Chapter 10

MYSTERY.

It was quite three days before Colonel Towton was enabled to have an interview with Vernon. He certainly wrote to him at once, but on receiving no reply he telephoned, only to learn that his friend had been unexpectedly called from town on the same evening. Towton therefore had to possess his soul in patience, and remained in his rooms recovering from the assault. And this took some little time.

The attempt at strangulation by the burly Hindoo--who was a different person to the slim doorkeeper--had caused the Colonel's neck to swell, as the flesh was bruised and chafed. His windpipe also felt painful owing to the strong compression, and for twenty-four hours he had found it difficult to swallow with ease. Towton recognised only too uneasily that he had been within a short distance of actual death, and perhaps would have been strangled outright had not Diabella, as he verily believed, stopped her too zealous servant. Naturally, she did not wish for a client's death lest the police should interfere and put an end to her lucrative trade, which was assuredly a very paying one.

Meanwhile the Colonel received a letter from Ida saying that on the ensuing day she was going down to Yorkshire with Miss Hest. There, breathing air like champagne, and enjoying perfect rest, undisturbed by callers, she hoped to recover her spirits and health within a month, the time of her proposed stay. But what pleased Towton most in the letter, and what caused him to blush like a girl, was the hope Ida expressed that he would come down to his country seat while she stayed at the Hall. "You have often told me of your beautiful home," wrote Ida amiably, "and one of my reasons for staying at Gerby Hall is to see The Grange. If you should take a fancy to run down, perhaps you will show it to me yourself, as I hear from Frances that the house is full of historical interest." There were a few lines more to the same effect, and it really seemed as though Ida wished to become acquainted with her future home. At least, Towton looked at the matter in this way and his spirits rose accordingly. Maunders apparently was out of favour, and Ida had returned to her first love. Without being unduly conceited Towton was very well satisfied that the girl had loved him before the handsome scamp had come on the scene. Then the latter's looks and charm of manner had infatuated her to an alarming extent. Now, and the Colonel sincerely hoped that such was the case, her momentary aberration, as it might be called, had passed away, and she was holding out the olive branch of complete reconciliation.

But that Towton still felt unwell after his rough and tumble encounter with the Hindoo, and but that he wished to consult Vernon about the matter, he would have gone down to Yorkshire at once so as to bask in the sunshine of Ida's eyes. But he put a restraint on his feelings and decided, not without a struggle, to remain where he was. In connection with various ideas which had occurred to him since his visit to the Bond Street fortune-teller, it was imperative that he should consult with someone and ventilate various theories, which might, or might not, elucidate various mysteries. Therefore Towton read and smoked and played patience in his comfortable rooms, watching the passing of time with open eagerness.

On the third evening, and that was a Saturday, Vernon made his appearance at eight o'clock. He entered with perfect coolness, and found himself facing a very impatient man.

"Did you wish to see me, Colonel?" he asked quietly. "I found a note at my chambers requesting me to call at once."

"Do I wish to see you?" echoed Towton jumping to his feet and wringing Vernon's hand heartily. "Why, my dear fellow, I have been sitting here on pins and needles for the last few days. What the deuce took you out of town so unexpectedly? I beg your pardon, I should not enquire into your private business. Sit down and have a cigar. The whisky and potash is on the table at your elbow."

"Oh, my business is not private," replied Vernon, taking a comfortable chair and a very excellent cigar. "All the world will know in a week or so."

"Know what?"

"That my uncle, Sir Edward Vernon, is dead, and that I am a titled, well-to-do man, worth knowing."

"I never knew you had an uncle," said Towton staring.

"It's not unusual for men to have uncles," said Vernon drily. "I didn't buck about the relationship, as we were not the best of friends. A family quarrel between my father and Sir Edward, you understand? However, when I returned from a visit to Miss Dimsdale I found a letter from my uncle asking me to come to Slimthorp, near Worcester, as he was very ill. I packed up and went by the evening train, and there I have been for the last three days."

"Humph! I suppose I ought to congratulate you?"

"Well, you may. Sir Edward can't last more than a week, and he leaves me heir to his title, his mansion, and a few thousands a year. He's not a bad old fellow, either," went on Vernon meditatively, "and I am sorry he is dying. I don't deny, however, that his death will make a great change in my fortunes for the better, as is obvious."

"It will enable you to marry Miss Corsoon," said the Colonel nodding.

"Yes." Vernon thought of his interview with Lady Corsoon and replied briefly. "Uncle Edward is eighty years of age," he added apologetically, "so he can't be said to have been cut off when he was green."

"He's not cut off yet," answered Towton with a shrug. "I don't want to throw cold water on your prospects, Vernon, but these old fellows have wonderful recuperative power."

"I shall be glad if he gets better," said Vernon emphatically; "and now that we are friends I may be able to make his life more cheerful. He has a dismal time all alone in that barrack of a house. But I don't see why I should bore you with all this family history."

"I do," said the Colonel unhesitatingly. "It's because you and I have been drawn into closer friendship by our common acquaintance with Maunders, who is playing fast and loose with the two girls we love. We have had to make common cause against the enemy, and so are forced to speak freely. Besides, you are a good chap, Vernon, and I don't wish to work alongside a better man," and, leaning forward, the Colonel gave his friend's hand a grip.

"Would you do that, would you say that, if you knew that I was a private detective, or, to soften the term, a private enquiry agent?"

"What!" Towton nearly jumped out of his chair. "As I had no money when my father died," explained the young man steadily, "and my uncle would have nothing to do with me, I turned my powers of observation to account by setting up as Nemo, of Covent Garden, to hunt down criminals and to help people to keep their secrets when threatened by blackmailers. Mine is a perfectly honourable profession, I assure you, Colonel, but you may have your prejudices."

"Well," said Towton after a pause, "I don't deny that I care little for detectives, who are too much the bloodhounds of the law. But I am quite sure that you were driven to take up the business, and I am also quite sure," added Towton emphatically, "that the business as conducted by you is all that can be desired in the way of honour. Why did you tell me?"

"If I hadn't, probably Maunders, when he found that we were working together, would have told you. It struck me as a wise thing to take the wind out of his sails."

"There's something in that," admitted the Colonel, twisting his moustache. "And I am glad that I heard of your profession from yourself. But how did your friend Maunders find out what you kept secret?"

Vernon shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? He seems to have a wonderful nose for smelling out things to his advantage."

"To his advantage? Come, now!"

"I assure you, Colonel, it is so. He wished to become my partner. Lately, however, he has changed his mind and he promised to hold his tongue. To my cost," went on Vernon slowly, "I found that he has not done so, as he told Lady Corsoon."

"The devil he did! Then good-bye to your chances of the daughter."

"Do you think so, when I shall soon be Sir Arthur Vernon, with an eligible country seat and three thousand a year, more or less?"

"No. That alters the case; it whitewashes you, as it were. Ho! ho!" Towton laughed maliciously, "that will be one in the eye for Mr. Constantine Maunders. And serve him right! Why the deuce does he play the lover with two women at once? I congratulate you, Sir Arthur----"

"Colonel, you are premature."

"Never mind. It's just as well to take the bull by the horns and time by the forelock. I congratulate you, Sir Arthur, for you will marry Miss Corsoon and wipe our friend's eye. He won't have either girl."

"Certainly not Lucy, if I can help it," said Vernon hotly; "but what about Miss Dimsdale? I rather think, from what I saw at our interview of three days ago, that she inclines to you, Colonel."

"Ah! Miss Dimsdale." Towton nursed his chin in the cup of his hand. "It is about Miss Dimsdale, amongst other things, that I wish to see you."

"What other things?" demanded Vernon bluntly.

"Diabella for one."

"The fortune-teller? Have you seen her?"

Towton put his hand to his neck with a wry smile. "Yes, the jade. She nearly had me strangled."

Vernon dropped his cigar. "Strangled!"

"Yes." The Colonel unloosened the white silk scarf he wore round his throat and leaned forward to show a fading black mark round it. "You see! I assure you I have scarcely been able to swallow since I saw you last. That damned Hindoo nearly did for me."

"Hindoo! Did a Hindoo attempt to kill you?"

"Rather, and jolly nearly succeeded."

"But why?"

"Because I wished to tear off the false face worn by Diabella: a waxen or papier-mache sort of face, which makes her look like an Egyptian, so as to be in keeping with her room, I suppose."

"Why did you wish to tear it off?"

"Because she--well, she said certain things, and----" Towton stopped as Vernon rose quickly and began to walk about the room. "What's up, now?"

"Colonel, do you remember how you gave it as your opinion that Dimsdale had been strangled by a Thug?"

"Ah!" said Towton drily, "the same idea strikes you also, I see. Well, Diabella may have something to do with the matter. I asked you to see me in order that we might thresh it out. Now that I know you are Nemo I am all the better pleased, as your professional knowledge may link this and that together."

"This and that?"

"Bond Street and Hampstead," said the Colonel impatiently; "that is, you may see a connecting link between this beastly nigger attempting to strangle me and the actual strangulation of poor Dimsdale in his library."

"I can't see the link," said Vernon thoughtfully. "Diabella knows nothing about Dimsdale."

"On the contrary, she knows a great deal. By the way, didn't you tell me that Dimsdale was being blackmailed by that confounded Spider?"

"Yes." Vernon stared and wondered why the question was asked. "He had a secret, which The Spider learned, and intended to tell it to me after the capture of the beast. But The Spider killed him, and so----" Vernon shrugged.

"I wonder if what Diabella told was the secret," muttered Towton, stroking his chin. "Did Dimsdale ever give you to understand that his secret, whatever it might have been, was a disgraceful one?"

"On the contrary, he said that he didn't mind any one knowing what it was," said Vernon promptly; "only he added that The Spider had embroidered actual facts and so might make things hot for him were the added facts to become known to the world at large."

Towton nodded. "I thought so."

"Thought what?" asked Vernon impatiently.

"That Diabella and this mysterious Spider are in league."

Vernon dropped into his chair, placed his hands on his knees and stared very hard at the lean, brown face of the soldier. "What do you mean?"

"Listen, and I'll tell you. I am quite sure that you will come to the same conclusion," and Towton in an incisive manner related what had taken place in the fortune-teller's weird apartments.

The effect on Vernon was to produce an extraordinary emotion of mingled dread and relief: dread, because he saw deep and dangerous villainy at work, and relief as now he espied a gleam of light in the darkness surrounding the "Rangoon" crime. He made no remark either during Towton's recital or after it, so that the Colonel grew impatient.

"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked sharply.

"I agree with you that Diabella and The Spider are in league. Perhaps," he rose, much agitated, "perhaps Diabella is The Spider all by herself."

"The Spider I always understood to be a man."

"It is presumed so, but who knows. Diabella may be the real originator of these crimes and may employ men to collect her fees. Then, of course, as a popular fortune-teller, she has every opportunity of learning people's secrets, for those who consult such creatures always give themselves away. A few skilfully put questions and a few dexterous prophecies would make people loosen their tongues. Then a clever woman, putting two and two together, would soon make the four, which means blackmail."

"But how the deuce could she learn this secret of Dimsdale's?"

"Well, the secret is connected with the Far East and you say that Diabella employs two Indians in her fortune-telling business. She may have learned it from them since the older man, the one who attempted to strangle you, may have been a soldier in the Burmese War and so may have been connected with Dimsdale. Then, again, Diabella may herself have been in the East and may have learned about Ida not being Dimsdale's daughter."

"Do you think it is true?"

"I fear so, as the secret of her birth and adoption by Dimsdale is not one that any man would mind being made known. But the embroidery to which our poor dead friend alluded consists of this assertion: that he wilfully delayed coming to the assistance of Menteith and for the sake of the man's wife acted in a David-and-Uriah-the-Hittite manner. That embroidery is indeed worth blackmail. But it isn't true. I believe Dimsdale's assertion rather than Diabella's story. She knew the facts, and improved upon them in the way I have mentioned."

Colonel Towton nodded. "Then Ida, not being Dimsdale's daughter, and there being no will, cannot inherit her presumed father's money as next of kin?"

"I think not. It will go to Lady Corsoon, as Diabella asserted. She is Dimsdale's sister and only relative. It will be a good thing for Lady Corsoon," murmured Vernon, thinking of the gambling debts, "as it will make her independent of her miserly husband."

"There is another thing to be thought of," said the Colonel gravely, "and that is the blackmailing of Ida."

"Oh. Do you think that her health is suffering from that?"

"Yes, I do. She went to the fortune-teller, and what she heard has made her ill. She probably was told the same story as I heard and knows that she is keeping the ten thousand a year wrongfully from Lady Corsoon. This being the case, and Ida being a sensitive girl, it is no wonder that she is disturbed and ill. Her conscience is fighting between keeping the money and giving it up. Then Miss Hest may be forcing her to keep silence; otherwise, as she is the sweetest girl in the world, I feel sure she would speak out and give up the fortune."

"She may not believe the story."

"Certainly she may not; but it must have sown doubts in her breast, and if left to herself she would perhaps come to me or to you, asking us to resolve these doubts. But Miss Hest----"

"Colonel! Colonel! I don't think you are altogether just to Miss Hest. She is really a kind-hearted, decent woman, and is not after Ida's money, as you imagine. She wants Mrs. Bedge to become Ida's companion, or for Ida to marry you, so that she can go back to her reciting."

"Does she want Ida to marry Maunders?" asked Towton shrewdly.

"No. I think she fancies you will make Ida a better husband. No, Colonel, Miss Hest's conduct is above reproach, and if she knows about this wild story told by Diabella she will advise Ida for the best."

"In what way?"

"Well, it is no use Ida telling you, or I, or anyone else the tale, unless she is sure of the truth. According to Diabella, this man Venery, in Singapore, can substantiate the story, so, under the guidance of Miss Hest, provided, mind you, she knows the story, Ida may have written to Venery. If Venery says that Ida is not Dimsdale's daughter I daresay the girl will see her supposed aunt and surrender the fortune. Miss Hest, undoubtedly, as you say, exercises a certain amount of control over Ida's weaker mind, but she is a good woman and assuredly is not a fortune-hunter."

"It may be as you say," assented the Colonel grudgingly. "However, it is plain that Diabella knows something of The Spider and something of the murder, since she is aware of Dimsdale's secret."

"You don't think she read it in the astral light? I know you believe in occult matters."

"To a certain extent," said Towton drily, "but I don't believe that the Unseen ever furnished so detailed a story. Communications from the next world are apt to be scrappy. What's to be done?"

Vernon quickly decided. "We'll divide the burden," he said promptly. "You write to-night or to-morrow to George Venery, of Singapore, asking how much of this yarn is true, and I shall call on Diabella."

"Why not consult Inspector Drench and have her arrested."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," pondered Vernon, "and yet it is not wise to act with too much haste. After all, we can't get a search warrant, as you have no witness to your assault, and the woman can easily deny the story of Dimsdale which seems to connect her with The Spider. I shall go on my own and secure more evidence upon which to get a warrant, if not for her arrest at all events for a search through those rooms of hers. Some evidence regarding The Spider--if indeed she is connected with him, as seems extremely probable--may be found concealed there. I'll call to-morrow morning," ended Vernon rising, "in the character of a superstitious client."

"And I'll write the letter to Venery, of Singapore."

In this way the matter was decided and the burden was divided. Vernon went away with the conviction that by chance the Colonel had struck upon the much-wished-for clue which would lead to the identification of the famous Spider. Certainly, he might be jumping to a conclusion, but, taking all that was known into account it looked extremely probable. And if it was true it behoved him to act cautiously lest The Spider at the eleventh hour should slip through the fingers of the police. For this reason, and until he was positive, Vernon did not think it wise to call in the assistance of the law. First it was necessary to prove the collusion of Diabella and The Spider, so that if she were not the scoundrel herself she would at least be able to identify him beyond all doubt. Second, even if his identity were proved it would be no easy task to arrest so slippery a criminal. Like the celebrated fox in the fable, The Spider had a thousand tricks, which he could use to better advantage than the animal. The fox in the story of �sop was caught, but it was probable, unless the very greatest care were used, that The Spider would escape. Already the police had experienced his subtlety, and regarded the arch-scoundrel as a very wary and dangerous bird who was not to be caught by putting salt on his tail.

Colonel Towton, being less experienced in the trickery of the criminal classes, was more hopeful of success, and next morning settled down to write the letter to Venery, of Singapore, quite confident that all the mysteries were on the eve of solution. He quite expected to hear from his correspondent that Ida was not Dimsdale's daughter, but he was quite sure that the embroidered facts of the pointed delay in the rescue of Menteith were false. Assured of this, he was quite willing to marry Ida, as the daughter of a poor soldier, and to hand over the fortune to Lady Corsoon. Love was everything to the Colonel at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

But just as he reached the second page of his letter Vernon burst into the room with a half-vexed and half-triumphant air. He told his news without any delay. "I believe you are right about Diabella being connected with The Spider, Colonel," he said; "she has shut up her rooms and has cleared out bag and baggage."