Chapter 17

THE SEALED LETTER

Jarman was so astonished at Mildred's communication that he dropped into a garden-seat which was fortunately close at hand. It was wonderful enough to hear that Lancaster was concealed in Rose Cottage, but still more wonderful to hear that she knew who he was. Eustace would have thought it unlikely that she would have anything to do with the man suspected of being her brother's murderer. Yet she admitted the fact boldly, and actually smiled. He recalled the remarks of Darrel, and wondered if there was an understanding between her and Lancaster.

"How long have you known his real name?" he asked sternly.

"Since you went away," replied Mildred, sitting beside him. "Don't be angry, Eustace. I agree with you that he is innocent, and when he came to me for shelter, what could I do? Even if he were guilty I could not give him up." And she shuddered.

"Does Mrs. Perth know?"

"Yes. I had to tell her. But we have kept it secret from Jane."

Eustace nodded. "It's just as well. The girl might babble. How was it Lancaster dared to come here?"

"He did not know what to do, or how to escape. You see, Mr. Darrel--"

Jarman interrupted. "I know Darrel recognised him. He told me so to-day. And he said other things, for which I felt inclined to knock him down. And I should have done so, but that, as you say, he is too well aware of the existing state of things."

"What did he say?" asked Mildred, an angry light in her eyes.

"There is no need to repeat his insolence."

"There certainly is not, for I know quite well what he said. He is determined to make me his wife, and--"

"And he coupled your name with that of Lancaster."

"Oh, he is jealous of everyone," said Mildred, tossing her head. "You don't believe that, I hope?"

"Believe what?" asked Eustace, wishing for details.

But like a woman, having brought the matter to a point, she changed the subject hurriedly.

"Nothing, nothing!" she declared, hurriedly. "I am engaged to you, Eustace, if you find out who killed Walter."

"So I understand," he replied sadly. "But there is no love on your side, my dear."

"I told you plainly what I thought."

"You did, and I should not have taken advantage of your position. I think we had better--"

"Stop!" she interrupted, and in the moonlight he could see her bosom heave. "You had better not say too much. Let us leave the subject alone until we get out of these troubles."

Eustace was quite willing to do this. He could scarcely tax her with being in love with Frank on the evidence of Darrel. But he was resolved to question Lancaster at the first opportunity. Meantime, seeing that Mildred was disposed to grow angry, he thought it best to leave the matter alone.

"Where is he?" was his question.

Mildred looked round as though she thought the birds of the air might overhear.

"He is in the summerhouse," she said. "There is a small room at the back, which I fitted up as a kind of studio for painting."

"But is that safe, Mildred?"

"Quite safe. No one ever goes there but me. The summerhouse, as you can see, is quite buried amongst the trees, and I have hung some Eastern stuffs round the walls to conceal the door into the studio. Besides," she added, with a little hesitation, "no one would ever think of looking for him in my house."

"No. That is all right," assented Jarman; "but why did he come?"

"For the very reason I have stated. He was afraid lest Mr. Darrel should send a message to the police, so he gave the key of your house to old Bowles, and came in the afternoon--"

"As Desmond O'Neil?"

"Certainly. Then he told me his story. At first I was horrified, but, remembering how you believed in his innocence, I decided to help him. As the secretary, he then went for a long walk, and came back at night. I had the studio ready for him, and he has been in it ever since."

"Let me see him," said Jarman, rising.

"One moment," said Mildred, catching his hand; "you will find him different to what you expect. His disguise has been taken off."

"Were you surprised at the change?"

"No." She blushed. "The fact is, Eustace, I saw him in the theatre on that night, so I knew him again when he became himself."

Jarman felt a jealous pang. He began to think that Mildred loved the boy, seeing how she blushed when she spoke of him. Also her voice faltered, and she seemed embarrassed. At first Eustace almost felt inclined to speak out, and demand if she loved Lancaster; but remembering the position of the young man, and being afraid of the wrath of Mildred, he held his tongue. In silence they moved across the lawn and entered the summerhouse. It was luminous with moonlight, and Eustace saw a faint sparkle of gold, the threads of the Eastern stuffs which draped the walls. Mildred gave a little cough, and repeated it twice. "The signal!" she whispered with her finger on her lips; and in spite of the gravity of the position she seemed quite to enjoy its mystery. In many ways Mildred Starth was still a schoolgirl.

From the other side of the wall came a cough, and this also was repeated twice. Mildred drew aside the drapery and revealed a door.

"I'll leave you now," she murmured. "You can talk to him alone. Come in and see me afterwards," and before Eustace could say a word she was gone. He saw her flit across the lawn in the moonlight, then knocked softly at the door. A key was turned, the door opened, and Frank looked out.

"Who is it?" he whispered.

"Your friend Jarman," said that gentleman, and stepped inside.

It was perfectly dark, save where a slender moonbeam stole in through the high window. Frank gave a gasp of relief, and gripped Eustace's hand in the gloom. They exchanged a hearty handshake, and then Frank pushed forward a chair. As he had been long in the darkness, he was better able to see than Jarman.

"I'm so glad you have come," said Frank, drawing another chair close to that of his friend, so that he could converse in a whisper. "I have been longing for you. You got my letter?"

"Yes. And I am much astonished to find you here."

"I thought it was the best thing I could do," said Lancaster. "After you left, Darrel--"

"I know all about it. But why did he threaten you?"

"Oh!--" Frank hesitated. He could not tell Jarman the reason, and hardly knew what to say. But Jarman brought things to a point.

"Lancaster," he said, seizing the young man's hand, "I have been a good friend to you. Have you--are you--I mean, do you treat me as a man of honour should treat another?"

"Yes. I swear I have said nothing."

"Ah! you know what I speak of?"

"I do. I can hardly make a mistake when you speak to me in such a tone. Eustace, don't think so basely of me."

"Do you love Mildred?" asked Jarman, sternly.

There was a moment's silence. "Heaven help me, I do!"

"And you have--"

"No, no!" Frank's voice broke out quickly and earnestly. "I have not said a word to her. I have not even shown that I take any interest in her. I knew she was engaged to you, and that sealed my lips. I would not have come here, but that I was driven into a corner. Darrel knew me under my disguise. I fancied he might put the police on my track. If I had gone to London, or anywhere in the country as O'Neil, the police would have caught me from the description Darrel could give. And if I took off my disguise, the description in the papers would enable them to recognise me. Eustace, I swear that if a poor hunted wretch like myself had had any corner to hide in I should not have come here. But you trust me--say you trust me?"

"Yes, I do trust you," said Jarman, a little sadly. "I know you have been driven to take up this position. But we will talk no more of the matter. When you are free from trouble then we can talk. But tell me, how did Mildred receive you?"

"She was horrified at first, but afterwards, when I confessed all, she believed me to be innocent. She told Mrs. Perth, who also thinks I am guiltless. I am safe here. Even Darrel can't find me in this place. But if you like, Eustace, I can disguise myself in another way and go abroad. I don't want to remain here longer than I can help."

"You must remain here," said Jarman, decisively. "If you try to escape you may be captured. Fan knows of your disguise."

"And Berry?" asked Frank, in alarm.

"I can't say that. Fan was down to-day, but she did not tell me if she had revealed anything to Berry."

"Who told her? But I needn't ask. It was Darrel."

"You are wrong. Both Darrel and Fairy Fan deny that."

"Then who could have told?"

"I can't say. But Fan came down to see you."

"To have me arrested, I suppose?" said Frank, bitterly.

"On the contrary, she wished to make you a proposal of marriage." Frank sat still for a moment, then, in spite of his troubles, laughed softly.

"You or she must be crazy, Eustace."

"Then it is she. Her message, which I promised to deliver on conditions, was that if you would marry her she would save you."

"Then if you see her again you can refuse her offer. I should not think of marrying her. I have got over my infatuation there."

"And have placed your heart elsewhere?" said Jarman, quietly.

"We agreed not to speak of that," said Lancaster, stiffly. "I am an honourable man, and in my position--oh! it's ridiculous. Don't hit a man when he is down, Eustace."

"I'm not so ungenerous, I hope."

"You are the best of good fellows," said Frank, impetuously, "but my nerves are worn rather thin with all this worry. What are the conditions on which you delivered the message?"

"I'll tell you later. I have a scheme in my head to counterplot Fan and the man she calls her uncle."

"Don't you believe that he is her uncle?" asked Frank.

"No," replied Eustace, decidedly, "I don't. She met him in San Francisco, and he became her accomplice to get Anchor out of the way. I am sure that Berry--or, as he was then--Sakers, fired the shot that killed the man. But in some way the two were done out of this fortune connected with Denham and with you. They brought the boy to England to plot against you, and then intended when you were put out of the way to get the money from Natty. That poor lad doesn't know it, but I believe his life is not safe."

"You don't think they would murder him?"

"They murdered Starth. Oh, yes, I am certain on that point. If Berry didn't fire the shot himself, he got someone else to do it. But the object was to throw the blame on you, so that you might be hanged. I can't think why it should be necessary. However, we may find out from the sealed letter."

"Ah!" Frank started, and spoke in a rather agitated tone. "I forgot that in my troubles. Have you got it?"

"Yes, it's in my pocket. I'll show it to you immediately. Have you a candle here?"

"Yes. But I am afraid to use it. The light might be seen from the road."

"And if Mrs. Baker saw it she would certainly make inquiries. We'll wait for a bit. I'll show you the letter before I go, and then I must talk to Mildred and Mrs. Perth. But about Berry. I wonder if anyone knows details of his past life?"

"Darrel does," said Lancaster, promptly. "He saw him in Los Angeles."

"H'm! I wonder if he would tell me anything? He was most insolent to me to-day, but in your interests I don't mind putting up with that if there's anything to be learnt."

Jarman paused for a moment, and then went on: "Frank, do you think there is negro blood in Darrel?"

"It's curious you should say that, Jarman. Jenny Arrow saw that portrait of Balkis, and she thought it resembled Darrel."

"I haven't seen that portrait. Miss Cork took it away, you said."

"Yes." And Frank described how he had obtained the photograph from Mildred, and for what purpose. "I'm sure Miss Cork knows Balkis."

"She might--she might," mused Jarman "Well, I'll soon know her also, for I am going to look her up at the Docks."

"For what purpose?"

"Can't you guess? That woman is mixed up in this thing. Her photograph was in Starth's possession, and Berry visits her. Now you tell me that there is a resemblance between her and Darrel. I shouldn't be at all surprised to find that this negress is some relative."

"Oh, but that's absurd, Eustace. Darrel comes from Africa." Jarman laughed. "He went out there in the first instance. He talked of being in Los Angeles. That is in Mexico, and Mexico is in the same latitude as the West Indies."

"Then you think he may come from the Islands?"

"It's not improbable. Where does Balkis come from?"

"Zanzibar, according to Starth."

"Who was a born liar," said Eustace, cynically. "I shouldn't be surprised to find she came from the West Indies also. And remember, Frank, that Denham was born in Zacatecas--that's in Mexico. Your father travelled in those parts."

"Yes. But what's all this to do with me?"

"A great deal, I fancy. I am sure the money is connected with Mexico, with Balkis, with Darrel, and with Denham. Fan and Berry know about it. And the Scarlet Bat. I shouldn't be surprised to learn that it was a kind of sign connected with the affair. I can't say in what way. But we'll know soon. What I can't make out," said Jarman, nursing his chin, "is why London should be plastered with posters of the Scarlet Bat and Tamaroo."

"You don't mean to say--?"

"Yes, I do." And Eustace told Frank of the poster, and how Fan had denied having anything to do with it. "And I'm sure she spoke the truth," he said decisively, "for she asked me if I had posted the Bat. Of course, she must guess that you have it tattooed on your arm, and thought that I made use of it."

"But for what purpose? You and I are not supposed to know anything about the fortune--if there is one."

"Oh, there is one, sure enough, and the Berry lot think I know much more about it than I do. And there's another negro mixed up in the matter besides Balkis. The lawyers I called on told me that one came to ask after you." And Jarman gave details.

"Well," said Frank, more and more puzzled, "there's only one thing to be done. We must open the sealed letter."

"All right. Here you are," and in the darkness Jarman passed it along. Frank opened it, but it was impossible to see. Therefore Eustace lighted a match, which was not likely to be seen from the road, and held it while Frank read the letter. The paper had a Scarlet Bat drawn in one corner with red ink, and the writing consisted of only a few words. "My son," ran the writing, "when you are twenty-five send your address to 'Tamaroo, The General Post-Office, London. To be called for.' Then wait events."

"And Tamaroo is the name on the bills!" said Eustace under his breath.