The Duke Decides Part 21

Kindly wait here."

A grim smile played round the Senator's firm lips when, after going through the needful formalities with the purser, he quitted the steamer's stronghold, carrying the leather despatch-box. He would lead the rascal on, making his mouth water, gently t.i.tillate his expectations, and then, having got him fairly on the hooks, hand him over to the police. Delighted with the prospect of thwarting a rogue, he sought his state-room to collect his personal baggage and have it conveyed ash.o.r.e. The first thing that met his eye on entering the state-room was a letter in his wife's handwriting that had just been delivered.

It bore date of the previous day, and informed him that the writer and Leonie were staying as the guests of the Duke of Beaumanoir at his country seat, Prior's Tarrant. Mrs. Sherman went on to explain the circ.u.mstances, so far as she was aware of them, of the invitation, and she wound up with the hope that the Senator would join them immediately on landing. The Duke, who was the embodiment of affability, had cordially expressed that wish, she wrote; without, however, mentioning the Duke's intention of going to Liverpool to meet the _Campania_.

Senator Sherman read the letter twice, a.s.sured himself of the authenticity of the handwriting, examined the postmark, and-made a wry face. It looked as if he had been too hasty in jumping to a conclusion about the young man waiting for him on the hurricane-deck, and he began to regret the curt demeanor he had a.s.sumed. He was not quite convinced, however, owing to the absence of any allusion to the Duke meeting him-in itself an extraordinary proceeding. Good republican as he was, the Senator fully appreciated the cleavage of English cla.s.s distinctions, and he was aware that great n.o.bles do not, as a rule, wait at seaport towns to welcome perfect strangers. It was possible that the depressed individual on deck might, after all, be a criminal who had discovered Mrs. Sherman's visit to the Duke of Beaumanoir and was turning his knowledge to evil account. Still, though caution was called for, his wife's letter invested the man's story with a credibility which it had wholly lacked, and when he rejoined him the Senator's manner was altered accordingly. The Duke having telegraphed for the carriage to meet them at Tarrant Road, they took a cab together to Lime Street station, and were fortunate enough to find a train on the point of starting. It was a corridor express, made up entirely of vestibule cars, and the fact caused the Duke an annoyance which partially revived the Senator's suspicions.

"I don't like this," Beaumanoir said, glancing with what looked very like dismay up and down the well-filled car as they took their seats. "I should have preferred an ordinary first-cla.s.s compartment that we could have had reserved."

"Ah! I suppose a duke is bound to be a bit exclusive," said the Senator, guardedly.

Beaumanoir, who a month before had regarded a ride in a Bowery street-car as an unattainable luxury, was betrayed into disclaiming any such sn.o.bbery.

"It isn't that--" he was beginning hotly, when he pulled up short and feebly subsided, without explaining why he should have desired a _tete-a-tete_ journey.

With the starting of the train a sustained and confidential conversation became impracticable, nor did either of the fellow travelers seem inclined for one; but as they sped southward the Senator found plenty of food for reflection in his companion's behavior. To the experienced American eye the outline of a pistol was plainly apparent in the breast-pocket of the Duke, whose fingers never strayed far from that receptacle-an att.i.tude which was always more distinctly marked during the infrequent stoppages. Except when it was distracted into a swift and nervous glance round by a movement of one of the other pa.s.sengers, the Duke's gaze was always focused on the precious box which the Senator carried on his lap.

"Either he means to rob me himself, or he is scared lest someone else will," was the Senator's conclusion.

But the journey came to an end without either of these consummations being arrived at or even attempted, and the sight of the coroneted carriage and the ducal liveries at Tarrant Road station removed the Senator's last lingering doubt as to the Duke's ident.i.ty. And, twenty minutes later, when, still hugging his despatch-box, he found his wife and daughter waiting to welcome him under the portico at Prior's Tarrant, he was ready to laugh at himself; and what the Senator was ready to do he usually did promptly-as now.

"Ah, Jem!" he cried, as General Sadgrove came forward to greet him.

"You'll never believe what an a.s.s I've been making of myself. Something in the British soil, I guess. It's only this minute that I've been able to clear my silly brain of a lurking suspicion that his Grace's kindness in coming to meet me covered a design on this little box. Took him for a sort of bunco-steerer."

The General pa.s.sed over the remark as a careless jest without pursuing it, but shook hands with his old friend warmly. The veteran was looking careworn and aged, the Senator thought, and he wondered, too, at the queer searching glance which the General cast upon their mutual host as the latter limped from the brougham into the hall. The Duke was engaged in making light of the thanks and reproaches showered upon him for going to Liverpool, wherefrom the Senator guessed that that singular proceeding had been unknown beforehand to the house-party.

They all went into the tapestry-room, where Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, now happily recovered from her headache of three days ago, was chatting to Sybil Hanbury and Alec Forsyth. The necessary introductions were effected by Beaumanoir, whose spirits had wonderfully revived with his entry into the house-to such an extent, indeed, that Leonie put it down to a few hours in the company of her breezy father, little thinking that they had traveled two hundred miles together without exchanging half as many words. Yet if there was nothing forced about the Duke's sudden gaiety it certainly suggested unnatural excitement, and everyone present was impressed by his changed demeanor. Mrs. Talmage Eglinton was so affected by it that in narrowly observing her host she failed to notice that for some minutes after the introduction she herself was the object of observation, not to say a pretty sharp scrutiny, on the part of Senator Sherman.

"Say, your Grace," exclaimed the Senator, recovering from his abstraction and turning with some abruptness to the Duke, "I can't enjoy your hospitality with a whole heart till I've got this treasure under lock and key. Have you got any place where I can deposit the box with tolerable confidence of finding it when I want to take it to the Bank of England to-morrow? It's a just retribution, I guess, to have to make you its custodian after suspecting you of wanting to lift it."

Beaumanoir, it seemed, was quite equal to the occasion.

"I can guarantee the impregnability of the fire-proof safe in my muniment room," he replied with alacrity. "If you will come with me, we will lock it up at once."

St.u.r.dily disregarding the badinage of his wife and Leonie for thinking robbery possible at Prior's Tarrant, the Senator followed the Duke, and was conducted by him along many corridors to a stone-floored chamber lined with shelves full of dusty archives, and furnished only with a carved oak table and a few worm-eaten chairs. But, what was more to the purpose, a brand-new safe, resplendent in green and gold, the very latest patent of the most eminent manufacturers, occupied an imposing position at the far end. Producing a key, the Duke unlocked the safe, with no result till a touch on a hidden spring caused the heavy steel door to roll slowly outwards. The interior was nearly filled with parchment-bound volumes exactly like those on the shelves, but there was plenty of room for the box.

The Senator promptly placed his precious charge in the vacant s.p.a.ce, and heaved a sigh of relief.

"It ought to be all right there," he said.

"It ought to be," Beaumanoir echoed, as he set the mechanism in motion.

And when the heavy door had slid noiselessly back into position, he turned the key and pocketed it with an air of achievement. "Come, Mr.

Sherman," he said lightly, "let us go and rejoin the ladies. Now that we have got that safely housed we shall both feel much-er-more comfortable, shan't we?"

CHAPTER XIX-_In the Crypt_

Late on the evening of Senator Sherman's arrival at Prior's Tarrant he was alone with General Sadgrove in the smoking-room, the Duke of Beaumanoir and Forsyth having avowedly gone up to bed. Under the influence of the genial American, and with the Duke himself in a more expansive mood, dinner and the subsequent reunion in the tapestry-room had been prolonged later than recently, and the chiming clock on the mantelpiece tinkled out the hour of midnight as the Senator put the question:

"Who the d.i.c.kens is that Talmage Eglinton woman, Jem?"

The General started, but affected a carelessness which he was far from feeling in the trite reply that "Goodness only knew." He proceeded, however, to temper the crudity of the remark with the information that the lady in question was staying in London for the season, professed to hail from Chicago, and was reputed wealthy.

"She is hardly the type of American one expects to meet in such a house as this-or wants to meet anywhere," said the Senator. "And," he added, poising the match with which he was about to light another of his own green Havanas, "she is the cause of prejudice in a usually unbiased mind. She has the misfortune to be fas.h.i.+oned in the likeness of one Cora Lestrade, a person of note in my country, whom I once saw in my capacity of Visiting Prison Commissioner. That was three years ago, but of course it can't be the same woman."

"It would be a curious coincidence," was all the General would admit.

"She was taken up by Lord and Lady Roseville, impecunious folk who would take up anyone for value received. What was this Cora Lestrade's particular line of business?"

The Senator reflected for a moment.

"I don't think she specialized herself," he said. "Her forte was organization, and I heard that at the time she was taken she bossed a complete outfit, comprising forgers, confidence-men, train-robbers, and high-grade criminals of all sorts, who operated over the entire universe. They used to regard her as a queen. It was hinted at her trial that they were all fascinated by the spell of her charms, though she would never favor any of the crew in that way. Probably that was the secret of her power over them."

"You don't happen to know when her sentence expired?" the General asked, after a pause.

"It didn't expire; she broke jail-an easy matter for one as well served as she was by a clever crowd with unlimited financial resources."

The two old cronies relapsed into a thoughtful silence, neither of them showing a disposition to retire for the night, though the intense stillness prevailing in the great house implied that everyone else was asleep. Yet it was not so, for Alec Forsyth was at that moment uncommonly busy before the looking-gla.s.s in his bedroom. On the toilet-table there lay open a theatrical "make-up" box, from which he was putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to a very creditable transformation of himself into a semblance of the Duke. His deft usage of the various pigments revealed him as no tyro at the task, for which, indeed, his proficiency as an amateur actor had inspired the idea.

"That will do, I think," he said to himself after a final survey. "It is a good thing that the scene is to be played without limelight effects; but it is my voice that will give me away if anything does."

He rose and crossed the room once or twice, copying Beaumanoir's slight limp to the life. Then, having consulted his watch, he took from his pocket-book a letter, addressed to the man he was about to personate, and refreshed his memory.

"I congratulate you on this return to your senses," the writer began.

"My agents inform me that the gentleman in whom we are interested is expected to stay at Prior's Tarrant as your guest on arrival, being due on Tuesday. On Tuesday night you will leave unfastened the door leading into the crypt from the Dutch garden, so that I and my a.s.sistants may obtain access secretly. You will come down into the crypt an hour after midnight, when I will hand you the doc.u.ments for subst.i.tution. Do not fail to make your arrangements so that the exchange may be effected without a hitch, and as rapidly as possible. As host you should have no difficulty in inspiring the necessary confidence to put the business through, and you will then be troubled no further by us.-C. Z."

"Poor old Beau! He's played up as well as if we had told him all about our plan," Forsyth muttered as he replaced the letter and took another look at himself in the gla.s.s. "I trust they won't call me 'your Grace,'

and make me laugh."

But it was in no laughing mood that he switched off the electric light, listened at the door for fully a minute, and then softly opened it. His room, as it had been in the London house, was next to that of the Duke, and, satisfied that there was no one in the corridor, he slid out softly and shut the door behind him. A few natural steps having brought him opposite the Duke's room, he fell at once into Beaumanoir's limp, and so continued his way to the head of a secondary staircase that led down to the service rooms on the ground floor.

At the foot of the stairs, never forgetting his limp, he traversed several pa.s.sages in which at long intervals only had a light been left burning, and at length he came to a ma.s.sive oak door. Opening this, he found himself at the top of a flight of straight stone steps, running down into the blackness of the great subterranean chamber, which had been used as a crypt in the old monastic days. The shutting of the door cut off the last ray of light, and there being no rails to the steps he struck a wax match in order to make the descent in safety. But the feeble flame had hardly flickered out when it was rendered useless by a dazzling beam of white effulgence that suddenly sprang into being and shone upon him from below.

"Hang it all, I didn't allow for this!" he thought uneasily. "They have brought one of those wretched portable electric lamps, and I doubt if the disguise will stand. However, here goes."

Nerving himself for the ordeal, he went slowly down the steps, and so limped across the stone floor towards a spot in the very center of the crypt where five figures were grouped under the groined roof. He had only time to observe that one figure-that of an old man with snow-white beard and puffed, purple cheeks-stood slightly in advance of the rest, when on his near approach an order was given in a queer, parrot-like squeak to switch out the lamp. The crypt was windowless, but it was conceivable that a light in the interior might be seen from outside under the door leading into the gardens. Hence, doubtless, the precaution.

"You have made all preparations above, Duke?" was queried in the same piping voice.

"The bonds are in my own safe, and I obtained the key of the Senator's despatch-box by a trick-picked his pocket, in fact-after dinner,"

Forsyth replied, in a perfect imitation of Beaumanoir's tone. He was beginning to feel more confident in being able to sustain his part; he would not, he thought, have lived to reach this parley if his disguise had been penetrated.

"Then," the unseen spokesman proceeded, "all you have to do is to take this bundle of papers and place them in the box, extracting the originals, and returning here at once with them. It will then give me pleasure to absolve you from further service."

Forsyth felt a large packet pressed into his grasp, and he instantly turned with it to go towards the steps, expecting that the lamp would be switched on to guide him. This proved to be the case, and he was glad that those five scoundrels only had a back view of him as he limped across the floor and laboriously climbed the steps. Nor when he had pa.s.sed through the door out of their sight was there any quickening of his halting gait to show that he was exulting in that he had so far successfully risked his life for his friend. And it was well that he kept up his part, for as he crossed under the well of the staircase to the servants' bedrooms he caught a glimpse of Rosa, Mrs. Talmage Eglinton's French maid, watching him over the banisters.

Mounting to his own room he locked the bundle of papers he had received away in one of his trunks, from which he first took a packet of similar dimensions, formidably sealed. Without wasting a moment he placed this packet under his arm, and, falling once more into Beaumanoir's limp, retraced his steps to the crypt, where, as soon as he had pa.s.sed through the door, a beam from the portable lamp shed a glare on his descent to the level of the floor. The five figures, with the white-bearded old man in advance, awaited him as before.