CHAPTER NINETEEN
PICKING UP THREADS
Young Raynor was not in the smallest degree upset at sight of the thing.He was mildly surprised, and expressed it by a low, soft whistle as hereached out his hand and took up the bracelet.
"Well, of all the mutton heads! Shows what a thoughtless beggar I am!"he said with a slight lurch of the shoulders and an impatient twitch ofthe head. "No need to ask you how you came by the blessed thing, dearboy. Found it in the inside pocket of that coat you're wearing, I know.That's where I put the bally thing, I recollect. What an ass of me toforget all about it. Hope she won't think I've bagged it."
"She?" said Cleek, with admirable composure, considering that this openadmission, this evidence of there being nothing to conceal, threatenedto upset all his calculations. "Antecedent of that personal pronoun,please; who may the 'she' in question be?"
"Why, Mignon, of course."
"Mignon?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle Mignon De Varville, the famous Whirlwind Dancer ofthe Paris Varietes. _You_ know her, or ought to, considering that yougot a peep at her phiz in spite of me this afternoon."
"Not 'Pink Gauze'? The lady of the tobacco jar?"
"The very identical. Little bit of all right, that--eh, what?"
"Looked like it, at all events," said Cleek, selecting a cigar andlighting up. "What a lucky beggar you are, dear chap--all the goodthings seem to go your way. And so"--puff! puff!--"Pink Gauze gave youthe bracelet, eh? When? Last night? Or didn't you see her then?"
"Oh, I saw her last night, right enough; in fact, I've seen her prettynearly every night since she came over from Paris, but she didn't giveme the bracelet to take care of _then_. _That_ was on the nightbefore--over at her little place, you know."
"No, I'm blest if I do. How should I? Never saw or heard of her, dearboy, till I had the misfortune to break that tobacco jar and tumble outher photo. So her name's Mignon de Varville, is it? And she's got alittle place of her own, eh? Where? In this neighbourhood?"
"Lord, no! Beyond Wimbledon. Rippin' little place, too. Clinkin' littlehouse standing in its own grounds and fitted up to the nines. Took itfurnished, and gives the rippin'est suppers and the jolliest dancesgoing. Hot stuff, I give you _my_ word. Brought over her entire troupewith her. Rehearsing now, and with all their evenings to themselves.Going to open in London in a fortnight's time, she says, and no Englishhotels for _her_ and her little lot. There are ten of 'em: five spiffin'pretty girls, and five of the most awful-lookin' Johnnies you ever sawin evening clothes since the hour you were christened. Coarse as dog'shair, every mother's son of 'em, but clinkin' good chaps, for all that.Plenty of champagne, and jolly good champagne it is, too, dear boy; andafter supper there's always a dance, two of the chaps and two of thegirls sitting out and furnishing the music. And Lord, you don't knowwhat a dance is, Barch, till you've had one with Mignon de Varville, myboy!"
Cleek did not dispute the assertion. He had had many with the lady inthose old days that lay forever behind; and it needed no man's word totell him how tirelessly, how joyously, and with what mad _abandon_Margot could dance when the fever of music and wine got into her blood.
"My hat! I'll be choking you from sheer jealousy, presently, you luckybeggar!" he said enviously. "All the plums seem to fall over on _your_side of the wall, dash you! and here am I sitting solitary and alone ina howling wilderness with not even _one_. I say, how the dickens did youever come across this French lot? Blest if I can seem to meet with_any_--French, English, or any other sort, dash it! Where did you meetthe charming Mignon? In Paris?"
"No fear! You can fall in with anything going in London if you onlyknow the ropes, dear boy, and are popular. Flossie Twinkletoesintroduced me to her. She'd just come over from Paris, and Flossie wasout of work through the failure of 'The Seaside Girl,' and asked me totake her to supper and meet a friend of hers. I did--and the friend wasMignon. After that--well, you know how it is, dear boy. When a fellowknows his way about women _will_ run after him. Mignon and I took toeach other from the first, and we've been jolly good pals ever since.Invited me to her place before we'd known each other half an hour. Fact,dear boy. And she's rather exclusive, too, I can tell you. Just _how_exclusive you may guess when I tell you that I'm the only living manoutside of those who belong to her troupe that ever sees the inside ofher house or shares one of those rippin' evenings there."
The curious one-sided smile travelled up Cleek's cheek, hovered there amoment, and then disappeared. He said nothing upon the subject, but itwas perfectly clear to him just _why_ Mr. Harry Raynor was the onlystranger present. He knew Margot and he knew her methods. This one manwas desirable because she had an especial use for him; and he meant tomake it his business to find out just what that especial use might be.So, then, she had abandoned her customary tactics for once, and hadbrought some of the female members of her crew to England with her, hadshe?
The murder of De Louvisan looked more than ever like an Apache crime,in the light of these things. But _why_ an Apache crime? Margot's gamewas always money; and the pseudo Count de Louvisan had not a shilling tobless himself with. Again, if it were an Apache crime, how came a manwho was undeniably Lord St. Ulmer--undeniably everything that heclaimed--to be mixed up in the affair to such an extent as he was? Andwhat of Lady Clavering? Where did she come in? What had taken her outupon the Common last night? What of young Geoff? What of his father? Andwhat, of all things, about Lady Katharine Fordham?
None of these people could be connected with Margot--with the Apaches.He had his own ideas relative to Lady Katharine's part in the puzzle,but there was still that bundle of buried clothing, still the fact thatit was found in the grounds of Wuthering Grange, and that it was highlyimprobable either Margot or any of her crew could have put it there.Still, Margot had a purpose in "catching" Mr. Harry Raynor; and if----Ah, well, you never can tell. Shallow-looking pools are sometimes verydeep. Which, then, _was_ Mr. Harry Raynor: the brainless fool heappeared, or a very excellent actor playing a very cunning part?
During the moment it had taken for these thoughts to travel through hismind, Cleek's whole attention seemed to be claimed by his cigar, which,for some unknown reason, appeared to have an objection to draw. Now,however, he flung the thing aside.
"Pardon me, dear boy, if I have seemed inattentive," he said. "Please goon. What was it you were saying? Oh, ah! I recollect: about your beingthe only guest that Mademoiselle What's-her-name ever asks to herblessed kick-ups. Lay you a tanner I can tell you why, old chap."
"Can you? Then why?"
"Either she's clean gone on you--which, no doubt, is very likely--orshe's trying to get something out of you. Ever give you what our Yankeecousins call the touch? Ever try to get anything out of you?"
"Not a blessed rap. Never wanted _anything_ from me. That is, anythingin the money line, I mean. Hinted pretty strongly at something else,however; but, of course, I wasn't taking any on that score!"
"Weren't you? Why not?"
"Don't be an ass, Barchie! You've seen the pater and mater, and you canjudge for yourself just how impossible it would be to even hint athaving a girl like Mignon asked over here to dinner one night justsimply because she has, as she says, an intense yearning to see howpeople of the better class in England live and conduct themselves intheir own homes."
Cleek reached for another cigar and lit it. Oho! so that was how the catjumped, was it? That was Margot's little game, eh? She had taken up withthis engaging young man merely for the purpose of getting an entree toWuthering Grange. Clearly, then, there must be something or some oneunder the roof of this house that she desired to get in contact with;and having failed to get _invited_, as she had hoped----Yes, of course!Cunning of her, diabolically cunning. Forgotten all about the bracelet,eh? Not she! He knew her like a book. It would be an excuse to come overin person to ask for its return. "So sorry; but called away suddenly,and couldn't possibly wait for you to bring it back." That sort ofthing, and--well, there you are. Ah, she was the very embodi
ment ofcraft and cunning, that lady: cut her off at one door and she would makeher way round to the other.
"Wasn't aware that it was anything of that sort, dear chap, or Ishouldn't have asked," said Cleek, responding with the utmost serenityto young Raynor's remark. "Of course you couldn't do anything of thatsort, so it was deuced wise of you to ignore the hint. Rum what fancieswomen of that sort have, eh? And how blessed crafty they are in gettingwhat they want! You look out, dear boy, that she doesn't come over hereafter that bracelet. Lay you a sov that's why she got you to take chargeof it."
"Lay you another it isn't," replied the young man, with a smile ofconfidence. "You don't know the facts, dear boy, or you wouldn't jump tosuch silly conclusions. She gave it to me because the blessed thingwould keep coming undone and falling off and interfering with ourwaltzing. Besides, it wasn't she--it was I--that suggested that I shouldput it in my pocket for safe keeping until the dancing was over; and,like a blithering idiot, you see, I forgot all about it. Blessed luckything for me that I had to lend you a suit of evening clothes, b'gad, orI might not have found the bracelet for heaven knows how long."
"And a blessed lucky thing for me that you turned up in time to lend itto me," said Cleek, in reply. "Never was in such a beastly funk in allmy life, dear chap. Could have said a prayer, if I knew any, I was soblessed glad when I looked out and saw you standing in the passage. Isay, how did you come to be there, Raynor? Thought you were heaven knowshow far away, and blest if I can think where you came from."
"Popped out of St. Ulmer's room. Next one to yours. Was in there whenthat sneak thief appeared."
"In there? My hat! What a rum idea! Thought you didn't care for the oldjosser. At least, you spoke as though you didn't this afternoon; and tohave you sitting in there and kow-towing to a gouty old sick man----"
"Wasn't sitting in there, dear boy. Had just popped in on my way up todress. Evening papers full of that business at Gleer Cottage last night.Bought several of them at the railway station. Happened to think that,maybe, the old bounder hadn't read the news and would be interested init, so just dropped in to give them to him. That was all."
"Oh, I see," said Cleek. "That accounts for it, of course. Wondered howthe dickens you came to be there, and what on earth had called you backhome so early after you'd told me not to expect you until twelve. By theway, dear boy, what did call you back, if it isn't an impertinence toask. Needn't bother to reply if you'd rather not." This latter, for thereason that at the mention of his coming back earlier than expected,young Raynor's lips had come together in a sharp, hard, narrow line, andhis eyes had assumed an absolutely savage expression. "Sorry if I'vepoked my nose in where I'm not wanted, old chap, deuced sorry."
"Oh, that's all right," said Raynor, reaching for the decanter andpouring out a fresh peg of brandy. "Don't bother about treading on _my_corns. Of course I'm a bit sore on the subject, but--well, I like you,Barch; I like you no end. Besides, I was going to tell you, anyhow.Remember, don't you, that I said I was going to give you a shock?"
"Oh, ah! Yes. Blest if I hadn't forgotten. And I thought I was going togive you one, too, about the bracelet; but it didn't come off. Maybeyours won't either, dear boy."
"Oh, don't you make any mistake upon that score. Lay you a fiver itmakes you sit up when I spring it on you. Shove that siphon over thisway, will you, dear boy? Thanks, very much. I say, Barch--chin'-chin',old chap!-- I say, you want to know what sent me back so unexpectedly,do you, eh? Well, you may."
"May I? Thanks. Then what did?"
"Same thing that called me away in the first place--a blessed swindle!"
"The dickens you say? What sort of a swindle, old chap, eh?"
"A forged letter. Somebody wanted to get me away from this house forsome purpose or another, and to _keep_ me away until late to-night, too.I don't know why, and I don't know what for, but I'm jolly well certainwho the party is, b 'gad; and it's a howlin' eye-opener, I give you _my_word! Wait a bit!"
He got up suddenly, walked to the door, opened it a foot or so, peepedout, then reclosed it and walked back to his seat. He poured out a thirdbrandy, and drank it almost neat this time, then put his elbows upon thetable, and, leaning forward, looked straight into Cleek's eyes.
"Barch, I've discovered something," he said in a lowered voice. "Myfather's playing a double game. He's a damned old two-faced hypocrite,that's what, and I've found him out at last!"
The cigar dropped suddenly from Cleek's fingers, and he ducked down inquest of it. He simply _had_ to have some excuse to cover up the stateof his feelings, or they would have got the better of him. A while agohe had said to himself that the fellow was despicable enough toimplicate his own parents if it were necessary to save his skin; buteven then he had only half believed it; now, however, he knew, and afierce indignation bit into the very soul of him.
The worm had suddenly developed into a viper.
He went on groping for the dropped cigar. He might have found it at oncehad he chosen to do so, but he did not. It needed a moment or two towhip his savage desires into subjugation, to get himself well in handagain that he might face this unnatural son without giving way to thetemptation to thrash him; and all the while his head was whirling withthe crushing recollections that were crowding into it.
If it were worth his while--to save his own skin, to divert suspicionfrom himself---- Well, was it not worth his while now? The chase wasnarrowing, and perhaps he knew it--one could not be certain what such aman _would_ find means of discovering. Perhaps he knew of the unearthingof the buried clothing. Perhaps he knew that there was proof themurderer had been traced to Wuthering Grange, and knowing, realized thenecessity for diverting suspicion from himself, if he were guilty? But,guilty or innocent, principal or accessory, this one thing was certain:last night a murder had been committed; last night a dead man had beenspiked to the wall in true Apache fashion; and this Mr. Harry Raynor,who was casting slurs upon his own father, was hand and glove with theApache queen!