The Golden Scorpion

  CHAPTER V

  THE SEALED ENVELOPE

  "MADEMOISELLE DORIAN!" cried Stuart joyously, advancing withoutstretched hand. She leaned back against the table watching him--andsuddenly he perceived the open drawer. He stopped. His expressionchanged to one of surprise and anger, and the girl's slim fingersconvulsively clutched the table edge as she confronted him. Herexquisite colour fled and left her pallid, dark-eyed and dismayed.

  "So," he said bitterly--"I returned none too soon, Mlle.--_Dorian_"

  "Oh! she whispered, and shrank from him as he approached nearer.

  "Your object in selecting an obscure practitioner for your medicaladviser becomes painfully evident to me. Diagnosis of your case wouldhave been much more easy if I had associated your symptoms with thepresence in my table drawer of"--he hesitated--"of something whichyou have taken out. Give me whatever you have stolen and composeyourself to await the arrival of the police."

  He was cruel in his disillusionment. Here lay the explanation of hisromance; here was his disguised princess--a common thief! She staredat him wildly.

  "I take nothing!" she cried. "Oh, let me go! Please, please let me go!"

  "Pleading is useless. What have you stolen?"

  "Nothing--see." She cast the little gold ornament on the table. "Ilook at this, but I do not mean to steal it."

  She raised her beautiful eyes to his face again, and he found himselfwavering. That she had made his acquaintance in order to steal thefragment of the golden scorpion was impossible, for he had notpossessed it at the time of her first visit. He was hopelesslymystified and utterly miserable.

  "How did you open the drawer?" he asked sternly.

  She took up the bunch of keys which lay upon the table and naivelyexhibited that which fitted the lock of the drawer. Her hands wereshaking.

  "Where did you obtain this key; and why?"

  She watched him intently, her lips trembling and her eyes wells ofsorrow into which he could not gaze unmoved.

  "If I tell you--will you let me go?"

  "I shall make no promises, for I can believe nothing that you maytell me. You gained my confidence by a lie--and now, by another lie,you seem to think that you can induce me to overlook a deliberateattempt at burglary--common burglary." He clenched his hands."Heavens! I could never have believed it of you!"

  She flinched as though from a blow and regarded him pitifully as hestood, head averted.

  "Oh, please listen to me," she whispered. "At first I tell you a lie,yes."

  "And now?"

  "Now--I tell you the truth."

  "That you are a petty thief?"

  "Ah! you are cruel--you have no pity! You judge me as you judge--oneof your Englishwomen. Perhaps I cannot help what I do. In the East awoman is a chattel and has no will of her own."

  "A chattel!" cried Stuart scornfully. "Your resemblance to the'chattels' of the East is a remote one. There is Eastern blood inyour veins, no doubt, but you are educated, you are a linguist, youknow the world. Right and wrong are recognizable to the lowest savage."

  "And if they recognize, but are helpless?"

  Stuart made a gesture of impatience.

  "You are simply seeking to enlist my sympathy," he said bitterly."But you have said nothing which inclines me to listen to you anylonger. Apart from the shock of finding you to be--what you are, Iam utterly mystified as to your object. I am a poor man. The entirecontents of my house would fetch only a few hundred pounds if soldto-morrow. Yet you risk your liberty to rifle my bureau. For the lasttime--what have you taken from that drawer?"

  She leaned back against the table, toying with the broken piece ofgold and glancing down at it as she did so. Her long lashes castshadows below her eyes, and a hint of colour was returning to hercheeks. Stuart studied her attentively--even delightedly, for allher shortcomings, and knew in his heart that he could never give herin charge of the police. More and more the wonder of it all grew uponhim, and now he suddenly found himself thinking of the unexplainedincident of the previous night.

  "You do not answer," he said. "I will ask you another question: haveyou attempted to open that drawer prior to this evening?"

  Mlle. Dorian looked up rapidly, and her cheeks, which had been pale,now flushed rosily.

  "I try twice before," she confessed, "and cannot open it."

  "Ah! And--has _someone else_ tried also?"

  Instantly her colour fled again, and she stared at him wide-eyed,fearful.

  "Someone else?" she whispered.

  "Yes--someone else. A man ... wearing a sort of cowl----"

  "Oh?" she cried and threw out her hands in entreaty. "Do not ask me of_him_! I dare not answer--I dare not!"

  "You have answered," said Stuart, in a voice unlike his own; for ahorrified amazement was creeping upon him and supplanting thecontemptuous anger which the discovery of this beautiful girl engagedin pilfering his poor belongings had at first aroused.

  The mystery of her operations was explained--explained by a deeperand a darker mystery. The horror of the night had been no dream butan almost incredible reality. He now saw before him an agent of theman in the cowl; he perceived that he was in some way entangled in anaffair vastly more complex and sinister than a case of petty larceny.

  "Has the golden scorpion anything to do with the matter?" he demandedabruptly.

  And in the eyes of his beautiful captive he read the answer. Sheflinched again as she had done when he had taunted her with being athief; but he pressed his advantage remorselessly.

  "So you were concerned in the death of Sir Frank Narcombe!" he said.

  "I was not!" she cried at him fiercely, and her widely opened eyeswere magnificent. "Sir Frank Narcombe is----"

  She faltered--and ceased speaking, biting her lip which had becometremulous again.

  "Sir Frank Narcombe is?" prompted Stuart, feeling himself to standupon the brink of a revelation.

  "I know nothing of him--this Sir Frank Narcombe."

  Stuart laughed unmirthfully.

  "Am I, by any chance, in danger of sharing the fate of thatdistinguished surgeon?" he asked.

  His question produced an unforeseen effect. Mlle. Dorian suddenlyrested her jewelled hands upon his shoulders, and he found himselflooking hungrily into those wonderful Eastern eyes.

  "If I swear that I speak the truth, will you believe me?" shewhispered, and her fingers closed convulsively upon his shoulders.

  He was shaken. Her near presence was intoxicating. "Perhaps," he saidunsteadily.

  "Listen, then. _Now_ you are in danger, yes. Before, you were not, butnow you must be very careful. Oh! indeed, indeed, I tell you true! Itell you for your own sake. Do with me what you please. I do not care.It does not matter. You ask me why I come here. I tell you that also.I come for what is in the long envelope--look, I cannot hide it. Itis on the fire!"

  Stuart turned and glanced toward the grate. A faint wisp of brownsmoke was arising from a long white envelope which lay there. Had thefire been actually burning, it must long ago have been destroyed.More than ever mystified, for the significance of the envelope wasnot evident to him, he ran to the grate and plucked the smoulderingpaper from the embers.

  As he did so, the girl, with one quick glance in his direction,snatched her cloak, keys and bag and ran from the room. Stuart heardthe door close, and racing back to the table he placed the slightlycharred envelope there beside the fragment of gold and leapt to thedoor.

  "Damn!" he said.

  His escaped prisoner had turned the key on the outside. He was lockedin his own study!

  Momentarily nonplussed, he stood looking at the closed door. The soundof a restarted motor from outside the house spurred him to action. Heswitched off the lamps, crossed the darkened room and drew back thecurtain, throwing open the French windows. Brilliant moonlight bathedthe little lawn with its bordering of high privet hedges. Stuart ranout as the sound of the receding car reached his ears. By the timethat he had reached the front of the house the street was vacant fromend to en
d. He walked up the steps to the front door, which heunfastened with his latch-key. As he entered the hall, Mrs. M'Gregorappeared from her room.

  "I did no' hear ye go out with Miss Dorian," she said.

  "That's quite possible, Mrs. M'Gregor, but she has gone, you see."

  "Now tell me, Mr. Keppel, did ye or did ye no' hear the wail o' thepibroch the night?

  "No--I am afraid I cannot say that I did, Mrs. M'Gregor," repliedStuart patiently. "I feel sure you must be very tired and you canjustifiably turn in now. I am expecting no other visitor. Good-night."

  Palpably dissatisfied and ill at ease, Mrs. M'Gregor turned away.

  "Good-night, Mr. Keppel," she said.

  Stuart, no longer able to control his impatience, hurried to the studydoor, unlocked it and entered. Turning on the light, he crossed andhastily drew the curtains over the window recess, but withouttroubling to close the window which he had opened. Then he returnedto the writing-table and took up the sealed envelope whose presencein his bureau was clearly responsible for the singular visitation ofthe cowled man and for the coming of the lovely Mlle. Dorian.

  The "pibroch of the M'Gregors": He remembered something--somethingwhich, unaccountably, he hitherto had failed to recall: that fearfulwailing in the night--which had heralded the coming of the cowledman!--or had it been a _signal_ of some kind?

  He stared at the envelope blankly, then laid it down and stood lookingfor some time at the golden scorpion's tail. Finally, his handsresting upon the table, he found that almost unconsciously he hadbeen listening--listening to the dim night sounds of London and tothe vague stirrings within the house.

  "_Now_, you are in danger. Before, you were not...."

  Could he believe her? If in naught else, in this at least surely shehad been sincere? Stuart started--then laughed grimly.

  A clock on the mantel-piece had chimed the half-hour.