Chapter 7

"AN UNEXPECTED MEETING."

"Francis Hain?" stammered Mallow, amazed. "Impossible! You must be mistaken. You have never seen Francis Hain!"

Vraik rubbed his hands and leered.

"That's as true as true," he croaked; "but if I ain't seen 'im other people 'ave. When you told me as 'ow you thought as all this business was mixed up with the murder, I went and saw the landlord, and all them tradespeople in and about Athelstane Place. From the description I got of Hain, I know 'im as well as I know my own partner. I follered that Major cove all these days till I'm fair worn out; and when I saw him talkin' to a light-'aired man with a beard as long as yer arm, it didn't take me long to recognize Hain. I tried to sneak up close and listen but they got their matter done, and parted afore I could hear a word.

"Where did you see them?"

"In Poplar Street."

"And when they parted, you followed one of them--which?"

"That Major cove, of course--didn't you tell me to keep an eye on 'im?"

Mallow was annoyed.

"I wanted you to use your own discretion," he said. "You should have tracked down Hain, and handed him over to the police."

"I didn't like to do that without orders," whimpered Vraik. "You see, I 'adn't got no orders so far as he was concerned."

"H'm. Well, of course, it is possible the man may not be Hain after all."

"Well, if 't'aint, it's 'is twin--goin' by the description," said Vraik, with emphasis. "But you just ask the Major cove about him."

"I intend to. But I'm pretty certain that the Major cove, as you call him, won't tell the truth."

"You let me tackle him, Mr. Maller, and I'll soon screw it out of 'im."

"No," said Mallow, sharply. "I'll call on him myself. You continue to watch Major Semberry until I have seen him. But if you should chance to meet Hain again, give him in charge. I'll take the responsibility."

"Oh, as long as you do that, I don't care. I'll just get back to Marquis Street, and keep an eye on the Major cove, but it's hard work, sir, and precious dry."

"Here's half-a-sovereign," said Mallow, tossing him the coin. "Don't get drunk on it."

Vraik slipped the piece into his pocket with a grin.

"Lord bless you, sir, I weren't born yesterday! I'm square, I am;" and he slunk away in the darkness, leaving Mallow more than a trifle disgusted at being obliged to come into contact with so degraded an animal.

The various side-paths along which Mallow had so carefully travelled began now to show signs of convergence.

They were pointing clearly to one principal highway, and that promised to lead directly from Soho to Athelstane Place. But in no way did he lose sight of the fact that, if at all possible, the capture of the money itself was greatly to be desired. That was an additional reason for refraining from putting matters into official hands; for, in that event, fearful of extradition, the pseudo-Carson would probably cease to affect Florence as a place of residence. On the contrary, as likely as not he would decide to place a considerable expanse of water between him and it. He decided it would be best at once to force from Semberry a complete confession, if possible; always duly heedful, of course, of that gentleman's anarchist connection and consequent powers. It would be necessary to be more than ever circumspect. Next morning, therefore, he proceeded to Marquis Street, St. James's. He found his warrior busy with the consumption of his morning meal. His reception was, he thought, unusually cordial. Had he known it, the Major's first impulse had been to refuse to see him. But second thoughts had prevailed; he determined it would be best to brazen it out. In the face of danger the weak brain is ever cunning. Thus it was that Mallow's reception was sufficiently jovial and hearty to have disarmed his suspicions entirely. But they were on too solid a foundation for that, and, though outwardly reciprocative, he was every bit as alert as the Major.

"Mornin'," said Semberry, shaking hands with his visitor, "you're out early. Had breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you. I must apologize for calling at so unusual an hour, but the fact is I want to consult you about Carson."

"Nothin' to do with that chap, now," said the Major, wagging his head. "He has gone his way, I go mine."

"And your way, I perceive, is also Italy," said Laurence, whose keen eyes had not failed to see a Cook's tourist ticket lying open on the table at "Lucerne to Chiasso."

Semberry had overlooked it. He was somewhat disconcerted; but he hastened to make the best of a bad job.

"Yes, just goin' there to see Carson," said he, sweeping the tickets into the pocket of his smoking-coat "As matter of fact, promised to take a box over for him."

"Oh. Is it a sandal-wood one?"

"How the--how do you know he has a sandal-wood box?"

"Why, easily enough. He explained as much to Mrs. Carson when she asked him why he had that everlasting smell about him. So you intend taking the box over yourself, do you? You are indeed a good friend, Major."

The Major was not appreciative of his position; but he replied bluffly enough, "Goin' for m' own sake. Carson owes me money. Not likely to see it unless I go m'self. Carson's a bit of a rogue, you know."

"Are you sure he isn't somewhat more than 'a bit,' Major? Are you quite sure he is Angus Carson?"

"Course I am; who else would he be?" said Semberry, with an admixture of indignation and ignorance in equal parts.

"Oh, don't ask me," replied Mallow, carelessly. "Only it was strange, was it not, that Mrs. Purcell should say the picture taken at Sandbeach did not represent her friend, Mr. Carson of Bombay?"

"Bad likeness, perhaps," growled Semberry. He was really uneasy now.

"On the contrary, it is a very good one--of the man who married Miss Bellairs."

"Angus Carson."

"If you like to call him so."

Semberry jumped up with a scowl.

"Do you mean to insult me; doubt m' word!" he said savagely. "Carson's been with me since his father died. Didn't lose sight of him till marriage. 'S matter fact, don't 'prove the way he's treated wife; that's another reason I'm goin' Italy, to bring him back and see things square before I return t'India."

"If you can do that, Major, you will be extremely clever; but I doubt very much your being able to persuade this stray lamb to return."

"Make him, if only to prove you and Mrs. Purcell wrong."

"Oh, I!--I have nothing to do with it. Carson may be the great Cham, for all I care; but Mrs. Purcell will not be so easily satisfied. You know her."

"Rather; interferin' old cat, that she is. Says Carson isn't Carson, does she? What the deuce does the woman mean?"

"You had better ask her, Semberry, and settle the matter offhand."

"I'll ask her," said the Major, furiously. "What's more, I'll bring back Carson himself to give her the lie. Hang it! she reflects on m' honour as an officer and gentleman."

"Oh, you know what ladies are," replied Mallow, laughing but observant; "once get an idea into their heads, and there is no getting it out again. Mrs. Purcell, on the authority of that portrait, declares that the man who married Miss Bellairs is not Carson; an idle theory of hers, if you will, but one she is bent upon proving."

"She can't," contradicted Semberry, testily. "Man is Carson right enough. I ought to know, and I say so. Will bring him back, I tell you, just to prove it. Whole thing's silly nonsense."

Mallow yawned.

"Dare say. Doesn't interest me in the least. I am sorry for Mrs. Carson, and I think she has been disgracefully treated; but I should like, if possible, to see her husband return to her. However, as you are going over to fetch him, I have no doubt that will arrange itself."

"Didn't intend to fetch him!" grumbled Semberry, "but will now, just to shut up Mrs. Purcell. Can't afford to play the doose with m' reputation when I'm in the Service. Carson's box is here, if Mrs. Purcell would like to see it."

Now, a sight of this precious box and its contents would, Mallow felt, be very acceptable. But he could not say so without rousing Semberry's suspicions. In such a position many a man would have jumped at the Major's offer, and have brought Mrs. Purcell to Marquis Street; but Mallow knew better. Of all things, caution was most essential. He merely laughed.

"Oh, I'll tell Mrs. Purcell, if you like," said he affably. "I don't think it's the box she wants to see so much as the man. Why not call on her before you leave?"

"What's the use? She would not believe me. I'll bring back Carson, I tell you, and he can shut her up himself. I ain't going to argue with Mrs. Purcell."

"Well, perhaps she is rather a difficult subject, Major. When do you go?"

"To-morrow, night train."

"Ah, well, pleasant journey. By the way, who was that fair chap you were talking to yesterday--the man I saw you with in Poplar Street? Excuse my asking, but I can't help thinking I know him."

The Major started, and looked searchingly at Mallow, who remained unmoved.

"Oh, a friend of mine; I.C.S. man," he answered carelessly. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I fancied he was a doctor I had met somewhere."

"Doctor!" repeated Semberry, nervously; "no, he's not a doctor. Civil engineer. He builds bridges of sorts. You don't know him. He's been India way these last twenty years."

"Ah, strange, too--I am convinced I know him," said Mallow, rising. "Just shows how apt one is to confuse faces. I could have sworn he was a doctor. Well, I must be off. Shall I take any message from you to Mrs. Purcell?"

"No. You can tell her, if you like, that I'm going to bring back Carson," said the Major, grimly. "And if I don't prove he's the man he says he is, she can write to the War Office and say I'm a swindler. Have a peg before you go."

"No, thanks; too early for strong waters. Good-day."

"Day," replied Semberry, curtly, accompanying Mallow to the door.

When his visitor was fairly off the premises, the Major drew a long breath and returned to his breakfast. "Time I got off," he muttered. "Wonder what the chap's driving at. I was a fool to leave those tickets about; but who'd ha' thought he'd have spotted them; who'd ha' thought o' seeing him now, for the matter o' that."

In the street Mallow was looking for Vraik. He knew he was somewhere not far off: Shortly he espied a ragged pavement artist at work on a series of glaring presentments in coloured chalk within sight of the Major's door. Mallow strolled across the road to drop a copper into the man's hat. As he did so he spoke hurriedly.

"The Major's leaving town to-night or to-morrow. Watch him Charing Cross or Victoria, and wire to my rooms at once when he goes."

"I'm fly," said the pavement artist, with a grin; and Mallow, satisfied that Semberry was under proper surveillance, went his way easy in his mind. Round the corner, as fate would have it, he ran almost into the arms of a stout elderly gentleman in black.

"Oh, my dear sir, my dear sir!" protested the stranger, puffing, "you knocked the wind out of me. Why, it's Mr. Mallow!"

"Mr. Brock?" said Mallow, recognizing the vicar. "Who would have thought of meeting you here."

"Surprising, indeed," said Brock, shaking hands. "But I'm on my way to see Major Semberry. Perhaps you can tell me where is Marquis Street, Mr. Mallow?"

"Just round the corner. So you are visiting the Major?"

"My dear young friend, I wish to speak with him about Angus Carson. With pain and grief I have heard of this terrible trouble between my old friend's son and Olive. I have thought it possible that Major Semberry might use his good offices to bring about a reconciliation.'

"I'm afraid that is beyond the Major's power, sir," said Mallow, shaking his head. "Was it Mrs. Purcell who told you of this separation?"

"It was. I received her letter two days back, and came up as soon as I could. I have not yet seen Olive. I decided I would see the Major first. This very painful matter must be settled."

"Mrs. Carson is not to blame, Mr. Brock. Her husband alone is at fault."

"So Mrs. Purcell said," said Brock, solemnly. "Dear! dear! Angus is not behaving in the way his upright father would have had him behave."

"His father? h'm," said Mallow, wondering if it would be wise to tell Brock that Carson was an impostor. On second thoughts he decided to hold his tongue. The open street hardly lent itself to explanations of the kind. He suggested that the vicar should call on Mrs. Purcell after he had seen Semberry.

"Certainly, it is my intention to do so, Mr. Mallow. We will put our two old heads together, and see what we can do. Good-day, good-day," and Brock trotted off.