The Snare

  CHAPTER XV. THE WALLET

  "A queer, mysterious business this death of Samoval," said ColonelGrant.

  "So I was beginning to perceive," Wellington agreed, his brow dark.

  They were alone together in the quadrangle under the trellis, throughwhich the sun, already high, was dappling the table at which hislordship sat.

  "It would be easier to read if it were not for the duelling swords.Those and the nature of Samoval's wound certainly point unanswerably toa duel. Otherwise there would be considerable evidence that Samoval wasa spy caught in the act and dealt with out of hand as he deserved."

  "How? Count Samoval a spy?"

  "In the French interest," answered the colonel without emotion, "actingupon the instructions of the Souza faction, whose tool he had become."And Colonel Grant proceeded to relate precisely what he knew of Samoval.

  Lord Wellington sat awhile in silence, cogitating. Then he rose, andhis piercing eyes looked up at the colonel, who stood a good head tallerthan himself.

  "Is this the evidence of which you spoke?"

  "By no means," was the answer. "The evidence I have secured is much morepalpable. I have it here." He produced a little wallet of red moroccobearing the initial "S" surmounted by a coronet. Opening it, he selectedfrom it some papers, speaking the while. "I thought it as well beforeI left last night to make an examination of the body. This is what Ifound, and it contains, among other lesser documents, these to which Iwould draw your lordship's attention. First this." And he placed inLord Wellington's hand a holograph note from the Prince of Esslingenintroducing the bearer, M. de la Fleche, his confidential agent, whowould consult with the Count, and thanking the Count for the valuableinformation already received from him.

  His lordship sat down again to read the letter. "It is a fullconfirmation of what you have told me," he said calmly.

  "Then this," said Colonel Grant, and he placed upon the table a note inFrench of the approximate number and disposition of the British troopsin Portugal at the time. "The handwriting is Samoval's own, as those whoknow it will have no difficulty in discerning. And now this, sir." Heunfolded a small sketch map, bearing the title also in French: Probableposition and extent of the fortifications north of Lisbon.

  "The notes at the foot," he added, "are in cipher, and it is theordinary cipher employed by the French, which in itself proves howdeeply Samoval was involved. Here is a translation of it." And he placedbefore his chief a sheet of paper on which Lord Wellington read:

  "This is based upon my own personal knowledge of the country, odd scrapsof information received from time to time, and my personal verificationof the roads closed to traffic in that region. It is intended merelyas a guide to the actual locale of the fortifications, an exact plan ofwhich I hope shortly to obtain."

  His lordship considered it very attentively, but without betraying theleast discomposure.

  "For a man working upon such slight data as he himself confesses," wasthe quiet comment, "he is damnably accurate. It is as well, I think,that this did not reach Marshal Massena."

  "My own assumption is that he put off sending it, intending to replaceit by the actual plan--which he here confesses to the expectation ofobtaining shortly."

  "I think he died at the right moment. Anything else?"

  "Indeed," said Colonel Grant, "I have kept the best for the last."And unfolding yet another document, he placed it in the hands of theCommander-in-Chief. It was Lord Liverpool's note of the troops to beembarked for Lisbon in June and July--the note abstracted from thedispatch carried by Captain Garfield.

  His lordship's lips tightened as he considered it. "His death wastimely indeed, damned timely; and the man who killed him deserves to bementioned in dispatches. Nothing else, I suppose?"

  "The rest is of little consequence, sir."

  "Very well." He rose. "You will leave these with me, and the wallet aswell, if you please. I am on my way to confer with the members of theCouncil of Regency, and I am glad to go armed with so stout a weaponas this. Whatever may be the ultimate finding of the court-martial, thepresent assumption must be that Samoval met the death of a spy caughtin the act, as you suggested. That is the only conclusion the PortugueseGovernment can draw when I lay these papers before it. They willeffectively silence all protests."

  "Shall I tell O'Moy?" inquired the colonel.

  "Oh, certainly," answered his lordship, instantly to change his mind."Stay!" He considered, his chin in his hand, his eyes dreamy. "Betternot, perhaps. Better not tell anybody. Let us keep this to ourselves forthe present. It has no direct bearing on the matter to be tried. By theway, when does the court-martial sit?"

  "I have just heard that Marshal Beresford has ordered it to sit onThursday here at Monsanto."

  His lordship considered. "Perhaps I shall be present. I may be at TorresVedras until then. It is a very odd affair. What is your own impressionof it, Grant? Have you formed any?"

  Grant smiled darkly. "I have been piecing things together. The resultis rather curious, and still very mystifying, still leaving a deal to beexplained, and somehow this wallet doesn't fit into the scheme at all."

  "You shall tell me about it as we ride into Lisbon. I want you to comewith me. Lady O'Moy must forgive me if I take French leave, since she isnowhere to be found."

  The truth was, that her ladyship had purposely gone into hiding, afterthe fashion of suffering animals that are denied expression of theirpain. She had gone off with her load of sorrow and anxiety into thethicket on the flank of Monsanto, and there Sylvia found her presently,dejectedly seated by a spring on a bank that was thick with floweringviolets. Her ladyship was in tears, her mind swollen to bursting-pointby the secret which it sought to contain but felt itself certainlyunable to contain much longer.

  "Why, Una dear," cried Miss Armytage, kneeling beside her and putting amotherly arm about that full-grown child, "what is this?"

  Her ladyship wept copiously, the springs of her grief gushing forth inresponse to that sympathetic touch.

  "Oh, my dear, I am so distressed. I shall go mad, I think. I am sure Ihave never deserved all this trouble. I have always been considerateof others. You know I wouldn't give pain to any one. And--and Dick hasalways been so thoughtless."

  "Dick?" said Miss Armytage, and there was less sympathy in her voice."It is Dick you are thinking about at present?"

  "Of course. All this trouble has come through Dick. I mean," sherecovered, "that all my troubles began with this affair of Dick's. Andnow there is Ned under arrest and to be court-martialled."

  "But what has Captain Tremayne to do with Dick?"

  "Nothing, of course," her ladyship agreed, with more than usualself-restraint. "But it's one trouble on another. Oh, it's more than Ican bear."

  "I know, my dear, I know," Miss Armytage said soothingly, and her ownvoice was not so steady.

  "You don't know! How can you? It isn't your brother or your friend. Itisn't as if you cared very much for either of them. If you did, if youloved Dick or Ned, you might realise what I am suffering."

  Miss Armytage's eyes looked straight ahead into the thick green foliage,and there was an odd smile, half wistful, half scornful, on her lips.

  "Yet I have done what I could," she said presently. "I have spoken toLord Wellington about them both."

  Lady O'Moy checked her tears to look at her companion, and there wasdread in her eyes.

  "You have spoken to Lord Wellington?"

  "Yes. The opportunity came, and I took it."

  "And whatever did you tell him?" She was all a-tremble now, as sheclutched Miss Armytage's hand.

  Miss Armytage related what had passed; how she had explained the truefacts of Dick's case to his lordship; how she had protested her faiththat Tremayne was incapable of lying, and that if he said he had notkilled Samoval it was certain that he had not done so; and, finally, howhis lordship had promised to bear both cases in his mind.

  "That doesn't seem very much," her ladyship complained.

  "But
he said that he would never allow a British officer to be made ascapegoat, and that if things proved to be as I stated them he wouldsee that the worst that happened to Dick would be his dismissal from thearmy. He asked me to let him know immediately if Dick were found."

  More than ever was her ladyship on the very edge of confiding. A chanceword might have broken down the last barrier of her will. But that wordwas not spoken, and so she was given the opportunity of first consultingher brother.

  He laughed when he heard the story.

  "A trap to take me, that's all," he pronounced it. "My dear girl,that stiff-necked martinet knows nothing of forgiveness for a militaryoffence. Discipline is the god at whose shrine he worships." And heafforded her anecdotes to illustrate and confirm his assertion of LordWellington's ruthlessness. "I tell you," he concluded, "it's nothingbut a trap to catch me. And if you had been fool enough to yield, and tohave blabbed of my presence to Sylvia, you would have had it proved toyou."

  She was terrified and of course convinced, for she was easy ofconviction, believing always the last person to whom she spoke. She satdown on one of the boxes that furnished that cheerless refuge of Mr.Butler's.

  "Then what's to become of Ned?" she cried. "Oh, I had hoped that we hadfound a way out at last."

  He raised himself on his elbow on the camp-bed they had fitted up forhim.

  "Be easy now," he bade her impatiently. "They can't do anything to Neduntil they find him guilty; and how are they going to find him guiltywhen he's innocent?"

  "Yes; but the appearances!"

  "Fiddlesticks!" he answered her--and the expression chosen was amere concession to her sex, and not at all what Mr. Butler intended."Appearances can't establish guilt. Do be sensible, and remember thatthey will have to prove that he killed Samoval. And you can't prove athing to be what it isn't. You can't!"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Certain sure," he replied with emphasis.

  "Do you know that I shall have to give evidence before the court?" sheannounced resentfully.

  It was an announcement that gave him pause. Thoughtfully he stroked hisabominable tuft of red beard. Then he dismissed the matter with a shrugand a smile.

  "Well, and what of it?" he cried. "They are not likely to bully you orcross-examine you. Just tell them what you saw from the balcony. Indeedyou can't very well say anything else, or they will see that you arelying, and then heaven alone knows what may happen to you, as well as tome."

  She got up in a pet. "You're callous, Dick--callous!" she told him. "Oh,I wish you had never come to me for shelter."

  He looked at her and sneered. "That's a matter you can soon mend," hetold her. "Call up Terence and the others and have me shot. I promiseI shall make no resistance. You see, I'm not able to resist even if Iwould."

  "Oh, how can you think it?" She was indignant.

  "Well, what is a poor devil to think? You blow hot and cold all in abreath. I'm sick and ill and feverish," he continued with self-pity,"and now even you find me a trouble. I wish to God they'd shoot me andmake an end. I'm sure it would be best for everybody."

  And now she was on her knees beside him, soothing him; protesting thathe had misunderstood her; that she had meant--oh, she didn't know whatshe had meant, she was so distressed on his account.

  "And there's never the need to be," he assured her. "Surely you can beguided by me if you want to help me. As soon as ever my leg gets wellagain I'll be after fending for myself, and trouble you no further. Butif you want to shelter me until then, do it thoroughly, and don't giveway to fear at every shadow without substance that falls across yourpath."

  She promised it, and on that promise left him; and, believing him, shebore herself more cheerfully for the remainder of the day. But thatevening after they had dined her fears and anxieties drove her at lastto seek her natural and legal protector.

  Sir Terence had sauntered off towards the house, gloomy and silent as hehad been throughout the meal. She ran after him now, and came trippinglightly at his side up the steps. She put her arm through his.

  "Terence dear, you are not going back to work again?" she pleaded.

  He stopped, and from his fine height looked down upon her with a curioussmile. Slowly he disengaged his arm from the clasp of her own. "I amafraid I must," he answered coldly. "I have a great deal to do, and I amshort of a secretary. When this inquiry is over I shall have more timeto myself, perhaps." There was something so repellent in his voice, inhis manner of uttering those last words, that she stood rebuffed andwatched him vanish into the building.

  Then she stamped her foot and her pretty mouth trembled.

  "Oaf!" she said aloud.