Chapter 13

A QUAKER LADY

Kingsbridge is the quaintest of towns, and was of great importance before the era of steam. Then fruit schooners ran as far as the Azores, and smuggling was a fine art; but now the glory and excitement has departed, and Kingsbridge is a quiet, clean, country town set in the heart of the Devonshire hills. At the top of the steep High Street dwelt Miss Dorothy Drake, and from her window she could behold the silver waters of the estuary and a panorama of undulating lands. The window was Miss Drake's favourite seat, and there she sat knitting for many a long hour, watching the landscape changing under the wonderful colours of the sky.

She was a quiet, homely little person, usually clothed in a grey stuff gown, and wearing the white, close-fitting cap of the sect she belonged to. Her serious face was the hue of old ivory, and she had mild blue eyes, the pensive expression of which, added to the calm look, soothed all to whom she spoke. When anyone was in trouble, he or she--it was usually a she--came for advice and comfort to Miss Drake, and both were freely given. She kept only one servant, a stout wench called Kezia, who adored her mistress, and who made it the study of her life that Miss Drake should be comfortable. The old lady had a little money of her own, and with this and the twenty pounds a month which came from America she lived in what she regarded as a luxurious way. But Miss Drake's luxury would have been the penury of other and more modern people.

The room in which she sat was as quaint as herself, and almost as small. The furniture was old, and polished brightly by Kezia. The curtains and hangings were faded, but the room was brightened by numerous antimacassars worked by its owner. There was a china cupboard containing hoarded cups and saucers, strange seashells on the mantelpiece, and portraits in oil of Miss Drake's ancestors on the walls. She did not claim descent from the famous Sir Francis, but admitted that she derived her blood from a distant branch of the family. At all events, the love of travel and seafaring was in the Drake blood, for two of Miss Drake's brothers had been merchant captains, and her only sister had travelled in quest of a situation to America. They were all dead now, and Miss Drake remained awaiting her summons in the small room in the small house at the top of Kingsbridge High Street. Miss Drake missed her nephew. She was much attached to him, and had done her best to bring him up since the time when he was entrusted to her charge at the tender age of two years. But Frank's ambitions had led him to London, and Miss Drake, knowing that it behoved him to fight the battle of life, had let him depart with a sigh. Sometimes he came to see her, and these occasions were always festivals. When the news of Frank's trouble came, Miss Drake sturdily refused to believe it, and prayed earnestly that Frank's innocence would be made evident in God's good time. She firmly believed that it would.

All the same, in spite of her undoubted faith, Miss Drake was much agitated over the matter. As the weeks went by and nothing was heard of Frank, she fretted over his disappearance until the good Kezia grew quite alarmed. But after a time, so long as no mention was made of the matter, she became calmer, and waited patiently for the result of her prayers. When Eustace called she was at once alarmed, divining that the arrival of this stranger had something to do with the trouble of her poor lost boy. She saw her visitor at once, and gave him tea out of wonderful egg-shell china. Eustace liked the old lady at sight, and strove to set her at her ease. In this he succeeded, for by the time they arrived at the most serious portion of their conversation Miss Drake was quite alert. She had been greatly cheered by Jarman's insistence on Frank's innocence.

"Though I never believed he was guilty," she said, in her quiet voice. "Friend Jarman, thou hast been a brother to him. Thy reward will come."

"I don't ask for any reward, Miss Drake. I am not the man to see a fellow like Frank--such a good fellow, too--go under without doing my best to help him. Well, I have told you that he is with me in disguise, and you know all the circumstances of the crime."

"So much, Friend Jarman, as the police could tell me."

"The police? Oh! has Inspector Herny been here?"

Miss Drake nodded, and looked at her knitting with her head on one side like a bright-eyed robin. "This Mr. Herny took possession of Frank's goods in the name of law and order. He found a letter addressed to me, and learnt that I was aunt to my poor boy. He came to learn if Frank had fled to me."

"I thought he would," said Jarman, drawing a long breath.

"I was not able to tell him anything," resumed Miss Drake, "but I insisted that Frank was innocent. Beyond a few papers, all Frank's goods have been sent here. I have paid up the rent of his rooms, and they are now let to another tenant. So when Frank comes to me, Friend Jarman, he will find that his worldly affairs are as settled as I, in my poor weak way, could arrange them."

"You have done splendidly, Miss Drake. And now that we know how we stand, I will come to the object of my visit. I want you to help me to prove Frank's innocence."

Miss Drake's hands trembled, and she stopped knitting. "Gladly would I do so, but thou art mistaken. I can do nothing."

"That depends upon what you know of Frank's father."

"I know very little, Friend Jarman. My sister Ruth met him in San Francisco, and married him. I never saw him myself. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's this way, Miss Drake. I believe that Frank is the victim of a conspiracy, which involves a lot of money. You know that he had a Scarlet Bat tattooed on his right arm?"

"Truly I know that. Many a time have I seen it when he was a child. But I do not know what it means?"

"Did you never inquire?"

"From whom could I inquire, Friend Jarman? Frank knew nothing, and his father would not tell me. I never asked, as I did not think it was worth while. But had I inquired, Friend Lancaster would not have replied. According to Ruth, he was a silent and secretive man."

"Is Mrs. Lancaster alive now?"

"Alas! no. She died when giving birth to the boy. Friend Lancaster kept the baby with him for two years. Then, as he was going on some expedition, he sent the child to me, with a stipend of twenty pounds a month. I brought up the lad as I best knew how. He had a good education at the school here, and then departed to college. Afterwards, he dwelt in London as you know. That is his story. All I know."

"But the twenty pounds is paid regularly?"

Miss Drake nodded. "Through White & Saon, of Kirk Lane, London. I wished Frank to take it to himself, but he always refused. I use a part of it, but much I put aside. So," said the old lady, looking over her spectacles, "if he should be tried, or if he is in need of money now, Friend Jarman, I have a hundred or so waiting for him."

"It will come in handy," said Jarman, idly. He was disappointed at the scanty information afforded by the old lady. "Have you any letters from Mr. Lancaster?" he asked.

Miss Drake rose, and produced from a cabinet a bundle of envelopes with the American postmark. These she placed in Jarman's hands, and, having obtained permission, he examined them carefully. While he did so the old lady examined him stealthily and anxiously. Twice she frowned, as if trying to solve some problem.

"There's nothing here likely to throw any light on the subject," said Eustace, tying up the bundle again in the faded blue ribbon.

"What didst thou expect to find, Friend Jarman?"

Eustace pinched his nether lip in perplexity. "I thought to find some mention of Banjo Berry," he said, frowning, "for it seems to me that he is at the bottom of all this business. For some reason he wants Frank hanged."

"An evil man--an evil man!" said Miss Drake, shaking her head.

"Oh, he's one of the worst," continued Eustace; "but in these letters"--he laid his hand on the bundle--"there is no mention of him. These only ask after the boy and announce the remittance of money. But I notice," said Eustace, looking at his hostess sharply, "that there are no late letters."

Miss Drake nodded. "Quite so, Friend Jarman. For many years there have been none. Friend Lancaster stopped writing to me when his son was aged ten. That is nearly fifteen years ago."

"So I understand," said Eustace, pondering. "Frank is twenty-five in September. His birthday is in a few weeks."

The old lady took off her spectacles and rubbed them with a vexed air. She appeared about to say something, but closing her mouth firmly she went on knitting. Jarman was annoyed as he saw that she was not quite open with him. However, he made no direct comment, but resumed the conversation as though he had noticed nothing. "Do you think old Mr. Lancaster is dead?" he asked.

"I cannot say, I think he is," said Miss Drake, with a worried look, "but Frank thinks otherwise, Friend Jarman. He would have gone to San Francisco to learn, but that I asked him to wait till his twenty-fifth birthday."

Jarman recalled Natty's remark that he was entitled to money after his birthday in September. Frank was the same age, and was born on the same day, so it would seem from Miss Drake's remark that to his birthday also there was something attached. "Is Frank entitled to any money?" he asked. "Is there a will, or--"

"There is no money as far as I know, Friend Jarman," said Miss Drake, rising; she paused, then went on. "But my heart misgives me."

"Why should it?"

"There is some mystery about the boy," continued Miss Drake, still agitated. "That mark on his arm is strange--and then the sealed letter."

It was for the mention of the sealed letter that Jarman had been waiting. Now that Miss Drake had mentioned it of her own free will, he no longer disguised the object of his visit. "It was to get that letter that I came down."

"Why?" asked Miss Drake, suspiciously.

"Because I think it may solve the mystery of Berry's enmity. Miss Drake," he went on, earnestly, "this man Berry has in his clutches a fellow called Denham, who seems to be an ass as far as I can judge. Denham is of the same age as your nephew, and was born on the same day. He also has a Scarlet Bat tattooed; but he is marked on the left arm. I believe that there is a sum of money--a fortune--perhaps the one to which Denham alludes. Berry is trying to get Frank out of the way, so that Denham may obtain the money, in which case he will have the handling of it. Of course this is all supposition, but I can account for the extraordinary circumstances in no other way."

Miss Drake heard him quietly, her bright eyes fixed on his earnest face. "I believe thou art a good man, Friend Eustace," she said, "and, for the sake of my poor boy, I will trust thee. Sixteen years ago, just before Friend Lancaster stopped writing, he sent me an envelope which he asked me to give Frank on his twenty-fifth birthday. I intended to do so with my own hands, but as this trouble prevents me from doing so, I will give the letter to thee--" She stopped and folded her hands as though in prayer. "I trust I am doing right," she murmured to herself, "but the man seems good and kindly."

"I swear you can trust me, Miss Drake. I have Frank's interests at heart. I shall take the letter back, and ask Frank to open it."

"But it was not to be opened until his twenty-fifth birthday."

"Under the circumstances I think it should be opened at once," pleaded Jarman, earnestly; "there is no good to be gained by waiting. And, remember, Frank is in great danger. Should Berry succeed in tracing him, he will denounce him at once to the police. If Frank is tried, I don't see what defence he can put forward."

"But he is innocent, poor lamb."

"I am sure of that. But the circumstantial evidence is too strong."

Miss Drake thought for a few moments. "Friend Jarman," she said at length, "by his unhappy position Frank is tied hand and foot, and thou must act for him. If thou dost think that the letter is vital to the proving of his innocence, why not open it now?"

Eustace shook his head. "I can't say if the letter will prove his innocence," he said doubtfully, "but it may be a clue to the mystery. I prefer that Frank should open the letter."

"I will get it for thee," said Miss Drake, rising. "One moment," said Jarman as she walked to the door. "Have you ever heard the name of Tamaroo?"

"No. A strange name. But I know it not."

"It's not mentioned in the letters either," said Eustace to himself as the old lady left the room, "yet it has something to do with the Scarlet Bat, and _that_ I am certain has to do with the mystery. A queer affair." He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked out of the window. "I can't see what it all means."

Miss Drake returned and placed in his hands a common-looking envelope which, from the fold, had evidently come inside another letter. It was addressed to "My son Francis!" and was sealed with red wax. Jarman drew near the window and looked at the seal. Then he muttered an ejaculation--"The Scarlet Bat again!"

"Yes," said Miss Drake, divining his astonishment, "the seal is the same as the mark on the poor lad's arm."

"I am more convinced than ever that this has to do with the solution of the mystery," said Jarman, placing the letter in his pocket-book. "Wherever we look we meet with the Scarlet Bat. I shall take this to Frank, and on my way to Wargrove I will call on White & Saon. They may know something. By the way, have you a photograph of Mr. Lancaster?"

"Yes. Ruth sent me a photograph taken with her husband when they were married," and Miss Drake, taking a picture in a silver frame from a distant corner of the room, showed it to Jarman.

Mrs. Lancaster was a sweet-looking, mild woman, not unlike Miss Drake, her sister. But Lancaster was a picturesque, resolute man, with a firm mouth and a pair of rather fierce eyes. Frank resembled both his parents, but favoured his mother most. Jarman examined the photograph carefully, then rose to go. "I shall tell you what this contains when Frank opens it," he said, "and if possible I shall get Frank to come down and see you."