Chapter 22

THE UNEXPECTED.

"Don't talk nonsense to me," cried Lady Sophia, rapping the dinner-table with her lorgnette. "The idea is too ridiculous for words. To marry a girl out of gaol? Monstrous! Your father would turn in his grave, and he wasn't very particular."

Lord Prelice was dining with his lively relative, when this speech was made at the tail-end of a very excellent meal. Haken had duly returned from Paris on the day after the interview of Prelice with Dr. Horace and his two friends. On finding a note from his nephew stating that he desired to speak on an important subject, Mr. Haken had responded with a wire inviting the young man to dinner. Lady Sophia had also arrived in town from Folkstone, and explained to Prelice, when he appeared, that she would do nothing for Mona. This remark led to a request for explanations, which Lady Sophia was only too anxious to afford, and the presence of footmen and butler at the dinner-table alone kept her from raging at Prelice all the time he was eating. Haken, looking more dried-up than ever, sat at the foot of the table—his wife invariably took the top—and chuckled at intervals. He had not yet heard what Prelice wished to speak about, and was waiting until Lady Sophia retired to the drawing-room, a thing she seemed disinclined to do at present, so rabid was she against her nephew.

Having made the above remark, she waited for a reply; but as Prelice merely crumbled what was left of his bread, and said nothing, she launched out again with a peremptory question. "Do you, or do you not, wish your father to turn in his grave?"

"My dear aunt," replied Prelice very distinctly, "I wish the corpse to take the position it finds the most comfortable."

"Oh!" cried Lady Sophia, outraged in her deepest feelings, "oh, that I should live to hear my late brother called an 'it.' Have you no reverence, Prelice?"

"Not so much reverence, as I have patience," he replied, very bored.

"Ah." Lady Sophia hugged herself. "I might have expected that. You never, never will face the truth."

"What is the truth?" asked Haken, his eyes twinkling, and putting the question of Pilate.

"The truth," said his wife majestically, "is that Prelice must have been changed at nurse. He has not the feelings of his ancestors."

"I have their gout, however," said Prelice humorously. "What possible objection can you have to my marrying. Aunt Sophia?"

"It's not the marriage itself I object to, Prelice, but to the bride you choose. You know that well."

"There won't be a prettier bride in the Three Kingdoms than Mona."

"I am quite sure there won't," said his aunt spitefully, "if she only gets as far as the altar."

"The communion-rails, you mean. I'll do my best to bring her there."

"Not in my presence, Prelice."

"All right. We'll have a quiet wedding."

"A quiet wedding," raged Lady Sophia, "and with such a notorious girl as the bride. Why, all the——"

"Aunt Sophia," interrupted Prelice, growing restive under these insults, "permit me to remind you that Miss Chent is to be my wife, and that I am quite capable of managing my own affairs."

Lady Sophia rose, and swept to the door. "I'm sorry for you. I am truly sorry for you," said she with scorn, and throwing back her head.

"Thank you," replied her nephew meekly, and politely holding open the door; "the same to you, and many of them."

"Oh, Prelice, how I should love to box your ears!" And unable to say anything worse, Lady Sophia disappeared in a royal rage. Prelice did not feel very amiable himself for having been baited unnecessarily, and closed the door with a bang, which said volumes. Then he returned to the disordered dinner-table, poured himself out a glass of port, caught his uncle's twinkling eyes, and laughed in spite of his irritation. Haken nodded approvingly.

"That's better than banging the door," he said, stretching his legs in a genial fashion. "Have a cigar?"

Prelice accepted one of the best, and lighted up, while his host followed his example. When the blue smoke was curling round the old head and the young, and the glasses were full, they dismissed the trouble of Lady Sophia by common consent. Haken looked interrogatively at the young man. "Well," he demanded quietly, "and what have you to say to me? If I know anything of young men, you wish to borrow money." And ended with a chuckle at his joke, knowing the wealth of his nephew.

"And if I know anything of old men," said Prelice coolly, "I should advise them to borrow from their relatives instead of from strangers."

Haken was somewhat startled by this speech, which was as rude a one as Prelice could well have made. But he felt irritable, and wished to smash, rather than break the ice. "What are you talking about?" asked the elder man cautiously.

"About fifty thousand pounds."

"A very tidy little sum," said Haken, quite composed. "I required that precise sum myself a month or so ago, to tide over a crisis."

"Did you get it?"

"Not from Oliver Lanwin," retorted the city man dryly.

Prelice jumped up from his chair, and let his cigar fall. He was far from expecting that Haken would own up so quickly. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the table, and looked straight into the withered face before him. "What do you mean?"

"Don't burn the carpet with your cigar," said Haken irrelevantly; and when Prelice stooped to pick it up he continued. "I should rather ask you that, my boy. You know something, or else you wouldn't talk of my borrowing, and of the exact sum which I required."

"I know a great deal," said the young man, and sat down.

Haken settled himself luxuriously in his chair. "Let us hear all about it, my boy," said he. "Is your glass filled; your cigar all right? Good. Fire away. I am in a mood for listening."

"Are you in the mood to face danger?" questioned the other man, astonished at this coolness.

Haken wrinkled his brows as a monkey does. "Danger?" he repeated. "And from whom?"

"From Madame Marie, from Captain Jadby, and from Dr. Horace."

"I agree as to the first two," said Haken, perfectly calm, "but I am sure that the last-named will not harm me in any way."

Prelice reflected. "You are right," he said thoughtfully. "Horace is your friend and mine. But the others——"

"Yes. I know all about the others," interrupted Haken in a level voice. "They have their own fish to fry, and are not particular how big a blaze they make to fry them. Of course, I expected you would find out."

"Did you? And why?"

"Why," Haken pushed back his chair, and rose with a chuckle, "didn't Sophia inveigle you into helping young Shepworth and the girl he was engaged to? You could scarcely do that and not cross my trail."

"Why didn't you confess to me?" asked Prelice, much vexed.

"Confess what? That I murdered Lanwin?"

"And that you stabbed Agstone."

"The deuce." Haken started at this last remark. "They accuse me of that, do they? I didn't know that they would go so far. Well," he looked very straightly at his nephew, and with very bright eyes, "you have no doubt heard what these people have had to say, and no doubt they have manufactured good fiction out of certain facts. My character, I take it, is as black as a crow."

"Blacker, if anything."

"No doubt. Well, and what do you say?"

"I say that Jadby and Madame Marie, and possibly Horace, are liars."

Haken walked round the table, and placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Do you believe that I am guilty?"

"Certainly not."

"Why. On what grounds?"

Prelice laughed. He had always doubted the guilt of his uncle, ever since the telling of it in Rutland Square. Now he was sure that, however cleverly the story had been put together, Simon Haken would be quite capable of reconstructing it so as to prove his innocence. He therefore answered, with a laugh: "On the grounds that you are much too clever a man to commit a murder without making things much safer than they appear to be in this instance."

"Thank you," said Haken simply, and after a friendly squeeze of Prelice's shoulder he returned to his seat. A weaker man would have required a more emotional denial, but Haken was too strong and too business-like to trouble about sentiment. "You see," he remarked, when again in his chair, "it would not have suited me to murder Lanwin."

"No," assented Prelice, tickled by the remark; "murder in this country is attended with certain disadvantages."

Haken chuckled, and drank a second glass of port. In spite of his nonchalance, he was more nervous than he chose to admit. "Now tell me how our friends bring home the crime to me, and why they told you about the business."

"I shall tell you the whole case from the beginning," said Prelice after a pause. "My connection with it began when Aunt Sophia came to bully me into doing something."

Haken nodded sympathetically. "When your aunt interferes there is generally trouble. Well?"

Prelice settled himself to work, and recounted the whole story, ending with his parting from Madame Marie on the stairs of Horace's house, and the oath upon the crucifix. Haken smoked quietly while the narrative proceeded, merely raising his eyebrows when he heard how ingeniously the fortune-teller and Jadby proved his guilt. When Prelice concluded Haken chuckled, and passed the port. "Have another glass, my boy," he said quietly; "you must be dry over that talking."

All the same, Prelice noted that the perspiration was beading the old man's brow, and that he was exercising considerable will power to keep himself in hand. While Prelice sipped his fresh glass of wine, Haken walked up and down the length of the dining-room, keeping silent. After quite five minutes he began to talk, still walking steadily.

"I should have come to you for that money," he said in a conversational tone, "only that I don't like taking advantage of my wife's relatives. I needed fifty thousand pounds badly, and when Lanwin refused to lend the money, I scarcely knew what to do. However, the cash turned up unexpectedly, although I had to make a sacrifice to get it. I calculate that I shall have to pay cent, per cent, for that money. However, it is worth it. The worst is over, and everything is going swimmingly. I shall have no further trouble, so don't look glum, Prelice."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of your finances," said the young man quickly, "as I know your head for figures, and know also that the soundest men in the city have their money troubles on occasions. But I am thinking of your being in the power of these wretches. That is," added Prelice, correcting himself, "in the power of Jadby. I don't think that Madame Marie is so bad, and Horace is gruff, but honest."

"Oh, Horace is all right, but Marie is as bad as they make them."

"Nonsense! She wants to help me."

"Selfishly. In order to secure Jadby she must make use of you, otherwise you could go hang. But I must tell you that portions of her story, and Jadby's story, and that of Horace are correct. I got the herb in the way you heard, and I did go down to Hythe to see Lanwin."

"Were you in the library when Madame Marie went to bed?"

"I was," admitted Haken coolly; "but by that time Lanwin had not commenced his hanky-panky with the herb. I asked him straight out to lend the money. He refused, with a word or two of abuse; so I walked away, and back to Folkstone, where I was stopping. There was no row, as I disdained to reply to Lanwin's coarse language. Madame Marie left the library at five minutes after nine; by fifteen minutes past I left it also, and by the window, on my way to Folkstone. What happened after I left I cannot say."

"What was Lanwin doing when you left?"

"Fiddling with his herbs. He came and shut the window after I had gone, and shouted out a word or two as I departed."

"Do you suspect anyone of the crime?"

Haken shrugged his shoulders. "Unless it was Jadby—no," he replied thoughtfully. "Jadby was in London, and did not return until later. You heard his evidence in Court."

"Then Agstone must be guilty."

"Agstone certainly hated his master," said Haken.

"Why," Prelice looked astonished, "I understood that Agstone was devoted to Sir Oliver."

"So Lanwin said, and everyone believed. But the fact is—as I learned from Madame Marie—that Agstone was Lanwin's slave. Sir Oliver knew something about him, which he used as a threat, and so kept him in bondage. Lanwin was not a pleasant character," ended the city man, twirling his cigar.

"Oh," Prelice sunk his chin in his breast, and thought. He knew well enough that so far as the evidence of the knife was concerned, Agstone could not possibly be guilty. Nevertheless, since Agstone had brought the missing will to his brother—and the assassin could only have procured that will—it would seem that the old sailor, after all, had struck the blow. But why had he tried to put the blame on Mona both by placing the knife in her hand and by accusing her? "Did Madame Marie say that Agstone hated Mona?" asked Prelice, raising his head.

"No! On the contrary, I understand that Agstone liked Miss Chent because she was kind to him. Sir Oliver, however, was of a jealous disposition, and Agstone was afraid to display his liking."

"Do you suppose that Madame Marie herself killed Lanwin?"

"Certainly not; she had nothing to gain by doing so, and, moreover, lost a valuable client by Lanwin's death. Marie is fond of money too. She wants to make all she can, so as to marry Jadby. She is strangely infatuated with that rascal."

"Jadby is good-looking in a way," replied Prelice. "Humph! It seems to me that we are as far as ever from learning the truth."

"No doubt," assented his uncle; "still, one thing is certain, that I did not kill Lanwin. As to Agstone——" he hesitated.

"You are not going to confess that you killed him?" said Prelice, with a wry smile.

Haken chuckled. "No; I never tell unnecessary lies. But I certainly saw him dead and Shepworth insensible."

"Oh!" Prelice was quite unmoved, "so you did make use of that key?"

"No," said Haken again, and unexpectedly; "there was no need to. I went down, intending to remonstrate with Shepworth on behalf of Rover, and found that the door was unfastened. I entered, and saw—what you saw—so at once I came upstairs, reclosing the door as I had found it."

"Why didn't you give the alarm?"

"What, with Jadby hanging about, already intending to blackmail me for Lanwin's death? I should have given myself into the hands of the Philistines with a vengeance had I raised the alarm."

"I see. So Jadby was the Continental swell whom you told me that you were to meet?"

"Yes. He insisted upon seeing me at the ball. Why he chose such a place I don't know, and how he got to the ball I can't imagine."

"Oh, that was easy. Remember the masks. Jadby had only to assume a mask and domino, and could slip in easily. But this dress——"

"I didn't wear it," interrupted Haken quickly; "woman's disguise is the last thing I should think of assuming, with my figure and face, to say nothing of my age. It's my opinion——" He paused.

"Well, well?" questioned Prelice impatiently.

"That Madame Marie wore the dress herself."

"But how could she come to the ball? Constance never invited her."

"You answered that question yourself a few minutes ago with reference to Jadby. Madame Marie could easily have slipped on a mask and domino, and have come to the ball to meet Jadby. Probably she wore that dress to implicate Constance, and concealed it in Rover's dressing-room to bring him into the matter. Remember, Madame Marie herself told you where the sham dress was to be found."

"Yes!" assented Lord Prelice thoughtfully; "but how did Madame Marie learn what kind of a costume Constance would wear?"

"Rover told her. Yes! he came to me about Constance's love for Shepworth, and told me that in his efforts to gain his wife's love he had gone to see if Madame Marie could give him a philter of sorts. Infernally silly to act in that way now-a-days. Madame Marie told him to learn the exact costume which Constance would wear at the ball—you see, Constance was keeping her style of dress a secret even from her husband—so that Rover could watch if she went down to see Shepworth. Rover learned about the dress from Constance's dressmaker, and told me, and also told Madame Marie. It was easy then for Madame Marie to get the frock imitated and slip down to Shepworth's flat. By doing that she managed to kill Agstone, to implicate young Shepworth, and to throw the blame on Constance. A confoundedly clever woman is Marie Eppingrave," ended Haken, chuckling.

Lord Prelice rose thoughtfully. "The further we go into this case the more complicated does it become," he remarked. "Certainly Agstone, knowing Madame Marie, would bring her into the room; while not knowing Constance, he would not. Then again, Madame Marie knew about the herb, and Constance did not. It would seem——" He stopped, and walked abruptly to the door. "I must sleep on this," he said wearily.

"But you know that I am innocent now that I have explained," said the old man, following, and speaking anxiously. He liked Prelice, and did not wish him to have a bad opinion of his uncle by marriage.

Prelice grasped Haken's hand. "I believed in your innocence before you gave the explanation," he replied. "Wish my aunt good-night for me, Uncle Simon. I am going home to think over things."

"Your aunt will be annoyed."

"Not so much as I will be, if I listen to her scolding. Good-night."

Haken grumbled a trifle at being left to explain to Lady Sophia, but on going to the drawing-room he found that his wife had gone to a concert in Park Lane. Thus he was saved the trouble of making things smooth, and went to bed very thankfully. Haken was not a young man, and the interview with Prelice had shaken him greatly.

Meanwhile Prelice himself had driven straight to his rooms, and had gone immediately to bed, thinking that he could better argue out the case as it stood when lying down than when sitting or standing. But he was so weary with talk and with the strain of the last few days that he fell sound asleep before he could arrive at any conclusion regarding the guilt or innocence of Madame Marie. It seemed to him that he had only been resting for five minutes when his valet woke him in the morning at nine o'clock; woke him also in a most unpleasant manner by presenting a telegram. Prelice, half awake, tore open the orange-hued envelope, but he was wide awake when he finished reading the news it contained. The wire proved to be from Mrs. Blexey.

"Miss Mona has disappeared."

That was all the wire said, but it was quite enough.