CHAPTER XXIV
He took it with that grave courtesy, that gentle dignity of bearingwhich at times distinguished his deportment and was, indeed, as puzzlingto her as it was to Mr. Maverick Narkom. It came but rarely, thatpeculiar air, but it was very noticeable when it did come, although theman himself seemed totally oblivious of it. Miss Lorne noticed it now,just as she had noticed it that day in the train when she had saidbanteringly: "I am not used to Court manners. Where, if you please, didyou acquire yours?"
"I can't say how deeply indebted I feel--you must imagine that, MissLorne," he said, bending over the hand that lay in his, with an air thatmade Lady Chepstow lift her eyebrows and look at him narrowly. "It isone of the kindest things you could do for the boy and--for me. I thankyou very, very much indeed. My thanks are due to you, too, Captain; forI feel that you will gladly do the favour I have asked."
"Do it? Yes, like a shot, old chap. What a ripping fellow you are!"
"I'm a tired one at all events," replied Cleek. "So, if you--and theladies"--bowing to them--"will kindly excuse me, I'll be off home for aneeded rest. Lady Chepstow, my very best respects. I feel sure that hislittle lordship will be quite all right in a day or two, although Ishall, of course, be glad to learn how he progresses. May I? PerhapsMiss Lorne might be persuaded to send me a word or two through--Mr.Narkom."
Lady Chepstow was still looking at him as she had been from the momenthe had taken Ailsa's hand. Now she put out her own to him.
"Why wait for written reports, Mr. Cleek? Why not call in person andsee?" she asked. "It will be more satisfactory than writing; and youwill be welcome always."
"I thank your ladyship," he said gravely--though all the soul of himrioted and laughed and longed to shout out for sheer joy. "It is aprivilege I shall be happy to enjoy."
But afterward, when he came to take his leave, a dearer one was grantedhim; for Ailsa herself accompanied him to the door.
"I couldn't let the butler show you out, Mr. Cleek," she said, as theystood together in the wide entrance hall. "I couldn't let you go until Ihad said something that is on my mind--something that has been prickingmy conscience all evening. I want to tell you that from this night on Iam going to forget those other nights: that one in the mist atHampstead, that other on the stairway at Wyvern House--forget themutterly and entirely, Mr. Cleek. Whatever you may have been _once_, Iknow that now you are indeed a man!"
Then gave him her hand again, smiled at him, and sent him home feelingthat he was as near to the threshold of heaven as any mortal thing mayhope to be.
Followed a time of such happiness as only they may know who having livedin darkness first know that there is such a thing as Light; followeddays and weeks that went like magic things, blest to the uttermostbefore they go. For now he was a welcome visitor at the house thatsheltered her; now the armour of reserve had dropped from her, and theywere finding out between them that they had many tastes in common.
It was in August when the first interruption to this happy state ofaffairs occurred and they came to know that separation was to be enduredagain. Lady Chepstow, planning already for a wedding that was to takeplace in the early winter, decided to spend the last few months of herwidowhood at her country house in Devonshire, and retired to it takingher servants, her little son, and her son's governess with her.
For a day or two, Cleek "mooned" about--restless, lonely despiteDollops's presence, finding no savour in anything; and it came as apositive relief when a call from The Yard sent him to a modest littlehouse in the neighbourhood of Wandsworth Common. The "call" in questiontook the shape of a letter from Mr. Narkom.
"My dear Cleek," it ran, "a most amazing case--probably _the_ mostamazing you have yet tackled--has just cropped up. The client is oneCaptain Morrison, a retired Army officer living solely on his half pay.His daughter is involved in the astonishing affair. Indeed, it is at herearnest appeal that the matter has been brought to my notice. As theCaptain is in too weak a state of health to journey any distance, I amgoing to ask you to meet me at No. 17, Sunnington Crescent,Wandsworth--a house kept by one Mrs. Culpin, widow of one of my Yardmen, at three o'clock this afternoon. Knowing your reluctance to haveyour identity disclosed, I have taken the liberty of giving you the nameyou adopted in the Bawdrey affair, to wit: 'George Headland.' I havealso taken the same precaution with regard to the Morrisons, leaving youto disclose your identity or not, as you see fit."
Glad enough for anything to distract his thoughts from the broodingstate of melancholy into which they had sunk, Cleek looked up atime-table, caught the 2:47 train from Victoria Station; and Narkom,walking into Mrs. Culpin's modest little drawing-room at two minutespast three, found him standing in the window and looking thoughtfullyout at the groups of children romping on the near-by common.
"Well, here I am at last, you see, my dear fellow," he said, as hecrossed the room and shook hands with him. "Ripping day, isn't it? Whatare you doing? Admiring the view or taking stock of Mrs. Culpin'sroses?"
"Neither. I was speculating in futures," replied Cleek, glancing back atthe sunlit common, and then glancing away again with a faintly audiblesigh. "How happy, how care-free they are, those merry little beggars,Mr. Narkom. What you said in your letter set my thoughts harkingbackward, and ... I was wondering what things the coming years mighthold for them and for their parents. At one time, you know, PhilipBawdrey was as innocent and guileless as any of those little shavers;and yet, in after years he proved a monster of iniquity, a beast ofingratitude, and--Oh, well, let it pass. He paid, as thankless childrenalways do pay under God's good rule. I wonder what his thoughts werewhen his last hour came."
"It did come, then?"
"Yes. Got playing some of his games with those short-tempered chaps outin Buenos Ayres and got knifed a fortnight after his arrival. I had aletter from Mrs. Bawdrey yesterday. His father never knew of--well, theother thing; and never will now, thank God. The longer I live, Mr.Narkom, the surer I become that straight living always pays; and thatthe chap who turns into the other lane gets what he deserves before thegame is played out."
"Ten years of Scotland Yard have enabled me to endorse that statementemphatically," replied Narkom. "'The riddle of the ninth finger' was nodifferent in that respect from nine hundred other riddles that have comemy way since I took office. Now sit down, old chap, and let us take upthe present case. But I say, Cleek; speaking of rewards reminds me ofwhat I wrote you. There's very little chance of one in this affair. Allthe parties connected with it are in very moderate circumstances. Thesculptor fellow, Van Nant, who figures in it, was quite well-to-do atone time, I believe, but he ran through the greater part of his money,and a dishonest solicitor did him out of the rest. Miss Morrison herselfnever did have any, and, as I have told you, the Captain hasn't anythingin the world but his pension; and it takes every shilling of that tokeep them. In the circumstances, I'd have made it a simple 'Yard'affair, chargeable to the Government, and put one of the regular staffupon it. But--well, it's such an astounding, such an unheard-of-thing, Iknew you'd fairly revel in it. And besides, after all the rewards youhave won you must be quite a well-to-do man by this time, and able toindulge in a little philanthropy."
Cleek smiled.
"I will indulge in it, of course," he said, "but not for that reason,Mr. Narkom. I wonder how much it will surprise you to learn that, at thepresent moment, I have just one hundred pounds in all the world?"
"My dear fellow!" Narkom exclaimed, with a sort of gasp, staring at himin round-eyed amazement. "You fairly take away my breath. Why, you musthave received a fortune since you took up these special cases. Fifty orsixty thousand pounds at the smallest calculation."
"More! To be precise, I have received exactly seventy-two thousandpounds, Mr. Narkom. But, as I tell you, I have to-day but one hundredpounds of that sum left. Lost in speculation? Oh, dear no! I've notinvested one farthing in any scheme, company, or purchase since thenight you gave me my chance and helped me to live an honest life."
"Then in
the name of Heaven, Cleek, what has become of the money?"
"It has gone in the cause of my redemption, Mr. Narkom," he answered ina hushed voice. "My good friend--for you really _have_ been a goodfriend to me, the best I ever had in all the world--my good friend, letus for only just this one minute speak of the times that lie behind. Youknow what redeemed me--a woman's eyes, a woman's rose-white soul! Isaid, did I not, that I wanted to win her, wanted to be worthy of her,wanted to climb up and stand with her in the light? You remember that,do you not, Mr. Narkom?"
"Yes, I remember. But, my dear fellow, why speak of your 'vanishingcracksman' days when you have so utterly put them behind you, and sincelived a life beyond reproach? Whatever you did in those times you haveamply atoned for. And what can that have to do with your impoverishedstate?"
"It has everything to do with it. I said I would be worthy of that onedear woman, and--I can never be, Mr. Narkom, until I have maderestitution; until I can offer her a clean hand as well as a clean life.I can't restore the actual things that the 'vanishing cracksman' stole;for they are gone beyond recall, but--I can, at least, restore the valueof them, and--that I have been secretly doing for a long time."
"Man alive! God bless my soul! Cleek, my dear fellow, do you mean totell me that all the rewards, all the money you have earned--"
"Has gone to the people from whom I stole things in the wretched olddays that lie behind me," he finished very gently. "It goes back, insecret gifts, as fast as it is earned, Mr. Narkom. Don't you see theanswers, the acknowledgments, in the 'Personal' columns of the papersnow and again? Wheresoever I robbed in those old days, I am repaying inthese. When the score is wiped off, when the last robbery is paid for,my hand will be clean, and--I can offer it; never before."
"Cleek! My dear fellow! What a man! What a _man_! Oh, more than ever amI certain _now_ that old Sir Horace Wyvern was right that night when hesaid that you were a gentleman. Tell me--I'll respect it--tell me, forGod's sake, man, who are you? _What_ are you, dear friend?"
"Cleek," he made reply. "Just Cleek! The rest is my secret and--God's!We've never spoken of the past since _that_ night, Mr. Narkom, and, withyour kind permission, we never will speak of it again. I'm Cleek, thedetective--at your service once more. Now, then, let's have the newstrange case on which you called me here. What's it all about?"
"Necromancy--wizardry--fairy-lore--all the stuff and nonsense that goesto the making of 'The Arabian Nights'!" said Narkom, waxing excited ashis thoughts were thus shoved back to the amazing affair he had in hand."All your 'Red Crawls' and your 'Sacred Sons' and your 'Nine-fingeredSkeletons' are fools to it for wonder and mystery. Talk aboutwitchcraft! Talk about wizards and giants and enchanters and the thingsthat witches did in the days of Macbeth! God bless my soul, they'renothing to it. Those were the days of magic, anyhow, so you can take itor leave it, as you like; but this--look here, Cleek, you've heard of agood many queer things and run foul of a good many mysteries, I'lladmit, but did you ever--in this twentieth century, when witchcraft andblack magic are supposed to be as dead as Queen Anne--did you ever, mydear fellow, hear of such a marvel as a man putting on a blue leatherbelt that was said to have the power of rendering the wearer invisibleand then forthwith melting into thin air and floating off like a cloudof pipe smoke?"
"Gammon!"
"Gammon nothing! Facts!"
"Facts? You're off your head, man. The thing couldn't possibly happen.Somebody's having you!"
"Well, somebody had _him_, at all events. Young Carboys, I mean--thechap that's engaged, or, rather was engaged, to Captain Morrison'sdaughter; and the poor girl's half out of her mind over it. He put thebelt on in the presence of her and her father--in their own house, mindyou--walked into a bedroom, and vanished like smoke. Doors locked,windows closed, room empty, belt on the floor, and man gone. Not a traceof him from that moment to this; and yesterday was to have been hiswedding-day. There's a 'mystery,' if you like. What do you make ofthat?"
Cleek looked at him for an instant. Then:
"My dear Mr. Narkom, for the moment I thought you were fooling," he saidin a tone of deep interest. "But I see now that you are quite inearnest, although the thing sounds so preposterous, a child might beexpected to scoff at it. A man to get a magic belt, to put it on, andthen to melt away? Why, the 'Seven-league Boots' couldn't be a greatertax on one's credulity. Sit down and tell me all about it."
"The dickens of it is there doesn't seem to be much to tell," saidNarkom, accepting the invitation. "Young Carboys, who appears to havebeen a decent sort of chap, had neither money, position, nor enemies, sothat's an end to any idea of somebody having a reason for wishing to getrid of him; and, as he was devotedly attached to Miss Morrison, and wascounting the very hours to the time of their wedding, and, in addition,had no debts, no entanglements of any sort, and no possible reason forwishing to disappear, there isn't the slightest ground for suspectingthat he did so voluntarily."
"Suppose you tell me the story from the beginning, and leave me to drawmy own conclusions regarding that," said Cleek. "Who and what was theman? Was he living in the same house with his fiancee, then? You say thedisappearance occurred there, at night, and that he went into a bedroom.Was the place his home, as well as Captain Morrison's, then?"
"On the contrary. His home was a matter of three or four miles distant.He was merely stopping at the Morrison's on that particular night; I'lltell you presently why and how he came to do that. For the present,let's take things in their proper order. Once upon a time this GeorgeCarboys occupied a fair position in the world, and his parents--longsince dead--were well to do. The son, being an only child, was welllooked after--sent to Eton and then to Brasenose, and all that sort ofthing--and the future looked very bright for him. Before he wastwenty-one, however, his father lost everything through unluckyspeculations, and that forced the son to make his own living. At the'Varsity he had fallen in with a rich young Belgian--fellow namedMaurice Van Nant--who had a taste for sculpture and the fine artsgenerally, and they had become the warmest and closest of friends."
"Maurice Van Nant? That's the sculptor fellow you said in the beginninghad gone through his money, isn't it?"
"Yes. Well, when young Carboys was thrown on the world, so to speak,this Van Nant came to the rescue, made a place for him as privatesecretary and companion, and for three or four years they knocked roundthe world together, going to Egypt, Persia, India, _et cetera_, as VanNant was mad on the subject of Oriental art, and wished to study it atthe fountain-head. In the meantime both Carboys' parents went over tothe silent majority, and left him without a relative in the world,barring Captain Morrison, who is an uncle about seven times removed andwould, of course, naturally be heir-at-law to anything he left if he hadanything to leave, poor beggar, which he hadn't. But that's gettingahead of the story.
"Well, at the end of four years or so Van Nant came to the bottom of hispurse--hadn't a stiver left; and from dabbling in art for pleasure, hadto come down to it as a means of earning a livelihood. And he andCarboys returned to England, and, for purposes of economy, pooled theirinterests, took a small box of a house over Putney way, set up a regular'bachelor establishment,' and started in the business of bread-winningtogether. Carboys succeeded in getting a clerk's position in town; VanNant set about modelling clay figures and painting mediocre pictures,and selling both whenever he could find purchasers.
"Naturally, these were slow in coming, few and far between; but withCarboys' steady two pounds a week coming in, they managed to scrapealong and to keep themselves going. They were very happy, too, despitethe fact that Carboys had got himself engaged to Miss Morrison, and washoarding every penny he could possibly save in order to get enough tomarry on; and this did not tend to make Van Nant overjoyed, as such amarriage would, of course, mean the end of their long association andthe giving up of their bachelor quarters."
"To say nothing of leaving Van Nant to rub along as best he couldwithout any assistance from Carboys," commented Cleek. "I think I canguess a portio
n of what resulted, Mr. Narkom. Van Nant did not, ofcourse, in these circumstances have any tender regard for MissMorrison."
"No, he did not. In point of fact, he disliked her very much indeed, andviewed the approaching wedding with extreme disfavour."
"And yet you say that nobody had an interest in doing Carboys some sortof mischief in order to prevent that wedding from being consummated, Mr.Narkom," said Cleek with a shrug of the shoulders. "Certainly, Van Nantwould have been glad to see a spoke put in that particular wheel; thoughI freely confess I do not see what good could come of preventing it bydoing away with Carboys, as he would then be in as bad a position as ifthe marriage had been allowed to proceed as planned. Either way he losesCarboys' companionship and assistance; and his one wish would be topreserve both. Well, go on. What next? I'm anxious to hear about thebelt. Where and how does that come in?"
"Well, it appears that Miss Morrison got hold of a humorous book called'The Brass Bottle,' a fantastic, farcical thing, about a genie who hadbeen sealed up in a bottle for a thousand years getting out and causingthe poor devil of a hero no end of worry by heaping riches and honoursupon him in the most embarrassing manner. It happened that on the nightMiss Morrison got this book, and read it aloud for the amusement of herfather and lover, Carboys had persuaded Van Nant to spend the eveningwith them. Apparently he enjoyed himself, too, for he laughed asboisterously as any of them over the farcical tale, and would not gohome until he had heard the end of it. When it was finished MissMorrison tells me, Carboys, after laughing fit to split his sides overthe predicament of the hero of the book, cried out: 'By George! I wishsome old genie would take it into his head to hunt me up, and try thesame sort of a dodge with me. He wouldn't find this chicken shying hisgold and his gems back at his head, I can tell you. I'd accept all theArab slaves and all the palaces he wanted to thrust on me; and then I'dmake 'em all over to you, Mary dear, so you'd never have to do anotherday's worrying or pinching in all your life. But never you nor anybodyelse depend upon an Arab's gratitude or an Arab's generosity. He'llpromise you the moon, and then wriggle out of giving you so much as astar--just as Abdul ben Meerza did with me.' And upon Miss Morrisonasking what he meant by that, he replied, laughingly: 'Ask Van, he knewthe old codger better than I--knew his whole blessed family, blowhim!--and was able to talk to the old skinflint in his own outlandishtongue.'
"Upon Miss Morrison's acting on this suggestion, Van Nant told of anadventure Carboys had had in Persia some years previously. It appearsthat he saved the life of a miserly old Arab called Abdul ben Meerza atthe risk of his own; that the old man was profuse in his expressions ofgratitude, and, on their parting, had said: 'By the Prophet, thou shaltyet find the tree of this day's planting bear rich fruit for thee andthy feet walk upon golden stones.' But, in spite of this promise, he hadwalked away, and Carboys had never heard another word from nor of himfrom that hour until three nights ago."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong, rising inflection. "And he did hear ofhim, then?"
"Yes," replied Narkom. "Quite unexpectedly, and while he was preparingto spend a dull evening at home with Van Nant--for the night was, as youmust recollect, my dear fellow, a horribly wet and stormy one--a messagecame to him from Miss Morrison asking him to come over to Wandsworthwithout delay, as a most amazing thing had happened. A box marked 'FromAbdul ben Meerza' had been delivered there, of all astonishing places.The message concluded by saying that as it was such a horrible night,the Captain, her father, would not hear of his returning, so begged himto bring his effects, and come prepared to remain until morning.
"He went, of course, carrying with him a small bag containing hispyjamas, his shaving tackle, and such few accessories as would benecessary, since, if he stopped, he must start from there to business inthe morning; and on his arrival was handed a small leather caseaddressed as he had been told. Imagining all sorts of wonders, fromjewels of fabulous value to documents entitling him to endless wealth,he unfastened the case, and found within it a broad belt of blueenamelled leather secured with a circular brass clasp, on which wasrudely scratched in English the words, 'The wizards of the East grewrich by being unseen. Whoso clasps this belt about his waist may becomeinvisible for the wishing. So does ben Meerza remember.'
"Of course, Carboys treated it as the veriest rubbish--who wouldn't?Indeed, suspected Van Nant of having played a joke upon him, andlaughingly threw it aside; and, finding that he had taken anuncomfortable journey for nothing, got some good out of it by spending apleasant evening with the Captain and his daughter. A room had been madeready for him--in fact, although he did not know it, Miss Morrison hadgiven him hers, and had herself gone to a less attractive one--and indue time he prepared to turn in for the night. As they parted MissMorrison, in a bantering spirit, picked up the belt and handed it tohim, remarking that he had better keep it, as, after marriage, he mightsome time be glad to creep into the house unseen; and, in the samebantering spirit, he had replied that he had better begin learning howthe thing worked in case of necessity, and taking the belt, clasped itround his waist, said good-night, and stepped into the room prepared forhim. Miss Morrison and her father heard him close the door and pull downthe blind, and--that was the last that was seen or heard of him.
"In the morning the bed was found undisturbed, his locked bag on achair, and in the middle of the floor the blue leather belt; but of theman himself there was not one trace to be found. There, that's thestory, Cleek. Now what do you make of it?"
"I shall be able to tell you better after I have seen the partiesconcerned," said Cleek, after a moment's pause. "You have brought yourmotor, of course? Let us step into it, then, and whizz round to CaptainMorrison's house. What's that? Oh, undoubtedly a case of foul play, Mr.Narkom. But as to the motive and the matter of who is guilty, it isimpossible to decide until I have looked further into the evidence. Dome a favour, will you? After you have left me at the Captain's house,'phone up The Yard, and let me have the secret cable code with the East;also, if you can, the name of the chief of the Persian police."
"My dear chap, you can't really place any credence in that absurdassertion regarding the blue belt? You can't possibly think that Abdulben Meerza really sent the thing?"
"No, I can't," said Cleek in reply. "Because, to the best of my belief,it is impossible for a dead man to send anything; and, if my memorydoesn't betray me, I fancy I read in the newspaper accounts of that bigTajik rising at Khotour a couple of months ago, that the leader, oneAbdul ben Meerza, a rich but exceedingly miserly merchant of theprovince of Elburz, was, by the Shah's command, bastinadoed within aninch of his life, and then publicly beheaded."
"By Jove! I believe you are right, my dear fellow," asserted Narkom. "Ithought the name had a familiar sound--as if I had, somewhere, heard itbefore. I suppose there is no likelihood, by any chance, that the oldskinflint could have lived up to his promise and left poor Carboyssomething, after all, Cleek? Because, you know, if he did--"
"Captain Morrison would, as heir-at-law, inherit it," supplementedCleek, dryly. "Get out the motor, Mr. Narkom, and let's spin round andsee him. I fancy I should like a few minutes' conversation with theCaptain. And--Mr. Narkom!"
"Yes."
"We'll stick to the name 'George Headland,' if you please. When you areout for birds it doesn't do to frighten them off beforehand."