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THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

RIVERSIDE

FROM THE LIBRARY

OF DR. J. LLOYD EATON

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A SPOILER OF MEN

BY

RICHARD MARSH

LONDON

CHATTO & WINDUS

1921

A SPOILER OF MEN

CHAPTER I

THE LADY

As Mr. Cyril Wcntworth opened the door of his flat and stepped into the little hall on the other side, he paused. It was past midnight. He had not been home since the morning. There was no one else upon the premises ; everything requisite was done for him by his laundress, who left shortly after breakfast for the day. He expected, therefore, to find everything in darkness. The flat con- sisted of five rooms : kitchen, bedroom, bath-room, living- room, and a tiny, nondescript apartment which he called his study. In front of him, as he entered, was the door of his living-room. That it did not fit quite closely was shown by the fact that a pencil of light gleamed along the bottom.

" Who the deuce is in there ? " asked Mr. Went- worth of himself, since this pencil of light suggested that some one was. " And how have they got in ? If it's Fentiman, and he has got a pass-key which admits him to my chambers "

He did not finish his unspoken sentence. With quick

I B

2 A SPOILER OF MEN

steps he crossed the little hall. Gripping the handle, he flung the door wide open ; he strode forward — to pause with a sensation of even greater surprise than he had felt at first. Whatever — whoever — he had expected to find within he alone could tell ; certainly his expectations were not realized.

The room was of fair size, being the only good room the flat contained. It was well furnished, as was befit- ting in the case of a man of means and taste. Against the wall, on the further side, was a handsome writing-table. At this table sat a lady — a young lady, a well-dressed young lady. She wore no hat. An evening cloak, thrown open in front, only partially covered a costume which suggested either a ball or the opera. She looked as if she had just alighted from her carriage ; yet Cyril Wentworth had noticed no vehicle in the street without.

So entirely at home did she appear to be, that she did not even look up from the paper she was examining as he came in. On his part, Mr. Wentworth was so taken by surprise that for some moments he was speechless. He stared at as much of her as could be seen from the back, in order to ascertain who his visitor might be, she all the time calmly continuing her occupation. When he decided that, so far as he was able to judge, she was a stranger, his surprise increased.

" Who are you ? " he demanded. " And to what am I indebted for the pleasure of your presence here ? "

As he spoke, the lady turned coolly, leisurely, as if it were really too much trouble to pay any attention to him at all. In her left hand she held a pair of long white gloves, which she began to draw through the fingers of

THE LADY 3

her right hand. She regarded him with a mixture of amusement and indifference, her eyes seeming only half open, her lips parted by a smile, as if he were some impertinent intruder, in whom she felt but a languid curiosity. But she answered nothing.

Her beauty, her air of tranquillity, almost of contempt, her silence, puzzled the owner of the flat. He hinted at a possible solution of what, under the circumstances, seemed to be the mystery of her easy bearing.

** I fancy, madam, that you have made some mistake."

She smiled openly. She flicked her right hand with the fingers of her gloves softly, looking at him with something in her eyes and on her face which did not suggest appreciation. There was a perceptible interval before she spoke ; then it was with a gentle, lazy drawl, which was rather insolent than friendly.

" Oh dear, no. It is not I who have made a mistake ; it is you."

He stared at her still more keenly, feeling that there must be some clue to her manner if he could only find it.

" How can that be, since these rooms are mine, the hour is late, you are here uninvited, and I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance r "

" I know who you are ; for me that is enough."

« Who am I r "

" You are the person who was once known as Jack the Chemist."

Wentworth started. The premonition which he had when opening the door that something disagreeable was close at hand had a fair chance to be realized. He was a great believer in his own premonitions. On the other

4 A SPOILER OF MEN

hand, in a life such as he had lived, and still was living, there were so many opportunities for the disagreeable that it did not require much foresight to perceive one coming. But this was a disagreeable of a distinctly unexpected — five minutes ago he would have said of an impossible — kind. The period during which he had been known as Jack the Chemist was so long ago, the scene on which Jack the Chemist had figured so far distant, the circum- stances were so peculiar, that for years he had taken it for granted that if there still were two or three persons living who were aware of the fact that he once had borne that cognomen, they were negligible quantities. That this lovely stranger should let that ill-omened nickname drop from her pretty lips with so matter-of-fact an air, had on him the effect of a shell fired from a gun whose very existence he had never suspected.

He stared at her for a second or two, open-eyed and open-mouthed. Then his muscles stiffened, his fists involuntarily clenched themselves, his breath came quicker. That this woman should know him by that name meant danger. When he was conscious that there was danger to be faced, he was always ready. He still held the door open in his hand. Now he closed it. He eyed her steadily, searching her features for some clue which would tell him who she was, and found none. Yet he prided himself on his memory for faces ; and surely this was a woman who once seen could never be forgotten. Before he put to her another question he had almost convinced himself that he had never seen her before; certainly not — not where he had been known as Jack the Chemist.

THE LADY 5

« Who are you ? "

"I am The Unknown. Every line on your face shows that."

"Why did you call me by that name ? "

" To make it sufficiently clear that although you don't know me I do know you."

" How did you get in here ? "

"Through the door. It has a keyhole. Nothing could be simpler."

" You mean that you have committed burglary ? " A slight movement which she made with her gloves might signify anything ; it was her only answer. He put to her another question. "What do you want now that you are here ? "

Again there was that little movement with her gloves. She seemed to be considering. She almost entirely closed her eyes ; presently partly re-opening them, as if it were too great a labour to open them wide.

"Now I don't know that I want anything. I've seen • — and done — everything I want ; at least, I think so."

" What do you mean by saying that you've seen and done everything you want ? "

Once more she moved her gloves, as if she intended by the gesture to call his attention to the condition of the room.

"I came, Mr. — I understand that, at present, you call yourself Cyril Wentworth ; quite a euphonious name "

" My name is Cyril Wentworth."

" Precisely, for the moment ; though I do not think that you will care to deny — to me — that you have had others. Siiall I remind you of some of them ? "

6 A SPOILER OF MEN

" Tell me why you came here ? "

*'I came to examine your papers, particularly your more private papers, in search of certain information of which I stood in need ; and — I have obtained it."

Throughout he had been conscious that the apartment was in a state of disorder j now he realized to what a degree the disorder went. Every drawer in the writing- table stood wide open j the contents had apparently been turned out anyhow upon the floor. Almost at her feet was a box whose presence he recognized with a sensation which was distinctly the reverse of pleasant. In it he kept not only certain memoranda, which had for him a peculiar interest, but also other articles which possessed not only an esoteric interest, but also a very obvious value — jewels which were worth large sums of money had he cared — or dared — to sell them. He perceived that some of them were lying on the table at her side. He strode towards her with a feeling that at last he had something tangible with which to deal. He pointed to the jewels.

" So it is a case of common theft ! "

" Do you wish me to believe that you think I intended to steal them, as you did ? " The arrow went so near the mark that he actually quivered. " You know better. The story they tell to you, and have told to others, is not so comfortable a one that I should wish them to tell it to me. Besides, there are certain details about these trifles which make them dangerous things to steal, especially supposing ignorance in the thief. For instance, this pretty lady's ring, with the pretty opal, that unlucky stone. Was ever a prettier opal seen ? or was ever a sillier super- stition ? And yet I fancy that the lady who would wear

THE LADY 7

this opal would find there is something in the superstition now and then. Was there never a lady who wore this ring once, and once for all, and since then ha^ never worn another ? Think, Jack the Chemist."

He snatched the ring out of the speaker's hand.

" What devil has sent you here r "

" The devil who walks always at your heels, and who, one day, will trip you up, for ever."

Bending down, he leant towards her. Although only a few inches divided them, not a muscle of her face quivered, nor did she make the least attempt to avoid his scrutiny.

" Have I ever seen you before ? '*

« Have you ? "

Such a light blazed in his eyes that the wonder was it did not scorch her cheeks.

" Don't you think that you can play the fool with me because you're a woman and pretty."

" Women have learnt that to their cost before to-night ; haven't they, Jack the Chemist ? "

It seemed for a moment as if Mr. Wentworth's feel- ings would find vent in language of a vigorous kind. But he was a man who was accustomed to keep himself in hand. The look of anger was exchanged for a smile ; not altogether an agreeable smile, but still a smile. He spoke in a tone which was almost unpleasantly suave.

"Might I ask you, as a favour, not to address me by that name. How you come to be aware that certain persons once associated me with that nickname, I do not know ; but — it is long ago, and here in England I am known only by my own name, Cyril Wentworth."

8 A SPOILER OF MEN

She returned his smile with interest ; hers was a pleasanter smile than his was.

" You see, to me you will always be known as Jack the Chemist."

" Why ? "

" Because ! "

" Tell me who you are ; why you have favoured me with this unceremonious visit ; by what right you have been searching among my papers."

" I shall tell you nothing, nothing."

" Won't you ? Do you imagine that I shall allow you to leave this room — a free woman — unless you give me a satisfactory explanation ? And you pretend to know something of my character."

" It is because I know your character — and history — well that I say I shall go when and how I please.'*

She made as if to rise. He laid the fingers of his right hand on her bare shoulder.

"Sit still."

" Remove your hand." Instead of complying with her request he increased the pressure. With a quick movement she slipped away from under his hand and rose to her feet. " Do you imagine that I will suffer you to touch me — you ? " She drew her cloak closer about her with what might have been a little shiver of repulsion.

" If necessary I shall do a great deal more than touch you. One does not use ceremony with burglars, whether male or female."

"I am going, Jack the Chemist."

Turning her back upon him she seemed to be about

THE LADY 9

to suit the action to the word. Springing forward, he once more confronted her.

" If you try that I'll tie you to a chair while I fetch a constable, and he shall deal with you."

She smiled in his face.

" A constable ! You talk of constables ? There'll come a day, and it's not far distant, when every constable in England will be looking for you. I promise you they shall not look in vain. Stand aside. Jack the Chemist. I have found what I came for. Now I am going."

For answer he stepped towards her, and she fell back, whipping out a revolver from underneath her cloak, which she pointed directly at him. He recognized it as one which he kept in a drawer in the writing-table.

" You have even stolen my revolver, and you have the audacity to threaten me with my own gun."

"If you attempt to touch me, or to intercept my passage, I shall fire. Be well advised. I have no fear of what will follow."

Neither, apparently, had he. She scarcely ceased to speak when, springing forward, he gripped the wrist which held the revolver. As he did so a bell sounded ; some one was ringing at the outer door. The sound appeared to take him by surprise. He turned with a start, and gave a jerk to the girl's wrist which fired the revolver. There was a report ; an exclamation like a drawn-out "Oh-h-h I" The girl was lying on the floor at his feet, while by some accident, which was beyond his compre- hension, the weapon itself was in his hand.

CHAPTER 11

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN

For the second time there was a ring at the outer door ; this time a continuous ringing, as if the ringer had but a limited stock of patience. He frowned as he listened.

"I suppose that's Fentiman, at this moment of all moments. Confound the man ! " He leant over the prostrate girl. " What's the matter ? Has the bullet grazed you anywhere ? Are you hurt ? "

She was still, uncomfortably still. He did not like the huddled-up way in which she was lying, the look which was upon her face. He had seen before that night people v/ho had been killed by pistol-shots. He touched her. She showed no sign of resentment, as she surely would have done had she been conscious of his touch. He drew her cloak aside, looking for some sign of a wound. The bullet was of such small calibre that, at that range, it was quite possible for it to kill, and yet leave, to superficial observation, no mark upon the clothing. It was obvious that she did not breathe. He watched eagerly for some trace of pulsation. There was none. She lay motionless, lifeless. And all the while the bell at the outer door kept ringing. Accustomed

lO

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN ii

though he was to delicate situations, here was one which puzzled him.

" What on earth am I to do ? I can't show her to Fentiman. He'd want all sorts of explanations, which I can't give, and which he wouldn't understand — or believe — if I did. Damn that bell I "

It was, perhaps, the persistent ringing of the bell which compelled him to a sudden resolution. Lifting the girl bodily, he bore her through the adjoining study into the sleeping-room beyond, where he placed her on his own bed. The way in which she had lain, as if fibreless, boneless, sapless, in his arms, had been pregnant with eloquence to him. Shutting the bedroom door, he left her there alone.

Crossing the miniature hall, he opened to the ringer, addressing him in tones of remonstrance —

"Why do you keep on ringing in that ridiculous way ? You might have guessed that I was engaged, and have given me time to come to you."

The remonstrance was scarcely well received. The gentleman without — it was a gentleman — crossed his arms upon his breast and glared. He replied in a voice which was more raised than it need have been.

"I may be your bravo, Mr. Wcntworth, but I am not your slave, to hang upon your pleasure. When I condescend to ring at your door I expect it — instantly — to be opened."

Mr. Wentworth glanced at the speaker. Without another word he ushered him into the sitting-room. When he was in he spoke to him again.

"You've been drinking, Fentiman."

12 A SPOILER OF MEN

The accusation seemed in no way to abash the stranger. In his right hand he carried a malacca cane. He brought the ferrule sharply against the floor, extend- ing, at the same time, his left arm at right angles to his body, as if it were a semaphore.

*' Yes, sir, I have been drinking ; I am glad to say it. I have arrived at that condition in which I frequently find that drink — strong drink — is the thing most to be desired. When I have been drinking, I defy my con- science ; when I have not been drinking, my conscience defies me, and I suffer. Yes, sir, I suffer."

This was a singular looking person. Mr. Wentworth was tall, but Mr. Fentiman was taller, probably six feet three or four. Though his shoulders were broad, his person was thin almost to the point of emaciation. His face, which was long, thin, and cadaverous, was rendered remarkable by the size of his mouth and eyes. Not only was his mouth of unusual size, but the lips were thick and protrusive enough to be negroid. His eyes were huge — great black orbs set in a sea of white. They had that peculiar quality of distention which a cat has. At one moment you would be struck by the fact that they were all white, with but the speck of a pupil in the centre. Then, suddenly, the pupil would begin to en- large, the iris would appear, and the two together would increase and expand until, practically, there was no white left. A very uncanny effect the performance of that trick had upon the spectator who saw it for the first time. Indeed, there were persons — and they, probably, were in the majority — who never could look at Mr. Fentiman's eyes with comfort. Nor was the eerie sensation with

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 13

which they inspired many beholders lessened by the fact that, to a large extent, the changes seemed involuntary. So soon as he became excited, his eyes, as if afflicted by a sort of St. Vitus' dance, seemed to grow larger and smaller, distend and decrease, as if in some weird physical sympathy with their owner's moods.

There were individuals who would have gone a very long way to avoid meeting Mr. Fentiman's eyes ; but, plainly, Mr. Wentworth was not one of them. He stood a little in front of his visitor, not only returning him glance for glance, but coolly searching his counte- nance with his own shrewd grey ones, as he had searched a woman's face a few minutes before.

" If you persist in using strong drink to enable you, as you put it, to defy your conscience, you'll soon lose your power ; that will be one result among others."

"My power? Which power? You speak as if I had only one."

" So you have, worth anything ; and that is not what it was."

"Isn't it ? No, you are right ; it isn't. It is greater than it ever was. Sometimes its greatness startles even me. One day I may be able to prove how great it is upon your own vile body."

Mr. Wentworth laughed.

" You've tried your hand at that already, and you've failed."

" That's because the conditions were not favourable. Let the conditions suit me, as one day they may, and it's possible that you will become as wax in my hands. What have you been firing at ? "

14 A SPOILER OF MEN

Mr. Wentworth had moved towards the fireplace. As the other's question gave a sudden twist to the con- versation, he turned to the speaker with something very like a start.

" Firing at ? What do you mean ? "

" What I say. As I stood outside I heard the report of a revolver."

" What nonsense are you talking ? "

" My good Mr. Wentworth, do you imagine that you can hoodwink me as you try to hoodwink all the world ? Do you take me for an utter fool ? I know the sound of a revolver as well as any man, and I tell you one was fired ; and here, possibly, is the very weapon." Stooping, he picked up off the floor what, in plain truth, was the actual weapon. In the first shock of his surprise it had probably fallen from Mr. Wentworth's startled hand, unnoticed. Some papers had partially covered it. He had carried the girl's body into the other room, and had then gone to open to his visitor, oblivious of its presence on the floor. Mr. Fentiman turned it over in his huge hand. " One chamber dis- charged ; I should say this was the weapon."

Mr. Wentworth, as always, was ready.

" It went off in my hand."

" In your hand ? "

" In mine ; whose else's ? "

" Haven't you had a visitor ? "

"I only came in just before you arrived j I brought no one with me, I assure you."

Mr. Fentiman was glancing round the room.

" It looks as if you had had a visitor, and one who

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 15

had been taking liberties. You would hardly throw your own property about the room like this, unless you were in a very curious frame of mind, and you seem to be sane, or leave those pretty baubles lying upon the table there. What are they ? I have a constitutional fondness for pretty things."

Mr. Fentiman moved towards the table, only to be anticipated by the other, who unceremoniously bundled into a drawer the jewels which still lay on it. His tone was dry.

"I believe, Fentiman, that you have come here on certain business ; if you don't mind, we'll stick to it. How goes it with your brother professor, my reverend uncle, the scholarly Dr. Hurle ? "

Mr. Fentiman was a second or two before he answered. He looked at the place where the jewels had been, at the revolver he was holding, at the papers littered about the room.

"Was I approaching a disagreeable subject? Is there a mystery about the firing of this revolver ? about your visitor ? about all this, you man of mystery ? "

Mr. Wentworth replied to the inquiry with another.

"I was asking you about my uncle. Professor Fenti- man, when did you last see Professor Hurle ? "

Mr. Fentiman looked at the speaker as if to make sure of his mood. With a distortion of his thick lips, which was, perhaps, intended for a smile, he tossed the revolver on to the writing-table.

"That was a dangerous thing to do," commented Mr. Wentworth. " You might have discharged another barrel."

1 6 A SPOILER OF MEN

" Was that how you discharged the first ? "

Mr. Wentworth only smiled.

"I ask you, for the third time, when did you see my uncle last ? "

This time Mr. Fentiman condescended to give the required information.

"This afternoon."

" With what success ? "

" With every success — every possible success. Pro- fessor Fentiman found in Professor Hurle, as usual, an ideal subject."

" You put him under influence ? '*

" At once, with the greatest ease."

" To what extent ? "

" That should answer your question better than any words of mine."

Mr. Fentiman took from an inner pocket of his coat some printed papers, which he passed to Wentworth, who glanced at them with an apparently non-under- standing eye.

" What are these ? "

" They are a sufficient demonstration, if one were needed, that my power is greater than it ever was, and an illustration of the various uses to which it may be applied."

" No doubt. I asked you what they are."

*' They are the Greek papers which are to be given to the candidates for honours in the forthcoming examina- tion for * Greats.' "

" Do you mean that they are examination papers ? "

** They are. And there are young gentlemen at

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 17

present in residence at the university who would give a good round sum for a sight of them. Worth money, those papers are."

"Nice brutes the young gentlemen you refer to must be ; and it's a pretty fine compliment you pay to the university ! "

"You don't imagine that it is men of ripe years like you who monopolize the taste for dirty tricks. Some young folks like them, too. I shouldn't be sur- prised if you yourself began quite early."

"That tongue of yours, Fentiman, has got you into trouble before to-day ; it will again. All men are not so patient as I am. How did these papers come into your possession ? "

" Quite simply ; simplicity always marks the artist. I was aware that Professor Hurle was to be the examiner in Greek. I asked him if the papers were ready ; he said they were. I invited him to give me a set, and he did."

" Under influence ? "

" Of course."

" Then he must be madder even than I thought."

"I doubt if he is mad ; indeed, I am sure he is not. But I admit that he is eccentric."

" Or he would not know you ? "

"Precisely; or, to put it more correctly, I should not be on those terms with him which I at present am. Professor Hurlc's little eccentricities arc known to the whole wide world, particularly his partiality for dabbling in what he calls the occult sciences. Occult 1 Bear evidence to how occult they really are, you witnesses

c

i8 A SPOILER OF MEN

from the unseen." Professor Fentiman held out his hands and hunched his shoulders as if in the enjoyment of some private joke. " For instance, in his time he has studied spiritualism, esoteric Buddhism, Christian science, telepathic transmission of thought — I have heard him, with much enjoyment, tell how, seated in his college rooms, he once, for days together, endeavoured to place himself in telepathic communication with a gentleman of similar mind who happened, at the moment, to be in Melbourne University. The experiment, I fear, was something of a failure — and now, since his researches in all these faiths have been crowned with but little satis- faction, he is devoting his attention, almost as a last resource, to certain abstruse sides of that great mystery of mind transference which is commonly known as hypnotism."

" Poor devil ! "

" I should not describe him myself as exactly a wise man, in spite of his scholarship."

" But that he should have put himself in your hands — you of all men ! — and at your mercy ! "

" We have one thing in common — we're both of us professors."

" Yes ! You are a professor of the three-card trick ; he is, at least, an honest man."

" Is it to address to me remarks of that kind that you have brought me here at this hour of the night, or, rather, morning ? Or do you yourself wish to pose as an honest man r "

" Not I ; I have no wish to pose as anything. Only I have had rather a worried day."

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 19

" And a troubled night ; witness the discharged revolver."

Mr. Wentworth went on unheeding. "And the con- sequence is I'm tired, and your platitudinous hypocrisies stick a little in my gorge. Come, to business, Fentiman. Do you think you can do it ? "

" Do what ? Explain exactly what it is you wish me to do. So far you've dropped more or less vague hints ; but this is a matter in which no loophole ought to be left for misunderstanding."

" I'll be plain enough. I want you to get from him a will — in proper form, and properly witnessed — in which he leaves to me absolutely everything of which he dies possessed. If what you have told me is true, you ought to be able to get such a document from him while he is under influence."

" Nothing can be simpler. Only — what I want to know is — where do I come in ? "

" Hand me such a will, and I will hand you a dis- charge in full — as full as you can possibly desire — for you know what."

" Together with certain papers ? "

"Together with certain papers; but with this pro- viso, that when you have once got from him that will you are never to go near him again."

" Being afraid that, having got one will out of him for you, I might get another for myself? "

" Never mind of what I am afraid. That condition will be attached to the discharge ; if it is broken, it will render it invalid."

For the first time Professor Fentiman removed the

20 A SPOILER OF MEN

wide-brimmed felt hat he had been wearing. He placed it and his malacca cane on a small chair, and himself in an easy chair. Leaning back, he clasped his huge hands in front of him, extending his long legs to their fullest length. Ensconced in that position of vantage, keeping his strange eyes fixed upon his host, he spent some moments in what seemed private cogitation, presently delivering himself of what possibly were the fruits of his thought.

" Your terms will suit me ; on them I have no com- ment to make ; only — I don't understand what it is you're at, or what it is you think you're at, and in delicate matters of this sort I do like to understand my principal. I doubt even if you understand yourself what you are at. Don't speak ; let me first explain, then your turn will come. I take it that you're aware that, as matters stand at present, everything your uncle has is left by will to his niece — your cousin — Miss Mason."

" I know — Letty, white-faced cat. She's as cold- blooded as a fish, infernal little prig."

" Is she ? All that ? Your uncle appears to hold a higher opinion of her than you do."

" My uncle ? Go on ; what are you driving at ? Only let me warn you in advance to be careful how you interfere with what is not your business."

" Thanks very much for the warning ; that sort of thing is always friendly ; one does like to know when to be careful. As you evidently are well aware, everything is left to Miss Mason ; but what I wonder if you are aware of is this, that your uncle has nothing to leave,"

"What do you mean by nothing ? "

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 21

" Practically nothing. I happen to know, my dear Mr. Wentworth, that you are a much richer man than you wish the world to think, I know your weaknesses, that they are many ; but I believe that the love of money is the greatest of them all. You have carts-full of money hidden away, out of which you get no enjoyment of any sort or kind. Your uncle has nothing compared to what you have ; and even with your love of money you'll account what he has as nothing. The income which he derives from his college and university — such as it is ; it is not a very large one, anyhow — dies with him. Beyond that his possessions consist of certain articles which he esteems valuable, but which a dealer would consider worthless. When his estate has been administered, I doubt if there will be a thousand pounds for any one. What is that to you ? Yet you are going to give me much more than the equivalent of that sum for a docu- ment which will be worth — to any one — very little more than the paper on which it is written."

" How did you come to know all that ? "

" When the erudite Professor Hurle is under influence he tells me everything — everything ! "

"Poor devil!"

" You have said that already ; but I don't see how, in this particular case, it applies. No harm comes to him from acquainting me with certain facts. What I should like to know is, arc you as well posted in the state of affairs as I am i* "

"I prefer, Fentiman, not to discuss my uncle's affairs with you. He evidently gives himself sufficiently away without any assistance from me. Have the goodness to

22 A SPOILER OF MEN

procure for me the document I have prescribed, and, in return, I will do as I have said."

" Then it is as I — thought."

" What do you mean by it's as you thought ? "

" It's of no consequence. If you wish to keep your own counsel I will keep mine." Mr. Fentiman ascended out of the armchair, by instalments, as it were. " I think, Mr. Wentworth, that I can get for you the docu- ment which you require by to-morrow about this time."

« So soon ? "

"I know of nothing which is to be gained by delay. Professor Hurle is very amenable just now, and I have again an appointment with him to-morrow afternoon. You have no idea what extremely interesting interviews I have with him. So, if I bring you the document about this time to-morrow, you will have the discharge ready for me ? "

"I will."

" Then, Mr. Wentworth, in the words of the song, I think I will say au revoir, but not good-bye."

" Let me show you out."

Mr. Wentworth escorted his guest to the entrance. Just as his host was about to shut the outer door after him, something occurred to the professor.

" By the way, those examination papers ; where are they ? You didn't give me them back."

Mr. Wentworth reflected. " Didn't I ? What did I do with them ? I fancy I put them on the mantel."

They returned to look for them. If he had put them on the mantel they were not there then. But, he admitted, he might have laid them down anywhere. On

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN 23

the subject of what he had done with them his mind was practically a blank. He remembered having them in his hands, but he had been so engrossed in conversation that what had become of them afterwards he had not a notion. Professor Fentiman's ideas were equally vague. Appar- ently, unnoticed by either men, the examination papers had slipped on to the floor, and had become confused with the litter which reigned there. They rummaged among the confusion in search of them. But that litter consisted of documents which Mr. Wentworth was particularly anxious to keep private. He quickly perceived that the professor was inclined to show more interest in some of these than in the objects of their search. So he cut the hunt short.

" That'll do, Fentiman ; put those down. What you're looking at has nothing to do with those things you stole. I shall be putting the place to rights directly you have gone, then I shall be sure to light on them ; they've only hidden themselves away for the moment. I'll either send them on to you, or I'll give them you when you come to-morrow. Anyhow, they'll be safe with me. I'm not likely to make an improper use of them."

The professor regarded him. a little curiously.

" I don't suppose you are ; yet it's odd what has become of them. Still, I'll chance it. I take it that you're not going up for the examination yourself, and that you have no dear friend, for whom you would like to do a good turn, who is."

" You're right, I haven't."

"Then give me them when I come to-morrow."

On that understanding the two men parted, Mr.

24 A SPOILER OF MEN

Wentworth again ushering his visitor off the premises. The instant he was gone, and the door was shut behind him, he came rushing back into the room, all eagerness, where before he had feigned indifference.

"What has become of those examination papers ? I'll swear I put them on the mantel, just here." He touched the spot with his hand. " I have not the faintest doubt about it ; I remember it distinctly. I even believe I noticed them there when I left the room with Fenti- man ; I am almost sure I did. They must have vanished during the minute in which I was seeing him off. If so, I wonder "

As rapidly as he had entered the room he left it, crossing the study towards his bedroom. When he reached it he stood in the doorway and stared. The bed was empty. The dead woman whom he had left on it had vanished. He searched for her in every possible corner ; in a good many impossible ones as well. There was not a trace of her to be seen.

CHAPTER III

ON THE STAIRCASE

Taking it all in all, St. Clement's is probably the pleasantest college in the university of Camford. Every man esteems his own college as the best, or ought to ; but it is not improbable that to St. Clement's would be awarded the palm by an impartial observer. It is very old. Every college ought to begin with two centuries of history ; there are many more than two centuries behind St. Clement's. It has architectural features which, hal- lowed as they are by the passage of the uncounted years, are not despicable. It is not too large, nor too small, but of a most reasonable size. It has a pleasant quad, and an ancient and most beautiful walled-in garden. The garden is, perhaps, the greatest of its glories. The rooms which look out on it are much to be desired. They are not many, but for the most part, as regards size and con- venience of arrangement, they are good rooms in them- selves ; and then to have, as near friend and neighbour, that exquisite plcasaunce, the heritage of long generations of sainted gardeners !

As was befitting, the finest set was in the occupation of a famous scholar — a scholar so famous, that his mere

25

26 A SPOILER OF MEN

presence within those time-worn walls lent to the college an added lustre. All the world knows — that part of it which knows about such things — that Professor Hammond Hurle was one of the greatest Greek scholars living. There was only one other man who could at all compare with him, and he was a German ; and they were both so erudite that it was difficult even for an expert to dis- tinguish between the merits of two men who, from the point of view of scholarship, were as much alike as Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Professor Hurle spoke in Greek and wrote in Greek, and was even supposed to think in Greek ; which, in some respects, was a pity, because had he devoted a little more attention to the world in which Greek is not, he might have been a wiser man. It is an unfortunate truth that scholarship does not necessarily go with wisdom. In the case of Professor Hurle this axiom was illustrated to an almost painful degree. Where Greek was concerned he was regarded as a nearly infallible authority ; where everything else was concerned he was looked upon by only too many persons as a simple-minded and extremely foolish old gentleman.

On the day after our introduction to a professor of quite another sort, the point of view of the undergraduates of his own college was demonstrated in a somewhat striking fashion. The professor in question — Professor Fentiman — was ascending the stone steps which led to Dr. Hurle's rooms on the first floor. He had been a pretty frequent visitor to St. Clement's of late, and his constant presence within the college precincts was regarded by the undergraduates by no means with favour. There

ON THE STAIRCASE 27'

was a certain young gentleman, Dick Sharratt, who claimed to have encountered the professor in another place, under circumstances which were scarcely to his credit. The first time he encountered the professor he said nothing — to him ; but when the professor returned again and again, and seemed likely to continue to return, Dick Sharratt took advantage of an opportunity which offered to recall to his mind certain occurrences which he would probably rather have forgotten.

Dick happened to be returning from the river — he was No. 3 in the 'Varsity boat. Two other men from the boat were with him — the stroke. Miles, and Gifford, who was bow. Dick roomed immediately above Dr. Hurle. Professor Fentiman reached the foot of the stair- case just as Dick and his friends were about to ascend. At sight of him Dick stopped dead.

" You're the chap who gave what you called an ' Exposition of the Marvels of Hypnotism ' at the Oldfield County Hall, and who got chucked out when the whole thing was shown to be false, and who was only saved by the police from being thrown into the river."

The manner and matter of Dick's address were so unceremonious and so unexpected, that it was not strange that Professor Fentiman not only started and stared, but, for the moment, was without words with whicli to answer. Dick placed a somewhat unfair interpretation on wiiat, under the circumstances, was the professor's not inexcusable silence.

" I don't wonder that you turn green at the thought. Caesar's ghost, how you did pelt down the High Street ! Until you reached the friendly shelter of a copper's arms,

28 A SPOILER OF MEN

I don't think I ever saw a chap sprint like it. I only wanted you to understand that there's some one in the place who knows you. That's all."

With sublime insolence Dick strode past the professor as if he was not there, and, followed by his two friends, went up the stairs. It was not until the trio were already some distance up that the professor awoke to a full realiza- tion of the young gentleman's impertinence ; and then — he said nothing. There had been many occasions in the course of his chequered career on which he had found that silence was golden ; he decided, on the spur of the moment, that this was another. He went his way, if not in peace, then in silence ; while Dick — with his friends — went his.

The incident had occurred some time ago. Since then, although Dick had had various distant glimpses of the professor, they had never actually met, possibly owing to the professor's generalship — he was used to taking precautions — until the afternoon on which, as has been said. Professor Fentiman was ascending the stone steps which led to Dr. Hurle's rooms. As it happened, Dick Sharratt, with a friend, was just then coming down. The staircase was a winding one ; so narrow that one person had to draw close to one side to let another pass. Professor Fentiman was already half-way up to the first floor when he heard footsteps descending from above. He was well aware that Sharratt was the name of the young person who had treated him with such incredible inso- lence, and that his quarters were immediately over those of his venerable friend ; it was therefore at least possible that the footsteps which he heard descending were those

ON THE STAIRCASE 29

of that ill-bred young man. He desired nothing less than an encounter. Rather than run the risk of one he would have willingly retreated — had he been able to think of a place to which to retreat. On the other hand, if he was quick he ought to gain the sanctuary of Dr. Hurle's rooms before the other had reached the first floor ; so he began to mount three steps with one hasty stride. But he did not bargain for the really disreputable fashion which Dick Sharratt had of descending his own stair- case— when disposed. He used to declare himself ready to accept a wager to any amount that he would get down it quicker than any other man of his acquaintance. No one was ever so foolish as to engage with him in so desperate a contest. While Professor Fentiman supposed himself to be doing well in mounting three steps at a time, Dick Sharratt thought nothing of coming down half a dozen at a single bound, and at a rate which was as dangerous as it was undignified. The consequence was that just as the professor but needed to take another stride to find himself in safety, it was only by a miracle of dexterity that Dick kept himself from dashing into him.

Dick drew back with an apology on his lips, which was only half formed when he perceived who it was he had almost cannoned into. That apology never attained to complete formation. Instead of drawing further back Dick came forward, in such a way that it was impossible for the professor to pass. The professor, always prudent, drew himself against the wall so as to enable Dick to pass him. But Dick evinced no desire to take advantage of his courtesy. On the contrary, planting himself in the

30 A SPOILER OF MEN

middle of the step, so that there was practically no room on either side of him, he addressed the other with distinct incivility.

" So it's you, you blackguard, is it I What do you mean by coming up this staircase when I am coming down ? "

Considering how peculiar the question was, Mr. Fentiman's reply was almost unnaturally mild.

" I was not aware that it was your private property."

This proved not to be a case of the soft answer which turns away wrath. Dick's manners were worse than ever.

" Don't speak to me, you brute ! And don't flatter yourself that we don't know what games you are up to with the Early-bird." The "Early-bird" was one of the nicknames by which Professor Hurle was known to the young gentlemen of his college and to others. " We've got an eye on you, and we're going to keep an eye on you, and if you're not jolly careful it'll soon be another case of sprinting down the street if you wish to keep yourself from getting wet. Do you hear what I say r

" I'm not deaf, Mr. Sharratt."

" Don't talk to me, I tell you. Take yourself down to the bottom of these steps so that I can come down them."

" There is plenty of room for you to pass ; or, if you will move a little back, in two seconds you shall have the entire staircase to yourself."

" Do you think that I'll pass you, or that I'll make way for you ? Look here, Mr. Professor Fentiman —

ON THE STAIRCASE 31

which I hear is what you call yourself, though I rather fancy ' Mr. Area Sneak ' is your proper name — if you don't take yourself down to the bottom of these steps in half a brace of shakes, I'll pitch you down. Now, quick ! Which is it to be ? "

Professor Fentiman said nothing. Answering never a word, he turned right about face, and descended to the foot of the staircase, so that the arrogant Dick Sharratt and his friend might have the sole and exclusive use of it. It was not exactly that the professor was a coward ; he had courage enough, of a kind, when nothing else but courage would serve. He was certainly not physically afraid of either Dick Sharratt or his friend. It is extremely possible that if Dick had endeavoured to put his threat into execution he might have found himself engaged in a task which was beyond his powers. The professor gave way simply because long and varied experience had taught him that it was frequently better to accede to unreasonable and even monstrous demands rather than attract an undue amount of public attention to himself and his proceedings by refusing to comply. Dick Sharratt and his friend came down and passed, the professor withdrawing himself into a corner of the outer hall to allow them to do so. As they went Dick said something else to the professor which was scarcely civil. When they had gone. Professor Fentiman reascended the stone steps, and knocked at the door of Dr. Hurle's quarters as calmly as if no disagreeable little incident had occurred to ruffle his tranquillity.

CHAPTER IV

THE TWO PROFESSORS

The door was opened by a grey-headed individual, who regarded the professor with what were hardly glances of affection. But it was an axiom with Mr. Fentiman always, if the thing was even remotely possible, to take it for granted that every one everywhere was glad to see him. He smiled — the odd expression on his countenance was intended for a smile — as if the grey-headed man was smiling at him.

" Well, Tompkins, always bright and brisk ? I can't think how you manage to do it. Do you know that you look younger every time I see you ? I believe you've dropped a couple of years since I saw you yesterday. You'll be a boy in no time if you go on at this rate. Is the professor in ? But, of course he's in ; as he has no doubt told you — I believe he tells you everything — I've an appointment with him. See here, Tompkins, I want you to do me a little service." Mr. Fentiman held out a coin ; Tompkins held out his hand, not as if he wished to hold it out, but as if it constrained him to hold it out. His fingers closed upon the coin. " There's a sovereign for you. I want you to leave me alone with the professor for a little while."

32

THE TWO PROFESSORS 33

" You always want me to do that." " Quite true, quite true ! You see, Tompkins, the professor and I are engaged in some little experiments together which, for complete success, require uninterrupted privacy."

" I know, silly old fool ! If I was him, I'd as soon trust myself alone with an adder in the room as I would with you."

" Now that's unkind, Tompkins — unkind. What I particularly want you to do this afternoon is not only to ensure our privacy, but not to go too far off — say, no farther off" than the porter's lodge. Then, if you can find a friend, you might beguile half an hour or so with him in conversation ; at the end of which time it is possible that I, or rather the professor, may require your services and your friend's, in which case I am sure that he will see that both of you are adequately rewarded."

" I am not afraid of not being adequately rewarded by the professor for anything I may do for him, thank you, Mr. Fentiman. And as it happens, I don't ever go farther off" than the porter's lodge while you're in here ; I've always a sort of feeling that there's no telling when I may be wanted. Shall I tell him you are here, or will you tell him yourself."

" I'm obliged to you, Tompkins, I'll tell him myself." Tompkins went down the stairs, and Mr. Fentiman passed into the professor's rooms, drawing the door to behind him as he did so, and turning the key gently, as if he desired the operation to be as little noticed as possible.

34 A SPOILER OF MEN

As it happened, Dr. Hurle was not in the outer room. It was a pleasant apartment, long and fairly lofty. Four large windows looked out upon the college garden. When Mr. Fentiman came in they were all wide open to admit the fresh air and the sunshine, and the voices of the birds, and the rustling of the breeze among the trees. The first thing he did was to close them ; one could never tell who might be listening, or what might be over- heard. The window frames were leaded. In the centre of each frame, in stained glass, were the college arms ; the sun shining through them sometimes threw long splashes of many colours almost from wall to wall. Three sides of the room were lined with books, some of them so old as to be nearly the first products of the printing press. There were two doors, beside the one through which Mr. Fentiman had entered. The one at the end led into the professor's bed and dressing rooms ; the other, at the side, almost fronting one of the windows, opened into a smaller chamber which, as Mr. Fentiman was aware, was used as a sort of lumber-room for the professor's superfluous books and papers. Beyond this was the scout's room, where, under Tompkins' guardianship, were kept the professor's private store of provisions and other things. The furni- ture was good, and old, and solid ; the college crest was on the backs of most of the chairs ; indeed, the college crest seemed everywhere. There were no less than three tables. Judging from the papers which strewed it, on which apparently some one had recently been engaged, the large one in the centre was the one which was most in use. Mr. Fentiman, moving to it, picked up paper after paper, quickly glancing at each one to see

THE TWO PROFESSORS 25

what it was. He had just put one down when the door at the end opened, and the tenant of the rooms came in.

The impression which Dr. Hurle conveyed to every one who saw him first was that he was a very little man. There were those who insinuated that if he had not been physically so small a man, he would never have become so great a scholar. As young gentlemen of the type of Mr. Sharratt put it, he had always been such a "mere atom " that there was never anything for him to do but " swot." His size, or, rather, want of it, shut him out from the ordinary amusements of the undergraduate ; it was hardly likely that he could ever have been any real good at games. Since he had probably never scaled seven stone in his life, the position for which he was fitted was cox ; but rumour had it that nothing could ever induce him to go on to the water of his own free will. He was afraid of it. He had been a bookworm all his life. He had spent all his days in trying to imbue himself with the very spirit of ancient Greece ; the side of Greece, that is, which had nothing to do with out-of-door life, the stadium, the arena. He had never known what it was to have, in any wide sense of the word, intercourse with his fellows. He knew nothing of women. He had never even travelled. With all his interest in Greece he had never dreamt of going there. It was credibly reported that for nearly forty years he had never journeyed more than ten miles from St. Clement's College, with the exception of a short annual visit which he made to London, during which practically the whole of his time was spent in the British Museum. The consequence was that, although

2,6 A SPOILER OF MEN

he was more than seventy years of age, in all matters out- side his particular line of study he was a mere infant in swaddling clothes ; immeasurably younger, for instance, than Dick Sharratt overhead.

The contrast between the two professors was striking. The one so huge, so coarse, so brutal ; the other so minute, so delicate, so emasculate. Dr. Hurle was more like a large doll than an ordinary man ; and though he looked his age, there was that about him which was irresistibly suggestive of a child — a physically finely- fashioned child, whose growth had been prematurely arrested. Even his head was small, and was without a hair on it. His obviously short-sighted eyes were pro- tected by unusually large steel-rimmed spectacles. He was carelessly dressed in a suit of dark grey tweed, which had seen much wear and was not particularly well fitting. As he came across the room he held one hand out in front of him, as a blind man might have done who feels his way. He walked badly, shuffling along rather than lifting his feet ; as he moved he swayed a little, as if he were not certain of his foothold. Not a word was spoken until he reached the table by which Fentiman was standing. Then he paused, resting his little withered hands on the back of a chair, as if he needed its support ; and, indeed, one could see that he trembled. He turned his face towards the huge man, peering up at him with his dim eyes with an eagerness which was both painful and pathetic. He spoke in a small, squeaky voice, which was exactly the sort of voice one would have expected to proceed from such a body. " I felt you ! I felt you ! "

THE TWO PROFESSORS 37

He repeated the words twice over, as if the repetition lent them emphasis. Fentiman looked down at him as at some pigmy.

" You wanted me ? "

" It is not so much that I want you — though I think I do want you, in a sense — as that I want some sleep. I have had none all night, and, in consequence, my nervous system suffers. Every bone in me seems aching. A sleepless night tries me more than it used to do. I must have sleep, or, if I don't, I feel as if something will burst."

He pressed the sides of his head with both hands as if it ached.

" You want me to send you to sleep ? "

" Yes, I want you to send me to sleep — now, at once. I want rest — rest."

For answer Fentiman bent his long body till his head was on a level with the little man. He looked him full in the face with a continued, persistent stare ; his strange eyes, all the while, going through some curious perform- ances ; the pupil and iris coming and vanishing, enlarging and decreasing, in a fashion which might have discon- certed any one, and which evidently had on the doctor a sinister effect. The moment the performance began a change came over him. When Fentiman commenced to wave his hands in front of him in what seemed a series of calculated movements, touching him with his outstretched finger-tips (now on the temple, now on the muscles of his neck, now behind his ears), the change grew more pro- nounced. Something unpleasant had happened to liis eyes, so that the whole eyeball seemed to turn right round

38 A SPOILER OF MEN

in the socket. The muscles of his face grew rigid, his lips tremulous. To an ordinary observer he looked as if he were shivering on the edge of a fit. Presently, still continuing his varied processes, Fentiman asked a question.

" Are you asleep ? "

After a period of what seemed painful hesitation, he answered in a voice which was, and yet was not, his —

« Yes."

As if not yet wholly satisfied, Fentiman increased rather than diminished his exertions, presently repeating his inquiry —

" Are you asleep ? "

This time the response was instant, unhesitating.

« Yes ? "

"Then sit upon that chair." A little awkwardly, yet readily enough, the professor did as he was told ; sitting bolt upright, in an attitude so rigid as almost to suggest some variety of tetanus. Ceasing from his acro- batic contortions, drawing himself upright, Fentiman looked down at him with inquisitive eyes. "Are you

restmg

?"

" Yes — I'm resting."

Fentiman's great mouth was distorted by what might have been an involuntary grin. He said aloud, yet as if speaking to himself, as if quite certain that the words he uttered were inaudible to the man in front of him —

" Are you ? I doubt it, and I don't think you'll find yourself much rested when you come out of it. Odd,

\

THE TWO PROFESSORS 39

how differently this kind of thing affects different people ! Some are always asleep, whether under influence or not ; I fancy that, on the whole, they're the luckiest. You, little man, seem as if you can never get any sleep at all, except when you're like this ; and that's the devil, because, with a man of your age and temperament, when the influence has passed, it leaves you more in want of sleep than ever. It seems to me that before very long we shall have sucked the capacity for natural sleep clean out of you ; which means, that these little experiments of ours will soon arrive at a natural termination. When you came into the room just now, you looked to me as if you were a dying man. Let's feel your pulse." He lifted the other's arm, pressing his fingers on the slender wrist ; the professor paying no more attention to what was taking place than if he had been a wooden image, and the arm the property of some one else. " What a pulse 1 scarcely visible. There could hardly be much less of it. I fancy, Professor Hurle, that you and I will soon have to wish each other a last good-bye. Personally, I shall be sorry. I have found you, in all respects, a most delightful subject." His manner altered ; he addressed himself directly to the little man. " While you're resting. Professor Hurlc, I should like to ask you one or two questions, and I would request you to be careful with your answers. You informed me yesterday, while you were resting, that you were not only relatively, but actually, a poor man. For instance, you said that you had only a very small balance at your banker's. Is that true ? "

" Quite true."

40 A SPOILER OF MEN

" And that that balance, together with what is contained in these rooms, practically represents all that you possess in the world. Again, is that true ? "

" Quite true."

" Is your life insured ? "

"No."

" Are you certain ? "

" Quite certain."

"So far, so good. I am bound to admit that certain inquiries which I have made among your own papers and elsewhere corroborate to the full all that you have stated. Now I am going to put to you some questions which I did not put to you yesterday, and I would ask you to think, to try well back in your memory, before you reply. Were you ever richer than you are now ? "

The professor, as requested, seemed to consider.

" I was once."

" You were, were you ? Oh ! I think that now we may be coming to it."

" Coming to what ? "

" That remark was not intended for you. Your noticing it, however, shows how completely our souls are in sympathy. At the same time, you will be so good as to pay no attention to remarks which you are not meant to notice. Answer this question. What was the largest sum of money you ever possessed ? "

" Five thousand pounds."

" Five thousand pounds. That's a nice little nest-egg. Where did you get it from ? "

THE TWO PROFESSORS 41

" From the sale of certain copyrights."

" When was that ? "

Again the professor seemed to consider.

" About three years ago."

" What became of it ? "

" My nephew cheated me out of it."

" Your nephew ? "

" My nephew, Cyril Wentworth."

Mr. Fentiman whistled softly.

"Now, indeed, we seem to be coming to it. How did Cyril Wentworth cheat you out of your five thousand pounds ? "

" He induced me to invest them in the shares of a worthless mining company."

" Did he ? Oh ! Strange how thoughtless some nephews are ! What unsound financial advisers ! What was the name of the mine ? "

Once more the professor appeared to consider.

"It was the Great — something."

"The Great what?"

"I can't for the moment remember." All at once the professor became voluble, as if it relieved him to ventilate a grievance. " It was soon after he came back from Australia. He had been there some time, so I supposed he knew something about the country. He talked as if he knew something about mines. I happened to mention to him casually that I had this money by me, and I asked him if he could recommend to me a sound investment. He recommended me this mine. I bought five thousand shares in it at a pound apiece. Almost as soon as I had bought them, I discovered that they

42 A SPOILER OF MEN

were absolutely worthless ; that the whole thing was a swindle."

"Five thousand shares at a pound a piece, and the whole thing was a swindle. That was unfortunate — for you. Where are the shares ? "

" He has them. When I found out how I had been cheated, I wanted him to give me my money back again ; and when he wouldn't, I told him that I refused to com- pound a felony by accepting his worthless rubbish in lieu of my hard-earned cash. I told him he was a thief, and so he was. I meant the money to go, when I was dead, to my niece, Lettice Mason ; and he robbed her of every penny."

" Bad man ! Did you ever actually see, and handle, those five thousand shares ? "

" Yes, I saw them. He brought them here, and told me all sorts of lies, and wanted me to take them j but I wouldn't."

" Then am I to understand that, to the best of your knowledge and belief, he still holds them, in trust for you?"

" He can continue to hold them for all I care."

" Try to remember what, exactly, was the name of the mine."

The professor tried again, this time with more success.

"It was somewhere in Western Australia; at least, he said it was, I've got it — it was the Great Harry Mine."

" You are sure it was the Great Harry Mine ? "

" Quite sure. It was such a ridiculous name that I

THE TWO PROFESSORS 43

ought to have had sense enough to know that it was no good."

Mr. Fentiman began to pace about the room, talking to himself, and not to the professor.

" The Great Harry Mine ? I seem to have seen and heard something about a mine with a very similar name quite recently. By God ! Where's the paper ? Professor, haven't you a newspaper in the place r "

" No. I don't take one. I'm not interested in the news of the day."

" Aren't you ? Then I don't wonder you're sitting there. If it is as I suspect, I begin to see my friend Wentworth's little game. What a man ! and what a fool ! " The opprobrious epithet was addressed to the back of the unconscious professor. Returning to the table, Fentiman set in front of Dr. Hurle a sheet of paper, a pen, and ink. He issued a peremptory com- mand. " Look at me ! " The professor looked. The process which had originally placed him in the condition in which he then was, was repeated. Mr. Fentiman repeated all his previous contortions with such energy that at the end he was moved to take a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the perspiration off his brow. As a result of his efforts, it was evident that the professor's curious state had become more curious still. Fentiman made the position plain, " You understand. Professor Hurle, that my will is to be yours ; you are to have no wish in opposition to mine. You are to do as I tell you, exactly, at once, and without comment. You are to say nothing unless I bid you. Take that pen." The

44 A SPOILER OF MEN

professor took it. " Write the date on the top of that sheet of paper." The professor wrote it. " Now write what I am going to dictate to you ; I will speak slowly. Begin. This is the last will of me, Hammond Hurle, of St. Clement's College, Camford, in the county of Camford. I devise and bequeath all my estate and effects, real and personal, which I may die possessed of, or entitled to, unto my nephew, Cyril Wentworth, absolutely. And I revoke all former wills and codicils. Dated this tenth day — repeat the date again."

Mr. Fentiman spoke slowly, as he said he would do. With docile accuracy the professor wrote down each word as it fell from his lips. The dictator, taking up the paper, read what had been written. It met with his approval.

"That'll do. It only requires to be signed and witnessed, and I flatter myself it will be as sound and valid a will as ever yet was drawn. I haven't studied Every Man His Otvn Lawyer for nothing." He re- placed the sheet of paper in front of the professor. "There. Leave that where it is; don't touch it. Sit still ; don't move ; and don't speak. I'll step over to the porter's lodge and bring as good and responsible a pair of witnesses as any judge could desire ; and if I can't bamboozle them into believing that the whole business is open and above board, I've less influence over you, Professor Hurle, than I imagine."

Leaving the paper on the table in front of the professor, he turned his back on him, and crossed the room. He already had his hand upon the handle

THE TWO PROFESSORS 45

of the door when a voice — a feminine voice — ad- dressed him from behind, as he had addressed the professor.

"I fancy, Mr. Fentiman, that you may find that the matter is not quite so simple as you suppose."

CHAPTER V

THE SIX

Had the painted ceiling of the room come tumbling down about his ears, Mr. Fentiman could hardly have been more surprised. As has been hinted, experience having accustomed him to disagreeable surprises, it needed something really remarkable to upset his equilibrium. That little remark nearly did it. He swung round and stared ; the more he stared, the more his amazement seemed to grow. In front of the door which led into the lumber-room stood a lady — a young lady ; charmingly dressed ; good to look at. Between the fingers of her left hand dangled the handle of a parasol. She wore a veil. From behind this veil she glanced at him, out of two bright eyes, with a smile. Her self-possession was as obvious as his was not. When — if one might take it so — he had learnt as much of her as could be learnt by the sense of sight alone, he spoke. " Who are you ? "

" Ah, that's the question : Who am I ? " She swung her parasol, having balanced the handle on the end of one finger. It was a fantastic construction of light blue silk, harmonizing well with the pale blue muslin gown which she was wearing,

46

THE SIX 47

"Are you — Miss Mason ? "

" No ; I'm not Miss Mason.'*

" Where do you come from ? "

"Just now, this very moment, I've come from in there."

She flicked her parasol towards the lumber-room.

"Did he know you were in there ?"

The allusion was to Dr. Hurle.

" Poor dear ! I should say not. What is there he does know r "

"Then what do you mean by going in there? or coming here ? What is it you want ? "

" Well, you see, I happened to learn from Mr. Cyril Wentworth that you were coming here to play some hankey-pankey tricks on poor dear Dr. Hurle, so I thought I'd come and see you play them. And here I am."

" Do you mean to say that Cyril Wentworth told you that I was coming here this afternoon ? "

"I obtained the information from his own lips."

" Then — what is there between you ? What have you to do with him ? "

" I have a great deal more to do with him than, at present, he imagines."

Moving a little from the door, glancing at her all the time, Fentiman began to snap the finger-nails of his left hand against his teeth, an unpleasant habit in which he sometimes indulged when he was puzzled. At that particular moment he was very mystified indeed. He admitted it.

" You are beyond my comprehension altogether.

48 A SPOILER OF MEN

Have you the check to hint that Cyril Wentworth sent you here to spy on me ? "

" That is a question which I would rather you addressed to Mr. Wentworth himself. It is rather a rude one, isn't it ? "

Advancing to the table, she took up the sheet of paper which was in front of the professor, who, while these remarks were being exchanged, remained as rigid as a poker, and apparently as unconscious of what was taking place.

"Is this the will he asked you to obtain for him ? "

" Yes, that's it. What beats me is why Wentworth should want you to put your finger in the pie. I'm beginning to wonder if he's not more of an idiot than I thought he was. Come, be open with me. You know who I am. Tell me who you are. What is your little game ? "

"Mr. Fentiman, for all information, on any subject, I must refer you to Mr. Cyril Wentworth."

She was folding up the sheet of paper.

*' That will's not completed."

" It's as complete as it ever will be."

" What do you mean ? It has to be signed and witnessed. I was just going to fetch the witnesses when you came out of tliat hiding-place of yours."

" Did I stop you ? Perhaps you would like to go and fetch them now."

"And leave you alone with him? and with that will ? I'm beginning to smell a rat — to suspect that this is a little plant of your own j that Cyril Wentworth has

THE SIX 49

no more to do with this game you're playing, whatever it is, than I have. Give me that will."

" Thank you, Mr. Fentiman, I think not."

"You think not ? So that is the game ! It's some infernal bluff you're trying on ! My girl, you're not going to bring it off quite so easily as you supposed. Give me that will."

"I've already told you, Mr. Fentiman, that I think not."

" Don't you make any mistake. Don't imagine, because you wear a skirt, that I'm going to let you monkey with me, because I'm not. If you won't give me that will I shall take it, with or without your leave — you can bet on it — and then those pretty clothes of yours will get themselves rumpled, which will be a pity. Now, for the last time, are you going to give me that paper, or am I to take it ? "

"Oh, Mr. Fentiman, look at Dr. Hurle ! "

The girl's voice had in it a note of sudden terror. Fentiman swung quickly round towards the professor to see what caused it. As he turned, the girl slipped past him, lightly and swiftly as some young deer. Before the more slow-moving Fentiman had perceived her purpose, and the trick which she was playing, she had reached the door. With creditable rapidity he was after her ; but before he could stop her, she had turned the key and flung the door wide open.

" Gentlemen," she exclaimed, " would you mind stepping into this room for the space of just one minute f "

It seemed incredible that sounds could have penetrated

50 A SPOILER OF MEN

through the two closed doors, or that her ears could have detected footsteps coming up the stairs ; certainly Mr. Fentiman had heard nothing ; yet if it was an unlooked- for accident that when the door was opened, Mr. Sharratt and no less than five of his friends were revealed without, it was a curious one. The surprise of Mr. Sharratt and his friends, at the vision which greeted them, was un- deniable. In a moment each man had his cap in his hand, and, what was more astonishing, his hands out of his pocket. The young lady's bearing was imperious.

" Is not one of you named Mr. Sharratt ? "

Dick admitted it.

" My name's Sharratt."

" I believe, Mr. Sharratt, that your rooms are over these ? "

Dick bowed.

" That's so."

" Then may I ask you and your friends to come in and protect Professor Hurle from this man ? The pro- fessor has been made the victim of a dastardly outrage."

Dick and his five friends went in to find themselves confronted by Mr. Fentiman, who did not seem to be altogether pleased to see them. Dick shook his head at him, more in sorrow than in anger.

" I knew I should be running up against you before very long. You're a beauty 1 "

Mr. Fentiman endeavoured to assume an air of dignity, with not quite so much success as he might have desired.

" Young gentlemen, I warn you, you are trespassing. As you are perfectly well aware, these rooms are private.

THE SIX 51

This young woman, who is unknown both to Professor Hurle and to me, is herself a trespasser. She has no more right to ask you to enter than you have to presume upon her impertinent invitation. I must ask you to be so good as to withdraw at once, and to take her with you.**

Dick shook his head at him again. His remarks were apparently addressed to no one in particular.

" He will do it ! There's no stopping him ! Ic's bound to be another case of sprinting down the High Street 1" He turned to the vision in blue, with the big hat, and the veil, and the sparkling eyes. " What lark's he been up to now ? "

" He has thrown Professor Hurle into a hypnotic trance, although he knows that, in the present state of the professor's health, it's an extremely dangerous thing to do ; and then he has obtained from him, while in that condition, all sorts of information on his most private affairs, of which he has taken advantage to compel him to draw up a document, which, I am perfectly certain, he never would have drawn up had he been conscious of what it was that he was doing."

Dick advanced towards the chair on which the little professor, wholly oblivious of his surroundings, still sat rigid as a poker.

" Professor Hurle "

Fentiman interposed.

" I warn you that Dr. Hurle is under influence, at his own request, as this young woman can testify, if she is as honest as she would wish you to suppose. You may subject him to serious, and even fatal, injury if you interfere witli him while lie is in that state."

52 A SPOILER OF MEN

" Then uninfluence him, or whatever you call the little dodge of bringing him back to his senses."

"I require no instructions from you on that point, Mr. Sharratt. I recognize no one in this matter except Dr. Hurle himself. In order to show you what view he will take of your conduct, and of this young woman's conduct, I propose to remove the influence of my own initiative, when you will quickly find yourselves ordered to quit these rooms."

The performance which Mr. Fentiman went through with those six pairs of eyes watching him was no more agreeable to witness than the one which he had gone through in private ; but it was, fortunately, shorter, and before long the professor gave signs that he was returning to his everyday self. He grew limper and limper. Presently, his eyeballs turned right round in their sockets, as they had done before, only this time in the reverse direction. With a little gasp he looked about him.

" Have I been to sleep ? Where am I ? What has happened ? Who are all these people ? What do they want ? "

Although his squeaky little voice suggested a certain amount of irascibility, he was so weak that he sank back in the big chair, a pathetic little figure of helplessness. The vision in blue, entirely ignoring his questions, assumed complete control of the situation.

" Will you be so kind, Mr. Sharratt, as to request Mr. Fentiman to leave the room ? I will attend to Dr. Hurle."

Dick did what, in our childhood, we are told it is rude to do. He pointed.

THE SIX 53

" Fentiman, door ! "

Mr. Fentiman showed extreme unwillingness to take advantage of the hint. He drew closer to the professor, or, rather, he tried to do so ; as it chanced, Dick was in the way.

" Professor Hurle, I must ask you to exercise your authority ; I even appeal to you for protection. Mr. Sharratt has already behaved to me in a manner which makes me fear that at his hands I may receive treat- ment "

Dick interrupted the speaker's voluble expression with three words.

" Gentlemen — Fentiman — outside ! "

In a surprisingly short space of time, those six young men were bearing Mr. Fentiman towards the door ; if not with reverence, then at least with alacrity. Mr. Fentiman kicked and struggled, delivering himself of objurgations and strange words. He was a big man, capable of putting up a fairly good fight, if a fight was possible and there was nothing else to do. But these were six ; all young, trained athletes, bent on doing a lady's bidding. In their hands he was helpless. So that presently the door closed on him, and he was seen no more. Only still, for a few moments, his voice came up the stairs.

Dr. Ilurlc, still huddled up on his chair, had been watching the proceedings, and the sudden disappearance of his professional colleague, with a sort of bewildered stupor, as if he was not quite sure if he was yet under that gentleman's influence or not. When the six with the one had vanisiicd, he inquired, in stammering tremulous accents —

54 A SPOILER OF MEN

" What — what's it mean ? What — what are they going to do with him ? "

The lady bent over him, and smiled sweetly.

" It only means that they are going to take him into the fresh air, and give him — perhaps — a little exercise."

CHAPTER VI

AN EVENING*S ENTERTAINMENT

At Mr. Tallis' ball Cyril Wentworth found himself rather awkwardly placed. Among the guests was one lady whose society he was desirous of enjoying, and another to whom he felt that it would be the part oi wisdom to devote the whole of his attention. This second lady was Miss Bradley — Ellen Bradley — the only child of her father, and he was a widower, whose "Stomachic Pills" are known, at any rate by name, to every English-speaking person on the surface of the globe ; such frequently unintentional knowledge being one of the ills which modern flesh is heir to. She was youngish, somewhere in the early thirties, and she was intellectual — really intellectual. Her novels were not only clever — some of the most respectable critics called them "brilliant" — but they had achieved con- siderable popularity. Her plays had been produced at various theatres, some of them with much success. Her gifts as an essayist and preacher to the world at large — on nothing in particular, and everything in general, in "literary circles" and sometimes outside of them — were a byword. And then, of course, there was

55

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her father's money. Under which circumstances per- sonal appearance was of no consequence, though, at the same time, she was not absolutely ugly. If she had chosen, she might have married again and again ; that is, if she had been fortunate enough to bury her husbands as fast as she had them. But she belonged to that genus of latter-day women which does not marry, not believing either in men as men, or in matrimony as a feminine vocation — that is, she had belonged to it until she met Cyril Wentworth.

Mr. Wentworth was not so much attracted by her personality as she was by his, which is the way in which fortune likes to manage things. None the less, he was quite conscious that as a wife she would be, in many respects, a most excellent investment, and he was not a man to let a good investment slip through his fingers if he could help it.

Matters had, indeed, gone with him so far that he had come to Mr. Tallis' ball with the deliberate intention of asking her to marry him before the night was over. Under which circumstances, Mrs. Van der Gucht's presence " on the festive scene " might almost have been regarded as a stroke of bad luck, to such a degree did she divert his thoughts from the business he had in hand.

Mrs. Van der Gucht was a Boer. It may not be, as yet, so widely known as it one day will be, but — physically, to look at, to talk to, and so on — some Boer women are among the most delightful women in the world. Mrs. Van der Gucht was, admittedly, one of them. She was the wife of a prominent Boer who had

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT 57

thrown in his lot with the English, and she was on a visit to England. Her husband remained in Pretoria. She always spoke of him most affectionately, and had brought with her some excellent introductions. Mr. Wentworth, who had been everywhere, had been to the Transvaal, and had there known her before she was Mrs. Van der Gucht — known her very well, so well, in fact, that she figured as the central figure in one of the romances of his life ; there were more than one. Sometimes, after he was far away, he would think of her, and would close his eyes, and clench his fingers, and vish that he could see her as clearly with the actual eye is with the eye of memory — that she was within reach of him, close at hand. When she appeared in London the flame, which had once burnt pretty strongly, if anything blazed more furiously than ever. She cast a glamour over his senses, bewitched him, as she did in the old days on the veldt. Now that she had put her actual girlhood behind her, which even yet was all she had done, she had become beatified, more delightful than before. The lovely girl of the veldt transformed into a lady of fashion was, to him, a revelation of things which, in a woman, are to be desired. Her tall, slim, childish figure; her beautiful, big eyes; the glorious mass of her fair hair, which, as he knew, reached well below her waist, and in whose luxuriance she might, if she choose, clothe herself as with a garment ; her pretty mouth, with the sweet red lips, and the small white teeth ; the daintiness with which she moved — to see her dance was to realize what folks mean who talk of the poetry of motion ; the grace which marked

58 A SPOILER OF MEN

everything she said and did ; the charming little gestures with which, when she was at all excited, and she was easily moved both to excitement and to laughter — how he loved to hear her laughter I — she would illustrate what- ever she might be saying ; — these trifles, being united together with other trifles, even sweeter, had cast on him a spell from which he had no desire to be free.

As he sat with her in the conservatory, through what was to have been one dance, but became two, his thoughts were with Miss Bradley — in no affectionate sense. He was aware that that lady was waiting for him in the ball-room, and that, when he did join her, she would ask him certain questions, and make certain remarks, in her well-known manner, which would jar upon his nerves. Still, he sat through the second dance, though her partner came to claim the lady — and had to be put off with a lie — saying things which he had no right to say, and to which she had no right to listen. And in the very middle of a sentence — which, beyond doubt, was better left unfinished — he stopped, and started, and sprang to his feet, and looked away from her, to her no small surprise.

"Why, what's the matter ?'* she inquired.

"I thought — but it can't be ! And yet ! "

" And yet, what ? And what can't be ? And what did you think ? What, all of a sudden, has happened ? "

As he had been leaning towards Mrs. Van der Gucht, he had seen, as it were, out of the unoccupied corners of his eyes, a woman moving among the palms at the other end of the conservatory. He had paid little

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT 59

attention until, reaching the entrance to the ball-room, she had stopped, and turned, and looked in his direction. If he could believe his eyes, she was the woman whom he had found in his flat the night before ; who had fallen to the floor when the revolver was discharged ; whom he had carried, dead, to his bedroom ; who had vanished when, after Fentiman's departure, he had returned to institute another, and more thorough, search for the missing examination papers. If his eyes had not deceived him, who was she, and what could she be doing there ? He was so genuinely moved that, for a moment or two, Mrs. Van der Gucht was forgotten. When he did remember her existence he spoke to her in a strain which was very different from that which he had been using.

"Excuse me, but a — person has just gone into the ball-room whom I think I have seen before, and to whom, if I am right, I must speak at once."

Without another word, or even look, he left her there, alone, in the conservatory, staring. And as she stared, a flush dyed all her face, and tears came into her eyes.

Cyril Wentworth, rushing off" as if in hot chase of some absconding creditor, gaining the threshold of the ball-room, stopped to look about him. The ball was at its height ; the room was crowded, too crowded for comfortable dancing. In such a throng it was difficult to discover any particular person. And yet he told him- self that, if that woman was anywhere within his range of vision, he would detect her on the instant. It was hardly more than a minute since he had seen her j she

6o A SPOILER OF MEN

was moving slowly ; in that crowd she could hardly have gone far in so short a time. Being taller than the average man, he could see over other people's heads. His glance was rapid, unerring. His faculty for quick- ness of observation was not the least remarkable of his remarkable gifts. Somewhat to his surprise there was not a sign to be seen of the woman he was seeking. There was no one in the least like her. Not a person of whom he could say that, under certain conditions, she quite possibly might be mistaken for the woman of the night before. It was with a feeling almost of bewilder- ment that he realized that it was so. Had it been possible he would have satisfied himself by saying that he had been the victim of a delusion. But he knew he had not been. The woman had stopped, and turned, and looked, in his direction, of set purpose ; he was sure of it. Then where was she, now, a minute afterwards ? What did it all mean ? He penetrated farther into the room, all agog for a glimpse of her. His search for the vanished lady went unrewarded, but he found Miss Bradley. And Miss Bradley, in a sense, found him. And neither party seemed in the best of tempers.

" I imagined, Mr. Wentworth, you had gone."

He looked at her with, in his eyes, a challenge.

"Would you rather I had gone ? "

She slightly shrugged her shoulders, returning him glance for glance.

" My good sir, what does it matter to me ? Does that mean that you're going now ? "

He perceived that here was a lady with whom, if he was not careful, in her present mood, he might easily go

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT 6i

too far, and this was an investment which he was anxious not to lose.

" You are cruel to me ! Where have you been hiding yourself? I have been looking for you every- where."

She knew he had been doing nothing of the kind. But her feeling for this man had reached such a stage that she was even willing to aid and abet him in a lie.

"I wonder if that is true ? I certainly have not been looking for you ; why should you have been searching for me ? "

" Because — but you know why. Come " — he was going to say, "Come into the conservatory;" but he remembered that it was possible that Mrs. Van der Gucht was still there, awaiting his return, so he checked himself in time — " somewhere where we can be away from all these people. There is something which I — I must say to you."

"Is there ? Indeed I Your tone is a trifle arrogant. Is it something to which I necessarily must listen ? It is hardly likely that anything which interests you can interest me."

But she knew better. She was almost painfully con- scious of a sensation which was strange to her. Possibly for the first time in her life she realized that she was in danger of losing her mastery over herself, her self-control. This man affected her as never a human being had done before, in a physical sense of wiiich she had not supposed herself to be capable. He slipped her arm through his, possibly the better to steer her tiirough the crowd j tiic

62 A SPOILER OF MEN

near contact with him caused a sort of vertigo to pass all over her. She had to lean upon him to enable her to keep her equilibrium till the wave of feeling had passed ; the closer she pressed to him, the stronger her emotion grew. From head to foot she was one curious thrill. She let him lead her where he would, incapable of remon- strance, only too willing to be led. He took her to a recess formed by a square bay window. Placing her on a seat, he seated himself beside her, leaving a space between them of several inches. She had a ludicrous desire — which, in its strength, almost amounted to anguish — that he would come closer, that she might feel him at her side. More than once, in her novels, she had made fun of women who had entertained such feelings, particularly women of her own age. The least dis- paraging thing she could say of them was that they — and their feelings — were vulgar. Now she was conscious that, for the first time in her life, she was beginning to live.

If Cyril Wentworth was scarcely any more self- possessed than she was, it was from altogether different causes. There were more reasons than he would have cared to admit why he should lose, at any rate momen- tarily, his mental balance, one being that for the woman near whom he was seated he felt an absolute physical repulsion, which was unfortunate, since it was his im- mediate intention to ask her to be his wife. He had not supposed that the task would have been so difficult. He was a man of much experience in such matters. He used to tell himself that he understood women better than they understood themselves. He was conscious of having bad a power over some of those with whom he had come

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT 61,

in contact of which he had not hesitated to take advantage, remorseless, monstrous advantage. He had not imagined that he would find it any trouble to take advantage of an old maid's fatuity. He had done it before ; he had taken it for granted that it would be easy to do it again. Only a few foolish words and a lie or two, and the thing was done. Yet, though he was aware that this woman — clever, shrewd woman of the world though she was — would swallow his hook, however it might be baited, greedily, eagerly, he found himself apparently physically incapable of even casting his line into the water. Words, which were to him the merest counters, declined to come.

He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, asking himself what had happened that he should be behaving like such an utter fool. The woman at his side, possibly supposing herself to be conscious of the cause which tied his tongue — the irony of the sup- position— desirous of offering him that encouragement of which he stood in need, edged herself closer to him. The movement not only added to his feeling of aversion, it made him angry. For a moment he could have struck her. He would certainly have liked to push her from him. To have risen there and then, and left her, with- out a word, sitting on the seat alone, would have afforded liim the keenest pleasure, if it had not been for other considerations. 13y long habit he had trained himself not to allow his feelings to get the better of his interest ; never to show what was actually in his heart if it paid iiim not to, and it generally did. Ijecausc lie would so much have liked to overwhelm tlie woman with some

64 A SPOILER OF MEN

public mark of his contempt and scorn he did nothing of the kind. The mere strength of his desire brought him to his bearings. There would be opportunity, and to spare, for that kind of thing after she had become his wife ; let him make her his wife to begin with. So, screwing himself to the sticking-point, he was just about to commence his perjuries when — he was interrupted.

The woman of last night stood in front of him — radiant, charmingly gowned, as much at her ease as she had been when he had first encountered her. She assumed an air of being surprised to see him ; whether it was feigned or not it was impossible to tell. Nothing could be more contemptuous than her manner of address- ing him.

" You here ! You ! Incredible ! It shows that you must have gone some distance to have been able to force yourself into a respectable house. If it were known, as it ought to be, who and what you are, even the servants would hesitate to soil their hands by throwing you out into the street."

Although these very frank observations were not made with unusual loudness, they, at least, were clearly spoken. There was that in her air which made them more con- spicuous. People turned to see who the speaker was, and, having turned, were disposed to observe the scene with growing interest. That night something must have ailed Cyril Wentworth. In the days which followed, he told himself so. Ordinarily he would have been equal to the situation, and more than equal. Then he was beaten by it. Already nonplussed by his unexpected awkwardness in asking Miss Bradley to be his wife, this

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT 65

sudden apparition took him at a disadvantage ; the manner in which he found himself being addressed was so unlocked for, and so surprising, that it completed his discomfiture.

His tormentor turned to Miss Bradley.

" I am afraid you don't know who this man is. He is a blackguard adventurer, who was convicted of theft, and who had to flee for his life to save himself from being charged with murder. In certain parts of West Australia he was known as Jack the Chemist. Ask him why. If he tells you truly, you will never permit yourself to be in the same house with him again. — Well, my man, what have you to say for yourself? "

The air of insolent assurance with which she put to him the question was, in its way, superb. In a fashion he found his tongue.

"I have only this to say : that, if there were a policeman within reach, I would give you into charge for burglary."

"There is one outside. Shall I send for him ? "

"I will choose my own time and place ; but before long you will find yourself in the dock, you may take my word for it." He turned to Miss Bradley. "I found this woman, who is a perfect stranger to me, in my rooms last night. She had made a burglarious entrance. Before I could have her arrested she escaped," The woman in question merely laughed. "I am making inquiries as to what her presence in my room meant, whetlicr her intention was merely felonious, or whether she was sent there — as I think is possible — for a certain purpose by certain persons who have no cause to love mc. When

F

66 A SPOILER OF MEN

I am satisfied on the point, the police will be at once instructed to take action. As to the statement she has just now made — with what malicious intention I am at a loss to divine — not one syllable of it is true. My record is open to all the world. I need not tell you that I am not such a man as she has said I am."

The woman laughed again.

" Well brazened ! Brass has always been your favourite metal next to gold." Then to Miss Bradley. " He has lied, as he always has lied, till it has been brought home even to his understanding that lying was no longer of any use. I have merely hinted at the sort of man he is in order that you may be warned and on your guard. You can scarcely wish to find yourself the wife of a notorious scoundrel. If you are wise, you will insist upon his telling you why he was known as Jack the Chemist, though, probably, before very long the reason why will be as household words in the mouths of all men."

CHAPTER VII

PROFESSOR FENTIMAN IS TRANSFORMED

When, later that night, Cyril Wentworth let himselt into his little flat in Sloane Street, it was not strange that he was in a bad humour. Lately, many things had been going wrong with him ; that night, in particular, had been a lamentable fiasco^ and he had intended it to have been the occasion of his triumph. His assailant had borne herself off with flying colours. It appeared that she was unknown to the hostess, Mrs. Tallis. How she had gained admission was a secret of her own. It was a point on which no information had been obtained from her. To avoid further scandal it had been thought better to let her depart in peace ; and she had departed, still completely at her ease.

Mr. Wentworth had not enjoyed himself after she had gone ; Miss Bradley's manner towards him had been distinctly chilly. The idea of asking her to be his wife that night was out of the question. She had quitted the assembly almost immediately after his unknown enemy, even declining to allow him to escort her to the door. But Mr. Wentworth had some acquaintance with what he called the feminine mind, as if all women had the

67

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same mental equipment ! He did not despair of Miss Bradley merely because she had snubbed him. He would call to-morrow and explain, and would keep on explaining till he got within reach of her. Then he did not doubt that the matter would be settled. Where she was concerned, he had a strong conviction of the potent influence of his physical neighbourhood.

But after that " female devil " — that was how he thought of her — had gone, he was conscious of something much more ominous than Miss Bradley's coolness. He felt that in the whole atmosphere of the room there was, towards him, a feeling of aloofness. People avoided him so far as they could. When he spoke to them they answered with as few words as possible, and hastened away. It seemed that, if they had been able, they would have cut him. He had a feeling that the first opportunity which offered, they would. Even his hostess seemed to have been plunged into a refrigerator since he arrived. He descended the staircase with a grim consciousness that not improbably that was the last time he would go either down or up it. And after the pains he had taken to gain the freedom of that house, and to be on terms of some- thing like intimacy with the people, who, he did not doubt, would experience a sensation of relief so soon as they were certain that he was really gone.

And all because of an unknown " female devil " who had descended on him, he knew not whence nor why.

Returned to his own rooms he asked himself — as he had done all the way from Mrs. Tallis', and, indeed, ever since the night before — who she might be, and what it was that she was after. There were so many things

FENTIMAN IS TRANSFORMED 69

which she might be after. It was essential for his own comfort — not to say safety — that he should know which particular incident in his eventful history was being aimed at. If he could only identify his antagonist it would be something. To all intents and purposes he was without a single clue. He had spent hours, after she had vanished on the preceding night, in going laboriously through the papers with which she had taken such amazing liberties. So far as he was able to judge, not one of them was missing. Nor could he find anything to show what she had been looking for, nor what there was in them which could have been of interest to her. He racked his memory in his endeavours to recall her face, or one like hers ; or a voice, a form, a gesture, anything which would enable him to link her with some particular association — in vain. Yet that hers was an entity which would have to be dealt with at once, and forcibly, events of that night had made sufficiently plain, or he might be destroyed before he knew what was striking him.

While he still kept trying back, there came a ring at the bell.

"Is that her? She's capable of it. I wish it were; this time she'd find me also capable of a thing or two. But I rather fancy it's my friend Fentiman. In either eventuality it's just as well that I should be prepared."

He took out of his waistcoat pocket a small leather case, which, having opened it and glanced within, as if to make sure that its contents were intact, he at once put back again. Then, since the bell still continued chiming, he admitted the ringer. It was not the lady — as he had anticipated ; it was Professor Fentiman.

70 A SPOILER OF MEN

" You might give that bell a rest, Fentiman. You're not bound to keep your finger glued to the button."

" I like to feel that I am giving you no excuse to pretend that you were not aware that I was ringing it, which is an amusing little game I have known you to play before to-day."

"Don't be an ass! If I didn't want to hear it I could disconnect it in an instant. You were perfectly well aware that I was not likely to deny myself to you to-night. It's rather the other way round. I was just beginning to wonder if you meant to come."

" You may thank your stars that I have come. It's certainly no fault of yours that I'm alive to do it."

" Don't hint that it's my misfortune ; that would be unkind. Talk sense, Fentiman ; you occasionally can. What luck ? Have you brought my dear uncle's very last will and testament ? "

" On my honour, Wentworth, for sheer impudence you take the cake. To look at and to listen to you, one would think that you were the most straightforward creature breathing, while I know you — and you know I know you — to be the most infernal hypocrite and humbug that ever walked the earth."

"Fentiman, have you been lowering it even more than usual ? "

" Lowering it ? I've been lowering nothing, except, God knows, how many gallons of water 1 "

"If it really is water which you have been absorbing, that possibly may explain the singularity of your language, because beyond doubt so unusual a liquor would affect you strangely. Be so good as to tell me plainly, have

FENTIMAN IS TRANSFORMED 71

you brought with you my uncle's will, drawn up in the terms which we agreed upon ? "

" You pretend to ask me such a question, you treacherous hound, after setting that infernal woman to spy on me ? When I think of it, I feel like taking you by the throat and choking the life right out of you ; I'm more capable of doing it than you may imagine."

At the mention of the word " woman," Mr. Went- worth did not exactly change countenance, but a flicker passed across his face, as if some muscle had been involuntarily twitched.

"Setting what infernal woman to spy on you ? " Mr. Fentiman explained, with considerable force of language, how, at a delicate point in his interview with Professor Hurle, a woman had, as he put it, " popped on to the scene like a damned Jack-in-the-box," which was rather a crude way of setting forth the actual manner of the lady's appearance.

"But what's the use," he went on, "of telling you what you know already, since she was your own infernal spy."

" On what grounds do you say she was my spy ? " "She told me that she was, in so many words." "Did she ? Tlic beauty ! Then she lied. Reflect, Fentiman. Ask yourself wiiat conceivable reason I could have had for setting her, or any one else, to spy on you, when the whole transaction was of so eminently delicate a character that the first essential was that the knowledge of it should be confined to our two selves ?"

"That is what I have been asking myself: what reason could you have had, unless you did it out of pure

72 A SPOILER OF MEN

cussedness, which is quite possible, because, anyhow, it was you who informed her that I was going down to Camford, and on what errand I was going."

" I who informed her ! "

" She said that she obtained the information from your own lips ; and she obviously must have done, since she certainly never had it from me ; and she could have got it from nobody but one of us."

Mr. Wentworth reflected. It occurred to him as possible, nay, probable, that the information had been obtained from his lips, though it had been very far from his intention to convey it. The statement which he made was distinctly accurate.

"I assure you, Fentiman, that I have not breathed one syllable on the matter to any one but you. If this woman of yours is the one I suspect, then she has been the cause of considerable annoyance to me already. If I can once get within grips of her, I promise you that I'll quickly bring her to a final account. Where is the will you induced my uncle to draw up ? "

" She has it ; that fair friend of yours."

Mr. Wentworth's face darkened. "Then, in that case, it may be the cause to me of serious injury. You had better have torn it up rather than let it get into her hands."

" You don't understand ; I was helpless. She set a gang of ruffianly undergraduates on to me, who, at her instigation, threw me into the college fountain. If it had not been for the intervention of an individual, who was apparently of the don species, I might have been drowned— actually drowned. What I have endured at

FENTIMAN IS TRANSFORMED 73

the hands of those cowardly blackguards, you have no conception."

He shuddered at the thought. Mr. Wentworth smiled, a fact which the sufferer possibly noted. He went on.

" But if I have been subjected to treatment on the details of which I do not care to dwell, and if I have left the draft of the will which was to make you your uncle's heir in the hands of your lady friend, I have brought something away from St. Clement's College which I think may prove to be of some value — at least, to me." i

*'What is it — the recollection of a pleasant dip? Seriously, Fentiman, you have my hearty sympathy. I understand what your feelings must have been at find- ing yourself introduced to cold clean water."

"I am glad my experiences amuse you, Mr. Went- worth. You enable me to perceive the more clearly that that young woman was not such a liar as you would wish me to believe. However, I fancy I have acquired a piece of information which may not amuse you quite so much. I told you last night that it was beyond my comprehension why you should be so anxious to be your uncle's heir, since he had nothing to leave. Now I begin to have the glimmering of an idea."

"Indeed. What is it r"

" Have you ever heard of the Great Harry Gold Mine ? But you needn't trouble yourself to answer, because, as a matter of fact, I know you have."

" What of it r "

" What has become of the five thousand shares in it which you hold in trust for your uncle ? "

74 A SPOILER OF MEN

" How do you know that my uncle has, or ever had, any shares in it ? "

" He told me so himself, this afternoon, while under influence. But he's such an addle-headed old idiot that he takes it for granted that because they were worthless once they must be worthless always, and therefore is entirely unconscious of the fact that, owing to certain accidents, they are worth, we will say, a good deal more than the sum he paid for them."

"Well, Fentiman ; what next ?"

"You and I, Mr. Wentworth, are the only persons in existence who know that your uncle holds those shares, and what their value is. How much do you think it would be worth to you to keep the real facts of the case, say, from him ? "

Mr. Wentworth smiled. " You want me to pay you to keep still ? "

"That's about the size of it."

"I will be candid and admit that it is a matter of almost vital importance to me that those facts should not become generally known ; had I guessed that you would have got upon their track, I doubt if I should have intro- duced you to my uncle."

"You underrated my powers. I always told you that you did."

"I suppose that was the case — I suppose it was. As you have shown that I was wrong, and since matters are as they are, all that remains for me to do is to face the situation, and to treat it from a business point of

view."

" Quite so. You are right enough there."

FENTIMAN IS TRANSFORMED 75

" I am glad you feel that also. All that remains for us is to understand each other thoroughly. My experi- ence is that as a means of oiling the wheels a whisky and soda is not to be despised."

"I'm still with you." From a cabinet which he unlocked, Mr. Wentworth took out a decanter and a tumbler. " How do you like it ? "

"Stiffish."

Wentworth poured out a generous modicum or whisky, which he diluted with but a modest proportion of the contents of a syphon of soda. He mixed another drink for himself on less heroic lines.

"Here's to our understanding each other better, Fentiman."

He raised the tumbler to his mouth, but whether any of the liquor passed his lips was doubtful. On that point, as regards Mr. Fentiman, there could be no doubt what- ever, he nearly emptied his glass at one great gulp. As he did so a startled look came on his face.

" What — what's the matter ? "

That was all he said. The glass slipped from between his fingers. He reeled, and fell to the floor, and where he fell he lay still. After a moment's pause, Wentworth, putting down his own tumbler on the mantelshelf, advanced and stood over him.

" You said you wanted it stiffish, and you've got it." He again took out of his pocket that small leather case, and from it he produced a tiny syringe. "If you'd brought me the will, all signed and settled, I'd have given you your discharge in full, as I promised, since I did not propose to allow you to hold the knowledge

76 A SPOILER OF MEN

of how it came into existence over me. As, although you have permitted yourself to be bluffed by a woman, you have got hold of information which I would rather you hadn't, you shall still have your discharge in full. Here it is."

Kneeling on the floor beside the prostrate man, with his left hand he brushed the hair away from his forehead. He drove the nozzle of his syringe, which was unusually long, and of needle-like fineness, right into the head, among the roots of the hair in the centre, between the temples. Then he injected the contents.

That was all. But the following afternoon there was brought before the magistrate at the Hammersmith Police Court an individual who had been found wander- ing, in an irresponsible manner, about the streets. He was unable to give an account of himself, for the sufficient reason that he was speechless, being apparently a deaf mute, and also, unmistakably, an imbecile. He was re- manded to the imbecile ward of the Hammersmith Workhouse, to be medically examined, and pending certain inquiries. The doctor certified that, while he was beyond doubt a lunatic, his case presented features of a most unusual kind.

The certified lunatic was Professor Fentiman,

CHAPTER VIII

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

For those who are fond of exercise, there are few more agreeable playthings than a free-wheel bicycle ; only, even in the most skilful hands, unfortunately, they are liable at times to behave in unexpected fashions. When John Banner, turning the corner on his motor-car, pulled up just in time to avoid running over what was left of a young lady who was apparently mixed up with her machine, he realized that this was probably a case in point. The young lady was half-sitting, half-sprawling on the road, in an attitude which she certainly would not have chosen of her own accord ; and under her, and over her, and round about, were some of the component parts of what once had been a bicycle. Mr. Banner sprang down to her assistance.

"Arc you hurt ? " he inquired.

That the lady was still in possession of her faculty of speech, her reply made tolerably clear.

"Am I hurt? Of course not. No one who is thrown over the handle-bars of a bicycle and nearly killed ever is. I don't know if every bone in my body is broken, but I'm sure that most of them are."

77'

78 A SPOILER OF MEN

Mr. Banner's eyes twinkled. There was that in the speaker's tone which was hardly suggestive of great suffering.

"I'm sorry it's so bad as that. Can I help you up ? Or don't you think you'll be able to stand ? I've attended classes for first aid to the wounded j perhaps I may be of some assistance."

The young lady's answer was to rise quite unassisted. She gave herself a little shake, as if for the purpose of ascertaining what portions of her remained intact.

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Banner, "it is not so very bad, after all."

"Thank you. You are very kind. I don't know what you call bad. My bicycle is done for ! "

Mr. Banner examined the machine.

" It does seem rather the worse for wear. 1 am afraid that for the present you will have to put it on the retired list. How did it happen ? Something went wrong with the brakes ? "

"Something went wrong with everything, I should say. I was free-wheeling down that abominable hill."

" Which has a ' Dangerous ' board at the top."

"It ought to have a * Murderous' board ; I am sure it is absolutely deadly. I don't know how many miles it is, or how many gradients there are ; and it keeps turning and twisting among the trees and the high hedges, so that you can't see where you are going. I was just thanking my stars that I had reached the bottom alive when, as you put it, something went wrong, and then you found me. What I should like to know now is, how I am going to manage. I can't very well leave

A CHANCE ENXOUNTER 79

my machine here ; I can't carry it ; and there doesn't seem to be a soul within miles."

"I am afraid that this district is scantily populated. May I ask for what part of it you were making ? "

" I was going to call on Miss Lettice Mason, of The Croft, which I understand is somewhere hereabouts ; though, according to the lucid nature of the directions I have received, I have not the faintest notion where."

" This, though a fortuitous, may prove to be rather a fortunate encounter, since Lettice Mason is my niece, and The Croft is my home."

The girl gazed at him in undisguised astonishment.

" Is your name Hurle ? "

"No, my name is Banner ; John Banner."

" Then Professor Hurle is not your brother ? "

" The relationship is rather remote. My half-brother, Charles Mason — my mother's son by her first marriage — married one of his sisters. Lettice is their daughter and only child. Her father and mother are both dead ; so it happens that Lettice is to me as if she were my daughter."

" I see. Now I begin to understand. When I heard that Miss Mason lived with her uncle, I supposed that he must be the professor's brother ; but — I should never have taken you for that. You arc not in the least bit like him."

"That sounds like a doubtful compliment. Professor Hurle is a very clever man."

" Is he ? I know that he is a great scholar j but — are the two things synonymous ? "

Mr. Banner laughed.

8o A SPOILER OF MEN

"I am afraid that that is a point which you can scarcely expect me to decide off-hand. May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking ? "

The girl hesitated, as if in doubt to what extent to give him her confidence, searching his countenance with her bright eyes as if to learn from it what manner of man he was. Apparently the result was, at least in a measure, satisfactory.

" My name is Capparoni, Agnes Capparoni."

" That sounds Italian."

" My father was Italian, but my mother was English, and I am English."

"There is a note in your voice which seems to say that you are glad of it."

" Of course I am. Everybody would be English if they could be."

" You believe that ! I wonder However, Miss

Capparoni, since we are not acquainted, I think, under the circumstances, that I am at liberty to offer you a seat in my run-about, since your bicycle is — resting. My car is two-seated ; as you perceive, I am my own chauffeur ; there is room in it both for you and your machine. You will find that that is the quicker way to The Croft."

Presently the two were bowling together over the road. For some distance both of them were silent. Then Mr. Banner asked —

" Are you a friend of Letty's ? "

" I am, in one sense — and I hope that you will think me so — though I have never seen her."

" Then she does not know that you are coming ? "

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 8i

So far as I am aware, she is not even conscious of my existence."

There was another interval of silence. Then the girl spoke again.

" Mr. Banner ? "

" Miss Capparoni ? "

" I think, now that I have seen you, and have had an opportunity of judging what kind of person you are "

"Don't jump at conclusions, Miss Capparoni."

" I don't, as a rule. I was merely about to observe that, on the whole, I incline to the opinion that before I see Miss Mason I had perhaps better speak to you on the subject on which I proposed to speak to her, if you don't mind."

" Not in the very least. I think you will find me a tolerable listener, especially if, as your tones would almost suggest, you have a horrible tale to unfold."

" It is, at any rate, a curious one. Only, as I may have to occupy your attention for some minutes, I think I could say my say much better if the car were not going quite so fast. Would you mind giving your car a little rest ? "

"There I " The car stopped dead. Its driver leaned back in his seat and turned to her. " The car is resting. Since I doubt if a dozen persons pass along this portion of the road in the course of an average day, I don't think that we need fear interruption. So now for your tragic story."

" It may prove to he more tragic than you imagine, Mr. Banner. In the first place, will you please look at that i "

c

82 A SPOILER OF MEN

She handed him a paper which she took from the little bag which was hanging at her waist. He realized its nature with evident surprise.

"Professor Hurle's handwriting; his will, leaving everything to that scamp, Went worth ; but with no signature attached. Miss Capparoni, I don't understand. How do you come to be in possession of this, and why do you show it to me ? "

She narrated how the will had been extracted by Fentiman from Dr. Hurle. Mr. Banner's amazement plainly increased as he listened.

" You must pardon my bluntness, but — I am still at a loss. How came you to be where you say you were ; and what business had you to be there, anyhow ? "

" On the preceding night I was in Mr. Wentworth's rooms. I heard him form his plans with Fentiman, so — I thou2;ht I'd intervene."

" But — without inquiring what you were doing in Wentworth's rooms at night — what have Cyril Went- worth's movements and plans, however nefarious, to do with you ? In other words, Miss Capparoni, who are you, that you should go out of your way to play so curious a part in what — if I understand you rightly — you admit is no concern of yours ? "

The girl seemed to consider.

" If you don't mind I'll tell you my story. Then you will understand how closely I am concerned in every- thing which concerns the man whom you call Cyril Wentworth ; and how through him I became associated with Professor Hurle, and through the professor with Miss Mason. Also, by the time I've finished my story, I

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 83

think you will admit that, in telling it, I had no egotistical

intention."

" By all means tell me anything which you think wili throw light upon the puzzle. I confess that, so far, you have only filled me with bewilderment. But since tobacco seems to clear what I call my brain, if you'll permit me, while you talk, I'll smoke, and I'll get out of the car to do it."

Descending to the ground, he lit his pipe. Planting himself immediately in front of the car, he kept his eyes fixed on her face while she told her tale, she remaining apparently wholly unmoved by the fixed intentness of his gaze. No one coming along the road, seeing how each was absorbed in the other, would have guessed that they were strangers, who had met each other, for the first time in their lives, by the merest chance, only a few minutes before.

CHAPTER IX

PIETRO CAPPARONI

" My father was, as you have surmised, an Italian. When he married my mother, he came with her to live in England. My mother always had delicate health. While I was still a child, the doctors told her that if she wished to continue to live, she would have to leave England. My parents thereupon commenced a series of wanderings to and fro upon the face of the earth in search of health for my mother. They never found it. In the end she died — in Australia.

"At that time the world was full of stories of the gold which had been found in West Australia. Hundreds, thousands of people, coming from all quarters of the globe, were rushing into the waterless desert in search of it. In Australia itself the gold fever was in the air. It attacked my father. It was not because he was in need. Although he was not rich, neither was he poor. My father and my mother had both had means. It was certainly not pecuniary stress which drove him out into the salt swamps and arid wastes of the Victoria Desert.

" Not only had theirs been a love match, my mother and father continued to be lovers to the end. The more

84

PIETRO CAPPARONI 85

I look back the more clearly do I see that each only lived for the other. The nearer my mother came to death, the more beautiful she grew ; I suspect with a beauty which was in itself unnatural, and, if the thing was possible, the more my father loved her. When she died, everything in the world which was, to him, worth living for went with her. If he could, I believe he would have had himself fastened in the same coffin. While he was still half beside himself with grief, there came the tale of the West Australian gold, that will-o'-the-wisp which lured so many to a quest which ended in destruction. Before I realized what it was that he proposed <-o do, he was off in search of it, leaving me at a Melbourne boarding-school.

"I never saw him again. For months I had from him a weekly letter; strange and wild letters some of them were ; I have them every one ; and then — came silence. His letters ceased. I continued to write to him, but there came no answers ; instead, after a time, my own letters came back to me. They had never reached him. According to the legends on the envelopes, he was 'unknown,' 'not to be found.'

"The last letter I had received from iiim was addressed from Darlot City Camp. It was the seventh that I had had from the same place. He had been the usual round which men went in those days : through the Coolgardie district, and then up north and east. I have letters from most of the places which, then, were famous. His idea was not to mine himself, but to develop other people's mines, and to speculate in claims on his own account. He was no simpleton, although, in his letters,

86 A SPOILER OF MEN

he used to tell me how my mother had come to him in the night, and ridden with him across the desert. Whether he himself believed in her visitations I cannot say ; I think myself it is possible that great love works miracles. Certainly on all other subjects his brain was clear enough. He had a good general knowledge of the business on which he was setting forth. Geology had always been his hobby. He knew as well as any man the kind of ground in which gold is found, and the best means of getting at it when it is there. He seemed, so far as I was able to judge from his letters, to have met, on the whole, with at least his share of success. He had entered into several speculations which had turned out well ; and, indeed, his last two or three letters had contained hints that he was even then engaged in a venture which might not improbably have great results.

"In each of the last nine communications which I had had from him, one particular individual was referred to by name — Charlie Walker. This Walker seemed to have made on him a considerable impression. It was through him that he went to Darlot City Camp. It was in partnership with him that he was engaged in the venture which promised so well. The earlier allusions said nothing but good of him. Later, a tone crept into them which made me wonder. It was not that my father began to think less of him, in a certain sense ; indeed, on the score of his abilities, the impression grew, instead of waned. My father once wrote, *I believe Walker's the cleverest all-round man I ever met,' adding, as if by an afterthought, ' and the wickedest.' I wondered in what direction his wickedness lay, since it must have

PIETRO CAPPARONI 87

been very obvious to have struck my father, who made it his habitual rule to think ill of no man. His language grew stronger as the weeks went by. In the very last letter I have he says, * Walker belongs to a type of man I have never before encountered. He is like a being out of a fairy tale. I am sometimes in doubt as to whether he is a man or a devil. I believe that, in certain directions, he has the powers of a devil. The men in camp credit him with using his powers with devilish cruelty. Some very queer tales are told of him. I hope, for his own sake, and mine, that none of them are true.'

"The words are stamped on my brain in indelible letters. When it began to dawn on me that my fother had ceased to write to me ; that, apparently, there was an end of him, those were the words which recurred to me again and again. His silence meant that he was ill ; that he was dead ; or — what else ? That was the question which I had to put to myself and answer. If he was ill, it was hardly likely that he was too ill to dictate at least a note to an acquaintance ; for instance, to liis partner. Walker. He knew that I should be greatly worried if I heard nothing from him at all ; and I knew him well enough to be certain that, however ill he might be, his first thought would be for me. I was sure that he would get some one to tell me that he was still alive, lest, from his silence, I should infer the worst. Therefore I con- cluded that he was not suffering, and had not been suffering, from any ordinary illness.

" On the other hand, I did not believe that lie was dead. I told myself that if he were dead, his papers would have been left behind ; my relationshi|) to him,

88 A SPOILER OF MEN

and my address, would have been learnt from them, and, at any rate, the broad facts of his fate would have been communicated to me. Supposing them to have fallen into bad hands, then still I might have heard. Among his papers was a cheque-book on a bank in which he had a large balance. An ordinary thief would have drawn a cheque and cashed it, which, under the circumstances, would have been an intimation of an unmistakable kind. But nothing reached the bank ; the account remained untouched. It happened that one of his letters had contained a list of the securities which he had with him in the camp. It struck me that it was rather odd that he should have thought it necessary to send me such a list, though he explained the proceeding by saying that in certain company one never knew what might happen, and that therefore it was desirable that I should have a duplicate list of the more valuable of his belongings. Inquiries were made, which showed that the securities had been entered in his name, and still continued to stand in it. As time went on, nothing transpired to show that any attempt had been made to deal in them. If the papers had been stolen, even supposing the thief to have been unwilling to forge a cheque, he would surely have endeavoured to turn the securities into cash, especially as they might, one and all, have been easily negotiated.

" The more I thought, the more I felt persuaded that my father was neither ill nor dead. Then what alterna- tive was there ? People about me answered that there was none. They said that he must be one or the other. As time went on they decided that, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, he was dead. My mother had left

PIETRO CAPPARONI 89

me all that she possessed. My father had seen that all her affairs were put into proper order before he started. I remained at that Melbourne boarding-school until my twenty-first birthday, the silence having remained un- broken for more than two years. Having come into possession of my small property, and having become, to that extent, my own mistress, I went to look for my father. People laughed. Some tried to stop me. They said that he was certainly dead ; that to go and look for him in Western Australia was absurd, since the place was played out, and all traces of him must have been long since lost. But I paid no heed to any of them. I went. And I may tell you that I have been looking for him ever since. Some would say that I am no nearer him than I ever was. I, however, am of a different opinion."

For the first time Mr. Banner interrupted her.

" How long is it since you started ? "

" More than three years. I was twenty-one when I began. I shall be twenty-five next birthday."

" Twenty-five r " Mr. Banner looked at her, as if to learn how she bore her years. " I am glad you're twenty-five."

"Why should you be glad?"

" Because you look younger, and I was afraid you were.

" Why sliould you be afraid of that ? "

"Well, you see, I'm not so young as I once was; and when a man has arrived at my age, he finds that very young women are apt to regard him as advanced altogether into tiic sere and yellow. But sometimes,

90 A SPOILER OF MEN

when a young woman has attained to the dignity of twenty-five, she takes a more reasonable view of his position."

" You don't seem to be at all old to me, and, of course, you're not old. It's only for the sake of saying so."

" I'm glad you think so." Mr. Banner sighed. " And do I understand that although you have been looking for your father for more than three years without finding him, that you still hope to do so ? "

" Emphatically."

"Alive?"

" Certainly. I should not expect to find him in this world if he were dead. But I am convinced that he is not."

" What grounds have you for your conviction ? "

" You shall hear. You may think them slight, but they suffice for me. I reached what, in my father's time, had been known as Darlot City Camp, which I found, having shed two of its names, had become simply Darlot. More than once on the way there I had lighted on traces of my father, and more particularly of Charlie Walker. At Darlot itself my father's name had already become little more than a tradition. Walker's was as alive and fresh as it had ever been, though I discovered that he was more widely known under a sort of pseudonym, 'Jack the Chemist.'

"Jack the Chemist was still a notorious character in all that region. The nickname had come to be used almost as a bogey with which to frighten children. It was not long before I came to the conclusion that his reputation must have grown with the efflux of time. Such

PIETRO CAPPARONI 91

a monster as they portrayed would never have been allowed to live. They would have killed him, with or without sanction of law, just as they would have destroyed any other dangerous animal. Some of the tales they told of him were hideous ; on the face of them, almost incredible. And yet, that some of the most apparently incredible parts of them were true, I have now begun to believe."

She paused, as if to think. Mr. Banner intervened with a comment.

" Not seldom the seemingly impossible proves to be true. It has been so over and over again in the history of human progress. When you come to deal with the actions of individual men you approach a subject in which the word incredible should be sparingly used. One is compelled to believe that some men are capable of any- thing, and that to them all things are possible. It is rather a question of evidence. I should prefer rather to hear what evidence was offered you than what tales were told against him."

The girl still continued silent. Then, leaning forward on the seat of the car, clasping her hands together in front of her, she spoke of Jack the Chemist.

"I will tell you one tale which I heard, not from one person only, but from certainly a dozen persons, and then you will begin to understand how it is that that apparently silly nickname, 'Jack the Chemist,' has to me become associated with nightmare horrors ; and, also, you will be able to guess why I believe that my father is still — alive."

CHAPTER X

JACK THE CHEMIST

" In Darlot City Camp, in those early days, labour was the scarcest thing there was. The workings were mostly alluvial ; the miners had to find the gold with their own picks and shovels. When a shaft had to be sunk, to deal with anything like a deep lode, to all intents and purposes the mine was at an end. Few would work for pay. It was practically impossible to take in a sufficiency of partners to deal with such a mine on business-like principles. When a certain distance was reached working ceased ; that is, in the majority of cases. My father's mine was an exception, a singular one.

"I call it my father's mine, because everything goes to show that it was his. Walker was his partner, and shared in the profits. But it was my father's money which developed it, and it was he who bought and paid for the machinery which was used in working it. He must have known all about the claim before he arrived upon the scene, because, when he came, he brought the machinery with him. It was rudimentary enough, but there it was regarded as wonderful, not the least wonderful thing being that he had been able to eet it there at all. I

92

JACK THE CHEMIST 93

do not know how many horses had been used up in the process, nor how many men. The greatest marvel of all was that men should have been found who would under- take such work ; but they had, Walker had found them. The arrival of the outfit was regarded in Darlot City Camp as a latter-day miracle. It comprised my father and Walker, and nine men — working men. A stranger lot, if what I was told was true, surely never were seen. There were five blacks, two half-breeds, and two whites, and they were all of them not only speechless but imbecile."

The girl paused, as if to enable Mr. Banner to grasp the full meaning of her words. He repeated them after her, contemplatively.

" All of them not only speechless but imbecile ? "

"All of them."

" Then, if that was the case, as workmen they were worthless, because, as doctors will tell you, the one impossible thing is to get lunatics to do work that counts."

" The only thing they could or would do was work for Walker. No one had any influence over them but him ; they paid not the least attention to my father. I was told that my father's attitude was not the least singular part of the whole proceedings. He wore a con- tinual air of bewilderment, of being mystified, as if all that was going on was clean beyond his comprehension. I believe that up to a certain point it was.

"A well was sunk, water found, the machinery set up, a shaft made, by those nine men. They worked as few men could ever have worked before — all day and

"94 A SPOILER OF MEN

every day, and sometimes far into the night, under Walker's supervision. He would have worked them on Sundays, if my father had not interfered. The partners quarrelled because my father insisted on their having one day's rest in seven. The nine men offered no remon- strance, showed no sign of unwillingness. When Walker was there, they worked unceasingly, like so many automata. When he was not there, they became like so many stocks and stones. They did nothing, and nothing could be done with them. The strain on him must have been almost as great as it was on them."

The listener interposed a question.

"Are you suggesting that this was another case of the man Fentiman you were telling me about, and that those nine men were under some sort of hypnotic influence."

" That was the idea which first gained credence in the camp. When questioned, and you may be sure that Walker was freely questioned, he used to say with a laugh that he had hypnotized them. But it was soon realized that any theory of that kind offered a very insufficient explanation.

" In less than a month the mine was in full working order; in a rudimentary sense, no doubt, but in a sense which was altogether beyond anything which had been hitherto seen in Darlot City Camp. Then the nine men began to die — what of, was never known. There was no doctor to certify. One thing was certain, they died very much against Walker's will. He regarded their deaths as so many personal injuries, which, no doubt, they were. He offered fabulous wages to men who would

JACK THE CHEMIST 95

take their places. My father went from claim to claimj guaranteeing payment out of his own pocket. I think that some might have worked for him ; but for Walker, no. Already they regarded him with something more than feelings of distrust — as a being to be both feared and shunned.

" It had been noticed, among other things, that he was fond of making what would be to use the language of hyperbole to call experiments — on animals. Animals of all sorts seemed to regard him with a mixture of fear and hatred. His horse had to be kept constantly tethered, because directly he approached it, it went half mad in its efforts to avoid him. Directly he was on its back it began to sweat and shiver. The three or four dogs which were in the camp would retreat as he approached, and snarl and snap if he tried to touch them. A miner had a bull-dog of which he was very fond. Although an inoffensive creature, as a rule, given to make friends with all and sundry, it flew one day at Walker, without apparent cause, and bit him in the leg. That night the dog was missing. Two days afterwards it was fi.und at some distance from the camp ; but something had happened to it. It seemed to have lost its wits. It did not recognize its own master, and moved sideways, with a sort of crab-like progression, as if incapable of walking straight. Its owner went straight to Walker, and charged him with having played tricks with the dog. Although Walker denied it, no one believed him.

" Seven weeks after their arrival, six of the nine men were dead. Walker, who claimed to be possessed of medical knowledge, asserted that they had died of some

96 A SPOILER OF MEN

sort of fever. If that was the case, it was odd that it should have only attacked the six. Work at the mine was perforce suspended. Since no labour was to be obtained in the camp, Walker set out in search of some, though where he expected to find labourers within hundreds of miles of where they were, no one was able to guess. My father told him, publicly, as he was starting, that he was setting out on a wild-goose chase, since it was certain that his errand would be fruitless. He turned savagely upon my father, telling him that he did not know what he was talking about, declaring, with an oath, that he would return with a dozen men inside a week.

" The very day after his departure, a man — a stranger — appeared in the camp, who told a singular story. He said that he had been making for Darlot City Camp with a companion. They had pitched, on the preceding night, what they hoped would be their last camp before arriving at their destination, and were eating their supper when they were joined by another traveller. Bush hospitality is proverbial ; the new-comer was warmly welcomed. So soon, however, as he came right into the light of the fire, the narrator declared that he recognized in him a man who had been known in quite another part of the country as Jack the Chemist. He had borne so diabolical a reputation that his sudden appearance startled him almost into speechlessness. He endeavoured not to allow any signs of recognition to escape him, awaiting an opportunity to put his companion privately upon his guard. That opportunity never came. After supper the traveller, taking a flask out of his satchel, suggested

JACK THE CHEMIST 97

that they should drink his whisky as a night-cap. ' You'll sleep more soundly after this than you ever slept in all your lives before,' he said, pouring some of the contents into each of the three drinking cups. ' Now, all together ; gentlemen, here's to you.' Something in the speaker's words and manner put the narrator on his guard. He endeavoured to convey a warning to his friend. 'If you take my advice. Bill, you won't drink any more of this stuff than you can help ; it comes out of a chemist's shop, I guess, this does.' The friend, supposing him to be jesting, only laughed, and swallowed the contents of his cup. To his horror, the other man — who had abstained from tasting what was in his cup — saw him, immediately after he had drunk, fall to the ground as if he were dead. Before his companion could move to go to his assistance, the traveller was on him, and had him by the throat. Struggling for more than life, he picked up the iron pan in which the meal had been cooked, and, more by chance than anything else, struck a blow with it which knocked his assailant sense- less. He could not have been a very courageous person, because, without stopping to sec what had really happened to his friend, he jumped on to his horse and rode off" through the night. But I was informed that the tales he told of Jack the Chemist were quite sufficient to explain why any one should flee from him as if he were the devil himself.

"There could be no doubt, from the description he gave, that Jack the Chemist and Walker were one and the same person. This story cast a lurid light upon his methods of recruiting labour. The whole camp sat upon

H

98 A SPOILER OF MEN

him in a sort of committee. A posie was formed to chase and bring him back before more evil was worked. But he never was brought back — at least, by that foiie. The next morning, when the camp awoke, the stranger who had brought the story was found lying dead. In his tightly-clenched hand was found a tiny strip of steel, which was afterwards known to be the nozzle of some unusual form of hypodermic syringe. The three remain- ing workmen were dead. My father's tent was empty ; he had vanished with all his papers. In the first wild burst of rage it was taken for granted that my father was a criminal. But facts which came out later more than hinted that he was only another of Jack the Chemist's victims. Two men had been seen making across the desert eastward — in those days so desperate an adventure that men would need to be very hard driven to attempt it. The natives who had seen them said that one man was sitting jauntily on a horse, while he led another, on which was his companion, by the bridle. The second man was incapable of leading his own horse, he could hardly keep his seat upon the saddle j he was apparently blind, speechless, and imbecile."

The girl ceased to speak. She sat, with tightly com- pressed lips and gleaming eyes, looking into space, as if she saw, with the eyes of the mind, those two lone travellers. Mr. Banner watched her for a moment, and then said —

" You conclude that the one man was Walker, and the other your father ? "

" I am sure of it. I have no doubt that Jack the Chemist — I prefer to call him by that name, it marks

JACK THE CHEMIST 99

him as with a brand — returned to the camp that night for some purpose of his own. My father charged him there and then with being the manner of man he was, whereupon he used my father as he had used those nine men, and Heaven only knows how many more beside. Gathering together my father's papers with his own, towing him after him as if he were a chattel, he fled for his life across the desert. You can have no idea, and I can give you none, what in those days such a journey, under such circumstances, must have meant. More than two years afterwards, under much more favourable con- ditions, I did that journey myself I never want to do it again. After all that lapse of time I found traces of them by the way. Whoever saw them once never forgot them. They were so strange a pair — in particular was my father so striking a figure.

" When they reached South Australia they seem to have parted ; thenceforward I only found traces of my father. Blind, dumb, imbecile, he roused compassion wherever he went. It seems that, though always tired and way-worn, he was unresting, always going on, as if some one was calling him, bidding him to haste. I believe that some one was calling him, even from afar off — the monster who had transformed him into his worse than slave — and tiiat he had no option but to obey."

Again the girl stopped. Once more her listener seemed to choose his words before he spoke.

" I quite understand what your feelings arc, and the tragic meaning all that you have told me has for you. But you must pardon me, Miss Capparoni, if I am so

loo A SPOILER OF MEN

dull as still not to perceive what connection this has with Professor Hurle and the unfinished will which you have handed me."

"It has at least this connection — Cyril Wentworth is Jack the Chemist ! "

CHAPTER XI

MR. BANNER TAKES MISS CAPPARONI HOME TO TEA

" Miss Capparoni ! " Mr. Banner stared at the girl as if wondering if she knew what she was saying. " Are you conscious of the monstrous charge which you are bringing against a person who, I have reason to believe, has both means and reputation, and who is of some standing in society ? "

" It is not merely a charge which I am making, I am stating a fact."

"I fancy you are forgetting, also, that Cyril Went- worth is, in some degree, my relative."

" I don't see how. P^vcn if he is Professor Huric's nephew, he is not yours ; that is, if I followed correctly the explanation of your genealogical tree which you just now gave me."

" He is Lcttice's cousin, and I have always regarded Lcttice as my daughter."

"All the same, she is not your daughter; and one can't help having a cousin who's a scamp, which you yourself admitted that he was. I am only showing you that your doubts of him were justified. Please understand me, Mr. Ba'nncr ; I am making no wild feminine charge

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102 A SPOILER OF MEN

against this man, based on prejudice or rumour. I come to you with proofs of every word I say. If you wish, I will say no more. I will go away as I have come ; Miss Mason need never see me. I have evidence that her cousin is almost as much her enemy as he is mine. I hoped that, when you had learned what that evidence is, in return for the help I can give Miss Mason, you would help me — as I believe you can help me — to find my father, who is still — somewhere — at that man's mercy. But if you will not do this, then I must work without you, and I will, though I may probably have to move on different lines than I should do if I had the advantage of your aid. So, Mr. Banner, which is it to be ? Do you wish to have the truth, or don't you ? Am I to go on, or stop ? Will you help me to unmask a scoundrel, and rescue from his clutches at least one of the victims of his iniquity ; or am I to fight him single-handed ? I'm not afraid, I assure you, and in the end I'll win ; but, if you'll help me, I may win quicker. You do not need me to ■ point out to you that this spoiler of men is not only Miss Mason's enemy and mine ; he is in an even greater degree the enemy of humanity. Now, Mr. Banner, please, which is it to be ! "

John Banner knocked out the ashes of his pipe against his heel, looking at her half quizzically as he did so. He commenced to pace to and fro across the road. The girl, sitting motionless on the seat of the car, watched him. At last, still moving from side to side, he spoke.

"You forget. Miss Capparoni, that although to you what you have said is ancient history, to me it is as

MR. BANNER AND MISS CAPPARONI 103

if you had suddenly pointed a pistol at my head and fired it."

"The analogy doesn't seem to me to be a very good one. Do you mean that you want time to consider ? "

" I do."

*' To consider what ? "

John Banner stopped in front of the car. This time there was no doubt that the glance with which he regarded her was wholly quizzical.

" You are a very shrewd young lady, Miss Capparoni, and a very persistent one. I can well believe that you'd be a match, and more than a match, for any man — how- ever bad that man might be. But might I ask you to remember that every question has several sides, and that some folks see some sides clearer than others ? " He looked at his watch. "And one of the sides which just now appeals very strongly to me is that at the present moment Lettice is waiting for her tea. Do you know that you and I have spent the best part of the afternoon here, in the middle of the road ? I'm sure a cup of tea will do you no harm. Let me take you where you'll get one, and we'll leave your story to be continued in our next."

" You are very good. But although there is but little more of it, that little is not the least essential part. I'd rather continue it now to an end. When you have heard me out, we shall each of us know better where we stand."

John Banner gave a grotesquely exaggerated sigh. He assumed an air of resignation and refilled his pipe.

Very well. Anything to know better — as you

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104 A SPOILER OF MEN

phrase it, where we stand. Only if we find Lattice in a state of nervous palpitation, under the impression that the car has been blown skywards and borne me with it, the blame will be yours, not mine."

" Certainly ; if I do see Miss Mason I will make that clear to her. I'm going to hurry, leaving out everything but the absolutely essential."

"Thank you very much."

Mr. Banner expressed his thankfulness in such tones of meekness that, in spite of herself, the girl had to smile. She went on rapidly, as she had promised, leaving him to put in for himself, if he chose, what she left out.

" At Darlot City Camp there was, even then, the inevitable man with a camera. He snapped everything — my father, the nine workmen. Jack the Chemist ; Jack the Chemist he snapped over and over again. When I reached Darlot that photographer had become one of the leading citizens. He still had those snapshots. He allowed me to have copies made of them ; I have those copies now. With their aid I looked for the original all over the world. I almost lighted on him again and again, never quite. I thought I saw him in a motor- car at Monte Carlo ; a second time at a Parisian theatre. At last, only a few days ago, I was sure I saw him in London, in Hyde Park. I followed him home. I found that he had a flat in Sloane Street, where he called himself Cyril Wentworth."

" His name — this is by the way — is Wentworth ; to that fact I myself can vouch."

" To me, as I have said, he will always be Jack the Chemist. I gained admission to his flat, during his

MR. BANNER AND MISS CAPPARONI 105

absence, by means of which I will say nothing ; in dealing with him I don't propose to stick at trifles. I ransacked every paper I could discover in search of something which would tell me what had become of my father, wholly without success. He came in and found me there."

" And sent for the police ? "

" He talked of doing so, but he only talked. I charged him with being Jack the Chemist ; he attempted no denial. I think he was too taken aback to think of a plausible lie."

" Did you question him about your father ? "

" Not I ; I knew better. My object was to mystify him, not to afford him information. I dropped no hint as to who I was or what I wanted ; to have done so would have been tantamount to signing my father's death- warrant. I heard him instruct Fentiman to cozen a will out of Professor Hurle ; how that came about I may tell you some other time, it will amuse you. As I have told you, I was at St. Clement's before Mr. Fentiman, and heard him extract from the professor a piece of informa- tion which, quite possibly, places Cyril Wcntworth between my finger and thumb."

She held out her hand with a significant gesture. Mr. Banner shook his head.

" You play the eavesdropper to perfection, Miss Capparoni."

" Situated as I am, all means are justified. I assure you I mean to stick at nothing — nothing. Are you acquainted with Professor Hurle's financial position ?"

" I know that, although he has always said that

io6 A SPOILER OF MEN

Lettice will be his heiress, he has also confessed that he has nothing to leave her."

"Some time ago he purchased some shares in an Australian gold mine."

"A pretty gold mine ! He bought them off Went- worth, who cheated him finely. The mine was bogus; the shares were worthless. Poor old Hurle lost every farthing."

"The mine was the one which belonged to my father, and in which Walker was a partner. After my father's disappearance it had an eventful history. At one time it was known, not inappropriately, as the Old Nick. When the Westralian boom began in England, it was re-christened, turned into a company, and launched on the London market as the Great Harry Mine. I don't know how it was managed, but I am quite sure that Wentworth was careful to let no one on the other side guess that he was in any way connected with it ; the risk would have been too great. Soon after the company was floated the mine went wrong ; the shares went to zero. Wentworth chose that moment to plant five thousand of them on his uncle."

" The model nephew ! "

" By degrees, however, matters improved. My father was justified. The mine showed itself to be one of the richest in the country. The shares went up and up. At this moment they are worth more than fifty pounds apiece."

" You don't mean it I "

"You have only to look at the first list of mining shares you come across to have all the proof you want.

MR. BANNER AND MISS CAPPARONI 107

You see now why Wentworth wanted that will. He still holds the professor's five thousand shares, their owner not having the faintest notion that they are anything more than waste paper. Soon after the will was signed the professor would have died, you may be sure of it, and Mr. Wentworth would have come into undisturbed possession of a great fortune, whose very existence nobody but himself suspected."

Mr. Banner, who had taken off his cap, was rubbing his head, as if to rub the news which he had just heard into it.

" Miss Capparoni, you amaze me. If what you say is correct — and do not suppose I am doubting it — what a blackguard the man must be ! "

" The language you apply to him is laudatory, Mr. Banner ; he is very much more than that. To sum up, my position is this : If I place Miss Mason, whom you regard as a daughter, within reach of more than a quarter of million of money, then I think that, as a sort of a quid pro quo^ you ought to help me to find my father ; help me by all and every means in your power."

Mr. Banner still continued to rub his head.

" I am beginning to think that you are right ; I am, I admit it freely. It is being borne in on me more and more strongly every moment, not only that you are an excellent pleader, but that you iiave a sound case to deal with. But, at the same time, wiiat you have said has so taken me by surprise, and is of so startling a character, that I can't take it all in at once — I really can't. You must give me time to digest it. My mental processes;

io8 A SPOILER OF MEN

may be slow, but they arc all I've got ; and if you want to make the best of me, you must allow me to make the best of them. I propose that, without further discussion, you now let me take you to where we both of us can get some tea, on the understanding that I am on your side."

" I shall be very glad to come — if you are on my side."

" I hope to be there literally very shortly. There is, however, one condition which I must make. You are to say nothing of all this to Lettice without my express permission. Nor, indeed, are you to say anything more about it to me ; the subject and all its branches is to be tabooed until I have had my tea, and my digestion has been advanced at least another stage."

On that understanding the car was restarted. As it sped through the leafy lanes they talked together as if they were old acquaintances. She soon perceived that he was far from being so slow-witted a person as it pleased him to pretend ; that what he called his " mental processes " moved as rapidly as any one could possibly desire. She suspected that under the guise of easy, effortless con- versation, on all sorts of themes, he was finding her out, learning what sort of person she really was. She had a comfortable feeling that, on the whole, he was content with what he learnt.

When at last they stopped at the door of The Croft, a young girl came running down the steps.

"Uncle, you bad man ! Where have you been ? I thought that you were never coming." Perceiving that he had a companion, she drew a little back. " I beg

MR. BANNER AND MISS CAPPARONI 109

your pardon ; I did not notice that there was some one with you."

"Lattice, this is Miss Capparoni. I hope she will allow me to speak of her as a friend of mine, and I trust you shortly will be able to look on her as a friend of yours. Hollo ! who's that in the hall there ? "

Lettice answered. "It's Dick Sharratt. He's come over to see you."

The young gentleman appeared on the steps.

" Has he ? Dick Sharratt, what do you mean by absenting yourself from your university in term time r "

" As Lettice says, I ran over to find out how you were getting on. It's so long since I saw you."

" Is it ? Was it yesterday, or the day before ? "

" Rubbish ! It's a jolly good week. Why "

Dick recognized the lady who was descending from the car. "I believe that we've met before, quite recently."

Miss Capparoni smiled.

"Mr. Banner, it was Mr. Sharratt who threw Fentiman into the fountain."

Dick protested.

" I say. Really, it isn't fair to give a chap away like that."

Lettice spoke.

"I am glad, Miss Capparoni, to hear that you have met Mr. Sharratt before ; but I am sorry to learn that it was under discreditable circumstances. I hope that lie was not behaving very badly."

no A SPOILER OF MEN

" On the contrary, he was behaving very well indeed."

"Then I'm afraid it was by mistake. It's not his custom to behave well. Do you know that it's frightfully late ? Are you people coming in to tea ? "

They went in to tea, all four of them.

CHAPTER XII

MORNING CALLERS

Cyril Wentworth was just starting to call upon Miss Bradley when, at the very door of his flat, he met Mrs. Van der Gucht, who, evidently, was just coming to call on him. Than such an encounter, to his mind, scarcely anything could have been more inopportune. That the lady thought quite otherwise she speedily made clear.

" How lucky that I've just caught you I Why, in another minute I might have missed you."

He wished she had.

''I've an appointment. I was hurrying oflf to keep it. You might walk with mc part of the way if you don't mind."

Even while he was speaking he was wondering in what direction he could take her, so as to keep her from suspecting that the supposititious appointment was with Miss Bradley. She made a little grimace.

"Cyril!" He glanced round. He wished she would not call him Cyril out there upon the landing. " I don't want to walk — at least, not just yet. I want to come in and talk to you."

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112 A SPOILER OF MEN

He hesitated. The prospect of such an interview offered deh'ghtful possibilities. And yet he had the feel- ing strong upon him that Miss Bradley was a lady who must not be kept waiting.

" Unfortunately, I'm pressed for time."

" Pressed for time ! What's it matter ? Let the people wait, whoever they are. I'm pressed for time. Do you know that it's very rude to keep me waiting outside your door ? Do let me come in, please ! "

Such a cadence came into her voice, and such a look into her eyes ; and, moving towards him, she laid her small hand upon his arm with such a bewitching grace that he yielded. As soon as they both of them were in his sitting-room, he began to administer to her a lecture, or what was meant for one.

" Do you know that you've no right to be here ? "

"I suppose not. I suspect that that's one of the reasons why I've come. I never was in a bachelor's rooms before."

" You oughtn't to be in one now."

" I dare say ; not in some bachelors' rooms. But — in yours ? Oughtn't I to be in yours ? "

She looked at him with meaning in her eyes.

"Bertha!"

" Cyril ! I've always understood that bachelors' rooms were comfy ; and certainly this room is that, though I don't believe it contains a single cushion. Then, again, I've always understood that even a man's room suggests the character of its occupant. Do you know that any one, even of an observing turn of mind, who saw it for the first time would say that it was difficult to decide

MORNING CALLERS 113

what manner of man it was who lived in it. And that's exactly how I feel about you. Although I've known you all this time, and pretty well, I'm always conscious that there are ever so many sides of you of which I know nothing at all, and probably never shall."

" Possibly it would be better for you if you never do."

" You think so ? Perhaps you're right. I suppose if a woman ever did know the whole of a man she would rather she didn't. How do you think I'm looking ? "

" Wicked : being of opinion that it is wicked for a woman to look as charming as you are doing now."

" Thank you very "much." She swept him an en- chantingly malicious curtsy. "A compliment from Mr. Cyril Wentworth is such a very difficult thing to capture. Don't frown like that ! You look as cross as two sticks ; as if I were some dreadful thing. What do you think I am ?"

" You know very well what I think you are ; you know that I think you are everything whicli in a woman is most to be desired."

" Cyril ! that's really very nice of you, especially at your behaviour has been quite beyond my comprehension lately. The other night at Mrs. Tallis's dance you jumped up in the very middle of a sentence, and left me in the conservatory all alone, and never came near me again the whole of the evening ; and you've never been near me since to beg my pardon. Now perhaps you'll tell me what explanation you have to offer. But never mind ; I'll forgive you. I always do forgive you everything. Do you know wliat I've come for ? "

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114 A SPOILER OF MEN

" I flattered myself that you'd come to pay me a morning call."

" It was nice of me to come — wasn't it ? Please say that it was nice."

« You witch ! "

" Am I a witch ? Do you really think that I am a witch ? Aren't witches rather horrid things ? I'm sure that I'm not horrid. Since you won't ask me why I've come I'll volunteer the information. I've come because I want a holiday."

" You want a holiday — whose whole life is one long holiday ! "

" Yes, I dare say. But there are holidays and holi- days, and I want one of a very special kind. To be perfectly candid, Mr. Cyril Wentworth, I want you to take me on the river."

" My dear child, I've a dozen things which I must do!"

" Then don't do them. This is exactly the sort of day not to. It's perfectly lovely weather ; the idea of wast- ing it in doing things ! Please, Cyril, take me on the river — Cookham way ; up one of the back-waters, you know, where everything is lovely and serene."

"It sounds inviting."

" Sounds inviting ! It will be delicious, man 1 We'll get a punt, and I'll pole. You told me yourself you never saw any one pole better than I do. You shall enjoy the ravishing spectacle of seeing me pole — until I'm tired. Please, Cyril, take me in a punt, and let me pole."

When he spoke it was not in answer to her petition. He gave the conversation a sudden turn. He had been

MORNING CALLERS 115

looking at her pretty hands, as she held them up in front of her, pressed together in mock entreaty.

"I see that you are still wearing the ring I gave you." " Of course ; I have never taken it once off since." « Really ? "

*' Not once. You made me promise never to take it off, and I never have, not even to wash. I've kept my promise to the very letter. Do you know, I've a feeling about that ring as if it were different from all other rings ; not merely because you gave it me, but — because it is. You may laugh at me, but sometimes it almost feels as if it were alive ; as if it were caressing my finger. And when it's like that, a most singular sensation goes not only right up my arm, but all over my body. Isn't it funny ? "

" Let me look at it ! " " Do you mean take it off ? " " Yes ; take it off and let me look at it." " Really, Cyril, if you don't mind I'd rather not. Can't you look at it while it is in its proper place upon my finger ? "

" How can I, goose ? Do as I tell you." "I've a superstition that if I take it off something will be taken from mc with it — something which I don't want to lose. Oh, Cyril, don't make me take it off!"

" You silly girl, I want to examine it closely, and how can I do that while you have it on ? Do as I tell you. Take it off ; or should I take it off for you ? "

" Cyril, don't ! Oh, you have taken my ring I Give — give it mc back ! What has happened ? I — I hope

ii6 A SPOILER OF MEN

I'm not going to be ill. Cyril, please give me back my ring ! What's that ? " ,

While the man peered closely at the ring, which he had removed from her finger even against her will, hold- ing it with his right hand, while he kept her off from him with his left, the bell sounded. Both started, as if it had been a sound of dread.

" It's some fool," said Wentworth.

" Is it your door bell ? " He nodded. " Will one of your servants answer it ? "

"I keep no servants. I'm seldom here in the day- time ; often not at night for days together. The woman who does for me when I am here went an hour ago."

" Are we alone in the flat together ? " He nodded again. " Is it some one you are expecting ; or perhaps it's a tradesman ? "

" I'm expecting no one. All parcels are left for me in the porter's room. As I said, it's some fool." The sound was repeated. " I'd let him ring, only if I do he may hang about for a deuce of a time ; and then if I were to go out and find him, it would be awkward." The sound came a third time. " I'll go and see who it is ; but before I go I'd better pop you out of sight, it may be some inquisitive idiot. Whoever it is, he'll get short shift .rom me. I'll be rid of him inside five minutes, I promise you that. In with you ! "

He had led her from one room to another.

" Eut — Cyril, this is your bedroom ! "

" That's all right, it's only for a minute. You'll find plenty of books ; get something to read."

Half thrusting her in, he drew the door to after her.

MORNING CALLERS 117

" Cyril, you've my ring, and you're locking the door ! "

It was his frequent custom, before going out, to lock each room separately. Finding the key on the outside of this door, he turned it. 1

" You'll be perfectly all right. You don't want to have some stupid ass come blundering in. I'll let you out in a dozen seconds." I

She spoke to him again from the other side of the door, but, possibly because the bell was making itself once more audible, he strode off unheeding.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PURSE

It might have been any one at the door, and Mr. Went- worth would probably have betrayed no symptoms of surprise, except the person who actually was there. The visitor was a man of about thirty. Cyril Wentworth stared at him with astonishment which, both in degree and quality, was almost comical.

" Quannell ! What on earth brings you here ?*'

"I have something, Mr. Wentworth, which I wish to say to you in private."

" In private ? What the deuce can you have to say to me which needs to be said in private ? Is it something in the City — business ? "

" No ; it is a personal matter. If you will allow me to come in I will explain."

" But, my dear sir, I've an appointment for which I'm already overdue. Can't you write me, or meet me some- where later in the day ? "

" I'm afraid not. What I have to say must be said at once. If you will let me pass, Mr. Wentworth, I will not detain you one moment longer than I can help."

iiS

THE PURSE 119

" Really, my good fellow, your tone's peculiar, and your manner's almost more so. However, if it is so pressing, in you come. I will give you five minutes by my watch ; after that, however reluctantly, I am afraid I shall have to clear you out."

Mr. Quannell made no reply. He followed Went- worth into the sitting-room, where he stood for a moment looking at his host. He was tall, broadly built, not ill- looking, although stern-featured. In the eyes of some people his habitual gravity was his chief defect. Life to him was a serious thing. If he had a sense of humour he held it in subjection. Few of those who knew him claimed to have seen him laugh. He was the son of an Englishman who had settled in the Transvaal, and had himself been born and bred there. Although acquaint- ances of some years' standing, both in Africa and England, the two men, having nothing in common, had rather gone out of their way to avoid each other. To VVentworth's keen perception. Max Quannell's presence there, just then, was pregnant with significance.

When Quannell did speak, it was in the cold, measured tones which were in keeping with his character and deportment ; but Cyril Wentworth fancied that on this occasion he detected something in his manner which was neither cold nor measured.

" Let me first point out to you, Mr. Wentworth, certain facts which justify my presence here, and wiiich entitle me to say what I am about to say."

Wentworth thrust out his elbows with a gesture of remonstrance.

" My dear Quannell, you're not going to inllict on

120 A SPOILER OF MEN

me a long preamble. Remember, you only have five minutes ; hasten quickly."

But Mr. Quannell preferred his own gait.

" I have known Mrs. Van der Gucht all her life. She is ten years younger than I am ; but when she was a child she and I were playmates. As you know, we were neighbours ; her people were my people's friends. Her husband is, I think, the dearest friend I have."

" Mrs. Van der Gucht ? Is it possible, Quannell, that you have forced yourself upon me in order that you might talk to me of Mrs. Van der Gucht ? "

" When you were in South Africa your relations with her were the subject of injurious comment. As you are aware, her relatives and friends resented your conduct very strongly. Indeed, it so affected her father that he has never been the same man since."

" Hasn't he ? Then, if I were you, I should be warned by his example."

" After you had gone, she married."

" Do you know, Quannell, that I always fancied that you rather wanted to marry her yourself. Odd how one does get such fancies, isn't it ? "

The words conveyed a sneer. Mr. Quannell was silent. It would be incorrect to say that he changed colour ; but something did happen to his face, and when he spoke again it was with a new light in his sombre eyes.

"I did want to marry her, but — she preferred my friend. Van der Gucht is the most indulgent of husbands. When she wished to visit England, although he could not accompany her, he let her come alone.

THE PURSE 121

Thus it happens that, in a very real and most unfortunate sense, in England she is alone j though it is true that decent men and women would consider her loneliness as her chief protection. I am afraid that it is not in that light that you have regarded it." He paused. If it was to afford the other man an opportunity of speaking, VVentworth did not avail himself of it. He stood, straight as a ramrod, his hands hanging at his sides, regarding his visitor with a peculiar smile. " From all quarters stories have reached me in which her name was coupled with yours — unpleasantly. Some of these stories have reached her husband."

" You acting as a medium ? "

" No. I should not be easily induced to repeat stories to Mrs. Van der Gucht's disadvantage, even to her husband. None the less, stories have reached him. It is, to some extent, in consequence of a communication which I have received from him that I am now here."

" All this, to you, possibly is interesting ; but as the five minutes which I conceded you is more tlian up, I must aslc you to take yourself away at once."

" I trust that it may not be necessary for me to detain you more than another minute. Give me your word of honour that all acquaintanceship between Mrs. Van der Gucht and you shall cease, now and henceforward, and I will instantly withdraw."

"You are a modest man, Mr. Quanncll. Permit me to show you to the door."

"If Mr. Van der Gucht does not receive telegraphic advice that you have given me such an undertaking he will immediately leave Pretoria for London, a proceeding

122 A SPOILER OF MEN

which may result in ruin to him and to her. You per- ceive the position ? "

" Your friend Van der Gucht will possibly be able to speak for himself when he reaches London. In the mean time you may inform him that in matters of this sort I prefer to deal with principals only. Now, sir, please go."

" You understand clearly what your refusal to give me such a promise involves ? "

" Do you understand that I am asking you — not for the first or second time — to leave my rooms ? '*

"Mr. Wentworth "

"Mr. Quannell, if you wish to bring a shower of scandal down upon this lady, you are going the shortest way to effect your purpose. If you won't go, I shall put you out ; if you resist, there'll be a row. Although that may amuse you — and, possibly, me — do you suppose that it will do any good to the lady r "

The cogency of this line of reasoning seemed to influence Quannell, almost against his will ; although one might suspect that every pulse in his being urged him to take this gentleman by the throat, and consent to spare his life only in exchange for the required promise. If he did entertain such a desire, he kept it well in hand. Turning slowly, with his eyes fixed upon the other's face, he began to move towards the door. As he went, his foot kicked against something which was lying on the carpet. Stooping, he picked it up. Glancing at it for a second, he then looked quickly up at Wentworth.

" You blackguard I "

Mr. Wentworth said nothing. He also glanced at

THE PURSE 123

what the other was holding, then up at the finder's eyes. For perhaps six seconds the two men regarded each other in silence, like two animals who have reached a point at which it has become a case of either to fight or to retreat. Evidently Quannell had to put pressure on himself to enable himself to speak. His voice had assumed a sudden quality of hoarseness.

" This — this is Mrs. Van der Gucht's purse."

He was holding out the article in question at full length of his arm, almost as if he was afraid of letting it come into too close contact with his body. It was one of those small bags made of gold mail, which some foolish women wear dangling from their waists, in which to carry their money and odds and ends. Wentworth looked at the speaker with that peculiar fixed smile, like a continual sneer, which had been on his face since the commencement of the interview. His tone was not only cool and clear, it was flippant.

" Well, what of it ? "

It seemed as if Quannell supposed that the other had not grasped the full drift of what he had said. He repeated his own words, with additions.

"Tliis is Mrs. Van der Gucht's purse. I am sure of it. I know it to be iicrs."

" I hope you are not suggesting a criminally intimate knowledge of the lady's belongings, Mr. Quannell ? "

" Wherever she goes she nearly always carries it with

her ; I know that also. I called on her before I came

h»» ere

" Quannell ! Fie ! And Van der Gucht your dearest

friend 1"

124 A SPOILER OF MEN

" She was not in. They told me that she had probably gone out for the whole day. You blackguard I She has either been here quite recently, or — she is here now. Wentworth, is — is Mrs. Van der Gucht here now ? "

He asked the question almost as if he roared it. Beyond doubt, the man was growing dangerous. Cyril Wentworth merely gave to his smile a more aggressive twist.

" Admitting, for the sake of argument, that Mrs. Van der Gucht is here now, doesn't it make your offence still ranker that you should have forced yourself, not only upon me, but upon a lady too ? "

What Mr. Quannell saw, or imagined that he saw, in the other's words and manner, he alone could tell. But his conduct was suggestive. With his clenched fist he struck the other a swinging blow on his right cheek. That the attack, at that moment, was unexpected, is probable. Wentworth reeled backwards, as if taken unawares, and was only saved from falling by being brought up against the wall. But he still smiled. Putting his hand up to his cheek-bone, he brought it away with the fingers dabbled with blood. The skin had been cut, possibly by a ring which the other was wearing. He put his blood-stained fingers into his waistcoat pocket, keeping them there for some moments, as if feeling for something which it contained. Withdrawing them, he moved swiftly across the room. Precipitating himself on Quannell, when he was within a foot or two of him, like some wild creature, heedless of the blows which the other hailed on him, he caught at his hair with his left hand, and began to fumble his scalp with the fingers of

THE PURSE 125

his right, as if feeling for some particular point. There was a gleam of something bright. Then, loosing his hold, Quannell ceased to strike at him. Instead, he went blundering backwards, retaining his perpendicular position only with an effort. He was attacked by a curious and continuous shuddering — the sort of shudder- ing, almost amounting to a convulsion, which often precedes an epileptic fit. VVentworth watched him with a vague, impersonal something in his bearing which was almost horrible, as if he had seen that sort of thing so often before that, for him, it had lost all interest.

The man seemed to have been all at once attacked by some hideous form of paralysis. As the trembling ceased, it was followed by twitching of the limbs and head, which suggested that the spinal cord was not performing its proper functions. The form, just now so upright, had become limp and fibreless, the shoulders were hunched, the head had dropped forward on to the chest. The whole man had not only decreased in height, but, obviou>ly, in manhood also. His jaw, which hung open, was slightly contorted ; he showed his tongue ; his partly closed eyes were lustreless, void of meaning ; in the expression of his face there was not a trace of anything which had the slightest claim to intellect. He had, all at once, become a grotesque, dreadful caricature of what he was — a brute beast, rather than a sentient being.

Cyril Wcntworth took a little flat leather case out of his waistcoat pocket ; out of it a small silver tube. From the top of the tube he removed a cap. In the tube he inserted the nozzle of a tiny hypodermic syringe, which he apparently re-fillcd from the contents of the tube. He

126 A SPOILER OF MEN

returned the tube and syringe to the leather case, and the case to his waistcoat pocket. He smiled at the uncouth creature in front of him, perverting, as he did so, a well- known saying —

** ' It is good to have a giant*s strength, but it is better, sometimes, to use it like a giant ' — eh, Quannell ? what do you think ? " Stretching out his arm, placing the palm of his hand against Quannell's broad chest, he gave him a fairly hearty push, the big man giving way as if he were so much unresisting matter. " The question now arises, what am I to do with you ? I can't send you out as you are into the open streets in the broad daylight ; complications might arise. I think — yes, on the whole, I rather think that, to begin with,- I'll dismiss the lady."

CHAPTER XIV

THE CURIOSITY OF A LADY

He crossed towards his bedroom door as nonchalantly as if nothing had occurred to disturb his equanimity. He turned the key ; in the doorway stood the lady. She was perturbed enough — all doubt, tremor, and concern.

" I thought you were never coming. Who was it ? What has happened ? "

In reply he held out the purse, the discovery of which had been the immediate cause of disaster to Mr. Quannell.

" You've dropped this, you careless child ! "

" Did I ? " She glanced at her waist. " So I did ; I never noticed." She returned to the subject of her complaint. " What have you been doing all this time ? You said you'd only be five minutes ; I'm sure you've been an hour."

" Have I ? I don't think so ; not quite so long as that. You sec, after all, I'm a business man ; one, moreover, on whom business — of sorts — makes many and unexpected calls. I'm afraid that little jaunt of ours upon the river will have to be postponed. Or, stay ; do you think that you could find something to do with yourself

127

128 A SPOILER OF MEN

during, say, the next two hours, and then meet me at Paddington, or let me pick you up somewhere ? We still might pay a visit to the glades of Cookham."

She seemed to give a little shiver.

"Somehow I don't think I care for the river now. Pm — Pm all of a twitter ; don't you see I am ? " Across her pretty face flitted what was but the ghost of a smile. " Cyril, you mustn't laugh, but I believe I miss my ring. Since you took it off my finger Pve felt all — all mops and brooms, as if — as if something had happened. Give it back to me at once."

It was as if she tried to make her tones imperious, although they quavered. He regarded her with the same keen, half-amused, wholly impersonal scrutiny which had marked his bearing a few minutes before.

" Your ring ? I haven't got it."

In her voice there was a note almost of terror.

" You haven't got it ! Cyril, what do you mean ? "

" My dear child, don't shriek out like that. I only mean that Pve left it in the other room. If you'll get back inside there I'll fetch it, and bring it to you inside thirty seconds — this time an honest thirty seconds, not one tick over."

He put out his arm as if he would thrust her back into the bedroom. She remonstrated.

" Cyril, can't I come with you ? "

" No ; I don't think you had better come with

me."

" Why ? Is — is there still some one in there ? " " Yes ; there is still some one in there." « Who— who is it .? "

THE CURIOSITY OF A LADY 129

He left her question unanswered.

" If you'll wait just where you are I'll bring it to you here."

« Yes," she said, « I'll wait."

He looked at her, smiling; then, turning, moved away.

The door in which she stood opened into the small apartment which he called his study. On the opposite side of the study, almost facing her, was the door which opened into the sitting-room. Reaching it, Wentworth,' gripping the handle, found himself confronted by what was evidently unexpected resistance, which prevented him from opening the door. It sounded as if he said something to himself under his breath. Then, placing his shoulder against the panel, he shoved j and, framed in the doorway, stood Max Quannell.

" Damn you ! " he exclaimed, with sudden rage.

Taking him by the throat, he would have hurled him back into the room, had not a cry from Mrs. Van der Gucht warned him that if his object was to evade discovery, he already was too late. Releasing Quannell, he turned to confront the lady, who, having advanced into the centre of the room, was staring at the man in front of her as at some dreadful vision. Having, as it seemed, waited for him to speak to her in vain, she spoke to him, in a half whisper.

"Max! Max!" When he yet was silent, she exclaimed, as if impelled by the sudden terror of some frightful memory, " Cyril, he looks just as father looked — that night ! "

"I rather fancy that he has been taken suddenly unwell."

130 A SPOILER OF MEN

" That's what you said when I asked you what had happened to father."

" My dear child, it's a coincidence. Perhaps their constitutions are in sympathy."

" Cyril, what have you done to him ? You know I told you that I thought I saw you do something to my father — in the darkness ? You denied it, and I believed you, but — you did. And now — Max. What have you done to Max ? "

" If you desire information as to what ails the gentle- man, I can only refer you to a medical man, or to the gentleman himself."

" That, also, is what you said to me when I asked you what you had done to father. But I will ask Max. Max, don't you know me ? I am Bertha. Don't you remember Bertha ? Max, look at me, and speak to me, and tell me. What has he done to you ? Max 1 "

Although she stood within a few inches of him, it was doubtful if he either saw or heard her. He kept moving his head fatuously from side to side j his whole frame continually twitched, as if he were affected by some variety of St. Vitus' dance. She turned to Wentworth with a new glitter in her bright eyes.

" What have you done to him ? "

" My dearest girl, do let's leave Mr. Quannell and his little peculiarities alone. I assure you Pve had enough of him. Pll get your ring, and we'll start for the river."

" The river — with you — alone ? I daren't ! '*

"Isn't it rather late in the day for you to talk of not daring to be alone with me, anywhere ?"

THE CURIOSITY OF A LADY 131

" Cyril, what have you done to Max ? "

" Bertha, after what I have already had to go through on your account, your persistence gets upon my nerves. If you will have it, you shall. This is what comes of calling on a bachelor in his chambers. If anything has happened to Mr. Quannell, it is you who are responsible."

" What do you mean ? "

" You know perfectly well what I mean ; don't try to play the baby. Quannell came asking questions about you, especially when he found that you were here. I'm a person who dislikes interference. When he tried to interfere, I stopped him."

"What do you mean — you stopped him ? "

"If you'll look at him you'll see."

She looked, and shuddered. When she spoke again, her voice was pitched in such low tones it was scarcely audible.

" Did you — stop — father ? '*

*' My dearest girl, I'll be candid, since we've got so far, and you will insist. I suppose you've sense enough to hold your tongue, for your own sake. I had to, or he'd have stopped me."

" Cyril ! And I— I Oh-h-h ! "

Covering her face with her hands, her sentence ended in a stifled scream.

" Now, Bertha, don't behave like a fool, and let mc have any nonsense I I'm very fond of you."

« Fond of me ! "

The words were screamed rather than spoken.

" Yes ; you know I am. It's my fondness for you which has been the cause of all the trouble, and your —

132 A SPOILER OF MEN

your silliness. But I've my own methods when I find myself in a nasty place. Self-preservation is nature's first law. If you think you can behave to me like an ungrateful little wretch, I'll take care you don't, because, rather than you should do that, I'll stop you too ; so be warned in time."

He paused and looked at her. She looked at him, and saw in his eyes something which robbed her of her few remaining senses. Shrieking in a sudden agony of terror, she ran towards the door which opened into the passage, meaning, no doubt, to rush along the passage to the front door, and so out on to the landing, where she would be within reach of help, and might find safety. But she never got so far. Before she was out of the room, throwing his right arm round her, he lifted her from the ground as if she were a doll, gripping her slender throat with the fingers of his left hand to stay her shrieking.

" Stop that noise, you little fool ! "

He bore her towards the sitting-room. Quannell still stood in the doorway. Charging him with his shoulder, as if he were so much dead matter, he sent him blundering backwards. Following him, with Mrs. Van der Gucht still in his arms, with his other shoulder he pressed against the door and shut it.

CHAPTER XV

IN THE CARRIAGE

After an interval of probably not more than half an hour, Mr. Wentworth came out of his flat, alone. He was immaculately dressed. His frock-coat fitted him without a crease. His beautiful silk hat was set just at the proper angle, a shade of a shadow upon one side. His grey suede gloves fitted him as well as did his coat. He twirled his cane with the air of a man who is without a care in the world. And as he went he smiled. In the entrance hall, as he was descending into the street, he was saluted by the porter.

" A lady came and asked for your flat, sir ; and then, about half an hour afterwards, a gentleman. As they didn't seem to know whereabouts it was, having received no instructions, I directed them. I don't know whether they found you ; I haven't seen either of them come out again."

Mr, Wentworth nodded affably.

"That's all right. I fancy they came down the other staircase."

Again the porter touched his cap. Mr. Wentworth