Chapter 15

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE

Jarman returned fuming to Wargrove. He was a clear-headed man, who liked to foresee what was coming, so that he might arrange his plans. But at the present moment he could not see an inch before his nose, and rather lost his temper in consequence. The unexpected appearance of the Scarlet Bat, and of the mysterious word "Tamaroo" on London hoardings perplexed him extremely. At first he thought that this might be a new move on the part of the astute Berry, but on consideration dismissed this idea.

"Berry is not anxious for publicity," argued Eustace, when in the train, "as it would attract attention to his underhand schemes to get this money. Again, I don't believe Denham knows anything, not even the meaning of the tattooing on his left arm. He would want to be told why the Bat appeared on posters, if it was Berry's work, and the Captain might not be disposed to furnish an explanation. No, there is some other person taking a hand in this game, and with that person I must come into contact. If the person is an enemy of Berry's we may work together to thwart him. On the other hand, the person who has plastered London with these posters may want the fortune himself, in which case he will be equally an enemy to Frank. He may want him hanged also. But it may be a woman," conjectured. Jarman. "That Balkis seems to be mixed up in the matter, not to mention the negro who called on the lawyers. H'm! I wonder what the barbaric element is doing in this galley?"

He turned and twisted and argued the matter in every way, but by the time he arrived at Wargrove he was as much in the dark as ever. His only chance of making any discovery likely to elucidate the mystery lay in the contents of the sealed letter. Anxious to see Frank and to tell him all his adventures, Jarman walked rapidly to the Shanty. When he reached it, he was surprised to find that it was shut up. Windows and doors were barred, and, not having a key, Eustace could not obtain entrance into his own home. There was no sign of Miss Cork or of his friend.

"What does this mean?" Jarman asked himself. "Can Frank have been arrested? But in that case Miss Cork would still be here."

The situation was puzzling, so Jarman set to work to learn details and make discoveries. He sought out an old gardener who lived in a cottage adjacent to his own house. This ancient, Bowles by name, was a bent, wheezy old creature, very garrulous. Jarman could not have hit upon a better man for information, as Jacob Bowles had the key of the Shanty.

"That dark gentleman, he guv it to me," said Bowles, surrendering the key to its owner. "T'other day he guv it to me--you might call it the day afore yesterday--yes, you might, Muster Jarman. The dark gent, he guv it me sayin' as you'd be back, Muster Jarman, and would be wishful to get into your house like."

"Did he leave any message?" asked Eustace, still perplexed. Bowles scratched his head. "I can't say rightly as he did, Muster Jarman."

"Do you know what has become of Miss Cork?"

"No, Muster Jarman, I can't rightly say as I do. But my missus, she did say as Mrs. Baker saw Miss Cork gitting to the station three days back. Aye, Muster Jarman, you might say three days."

Eustace remembered that this was the day of his departure, and questioned the female Bowles. But she simply repeated the information given by her husband, adding that Miss Cork had been seen by the ubiquitous Mrs. Baker walking rapidly towards Mardon railway station. "Across the Common, as you might say," said Mrs. Bowles, cautiously.

Considerably perplexed Eustace returned to his deserted house. It was plausible to think that Frank might have taken fright and have fled. But the disappearance of Miss Cork was remarkable. So far as Jarman knew, she had always expressed herself pleased with the situation, and certainly never stated that she was going. He hurried into the house, hoping to find some message from Frank. In this he was not disappointed, for on the writing-table lay a letter addressed to Jarman. The big man wrinkled his brows, and opening it read it at once in the waning light.

"Dear Eustace," wrote the missing man,--"I have to go. Darrel, who is stopping at the Rectory, recognised me, and for reasons which need not here be set forth it is probable he may denounce me. I think it best to go away, but will let you know as soon as I can what I am doing. I left a photograph of Balkis lying about, and after seeing it Miss Cork ran away. I believe she knows something about the negress, and is in league with the gang we know of."

Having digested this letter, Jarman sat down to think over the matter. He had always been afraid lest Darrel should recognise Frank, and wondered that his friend had not the sense to keep out of the way of so dangerous an acquaintance. But he could not conjecture any reason for Darrel's denunciation of the unhappy man. However, as Darrel was staying at the Rectory, Jarman decided to go over on the morrow and hear what he had to say. But as regards Miss Cork?

"H'm!" thought Jarman, while getting a scratch meal together. "I wonder if there is any truth in Frank's belief? She certainly seemed startled when she heard the name of Balkis, and pitched that yarn about her child being called so. I don't believe she has a child of that name--or, indeed, a child at all. However, she seems to have taken fright on seeing the photograph. I wonder where Frank got it? Ah! I remember. Starth had a photograph, and probably it was passed on to Mildred. Frank could get it from her. But why should Miss Cork run away, and where has she gone?"

He could not answer this question without further information, and only Frank could give details. But Frank was gone also, and Jarman wondered whither the poor persecuted young fellow had fled. He did not dare to make inquiries, lest he should attract the attention of the police. The only thing to be done was to remain passive until such time as Frank chose to write from his new place of concealment. Then he might see him and learn details about the inexplicable flight of his housekeeper. Meantime, it would be just as well to see Mildred and learn if his surmise about the photograph was true. After a hurried meal, Jarman walked to Rose Cottage.

The maid who answered the door was a fat, red-faced creature, and was the only domestic employed by the two ladies. She stated that Miss Starth was lying down with a bad headache--had retired early to bed, in fact--but that Mrs. Perth was still in the parlour. Jarman would have walked in, but Mrs. Perth herself appeared, and seemed indisposed to admit him. Jarman put down this unwillingness to her prim manners, as nine o'clock at night was certainly not the time to pay a visit to two single ladies. But on seeing her face in the moonlight, he noticed that she looked disturbed. However, she appeared friendly enough--why should she not be?--although declining to let him in. When the maid retired he had a few minutes' conversation with her on the doorstep.

"No," said Mrs. Perth in her decisive tones, "I have not seen Mr. O'Neil lately. He called once after your departure, Mr. Jarman, but since then has not favoured us with a visit."

"Do you know that he has gone away?" asked Eustace.

"Gone away?" replied Mrs. Perth. "What do you mean?"

"What I say," said Jarman, rather chafed. "He has gone away, and I thought that you might know where he is?"

Mrs. Perth drew herself up in a prim manner.

"Why should I know, Mr. Jarman?" she said stiffly. "Your friend's movements have no interest for me. It seems to me that you should know best where he is. I presume he gave you notice, being your secretary?"

"He left a letter saying he was going. I never expected him to leave so suddenly."

"There appears to be a mystery about him."

"Oh, not at all," rejoined the big man, quickly, "but he is an odd fellow, and doubtless left in a freakish way. I only came to ask, as I thought he might have called before going."

"He called only the once, when Mr. Darrel was here. He and Mr. Darrel went away together."

"Have you seen Mr. Darrel since?"

"Oh dear me, yes. He is stopping with Mr. Arrow."

"Does he know that my friend has left?"

"I really do not know," replied Mrs. Perth, with a fatigued air. "He made no remark."

"Ah! thank you. I shall not keep you any longer. I suppose," added Eustace, with some hesitation. "I suppose it is impossible for me to see Miss Starth?"

"Certainly it is impossible. She has retired to bed. You can call to-morrow. Good evening."

Thus dismissed, there was nothing for it but for Eustace to return to his house. In spite of Mrs. Perth's calmness he saw that she was worried, and had something on her mind. He wondered if she really knew anything of Frank. But that was impossible, unless Darrel had told Mildred that Lancaster, _alias_ O'Neil, was the murderer of her brother. That would account for Mrs. Perth's stiffness, as she would not be too well disposed towards Jarman for having introduced a criminal--and such a criminal!--to her and Mildred. However, nothing could be learnt until he saw Darrel on the morrow. "And if he _has_ told," said Eustace, over a final pipe, "why, Mildred will be angry with me."

That night Jarman got little sleep. It annoyed him that Frank should be absent at so critical a moment. He wanted the young man to open the sealed letter, and had half a mind to open it himself. But on consideration he did not think he was justified in taking such a course. If Darrel had told Mildred, Eustace determined to explain the whole of his connection with the matter, and to assure her again of his firm belief in Frank's innocence. As soon as Lancaster revealed his new hiding-place he would take him the sealed letter, and from its contents might be gathered some clue to all these mysteries. They seemed to increase every day, and to grow darker the more he endeavoured to throw light on them.

The next morning Eustace, having had a bad night, slept well into the middle of the day. Then he had a cold bath, and having cooked his own breakfast sat down to it, somewhere about twelve o'clock. He was still worried but ate well, as he knew he had a hard day before him. But just as he was pouring out his second cup of coffee, he became aware that someone was looking at him through the window. To his surprise he saw the arch and piquant face of Fairy Fan. With a sudden start he rose and went to the door. There she was in the most dainty of costumes, looking amused at his astonishment.

"You asked me to come, so I have come," she said, stepping into the house without being asked. "I hope you don't mind my taking you by surprise in this way?"

"Oh, not at all," said Eustace, mechanically, and led the way to his sitting-room, wondering what ill wind had blown her hither. "But I wish you had given me notice of your coming."

Miss Berry--as she chose to be called--plumped into a seat, and cast an eye over the untidy table. "You didn't want to be found at breakfast so late," she said smiling. "I thought you were an early riser."

"I had a bad night," said Eustace, shortly.

Fan selected a cigarette from a box near at hand, and lighted it. "I don't wonder at that," she said through a cloud of blue smoke. "If you will shelter criminals, what can you expect?"

Jarman started uneasily. "What do you mean?" he demanded frowning.

"Why," said she, waving a daintily gloved hand, "it seems that Frank Lancaster's been with you. What a cunning fellow you are, Eustace. I guess you gave Uncle Banjo and me the outside running."

"I don't know why you want the inside."

"No. And nobody else does," she replied, smartly.

"Not even Balkis?" hinted Jarman, and could have bitten out his tongue for making a remark so calculated to place her on her guard.

As it was, she coloured and looked keenly at him. "I guess you know more about the matter than you'll give away."

"Perhaps I do," he replied, determined not to let her know the extent of his knowledge. "But if you came here to see Lancaster, he's gone."

"That's a lie," said Miss Berry, coolly.

"Search the house then," retorted Eustace, serenely, meeting her with her own weapons. "I give you full permission."

She looked at him again. "No," she said, after a close scrutiny. "I guess I believe you."

"I am flattered."

"Not a bit. You feel angry. Where is Frank?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, yes, you do," she rejoined persuasively; "and see here, there's five hundred pounds to be earned."

"So I believe," said Eustace, coolly, "and your uncle is playing the part of a philanthropist."

"You can put it that way if you like, Eustace. Come, tell me where the boy is. I wish him well."

"I doubt it, seeing that your relative offers this reward for his capture. However, I can reply with an honest heart that I don't know where he is."

Fairy Fan threw away her cigarette with an important air. "I wish you did," said she, "I want to save him from being lynched."

"Why do you wish to save him after bringing him into this state."

"I didn't," she said fiercely. "Yes, you did. For some reason best known to yourself you induced Starth and Lancaster to quarrel. Having been successful up to the point of putting a rope round Frank's neck, you come to me to ask if I will help you to adjust it."

The woman clasped and unclasped her hands nervously, and rose to pace the room. "Believe me, I come to save him," she said earnestly. "He's in great danger, and I alone can help him."

"Ah! then you know who killed Starth."

"I don't--I don't! I swear I don't!" she cried vehemently. "So far as I know it was Frank. My uncle believes in his guilt also."

"I know. It is to his interest to believe," snapped Jarman. "How much money is involved in this business, Miss Berry?"

She turned pale, and looked down. "There is no money," she said.

"Oh, yes. We'll say about a million. Your uncle doesn't offer this reward for nothing. It's a small sprat to catch a large mackerel."

Fan threw herself down and burst into tears. "I wish I were dead!"

"Or you wish Frank were dead. Which?" asked Jarman, mercilessly.

"No, I don't. Oh! do tell me where he is. I can save him."

"From being hanged?"

"I--I--think so. Where is he?" She stamped her foot imperiously.

Eustace smiled as he saw she was trying all her arts to make him reveal what he was determined to conceal. "I tell you I don't know," he said quietly. "Now that you have learnt that I sheltered the man, I don't mind admitting that he was here. But he has gone away, and has left no address."

"What frightened him away from this hiding-place?"

"You had better ask Darrel, who told you where to find him."

"Darrel?" Fan seemed genuinely surprised. "He never told me."

"Then who did?" asked Eustace, bluntly. Fan thought for a moment, then looked up with a winning smile. "I'll tell you that if you'll answer me a question."

"What is the question?"

"Why have you placarded London from end to end with those posters?"