The Duke Decides

  CHAPTER XIX--_In the Crypt_

  Late on the evening of Senator Sherman's arrival at Prior's Tarrant hewas alone with General Sadgrove in the smoking-room, the Duke ofBeaumanoir and Forsyth having avowedly gone up to bed. Under theinfluence of the genial American, and with the Duke himself in a moreexpansive mood, dinner and the subsequent reunion in the tapestry-roomhad been prolonged later than recently, and the chiming clock on themantelpiece tinkled out the hour of midnight as the Senator put thequestion:

  "Who the dickens is that Talmage Eglinton woman, Jem?"

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

  "She is hardly the type of American one expects to meet in such a houseas this--or wants to meet anywhere," said the Senator. "And," he added,poising the match with which he was about to light another of his owngreen Havanas, "she is the cause of prejudice in a usually unbiasedmind. She has the misfortune to be fashioned in the likeness of one CoraLestrade, a person of note in my country, whom I once saw in my capacityof Visiting Prison Commissioner. That was three years ago, but of courseit can't be the same woman."

  "It would be a curious coincidence," was all the General would admit."She was taken up by Lord and Lady Roseville, impecunious folk who wouldtake up anyone for value received. What was this Cora Lestrade'sparticular line of business?"

  The Senator reflected for a moment.

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

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

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

  The two old cronies relapsed into a thoughtful silence, neither of themshowing a disposition to retire for the night, though the intensestillness prevailing in the great house implied that everyone else wasasleep. Yet it was not so, for Alec Forsyth was at that momentuncommonly busy before the looking-glass in his bedroom. On thetoilet-table there lay open a theatrical "make-up" box, from which hewas putting the finishing touches to a very creditable transformation ofhimself into a semblance of the Duke. His deft usage of the variouspigments revealed him as no tyro at the task, for which, indeed, hisproficiency as an amateur actor had inspired the idea.

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

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

  "I congratulate you on this return to your senses," the writer began."My agents inform me that the gentleman in whom we are interested isexpected to stay at Prior's Tarrant as your guest on arrival, being dueon Tuesday. On Tuesday night you will leave unfastened the door leadinginto the crypt from the Dutch garden, so that I and my assistants mayobtain access secretly. You will come down into the crypt an hour aftermidnight, when I will hand you the documents for substitution. Do notfail to make your arrangements so that the exchange may be effectedwithout a hitch, and as rapidly as possible. As host you should have nodifficulty in inspiring the necessary confidence to put the businessthrough, and you will then be troubled no further by us.--C. Z."

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

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

  At the foot of the stairs, never forgetting his limp, he traversedseveral passages in which at long intervals only had a light been leftburning, and at length he came to a massive oak door. Opening this, hefound himself at the top of a flight of straight stone steps, runningdown into the blackness of the great subterranean chamber, which hadbeen used as a crypt in the old monastic days. The shutting of the doorcut off the last ray of light, and there being no rails to the steps hestruck a wax match in order to make the descent in safety. But thefeeble flame had hardly flickered out when it was rendered useless by adazzling beam of white effulgence that suddenly sprang into being andshone upon him from below.

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

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

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

  "The bonds are in my own safe, and I obtained the key of the Senator'sdespatch-box by a trick--picked his pocket, in fact--after dinner,"Forsyth replied, in a perfect imitation of Beaumanoir's tone. He wasbeginning to feel more confident in being able to sustain his part; hewould not, he thought, have lived to reach this parley if his disguisehad been penetrated.

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

  Forsyth felt a large packet pressed into his grasp, and he instantlyturned with it to go towards the steps, expecting that the lamp would beswitched on to guide him. This proved to be the case, and he was gladthat those five scoundrels only had a back view of him as he limpedacross the floor and laboriously climbed the steps. Nor when he hadpassed through the door out of their sight was there any quickening ofhis halting gait to show that he was exulting in that he had so farsuccessfully risked his life for his friend. And it was well that hekept up his part, for as he crossed under the well of the staircase tothe servants' bedrooms he caught a glimpse of Rosa, Mrs. TalmageEglinton's French maid, watching him over the banisters.

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

>   As Forsyth approached he hoped every moment to hear those parrot-liketones order the light to be cut off, but this time no such welcome soundfell upon his ears. He had to advance quite close with the full radianceof the lamp shining on him. The light, he soon perceived, had beenretained for the purpose of examining the packet, which Ziegler snatchedfrom him with impatient vehemence; and suddenly Forsyth was confrontedwith a situation not wholly unforeseen, but which he had hoped to avoidin the haste of the gang to make off with their plunder. Not contentwith a scrutiny of the carefully taped and sealed dummy package, Zieglerwas about to undo the fastenings and look at the contents, whichconsisted of nothing more valuable than tissue paper.

  It seemed an age while the lithe white fingers broke the seals anddisarranged the tape, and Forsyth steadied himself for the inevitablediscovery. He was not prepared to lose his life at the hands of thismurderous crew without a fight for it, five to one though they were; andit occurred to him that at the first sign of violence his best planwould be to smash the electric lamp with a well-directed kick, and thentry and elude them in the dark. Ziegler's face was in shadow, themiscreant holding the lamp being behind him; but Forsyth saw at last, bythe swift upward jerk of the arch-robber's head, that the worthlessnessof the bundle was known to him. It was probable, too, from the prolongedsilent stare with which he gazed and gazed at the Duke's counterfeit,that the latter's identity was no longer a secret.

  With quite a natural movement Forsyth edged a little nearer to the manwith the lamp, and the movement seemed to break the spell which heldZiegler speechless. The chief turned abruptly to his followers.

  "I must have a word with this gentleman--with the Duke--alone," hesqueaked. "Go out into the garden and await close outside--within call.Here, I will keep the lamp." Forsyth noticed that the well-shaped handwith which he grasped the contrivance was shaking violently--soviolently, that the ray with which he guided his four subordinatesthrough the groined arches to the door wavered like a will-o'-the-wisp.He waited till the last one had filed out before he turned again to theman who had baffled him.

  "Well, Mr. Forsyth?" he piped, and the high-pitched note quivered andtrembled as the lamp-ray had done.

  "Well, sir?" Forsyth repeated, in blank amazement at the sparing of hislife, for unless some hidden treachery beyond his fathoming was afoot,he could not doubt that it was spared. He was more than a physical matchfor the aged evil-doer in front of him, and before the others could berecalled he could make good his retreat into the house by the way he hadcome. The quiet acceptance of defeat by the bloodthirsty old schemer wasa puzzle beyond solution, if it was not a veil for some furthervillainy.

  "You have beaten me, Mr. Forsyth--you and General Sadgrove," Zieglerwent on. "I don't suppose it's of any use my offering you a bribe tobring me back the package you have obtained so smartly? I would make ita very large one."

  "Not the slightest use," Forsyth answered, almost laughing, yet morethan ever puzzled by the _naivete_ of the question. "I have been atconsiderable pains to deprive you of your bogus bonds, and it is hardlylikely, Mr. Ziegler, that I am going to restore your power over the Dukeof Beaumanoir. He is a brave man, and doesn't fear death. You can't hurthim that way; but with these forgeries in your possession you might makesome sort of a story good against him. Without them, anything you couldsay would be an idle tale."

  "That is not the point, believe me, Mr. Forsyth," the shrill voicequavered almost pleadingly. "The contents of that package took three ofmy most skilled colleagues months to prepare. They are proud of theirwork--love those forged bonds as if they were their children. To theirpride in their work I should owe my life, if you would give them back tome."

  Forsyth could hardly believe his ears. Could this tremulous dotard bethe redoubtable master of crime whom he and his uncle had been fightingthroughout the last crowded week? "I really don't see how your notparticularly valuable life can depend on your possession of a lot ofbogus bonds," he said, with genuine curiosity. The appeal to his pityfilled him with vague uneasiness, the alleged reason for it being soutterly absurd. Yet Ziegler was ready with an explanation, more or lessplausible.

  "My associates will kill me for being duped out of their handiwork," heanswered, glancing fearfully to the garden entrance. "They would perhapspardon the miscarriage of the main scheme, but to have parted withmaterial which might yet have been turned to account will seal mydoom--that, and having allowed you to survive your triumph over us."

  Forsyth saw now--or thought he saw--why the murderous crew had beenordered off in ignorance of the miscarriage. It was to enable Ziegler tomake this desperate appeal for the restitution of the bogus bonds, sothat he might "save his face" with his comrades. It would be ampleexcuse in their eyes--flatter their vanity, as their tottering chief hadhinted--if he had himself been deceived by the fabricated securities.But they had seen him examine the parcel; they would know that he hadmade the discovery on the spot, and yet had not decreed instant death totheir successful opponent. One flaw in this chain of reasoning Forsyth,himself no casuist, overlooked. It did not occur to him that the oldpractitioner with the white beard and the squeaky voice could have puthimself right with his companions if he had hounded them on to him themoment he knew he was fingering tissue-paper and not United StatesTreasury bonds, good, bad, or indifferent.

  "Well, Mr. Clinton Ziegler," said Forsyth, eager now to have done withthe matter in the only possible way, "your appeal is dismissed withcosts--on the higher scale. What does it matter to me what happens toyou? If you had had your way you would have earned a legal hanging fourtimes in the last week. If your friends save the common hangman thetrouble, so much the better for all concerned, especially as they wouldthereby get themselves hanged also."

  "Nothing will move you?"

  "Absolutely nothing; and now I'll trouble you to clear off the premisesif you and your gentlemen outside don't want to be treated as ordinaryburglars."

  "What if I call them back and have you strangled?"

  With the way of escape open behind him Forsyth laughed at the futilethreat, and to the group outside in the Dutch garden it must havesounded like a friendly laugh of mutual satisfaction and farewell, forhe gently pushed the old man before him to the garden door and shut iton him. Then, having carefully shot the heavy bolts, he groped his wayback to the stone steps leading up into the house, triumphant, yet notwholly convinced. The ignominious collapse of Mr. Clinton Ziegler wasalmost too good to be true, and he was painfully conscious that such anastute antagonist was not likely to have thrown all his cards on to thetable.

  The fact, however, remained that the schemers had been deprived of theirspurious bonds, without which their carefully planned design to obtainpossession of the genuine ones fell to the ground.

  "And their blood-feud against the poor chap will surely cease, now thatthere is no crime, past or contemplated, for which he can denouncethem," Forsyth comforted himself as he stepped from the door at the headof the stone stairs and hastened along the dimly lit corridor, limpingno longer. His destination was the smoking-room, where he guessed thatthe General would be eagerly awaiting news.