – in the Abbey."

Anxious to learn if there was any truth in these frequent apparitions reported by Mrs. Petley, Rupert left the swooning woman to the care of his wife and departed hastily from the room. Calling old Petley, he went out of the front door across the lawn and into the cloisters. Petley, hobbled almost on his heels with a lantern. The young man stopped at the entrance to the cloisters, and listened. It was raining hard and the ground was sopping wet. But beyond the drip of the rain, and the sighing of the trees, no sound could be heard. Snatching the lantern from Petley, Rupert advanced boldly into the open, and swung the light to and fro and round about. He could see no ghost, nor any dark figure suggestive of Abbot Raoul.

"Try the black square," piped the feeble voice of Petley, behind.

With a shrug Rupert did so. He thought that the housekeeper was mistaken as usual, and that the ghost was the outcome of her too vivid imagination. Walking deliberately to the black square where Abbot Raoul had been burnt three hundred years before, he swung the light over its bare surface. In the centre he saw something sparkle, and stooped. Then he rose with a cry. It was a fan. Rupert picked it up, opened it, and looked at it in the lantern light. There were the four beads and half a bead and the green jade leaves. The very fan itself.

CHAPTER XIX
A Visitor

How came the fan there – and on the accursed square of ground where no grass would grow? Rupert was not superstitious, yet his heart gave a bound, and for the moment he felt sick. This fan was the cause of much trouble in the past, it had cost one woman her life, and it might yet claim another victim. With the fan in his hand, and the yellow light of the guttering candle in the lantern gleaming on its beauty, he stood stupidly staring, unheeding the feeble piping of Petley's voice, as he peered in at the ruined archway.

"What's the matter, Master Rupert?" questioned the old butler with a shiver, "have you seen It?"

"No," said Rupert at length, and he hardly knew his own voice so heavy and thick it was, "there's nothing to be seen."

A cry came from the old man. "Don't stand on that accursed ground, Master Rupert," he said, almost whimpering, "and to-night, of all times."

"Why to-night," said Rupert, retreating back to the arch.

"Any night," shivered Petley putting his hand on his young master's arm and drawing him out of the cloisters, "it's not a good place for an Ainsleigh to be in at night. The Abbot – "

"John, I don't believe in the Abbot."

"But Anne saw him – or It. She's not the one to tell a lie."

"Mrs. Petley is deceived in some way." Rupert considered a moment, and thrust the fan into his pocket. In the darkness, and because he turned aside the lantern light, old Petley had not seen that anything had been picked up. "I'm going to search round," said Rupert.

The butler gave a long wail as Ainsleigh broke from his grasp. "No! no!" he cried, lifting his long hands, "not at night."

But Rupert, now quite himself, did not heed the superstitious cry. He disbelieved in ghosts more than ever. Some flesh and blood person had brought the fan, and recollecting Burgh's story, and what Olivia had reported of Miss Pewsey's talk that afternoon, he quite expected to find Dr. Forge lurking in the cloisters. He would search for him, and when face to face, he would demand an explanation. So Rupert swiftly and lightly, walked round, holding the light high and low in the hope of discovering some crouching form. And all the time Petley waited, trembling at the door.

The rain fell softly and there was a gentle wind swinging the heavy boughs of the pines, so that a murmurous sound echoed through the cloisters like the breaking of league-long waves on a pebbly beach. For at least half an hour Rupert searched: but he could see no one: he could not even find the impression of feet, sodden as was the ground. After looking everywhere within the cloister, and in the Abbey itself, he brushed past the old butler and walked down the avenue. Here also, he was at fault as he could see no one. The gates were closed: but there was a light in the small house near at hand. Ainsleigh knocked at the door, and shortly old Payne, holding a candle, above his head, appeared, expressing surprise.

"Has anyone entered the gates to-night?" asked his master.

"No sir. I closed them at five as usual. No one has come in."

There were no signs of the gates having been climbed, and the wall which ran round the estate was so high and the top was pricked with such cruel spikes, that no one could possibly have entered that way. Old Payne insisted that no one had entered: he had heard no voices, no footsteps, and seemed much perplexed by the insistence of his young master. At length Rupert desisted from making inquiries, being perfectly assured that he would learn nothing. He returned up the avenue slowly to the mansion, wondering how it came about, that Forge had entered the ground and left the fan on the very spot where Abbot Raoul had been burnt.

Mrs. Petley had recovered from her swoon and, with her husband, had retreated to the kitchen. So, Rupert learned from Olivia, and he then gave her a description of his finding of the fan. She was very amazed and curious. "Show it to me," she said.

"Not just now, dear," replied Rupert walking to the door. "I must ask Mrs. Petley first to explain what she saw."

"She declares it was Abbot Raoul."

"Pooh. Forge masquerading as the monk I expect. Though why he should come here and bring this infernal fan I cannot understand. What is the time, Olivia?"

"Nine o'clock," she replied, "we had dinner early."

"Yes. Well, I'll see Mrs. Petley. You need not say anything about the fan, and as old John didn't see me pick it up, there will be no difficulty with him."

"Why should there be any difficulty with him?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh.

"Your aunt was killed for the sake of the fan, and the person who killed her must have been within these grounds to-night. I want to keep the matter quiet, until I see Rodgers to-morrow. Then I'll explain all, and place the fan in his hands."

"Then you think Dr. Forge has been here?"

"Yes – or Clarence Burgh. But, as they have left Marport, I don't see what they have to gain by remaining in a place fraught with so much danger to both."

"They can't both be guilty, Rupert."

"No. But Burgh declares that Forge strangled your aunt, and Miss Pewsey lays the blame on her nephew. But I don't believe either one of them. I shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the assassin is Major Tidman after all. He wanted the fan badly, so as to get the money."

"But you were with him on the beach, between eleven and twelve."

"I was, and the evidence of Dr. Forge went to show that Miss Wharf was killed between those hours. But suppose, Olivia," Rupert sank his voice and drew nearer. "Suppose Forge knew from the condition of the body that your aunt had been killed before eleven, and had procured the fan from Tidman by threatening to say so, in which case the Major could not have proved an alibi."

"It might be so," replied Mrs. Ainsleigh, "but then the body would have been found earlier."

"No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went down those steps. Tung-yu certainly did, – but that was after the crime was committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with him. It is a very strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had already killed the woman when he joined me on the beach to smoke."

"Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed?"

"He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he had in Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would make him uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can talk of this later. I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert disappeared.

The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the cloisters to gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the lantern with her. While stooping at the archway to see what she could pick she heard, even through the moaning of the wind the swish of a long garment. The sound brought her to her feet, and – as she phrased it – with her heart in her mouth. The place was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But never so plain – oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my head and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away, Master Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its wicked white face – "

"Did you see the face?"

"I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and evil. I dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes and then it went. I took the lantern and ran for the house for dear life, till I burst in on you and the mistress. Oh, Master Rupert dear, what did you see?"

"Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal masquerading."

"No! No! T'was a ghost – oh dreary me, my days are numbered."

Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was flesh and blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He returned the lantern back to old John and told the couple to retire to bed. They were both white and nervous and not fit to be up. Then he came back to the drawing-room and found Olivia seated by the fire reading. At the door Rupert paused to think what a pretty picture she made in her rich dinner-dress – one of Miss Wharf's gifts – and with one small hand supporting her dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic of his gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia.

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned," said he, "Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a ghost, and declares that her days are numbered. As she is nearly seventy, I daresay they are. But this fan," – he took it out of his pocket.

"Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand.

But Rupert drew it away and spread out the leaves. "No, my dear, I don't like you to handle the horrible thing. And besides, you have seen it often enough in the hand of your aunt."

"Yes, but now there is an awful significance about it."

"There's blood – "

"Blood," cried his wife shuddering, "but she was strangled."

"I speak figuratively, my dear. This little trifle has cost one life: it may cost more. I am quite sure Lo-Keong's life hangs on this fan, or he would not be so anxious to get it back. It has a secret, and I intend to learn what the secret is."

"Oh, you mean to wave it in the smoke," said Olivia remembering what Rupert had told her of Tung-yu's speech.

"Yes I do. I want to see the invisible picture. Then, we may learn of this hiding place which contains the things, Lo-Keong's enemies wish to secure. I expect it is some treasonous correspondence."

"But, Rupert, the hiding-place will be in China. Lo-Keong would not send papers of that kind to be concealed in England."

"It would be the safest place," replied Rupert dryly, "however, I intend to try the experiment of waving this fan in the smoke."

"You don't know the kind of smoke?"

"I can guess the kind. Olivia do you remember that joss stick which Mrs. Petley found in the Abbey."

"Yes – at the time she saw the ghost."

"Precisely. The ghost left that joss-stick behind on the first occasion, and the fan on the second. Now I shouldn't wonder if the fan had got into the hands of Hwei, and that he was the ghost."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Hwei confessed that he was lurking outside the Bristol hotel to get a chance of killing Miss Wharf when she was lured out by Tung-yu. That gentleman however played false. All the same Hwei was here, and perhaps he came up to the Abbey – "

"Why?" asked Olivia looking perplexed.

"Ah, that I can't tell you. But I fancy the answer is to be found in this fan, as soon as we see the picture."

"But the smoke."

"Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and is apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that he could wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret. But he dropped the joss-stick and – where is it Olivia?"

"I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me."

Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer. She then returned with the joss-stick in her hand, and gave it to her husband, who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it won't explode, Rupert," said Olivia nervously.

He stared. "Why should you think that?"

"Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like a cracker with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's dynamite – "

"Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are afraid, go into the next room."

"No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to bits, I'll be blown up with you."

They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the match. It was distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia started back, as her husband set the joss stick fizzling. She was leaning forward in the chair with her dark head nearly touching his fair hair. The joss stick smoked slowly and a queer odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia sniffed. "Rupert," she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on that letter of Tung-yu's."

"And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke, which now began to curl up from the joss stick, "apparently the Mandarin uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a special scent dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never understand Chinamen and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold the stick while I wave the fan in the smoke."

Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless article, Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly, while her husband gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick smoke. The joss stick fizzled and burned and gave out its queer smell, which made both slightly dizzy. Every now and then, Rupert looked at the enamelled side of the fan, where Tung-yu said that a picture would appear. There certainly did seem something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a blurred outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh continued waving, until the joss stick burnt down nearly to the root. Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling joss stick in the fender, and peered over his shoulder. She uttered a cry when she saw the black outline of the picture, and Rupert nearly echoed it. They were looking at a drawing of the cloisters.

Yes – there were the cloisters of Royabay Abbey taken, as by a camera, from the archway. The architecture was clear enough, and the trees also. But the picture was merely evanescent, for as the fan grew cold again the outlines vanished. However, they knew that the hiding place of the presumed papers, was within the cloisters of Royabay – but in what spot. Rupert laid down the fan and propounded the problem to his wife. "The indications would be more exact."

"Yes," replied Olivia thoughtfully, and picked up the fan, "I suppose you are right, Rupert. It must have been Hwei who came to the Abbey on the night my aunt was killed and dropped the joss stick. Perhaps he came to see if he could find the hiding place, without the aid of the fan."

"No," said Rupert, "Hwei is the servant of Lo-Keong, and probably knew of the hiding place; whereas Tung-yu, who served Hop Sing wanted the fan to learn about it. I expect had Tung-yu bought the fan, he would have come here and found the papers and then have cleared out to China to place them in his master's hands and ruin Lo-Keong."

"Are you sure there are papers hidden?" said Olivia, fingering the beads dangling from the thick yellow cord.

"I think so. It can't be gold or silver or jewels. However, what we have to do is to find what is hidden. Then when Lo-Keong comes down we can make a bargain with him. If he hands over my eight thousand, I'll give him whatever we find."

"But how are we to find the spot?" said Mrs. Ainsleigh dreamily. "Oh, Rupert," she added, "it's in one of the trees. Don't you remember a tree was drawn at the side of the picture with a white line down the trunk?"

"No, I didn't see that. I saw the four trees and the stump drawn in the picture."

Mrs. Ainsleigh rattled the beads through her fingers. "Four beads and half a bead," she exclaimed, "Rupert, those stand for the four trees and for the stump."

"What makes you think so?"

"The half bead – that is the stump, and see, one of the beads is of jasper, that might be the copper beech."

"By jove," Rupert jumped up, "I believe you are right."

"I am sure I am, and in the tree drawn at the side of the picture which you did not observe, there was a white line down the trunk."

"Well," said Rupert pondering, "perhaps whatever is hidden is tied to a string or a chain and is dropped down the trunk of one of the four trees – or perhaps in the stump."

"Not in the stump," said Olivia quickly, "for then the line would be visible, while in the other trees it would be concealed in the thick foliage. I fancy the line must be down the copper beech trunk, as there is but one red bead."

"There is but one tree though – one copper beech you know," said her husband. "I am inclined to think that to make things safer, the hiding place must be in one of the green trees signified by the jade beads. The question is, which tree is it?"

Olivia looked at the fan again, and as she did so started. Rupert also raised his head. They heard the sound of wheels scrunching the gravel outside, and wondered who was arriving so late. The clock pointed to half-past ten. The servants had gone to bed, so Rupert followed by his wife, who was rather nervous, went to the door. When Rupert opened it he found himself facing a tall handsome man in a fur cloak, and wearing a strange hat.

"Good evening," said the stranger in the best of English, "I speak to Mr. Ainsleigh I think, I am the Marquis Lo-Keong."