 CHAPTER XI of THE SACRED EARTH by Fergus Hume This Levervox recording is in the public domain. Dr. Horace's Warning When London was made acquainted with the verdict, the majority of people were satisfied that justice had been done. Ms. Chin's behavior while in the dock, the open sympathy of the Grange servants, the occurrence of the second murder, all similar in all respects to the first, and the evidence of Horace with regard to the anesthetic properties of the sacred herb of Easter Island, went far to enlist the public in favor of the accused girl. Perhaps also her youth and brilliant beauty had something to do with the loudly expressed pleasure of those who read in the newspapers that she had been set free. Of course there were the usual malcontents, who agreed with no one, and wrote to the journal stating that the verdict was wrong. A communication to the Daily Telegraph insisted that Ms. Chin must have lied, declaring that she fell senseless while unfastening the window for fresh air. If it had been the case, Captain Jadby would have found her lying near the window, whereas she was discovered in the armchair near the fire, some distance away. But a supporter of the late prisoner replied to this by pointing out that the murderer of Sir Oliver undoubtedly had picked up the girl while she was insensible and placed her in the chair. The first correspondent retorted that Sir Oliver was dead and his murderer conspicuous by his absence when Ms. Chin entered the library and so could not have shifted her from the floor to the chair. To this the defending writer wrote that there was no proof of Sir Oliver being dead when Ms. Chin entered, as it was apparent that the fumes of the herb had drugged him into insensibility, and therefore the murderer must have entered later to kill the Baronette and remove his niece from the place where she fell by her own showing to the chair in which she was discovered by Captain Jadby. And so the war of letter-writing went on and although Mona was free from the danger of hanging, her character was still stained in the opinion of some people with the blood of her uncle. Prelis was furious when he read this correspondence, but on the face of it did not see how he could defend Mona since he had no evidence to bring forward in her favor. On the testimony of the knife it was generally considered that Agstone had murdered his master and then had come to Alexander Mansions to kill the barrister, but of course both Shepworth and his friend, knowing the true story of how the knife came into Agstone's possession, were by no means certain that the old sailor was guilty. The mystery of Sir Oliver's death was no longer one to the public as everyone had been misled by the suppression of the evidence dealing with the knife, but it continued to be one to those who had suppressed that same evidence. But of one thing Lord Prelis was certain, namely that Mona's character would have to be completely cleared by the discovery of the real criminal. With this idea in his mind he went next day to Alexander Mansions and learned, somewhat to his surprise, that Shepworth was within. Inspector Burge informed him of this chance meeting on the stairs and affably told the Constable guarding the door of No. 40 that Lord Prelis was to be admitted to see the prisoner. Not that he is a prisoner, said Burge, nodding. We are merely detaining Mr. Shepworth until the inquest is held on the body of Agstone. When does the inquest take place? asked Prelis, lingering to ask necessary questions. Tomorrow at three o'clock in the afternoon at the Greyhound Hotel Kensington, beyond the fact that the jury will bring in a verdict of willful murder against some person or persons unknown. I don't think that we, the police, that he is, my lord, can give any evidence to indicate the assassin of Agstone. Then why accuse Mr. Shepworth? I don't accuse him. If you don't, why arrest him? It is best to be on the safe side, said Burge, dryly, and notwithstanding what Mr. Shepworth may have written to you, my lord, the arrest has not taken place. He is merely detained pending the inquest. And under suspicion, flashed out Prelis loyally, the inspector shrugged his square shoulders. If you like to put it in that way, he said indifferently. But it is absurd to suspect Mr. Shepworth cried Prelis excitedly. Many people saw him insensible, in the same way that Miss Chint was insensible. If she is guiltless and a competent jury have acquitted her, Mr. Shepworth also must be innocent. The evidence of Dr. Horace, quite so, my lord, interrupted Burge with a rather bored air, but all that will be discussed at the inquest. We do not enter into it now, considering we have insufficient premises to go upon. If anyone murdered Agstone, which they certainly did, since no man can stab himself in the back, it must have been the lady seen by Mr. Shepworth, finished Prelis. Hmm, that might have been a hallucination. And the moon might be made of cream cheese, reported Prelis, heatedly. It may be, assented Burge, gravely. I know no reason to the contrary, my lord. But this talk leads to nothing, and I am very busy. Go in and see your friend. You will find Dr. Horace with him. Dr. Horace, echoed the young man, staring. Inspector Burge nodded. So you may guess that, when thus permitted to see his friends, Mr. Shepworth is not a legitimate prisoner. By the way, added Burge, formally, as he took his leave, I am delighted that Ms. Chint has been acquitted. Of course, she is innocent. Entirely innocent, in my opinion, and very beautiful also. Mr. Shepworth is a lucky man, my lord. Good day. The inspector descended the stairs, leaving Prelis somewhat puzzled. The young man could not quite determine whether Burge believed Shepworth to be innocent or guilty. At one time, he said one thing, again he hinted at another. However, it was useless to ponder over the enigma. So Prelis entered the flat, after a word or two with the uniformed Cerberus, who guarded the door, and was conducted by a somewhat pale parlor maid to the library. Here he found Dr. Horace looking more uncivilized than ever in deep conversation with Ned. The latter sprang up when his friend entered. Shepworth had lost some of his ruddy color and his eyes had dark circles under them. Otherwise he appeared to be quite composed and not at all like a man accused of a serious crime. And in spite of Burge's protestations, Prelis believed that the inspector did so accuse him, mentally at all events. You were just in time, Prelis, cried Shepworth, grasping the newcomer's hand warmly. In addition to the mysteries of these murders, we have another to solve in the person of our friend here. There's no mystery about me, said Horace gruffly. I merely advise you to leave matters as they stand. Prelis looked as astonished as Shepworth. But I say, he cried, you wanted to take a hand in the game yourself, Horace. I have taken a hand, retorted the doctor coolly, and I have won. My aim was to save Ms. Chint from being unjustly convicted. For whosoever murdered Lennwin, I am convinced that she is innocent. As she is now free, and the prevailing opinion seems to be that Agstone is guilty, wister up muddy water and waken sleeping dogs. You forget, said Shepworth rather tartly, that I have to be cleared myself. Burge says that I am innocent, but the fact that he has practically arrested me proves that he thinks the contrary. Horace, who was smoking his ungainly German pipe, shook his shaggy head vigorously. When the end quest takes place, you will be discharged without a stain on your character. That being the case, my advice to you is a speedy marriage with Ms. Chint, who is also free. Don't bother your head further about these two murders. When Horace mentioned marriage with Mona so pointedly, Preilis darted a side glance at his chum, bearing in mind the hints of Captain Jadby and Lady Sophia. As he expected, Shepworth colored and looked confused. At present I am not rich enough to marry Mona, he said in a halting way, and by the burning of the will she loses the property. Horace chuckled silently. Which goes to Captain Jadby? Yes, the earlier will comes into force now that the latter one has been destroyed. In that case, observed Horace, complacently puffing at his pipe, I should advise her to marry Captain Jadby. Shepworth still looking uneasy went to stare out of the window, and it was Preilis who replied, I'm hanged if she'll do that. Why not? inquired the doctor with a keen glance. Jadby has the money by Shepworth's showing. He isn't bad looking, and he loves her devotedly. Also it was Sir Oliver's wish. Jadby's a catish ruffian, cried Preilis warmly and with a sudden access of color. We don't know where he comes from, or from the South Seas, my old son, or who he is, continued Preilis impetuously. It would be a shame that so delightful a girl should marry a shady buccaneer. Ned, you are engaged to Miss Chint. Why don't you speak? There is nothing to say, replied the barrister somewhat coldly. If Miss Chint will take me, a pauper as I am, I shall only be too charmed to make her my wife. Preilis raised his eyebrows. A conviction was forcing itself upon him that Ned had no real love for the girl. But if that was the case, why had he become engaged to her? Why had he so vigorously defended her of late? Then there was Mrs. Dolly Rover, but Preilis knew nothing about that mysterious lady as he had not seen her since returning to London. He had half a mind then and there to demand an explanation from Ned, but the presence of Dr. Horace restrained him, and with an afterthought of wisdom, he determined to interview Mrs. Rover herself before coming to an understanding with the barrister. As it was therefore unnecessary to pursue the subject, and as already Horace was asking him mutely why he should take such an interest in an engaged young lady, Preilis changed the subject by an attack on the doctor himself. I can't understand why you should wish to abandon the search into these cases when you were so keen yesterday to run the show on your own. Horace quite understood the slaying of the concluding remark. I merely quoted a proverb about letting sleeping dogs lie, he said coolly. Why? Are you afraid for a certain person? Questioned Preilis, meaning Agstone and the listener's relationship with Agstone. Oh no, retarded the doctor quite aware of what Preilis was referring to. The person you hint at is dead, and everyone believes him guilty of the first murder. It doesn't matter who killed him, as Sheporth here is sure to be acquitted. I don't care a damn one way or the other, as you will respect my confidence. What confidence? asked the barrister suddenly. One that I made to Preilis here, said the doctor dryly, then heaving up his squat figure from the armchair, he waddled towards the door. There he paused and addressed himself to Preilis. If you go on prying into this matter, he said with an uplifted finger, you will be very, very sorry, my son. What do you mean? Gammon and Spinage, said Horace, again enigmatic, and hurled himself out of the room, still smoking his unwieldy pipe. The two young men stared at one another. Is he mad? asked Sheporth. Mad like Hamlet, south-southwest rejoined the other in a vexed tone, unless he is in league with that Jadby Bounder, whom he knew in the South Seas, I don't know what he means by backing out. But surely you don't suspect Jadby, asked Ned, startled. Why not? He was at Mrs. Rover's ball. Nonsense, she doesn't know him. Remember the jewel robberies, said Preilis dryly, a great number of people unknown to host or hostess were at that ball. But Jadby, Sheporth bit his fingers perplexedly, you can't suspect him. He came and saw me, and then went away. It was a woman whom Agstone brought in, she must have killed Agstone. Preilis shrugged his shoulders and saundered about the room. Perhaps, he remarked carelessly, saundering about the room, I certainly have no reason to suspect Jadby, save that he was at the ball. How do you know? He was one of the crowd that rushed in to see you insensible, and he wore a domino and mask, as did the rest of them. Then how did you spot him? He unmasked. That shows his innocence, declared Sheporth quickly, for if he had come to the ball to slip down and murder Agstone, he would not have revealed himself. Hmm, hmm, perhaps not. Preilis threw himself into a chair, however I shall keep an eye on Jadby. Then you are still searching into the case? Into both cases, corrected the other, lighting a cigar. I want to learn who killed Lanwen and who murdered Agstone. Out of friendship for me, cried Sheporth, grasping his chum's hand, you are a brick dory. Preilis returned the grasp, but blushed a trifle. He knew that love for Mona prompted the desire to search as much as friendship for the man before him. If he could only understand Sheporth's attitude towards the girl and towards Mrs. Rover. Again it was on the tip of his tongue to ask a leading question, but he suppressed the desire and kept to his earlier resolution to see the lady in the flat overhead. By the way, said Preilis carelessly, have you seen Miss Chint? No, answered Sheporth rather ruefully. I wish I could have seen her, but Burge hurried me away from the court to keep me as a kind of state prisoner here. However, Mona wrote me a short note thanking me for all I had done and said that she was going down to Lanwen Grange. But if it belongs to Jadby, the will isn't proved yet, interrupted the barrister quickly, and until it is, Mr. Martiband thanks Mona should stop at the Grange. Mr. Martiband, the late Sir Oliver's lawyer, a kind, clever old chap, he has taken Mona down to the Grange and Mrs. Blexley, who is devoted to her, will look after the poor girl until I am free to visit her. You go down, of course, said Preilis nervously. Oh yes, as soon as the inquest is over and Burge sets me free. I do not see how I can be arrested, but meanwhile Dory, you could do me a great favor. Preilis raised his eyes. What is that? Go down at once to hide and see Mona. But I don't know her, said Preilis, taken aback, although his face grew hot and his heart bounded at the idea of meeting this adorable girl with whom he now knew himself to be in love. I'll give you a card of introduction. Tell her that I'm all right and we'll be down as soon as I can. All right, assented Preilis, feeling a guilty joy in thus yielding to a delightful temptation. But the case. That can look after itself until the inquest is over. Then, when I have seen Mona and her future is settled by Martaban, her living and income and all that I mean, we can look into matters. I am as keen as you are to get at the truth of these two murders, Dory. We can dispense with Horace. I wish I knew exactly why he backed out, murdered Preilis thoughtfully. It is so unlike Horace to Gib. Perhaps he has something to do with the matter himself. Seeing that he possessed the sacred herb, said Shepporth, jocularly. Monsense! Horace would kill one man and a dozen men in fair fight, but he's not the chap to stick anyone in the back. By the way, tell me one thing, Ned. This lady, who came in with Agstone, and waved the cup under your nose to make you insensible. She wore a green mask, you said? Yes, and a green domino also. Preilis nodded. Did you catch a glimpse of her frock by any chance, or did your senses fail you? They did not fail me too quickly. I did see her frock. It was a white dress with thin lines of red running horizontally across it. Many lines, asked Preilis breathlessly. It seemed to be ruled like a page of music, said Shepporth. Why, what is the matter? Matter, echoed Preilis, who had risen and was dancing around the room like a schoolboy. What you say gives me a clue. I saw that dress at the ball. The lady who wore it was scented with tube roses. With tube roses? Or with the sacred herb, I must find out who she is. How can you? I don't know. I can't say, but if we can find her we may learn if she killed Agstone and why she did it. That discovery will lead to learning who murdered Lanwen. It is the beginning of the end. Give up the case indeed, cried Preilis, exultantly. Why, it's the only thing that renders life in London bearable. But do you think that this lady is guilty? Ask Shepporth doubtfully. Of course I do. Otherwise, why should she be scented with the perfume of the sacred herb? Which has to do with both crimes. Shepporth shook his head, unable to answer this question. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of the Sacred Herb by Fergus Hume This Levervox recording is in the public domain. Mrs. Dolly Rover Shortly after the reference to the unknown lady, Preilis took a hasty leave. There was nothing more to be said as matters up to date had been threshed out thoroughly between them. Until the inquest had been held on the body of Agstone and Shepporth's immediate future was decided, no move could be made towards elucidating the mysteries. Moreover, Preilis was mortally afraid lest Shepporth should alter his mind about making him ambassador to Miss Chint at Hyde. Strong-willed as the young man was, when he chose to exercise that same will, he could not deny himself the pleasure of being in Mona's company, if only for ten minutes. Besides, he very much wished to learn if she truly loved Ned. For by this time he felt sure that Ned had no very deep affection for her. In his hurry to catch a train to Hyde, Preilis quite forgot his determination to see Mrs. Rover and learn how matters stood between her and the barrister. But the powers that direct the actions of men and the lives that are made by such actions brought about a meeting with the lady almost immediately. After shaking hands with the pseudo-prisoner, Preilis left the flat to find Mrs. Rover arguing, vehemently, with the constable posted at the outer door. She wished to enter and see Shepworth. The constable, pursuant to strict orders, was trying to point out that his duty lay in stopping her, a point which Mrs. Rover obstinately refused to see. I wished to enter, she kept repeating. It is necessary that I should see Mr. Shepworth and will I do instead? said Preilis, suddenly appearing at the open door. Dory, cried Mrs. Rover, giving him the pet name of his youth, what are you doing here? I am talking to you, said the young man, shaking hands, but just now I have been chatting with Ned. Then why can't I chat with him also? demanded the lady. Preilis shrugged his shoulders. Ned is allowed to see no one unless Inspector Burge gives permission. What rubbish! Let me go in! And Mrs. Rover, in a flaming temper, tried to push past the policeman. You can't, ma'am, he said firmly and respectfully, adding to the pale parlor maid who still lingered out of sheer curiosity. Close that door straight away. I'll report you, cried Mrs. Rover, when she saw the door practically banged in her angry face. All right, ma'am, but duty is duty. Constance! Constance! whispered Preilis, touching her arm. Don't make an exhibition of yourself before the servants. The man is only doing his duty. Come upstairs and we can have a chat. What about? demanded Mrs. Rover swiftly and Preilis saw, or thought he saw, a glint of fear in her eyes. Well, he answered, smiling, I have not had an opportunity of talking to you since I returned to town. So it is natural that I should wish for a short conversation. Mrs. Rover, who apparently was an extremely obstinate woman, paused irresolutely, looking at the stolid policeman with a battle-light in her eyes, but the constable met her gaze firmly, so finding that feminine persistence could do nothing in the face of an official barrier, she turned away, biting her lip. Come upstairs, Dory, he said, beginning to ascend. I can do nothing with that fool. Preilis smiled at this Parthian arrow and slipped a florin into the constable's hand to pacify him for the parting insult. Then he ran up after the lady and reached her on the next landing. You ought to be pleased, Constance, he said, slyly, you've had the last word. I should like to have had the last half-dozen, she retorted, putting a Yale-latched key into the lock. I think that you have even achieved that," replied Preilis dryly. It is extraordinary that women never will learn that the law is stronger than sheer temper. I am not in a temper, snapped Mrs. Rover, sweeping into her flat. I never was calmer in my life, never, never, never. I am quite content to believe that, said her companion acidly, for as Constance Newton, Mrs. Rover had not been noted for impertability. It was all the better, in Preilis's opinion, that her temperament should be thus fiery, as he would discover from her rash tongue much that a more cautious and composed woman would withhold. Moreover, Constance and her visitor had been friends for many a long year, witness her calling him Dory, and she was accustomed to speak frankly to him about her troubles. Had Preilis been in England when the stockbroker was courting the lady, it is doubtful if Constance would ever have become Mrs. Rover. And Preilis strongly suspected that Mr. Rover found Ned Shepworth an inconvenient third in his marriage state. You were looking very well, Constance, said Preilis, when the two were seated in the drawing room, she was more gorgeous than artistic. I'm not well then. I'm nearly worried to death. So sorry, tell me all about it. I'll do nothing of the sort. I beg your pardon. Let us chat about the weather. Do you think that I have time to waste in discussing barometers? She rose impetuously. Don't know, I'm sure, replied Preilis, keeping his temper admirably. Well then, I haven't. Would it do any good if I gave you a thorough shaking? Yes, it would. If Dolly shook me, I should respect him. But he lets me lead him the life of a dog and doesn't even bark, much less bite. I see you prefer a bulldog to a poodle. Ned isn't a— Mrs. Rover stopped in the center of the room, grew red, and could have bitten out her tongue for so unconscious a speech. What rubbish you talk, she said, trying to smile carelessly. Preilis looked at her gravely. I hope you are talking rubbish too. I wish I were dead and buried, whispered Mrs. Rover, and once more sat down to burst into violent tears. Expert in the handling of the sex, Preilis knew better than to offer a single word of consolation. He lay back in his chair, quietly watching the progress of the storm. Mrs. Rover was going through the usual program of upset woman. She had raged, now she wept, and would shortly be offering an apology for her conduct on the plea of nerves. Constance had certainly grown into a handsome woman. When Preilis had left England seven years before, she was merely a schoolgirl. Very gawky and very awkward. But she appeared tall, majestic, and beautiful after the voluptuous style of Juno, Queen of Olympus. Her hair and eyes were dark, her features delicate and regular, and her figure was finely formed. Even if a trifle inclined to stoutness, as it assuredly was, Preilis had somewhere seen an o-print of Catherine II of Russia, and it struck him that Mrs. Rover greatly resembled the Empress, although she was undeniably a more lovely woman. It was unfortunate that her face should have been marred by a sullen expression, hinting at a superlatively bad temper. But many people, unobservant as most people are, never noted this defect. They only saw before their ravished eyes a handsome, well-bred, graceful woman, perfectly dressed, and quite able to hold her own in the most exacting society. Yes, Constance had improved greatly. Preilis admitted that. But he wished to find out if she possessed the same beauty of character as of person. From what he had heard and what he had seen, he had grave doubts on this point. Prey, excuse me, said Mrs. Rover, offering the expected social apology in a faint voice. I'm rather upset. My nerves are out of order. The season has been trying, and then that hard ball bowled me over, with its robberies and murders, not to speak of Dolly, who is—who is— oh, I don't know what he is. Do you think it is good taste to discuss your husband with me? asked Preilis, rather tartly. You are the only true friend I have in the world, Dory. Then you have made no acquaintances since I left England seven years ago, Constance? Oh, acquaintances? She echoed contemptuously, rolling her damp handkerchief into a ball. I have hundreds of these, but a friend, oh Dory, there isn't a single person I trust with a shoelace. He or she would not thank you if you did, replied Preilis, smiling. A shoelace is not good security for anything. That's just it, welled Mrs. Rover, dabbing her red eyes with the handkerchief. People like one for what they can get out of one. But there isn't a soul to help me. Poor me! Won't Ned? asked her companion very deliberately. Mrs. Rover darted a keen glance at him, and rose to alter the position of her hat in front of the mirror in the fireplace. Preilis knew quite well that she was watching him in the mirror and carefully smoothed all expression out of his good-humored face. Ned! repeated Mrs. Rover, patting her hair back. Oh yes, Ned, of course. Do you think they will hang him? She demanded, wheeling round, rather white, and breathing hard. Good heavens know! What put that into your head? The arrest! Ned hasn't been arrested. The fact that he was seen insensible by heaps of people proves his innocence. Burge is simply detaining him as a necessary witness, although I admit that Burge is taking a somewhat high hand in the matter. Don't bother your head about Ned, Constance. He'll soon be free to marry that girl. Mona chint! Mrs. Rover clenched her hands and breathed still harder while Preilis anxiously watched the effect of his deliberate introduction of the name. Oh yes, she went off into a meaningless trill of laughter. She's free, isn't she, lucky girl, for I quite believe that she killed her uncle. Why do you believe that? demanded Preilis. Everyone says so. Everyone does not say so. The majority of people think that the verdict is a just one. I do myself. Do you know her? No. What has that to do with it? You won't like her when you do know her, said Mrs. Rover spitefully. She's a horrid girl. I never liked her. That's a pity. You won't be able to visit Ned's wife. She isn't his wife yet, breathed Mrs. Rover, trying to keep her temper in check. Perhaps she never will be. Oh, Preilis spoke with calculated daring and cruelty. Do you then think that Mr. Rover will die? You cow or you, she broke off. What do you mean by that? I would rather you explain, Constance. I have nothing to explain. Did you come here to insult me? Of course, replied Preilis rising, but I have done so. I may as well take my leave. She seized him by the lapels of his coat before he could reach the door. Don't go, don't go, she panted. I do so want a friend. I'll tell you all. You shall know everything. If it is against your husband, I shan't listen. You shall sit down and hear what I have to say. Preilis was a strong young man, but for the moment his feminine strength prevailed, and he found himself forced into his former seat. I wouldn't say what I'm going to say to everyone, panted Mrs. Rover, who was very strongly moved. But even though we have been apart for so many years, I still regard you as my best friend. You and I were boy and girl together. Dory, you remember? Ned also interposed Preilis pointedly. Yes, yes, of course, I always love Ned. Constance, what are you saying? She rose and beat her hands together. The truth, the truth. I liked you, Dory, I always liked you. But I love Ned, and I shall love him until I die. She looked like a tragedy queen. Preilis grew impatient being a very matter-of-fact young man. The dramatic Constance sit down and explain quietly. With that wonderful adaptability of women at which man never ceases to marvel, Mrs. Rover sat down and composed herself with a violent effort. When next she spoke it was in so cold and icy a tone that Preilis, had his eyes been closed, could have sworn that another person had joined in the dialogue. You know that my father, the general, was not rich and that my mother was extravagant. I was the only child and my parents wished me to make a wealthy marriage so that their affairs might be put right. That is, my mother wished it for my father, dear old man, desired me to consult my own heart. I did, and it told me to marry Ned. We were half engaged. My father was willing in spite of his difficulties, but my mother would not consent. Ned was poor, you know. He had only five hundred a year of his own and has not yet made a success at the bar. Then Dolly Rover came along. She stopped and bit her lip while her hands moved restlessly as though boxing her husband's ears. What about Mr. Rover? asked Priless soothingly. Then the natural woman came out and she rose in a rage. I hate Dolly like poison, she cried, pacing up and down the room, twisting her hands together. He's a hard, stinky little cur who don't abuse your husband, Constance, interrupted Priless impatiently. It does no good. You married him of your own free will. I did nothing of the sort. I married him to save my father from going through the bankruptcy court. It would have broken his heart, dear old father, and he would have died. Dolly knew that I hated him and that I loved Ned, but he demanded his price like the mean dog that he is. My mother was on his side, too, and I could not bear to see my father suffer. I parted with Ned and married Dolly. That is, I sold myself on condition that father's debts were paid. I kept to my part of the bargain and didn't your husband keep to his? No, Mrs. Rover stamped violently. He paid a portion of the debts, enough to avert bankruptcy merely, but he left father the worry and of that worry father died. My mother has married again a rich man, so she is happy, and here I am tied to Dolly. Ugg, the name, while my heart is breaking for Ned. It is a hard case, said Preilis, sorry for the miserable woman. Still, your self-respect, Constance. That is right, preach, preach, preach, so like a man, she mocked. I accept my self-respect as you term it. I am a good wife to Dolly, although I detest him. I have never said a word against him to anyone, and I wouldn't to you, but that I must speak or suffocate. I can trust you, Dory, and you understand how I feel and what I feel. I love Ned. I want to marry Ned, and here I am tied to Dolly. It is hard on you, Constance, I admit, he said, but you must make the best of it. You say that you lead your husband the life of a dog, of a pet dog, of a poodle. He's so meek and mild and sneaky that I can't respect him. He merely snickers when I grow angry and chuckles how he got the best of me over the marriage by not paying all father's debts. He's the use of talking. I love Ned, and Ned loves me. Preilis jumped up. I can't believe that, he declared growing angry, for Ned is engaged to Miss Chint. If he loves you, why is he...? Don't ask questions, interrupted Mrs. Rover angrily, or if you must ask them go to Ned, or better still, to Mona Chint herself. Can I ask Miss Chint? demanded Preilis sharply. It's a very warm weather, mocked Mrs. Rover, and I think there will be a thunderstorm. The young man looked at her and saw her mouth set obstinately. He knew as well as if she had spoken that there was nothing more to be got out of her for the time being. But what she had said made him all the more determined to see Miss Chint and learn the truth about the engagement to Shepworth. Meanwhile, he took the wind out of Mrs. Rover's sails by falling in with her humor. It will be a good thing if it does thunder and rain, he remarked, glancing out of the window. It will clear the air. Mrs. Rover looked as though she would have struck him, but unable to parry his thrust through herself so coldly on the sofa. Prelas took up hat and gloves to depart, but halted at the door with premeditated craft. A sudden thought had struck him. Constance, he said in a natural tone, I am in love. Indeed, she said indifferently, yes, with a lady who was at your ball. The remark made her rouse herself and she sat up with a look of curiosity. Who is she? I want you to tell me that. I could not see her face and very little of her figure owing to the domino, but she seemed to be so charming when we talked together. This was a lie to gain information that I quite lost my heart. It's easy lost, said Mrs. Rover, curling her lip. The woman may be as ugly as sin under her mask. She dressed in a green mask and domino. Mrs. Rover stiffened and with a white dress streaked with lines of red velvet. Why do you laugh? He asked for Mrs. Rover was trying to suppress her mirth. Why? She cried shaking with merriment because I wore that dress and mask and domino. You, Prelas looked horrified. Yes, why do you look at me like that? You, Prelas back to the door in silent horror. He could not trust himself to speak and finally disappeared, leaving Mrs. Rover petrified with amazement, perhaps with dread. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of The Sacred Herb by Fergus Hume This Levervox recording is in the public domain. Landwin Grange In the exercise of his profession, a legitimate detective would have waited to question Mrs. Rover. Since she had said so much, he would have forced her to say all in order to get at the truth as speedily as possible. But Lord Prelas was new to the business and his emotions were not entirely under control. On leaving Alexander Mansions, he felt that he was in possession of a most dangerous and perilous secret, the publication of which would cause even a greater sensation than that produced by the crimes themselves. The shock of learning that Mrs. Rover was the woman who had been brought by Agstone into Number 40 was very great and quite confused Prelas's usual strong brain. He did not dare to call again on Shepworth lest he should say too much. It will be seen that Prelas, being an untrained detective, jumped somewhat hastily to a conclusion. Mrs. Rover had admitted that she wore the dress, the mask and the domino which Shepworth had seen on the unknown lady. But Constance did not know that Ned had so described her appearance and if she had would probably not have admitted that she had assumed such a costume at her ball mask. But the mere fact that even in ignorance of Shepworth's description, she had as the saying goes, given herself away, should have proved to Lord Prelas that she could not be guilty. Had Mrs. Rover entered Number 40 in Agstone's company and had she struck the blow, she assuredly would not have incriminated herself so unthinkingly. Rather, would she have denied that the fraud mentioned by Prelas belonged to her. After the first shock and while Prelas was in the train going to hide, he began to revise his earlier opinion on the above-mentioned grounds. His common sense came to his aid and told him that, if she were guilty, Mrs. Rover would not have confessed even to a half-truth. Certainly had she not done so, her maid, knowing what dress her mistress wore at the ball, might have blurted out the secret. But then, so far as the world knew, no inquiry would have been made about the wearer of that a special frock. Of course, assuming that in a thoughtless moment Mrs. Rover really confessed the truth, Prelas could find a motive for her behavior in committing the crime. It might be that Agstone wished to kill Ned, and that Mrs. Rover, to save the life of the man she loved, had struck down the sailor unawares. Having committed the deed, she could easily slip back to her own flat and mingle with the masked crowd. But then again, as Prelas further argued, while the train drew near to the coast, Mrs. Rover must have known that in murdering Agstone, she was not only securing the freedom of Mona Chint, whom she hated, but also was placing her lover in a dangerous position. Agstone was a necessary witness for the prosecution, whom Sheporth of all men did not wish to see placed in the box. So the supposition would be were the man found dead in the city that Sheporth had killed him to save Mona Chint. As a matter of fact, this is exactly what had taken place, and in saving Ned from the sailor's knife, Mrs. Rover, always presuming that she was guilty, had simply condemned her lover to a death on the scaffold. But that Prelas had been clever enough to admit the crowd of guests so that all might see the barrister's costume would have been arrested and probably sentenced to death since it would have been extraordinarily difficult for him to clear his character in the face of circumstances. Therefore, on these assumptions, for that they were and no more, Prelas after much reflection decided that Mrs. Rover was innocent. Finally the young man recollected that a woman dressed as described by Ned in which Mrs. Rover confessed to wearing had passed down the stairs while he was waiting for entrance to number forty and immediately before the discovery of the crime. She could scarcely have been Mrs. Rover, for as that lady could have easily proved an alibi by returning to her guests and casually unmasking at the right moment, it would have been useless for her to leave the mansions. Mrs. Rover or a stranger certainly might have followed Prelas down to the door, knowing that he would be certain to discover the tragedy and might merely have descended to return to the ballroom overhead when the young man entered Shepworth's flat. But then again, the person in question could not have known that Prelas, masked and unknown, was going to enter number forty, so there would be no reason to track him and to conclude the murderous, if a woman was guilty, must have known that Shepworth, being in a catalytic state, must have seen and remembered her very peculiar frock. On the whole, Prelas arrived at certain conclusions by no means inimicable to Mrs. Rover, by the time he alighted at Hyde Station. He believed that Constance was innocent for four reasons. Firstly, if guilty, she would not have confessed to wearing the dress, since such a confession would necessarily lead to her detection. Secondly, by killing Agstone, she would not only have placed Shepworth in a dangerous position, but by getting rid of an inconvenient witness would have enabled Mona to escape possible condemnation. Thirdly, she would not have followed an unknown man, as Prelas was by reason of his mask and domino, down the stairs with the intention of seeing what took place. Fourth and lastly, she would not have sought safety in an incriminating flight, as the similarly dressed woman on the stairs apparently had, when she would have been much safer in her own ballroom and amongst her own guests. Only by such course could she have provided an alibi. No, Mrs. Rover, in spite of her startling admission, was innocent, and the sole conclusion that Prelas could arrive at was the existence of a double, outwardly at all events. He remembered the extraordinary ubiquity of the green domino in the red-streaked white dress and decided very naturally that there was another woman in the field. But what woman possessed a motive sufficiently strong to urge her to murder Agstone? As Prelas felt quite worn out with arguing in Mrs. Rover's defense, he decided to leave the answering of this new question to the pretentious moment when further evidence might reveal the identity of the unknown lady. Meanwhile, on arriving at hide, he rested himself at a quiet hotel and soothed his troubled brain with an hour's necessary sleep. Later on, after an invigorating bath and an excellent dinner, he started to walk towards Landwin Grange. It was summer and romance was in the air. At least Prelas sinned its presence by some sixth sense. He was going to see the girl he loved, the girl with whom he had not as yet exchanged a single word. Therefore, although past the peacock age, he was particularly attentive to his appearance when assuming his evening clothes. As he strolled inland along the leafy lanes through the July warmth of the twilight, this somewhat premature whore looked as comely and well-groomed a swan as any damsel not demanding an Apollo could desire. And it was a great proof of Prelas's infactuation that in looking forward to meeting Mona he almost forgot that he was merely the emissary of the man to whom the girl was engaged. The whole position was extraordinarily queer. He adored this girl without being personally acquainted with her. She was affinanced to his best friend and yet he could not be certain if that same friend really loved the girl herself. Even a paly royal force could offer no more fantastic complication than this. Prelas felt that after running around the wild world in search of the unusual, he had returned to find romance sitting on his doorstep. The way to the family seat of the landwinds twisted inland and uphill through deep lanes in umbrageous woods on emerging high up from the belt of trees Prelas found himself on a wide unshaded road, snaking over bare downs. For some distance he toiled upward. Then the road mounted a rise to slip down into a cup shaped hollow brimmed with cultivated woods. In the midst of these he saw an old gray house seemingly prevented from falling to pieces by the heavy which covered its moldering walls. From the lips of the hollow stretched the rolling grassy downs dotted with nibbling sheep gray in the shadows of the coming night. But it was not yet night for the sky was filled with a luminous light all pervading yet emanating from no certain point. A breathless piece brooded over the Prelas' uplands, and an even deeper piece seemed to unwrap the ancient mansion. It appeared to be the veritable palace of the sleeping beauty set amidst enchanted woods. And Prelas thrilled with the idea that beauty herself awake and unkissed, awaited some prince in the seclusion of her fairy castle. Following the road which here grew somewhat Lord Prelas descended into the hollow, passed under the shade of overhanging trees and came out into a kind of artificial glade, smooth with carefully tendered lawns and brilliant with flowers. The grange itself was somewhat sunken in the ground, entirely level with the lawns, and looked like part of the woods themselves, so cloaked was it with darkly green ivy. It appeared a weather-worn esketchion over the great doorway, and lights gleamed from aureol windows in the east, but to the left Prelas saw the three tall French windows opening onto a wide terrace which had been referred to at the trial. These windows appeared quite out of keeping with the tutor architecture of the mansion, but the visitor eyed them with great interest. It was through one of these windows that Agstone and Jadby had looked to see the tragedy of Sir Oliver's death, and had that not taken place, Prelas might never have been brought into contact with the most charming girl in the world. His heart beat loudly as he rang the bell. Afterwards Lord Prelas never could explain clearly how he had first come into the presence of his goddess. In a bewildered manner he was in the antique hall. After delivering his car to a pompous footman, an in a bewildered manner was led into a long, low, wide-drawing room with aureols at the farther end, brilliant with family crests in stained glass. So far as he could recollect, he did not look at the cumbersome Georgian furniture, or at the aggressively modern grand piano which seemed to be out of sight, or at the portraits of Cavaliers and their ladies decking the mellow-yewed walls, or even at the painted ceiling, or the carpet tinted with rainbow colors subdued by time to grateful sobriety. He had no eyes, save for a tall, slim girl, arrayed in a white dress, with a somewhat pale worn face who welcomed him in the sweetest of the most grateful of smiles. I am glad to see Ned's best friend, she said, and her voice sounded like fairy music in the newcomer's ravished ears, and to thank him to thank me, muttered preless, staring at the lovely face in the mellow lamp-light. I saw you in that terrible court, she said swiftly, and the way in which you gave me comfort. Other people, my friends, they called themselves, stared as though I were a wild animal, but you, Lord preless, she threw out her hands with an eloquent gesture full of grace. Ned wrote and told me that you were his friend. I am here to be yours also, studied preless, suppressing a wild desire to kneel and worship. My friends already, it does not need words to confirm a friendship offered and accepted mutely and with gratitude. Preless felt more bewildered than ever. Here was a girl so entirely unconventional that she defied the usages of society which prescribed the etiquette for a primary meeting between bachelor and maid. It was marvelously sweet and thus greeted. But preless must have revealed his delighted surprise too clearly for Miss Chint laughed. I am afraid that my proffer of unmask for friendship surprises you, she said smilingly, but you see my poor uncle instructed me somewhat in psychology and I look at the inner rather than the outer. You said yourself, Miss Chint, that the friendship was more in court, said preless earnestly, and it was as Ned's best friend I claim to be yours also. I bring a message from Ned. You shall deliver it presently, said Mona, turning to a stout, white-haired gentleman with a genial face who was standing near the window silently. Just now you must allow me to introduce Mr. Martiban, another loyal friend. Also she waved her hand towards a spindle-legged Versailles table as the two men shook hands. You must have some coffee. Preless accepted gratefully as he would have taken poison from the hands of this delightful girl so long as she served it as she did the coffee with her own white hands. Martiban took a cup also and resumed the seat from which he had risen when preless entered. Ms. Chint pointed out a chair to her visitor and herself reclined on a Louis Trey sofa. Then the three began to talk on immediate and earthly matters, and preless was forced to descend from transcendental heights. In that room at that hour and in the presence of such an angel, it seemed desperately hard to abandon romance for reality. But there was no help for it. Ned's message questioned Mona anxiously. He is all right and will be down as soon as he can get away, replied the emissary, delivering the exact words of his friend. Then you don't think that he is in danger of being accused of this second crime? No, no! Interposed Martiban in a genial but authoritative voice. I have told you before, and I tell you again, that under the circumstances, no one can accuse Mr. Shepworth. And that, added the solicitor bowing towards the young man, is due, my lord, to your wise action in admitting the crowd to see Mr. Shepworth insensible. Preless nodded his thanks. Ned is perfectly safe, he said quietly. Mona clasped her hands with a thankful gesture. I am so glad, I am so thankful, she whispered softly. He has been a dear, good friend in standing by me when I so sadly needed help. Oh! Preless was rather indignant. Seeing that he has something more than a friend to you, Miss Chint, he could scarcely fail to lay himself and his life at your feet. It is only what an English gentleman would do to any lady he respected, much less loved. Mona colored and turned aside her face, rather embarrassed by the impetuous outbreak of her lover's friend. Both English gentlemen and English ladies held aloof when I was in danger, she said simply, so you can understand how much I prize the friendship both of Ned and of Mr. Martaban here, seeing that they never believed that I was guilty. No one could believe that, cried Preless still impetuous and throwing his usual discretion to the winds, the moment I set eyes on your face I knew that you were innocent. Miss Chint colored again and rather retreated from the confidential attitude she had assumed. Preless was going ahead too and her womanly nature, in spite of occult training was taking alarm. I must say that seeing you did not know me the belief was somewhat rash, she rejoined coldly, however I thank you. And you will allow me to help you, asked Preless eagerly but timidly. Help Miss Chint, said the lawyer, looking keenly at the young man's glowing face, in what way? Preless laid down his cup, crossed his legs and delivered himself of his opinion. It was just as well that both Mona and Martaban should learn of his determination to enter into their lives. Everyone is delighted with few exceptions, he said somewhat incoherently to the girl, that you have been acquitted, but some insist that you must be acquitted. Forgive me for inflicting pain, he added rapidly, but it is necessary so that you may entirely understand me. You are safe from the law Miss Chint, but with some idiots your character is not yet clear. Also Ned, in spite of the absurdity of the thing, may be accused of making away with Steve Agstone in your interest. You are right, it is necessary for us to make certain who killed your uncle and who killed the sailor. But Agstone killed Sir Oliver, said Martaban quickly, the evidence of the papercutter which, quite so, quite so interrupted Lord Preless hurriedly and skating quickly over this thin ice. But we can't prove Agstone's guilt beyond all doubt without further evidence. For this sake, the truth, whatever it may be, must be made public. And what do you think is the truth, demanded Martaban puzzled. Preless, bearing Miss Rover in mind, shuffled again. I am not prepared to give an opinion offhand, he replied politely. But what I wish you and Miss Chint to understand is that Ned Shepworth has accepted my services towards hunting down the murder or arthers of this double crime. I wish Miss Chint if she will to accept them also. Willingly and with gratitude, said Mona, extending her slim hand, Preless contrived to press it in a friendly way and not kiss it, as he felt strongly inclined to do, but the effort was great. Then we can go ahead, he said easily, and as I am now admitted to the inner circle as it were, I should like to know exactly how matters stand. About you, Miss Chint, for instance, do you remain here? The girl flushed and glanced, rather embarrassed at her lawyer. Yes, replied the latter, Captain Jadby hood undoubtedly inherits. Now that the second will has been destroyed, has made no move towards assuming possession of liberty. Moreover, there are certain legal formalities to be gone through before he can become the legitimate master of the Grange. Until everything is straight, I suggest that Miss Chint remains in her home. It is not my home, but Captain Jadby's answered the girl coloring painfully. I would much rather go away, but she added piteously, yet with a proud effort of self-restraint. I have nowhere to go to. Uncle Oliver has disinherited me, and my parents died insolvent. If I leave the Grange, I go into the world penniless and alone. Priless winced at the picture she drew. There is always Ned, he remarked lamely. Miss Chint shot a swift glance at his distressed face, and answered coldly in his own words. Yes, there is always Ned. The young man felt more puzzled than ever. Her voice did not sound like that of a girl in love, and as he had gathered from Constance, the man Mona was engaged to had not given her his heart. But if this was the case, and it was beginning to appear obvious, why had the two agreed to marry? Priless did not know way, so Miss Chint, seeing his embarrassment, explained in a somewhat embarrassed faction herself. Ned is poor, she remarked with deliberate self-control. He has his way to make in the world. It would never do for me to burden him with a popper wife. Two are stronger than one, Miss Chint. There is strength in unity. Not in this case, she retorted and quietly dismissed the subject. Will you come to my house, my dear, said Mordevon, who seemed to be devoted to his luckless client. My wife will be glad to have you. So will Aunt Sophia in her post, Priless quickly and struck with a brilliant idea. You know my aunt, Miss Chint. Lady Sophia Harkin, she is a friend of yours. Save yourself, Mr. Mordevon, and Ned. I have had no friend since I was put on my trial for murder, said Mona in a level voice. I declined to trouble any person until my innocence is proved. It has been proved at the trial, said Priless, and Mr. Mordevon echoed the speech. Legally, but not socially, she rejoined, rising. I accept your services, Lord Priless. Learn who killed my uncle, and who stabbed poor Agstone and earned, she faltered, and earned by my gratitude. Priless looked disappointed. Yet what else could the girl say? End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of The Sacred Herb by Fergus Hume This Sleevervox recording is in the public domain. Mrs. Blexley's opinion Despite the threatening clouds on the horizon, which hinted at coming trouble, the days passed very quietly at the Grange. As an elderly male chaperone, Mr. Mordevon remained to look after his client. And the very respectable Mrs. Blexley was also useful in this necessary capacity. Priless, unable to tear himself away from the too dangerous anxiety of Mona, and dangerous it was, considering his feelings and her engagement to Ned, lingered at the Hyde Hotel. Shepworth, strange to say, did not put in an appearance. It's odd, remarked Priless, when strolling over the lawns on the third day of his arrival. It's odd that Ned doesn't come down. He put the observation in the form of a query and so Mona, who strolled beside him, was forced to reply. But she did so unwillingly, and as briefly as was possible. Very odd, she said indifferently. Lord Priless cast a puzzled side glance at her beautiful face which looked ethereal and rosy under a red sunshade. Even as yet he could not understand what were her feelings towards his friend. And as he was more in love than ever, the situation was perplexing from its very vagueness. In sheer desperation he tried to make her talk of Ned, which she did very rarely by continuing the topic. Ned, said the young man, eyeing the trees, the lawns, the sky and the house with a fine affectation of indifference. Ned has been acquitted at the inquest and the jury gave a verdict of willful murder against some person or persons unknown in the orthodox style. Agstone has been buried and here am I waiting for an interview with Ned to settle some course of action towards elucidating these criminal problems. Yet he has not come down and has not even replied to my letter. Ms. Chint shifted her sunshade from one shoulder to the other. I expect he'll come down when he is ready, said she calmly. Oh, Jerusalem! Excuse the swear word, Ms. Chint, but if I were Ned I should have come here ages ago. You did, Lord Prilis, but if you are so anxious to interview Ned, and I admit the necessity, why not go up to London? Her companion wiggled uneasily and searched his brains for an excuse to remain in his uncomfortable paradise. Well, you see, or that is my dear young lady, I am, to put it plainly, or my aunt, you know Lady Sophia, is coming to Folkstone. She arrived there last night, after Prilis. Eh? What? You don't say so? Mona laughed, and the young man was glad to hear her laugh. She gave way rarely to merriment during the undecided present. Why did you write about me to Lady Sophia? Asked the girl gently. I, Prilis was quite prepared to lie, but decided well, you see, that is, you understand that an aunt is an aunt. I never thought that she was an uncle. Course not, but there, you see, my aunt expected me to write, and I have written. You needn't have made me the subject matter of your letter. Who said that I did? Asked Prilis growing scarlet. Lady Sophia herself, I received a note from her this morning, and considering my position a very kind note, it seems that you wrote asking her to stand by me, and she has come to Folkstone to do so. Loud cheers, cried Prilis shamelessly. I always thought that Aunt Sophia was a brick. She never believed you were guilty, you know, he went on confusedly. Said all men are of nice things about you to me whenever we met. Now she'll take you under her wing and make things hot for any society fool that dares to say a word against you. Why do you do this for me, Lord Prilis? Asked Mona in a rather faltering tone and averting her two-speaking face. I am, that is, well, Ned's friend, you know. Oh, Mona's voice became steady, and she turned to look squarely. So you enlist your aunt on my behalf for Ned's sake. Was there ever such a perplexing girl a moment ago, and she seemed pleased at being championed by Lady Sophia. Now her looks and her voice were cold. Prilis, in sheer desperation, blurted out the truth in a blundering manner. A little bit for my own sake also. I am glad of that. Are you? This time it was the young man's voice which became unsteady for he did not know whether he was on his head or his heels. That's all right. A sentiment of honor towards the absent chef were who would not look after his own interests made him end thus lamely. Mona laughed again and was enigmatic as the Sphinx. It is extremely good of you, Lord Prilis. She went on in a guarded manner. Lady Sophia can help me greatly to recover my position in society. You have never lost it, blurted out Prilis crossly. I did lose it and I have lost it, she answered sadly, and I shall never recover it entirely until the murderer of my uncle is discovered. Lady Sophia, she likes me, loves you, loves you. No, no, she likes me. Let us say that she has an affection for me. That is a greatly to be appreciated state of mind for one woman to be in towards another. That's rather a German sentence, isn't it? I don't know what you mean, muttered Prilis, beginning to find out that after all his experience in the four quarters of the globe he was but a neophyte where women were concerned. I mean that Lady Sophia's liking or affection for me will do a great deal to rehabilitate me, but that the punishment of Uncle Oliver's assassin will do more, and your marriage with Ned will do most of all. Monon mocked him. Marriage covers a multitude of sins, doesn't it? Prilis clutched his head, and there was too close cropped for him to grip. I am to be best man, he said feebly, and found a delight in torturing himself. Oh, has Ned selected you for that post? He did when we were at Eaton. I see. Then he was engaged when at Eaton. How precocious! The young man groaned and glanced at her despairingly, to understand her moods. Lately she had been sad, now her eyes were dancing with merriment. I am glad you were happy, he said in a surly tone, for this mystery of her engagement tortured him. I am, she assented swiftly, and for three reasons. May I hear them? Certainly. In the first place you and Ned will find out who killed Eve, so as to clear my character. In the second place Lady Sophia is coming over today, and thus begins the necessary whitewashing for me to re-enter the world. And in the third place she ended seriously. Throughout all this trouble I have had a firm conviction that God would help me. He has helped me by saving my life from a legal death, and he will help me clear my character. Someday, perhaps in the near future, there won't be a single stain on my name. Now don't speak, she held up her hand. You are about to say that there is not a stain now, but there is. To remove it I trust in God first and in you second. What about Ned? Asked Preilis restlessly. Oh, in Ned also, she rejoined and looked at him quietly. As he made no observation and he could not out of sheer perplexity, she turned on her Louis-Cat's heel. I am going in to get ready for the visit of Lady Sophia, she said abruptly. Preilis watched the red sunshade vanish into the house, then dug his stick into the turf, and swore volubley. He had a considerable command of language and disrespect, but rarely exercised his vocabulary. On this occasion, he did, since ordinary words failed to soothe him. And even as it was, swearing did little good, so Preilis started to walk violently and aimlessly, only desirous of restoring his temper to its usual state of cynical calm by abnormal exercise. He could not make Mona, called her mentally, out in any way whatsoever. She was certainly engaged to Ned, and yet she spoke of him quite unemotionally, as she would have done of, well, not of an acquaintance, perhaps, but of a friend. She could not possibly love him, and if she did not, should certainly not be engaged to him. Ned had no money and no position, so she assuredly could not be seeking to better herself by the marriage. Certainly gratitude might induce her to become his wife, since he had stood by her, but then, and here Preilis swore again. She had been engaged to him some time before the death of Sir Oliver, and when no gratitude could possibly have entered into her acceptance. And if she was merely grateful, Ned would not marry her on that account, especially since, on the authority of Mrs. Rover, he loved another woman. For the third time, Preilis swore over the problem, and determined to throw all delicacy to the winds, so far as Sheporth was concerned. The moment Ned arrived at the Grange, he would ask him plainly what he meant, and what she meant, and what the whole infernal complication meant. It was quite impossible that a young aristocrat with a large income and a healthy frame and a loving heart should sit on thorns any longer. Blankety blank blank, raged Preilis, and looked up on hearing an exclamation of horror at his elbow. His aimless walk had led him to the kitchen garden and to a bed of pot herbs which Mrs. Blexley was laboriously picking, stout, and like Hamlet's scant of breath, the housekeeper wheezed like a creaky wheel as she stooped to gather some sage and thyme. But she retained enough breath to cry out with horror when hearing this handsome young gentleman swearing, as she afterwards described it, like the late Mr. Blexley, who had been a skipper of renown in the way of bad language. Then, said Preilis, showing his white teeth in a smile which won Mrs. Blexley's heart. I'm a little put out. Didn't know any lady was it within earshot. Bless you, my lord. I'm not a lady, and never laid claim to be one. So swearing, though not proper, don't worry me over much. It calls back old time, sir. Where yourself? Me, Mrs. Blexley looked indignant, why I belong to the united inhabitants of the celestial regions. What? It's my religion, said Mrs. Blexley, simply. What you might call my sect, my lord. There's very few of us, but we all go to heaven. There's nothing like being certain of your destination, about to move on when the housekeeper stopped him. You're parted, my lord, but I've been trying to catch your eyes ever since you came here, but never managed it till now. In a kitchen garden, too, ended Mrs. Blexley mournfully, which don't seem to be the place for a lord of high degree to speak in. It suited him to swear in it, however, murmured Preilis frivolously, then added Mrs. Blexley, what do you wish to speak to me about? Not about him that is gone, remarked Mrs. Blexley, referring to her lost spouse. Though his language, begging your lordships pardon, was as like yours as bean pods, and because of such talk he'll never come back, never. Them that has him will keep him. Indeed, are they, whosoever they may be, I don't think so, my lord, you see, he's well, he's dead, my lord. Preilis put up his hand to swirl his mustache and hide a smile. Then you think that, I'm sorry for Blexley, interrupted the housekeeper firmly, but he didn't belong to the united inhabitants of celestial regions, so he, she pointed stealthfully downward. Let us hope it is not so bad as that, said Preilis, choking with suppressed laughter. You wish to speak to me, he repeated politely, to catch your lordship's eyes as it were. That has been accomplished, what next? Mrs. Blexley groaned and made an effort. It's about Miss Mona. The young man's merriment died away and he looked keenly at the red-faced, shapeless old woman. What's that? he demanded in the imperialist tone which formerly he had used towards recalcitrant soldiers. Mrs. Blexley, being timid, dropped with a thud onto the sage and time and placed a podgy hand on her ample breast, gasping like a fish out of water. The heart, my lord, mother's side, it ain't strong. If your lordship would speak less like a gun going off, certainly, interrupted Preilis in his most silky tones, what have you to tell me about Miss Mona? It ain't about her exactly, my lord, but there's the will, you know, and that Madam Eppengrave, as she called herself, though I don't believe it is her name for all her heirs and graces, and she nearly, as old as me, and is stout too for all her tight lacing. Preilis, leaning against the mellow brick wall where the nectarines grew stared at the fat woman who was still prostrate amidst the herbs. If you knew of such things, Mrs. Blexley, why didn't you explain in court? Because I don't believe in courts, or in them as is in courts, said Mrs. Blexley, fanning herself with a pink sun bonnet. They got me to give what they called evidence and say things against my dear pretty Miss Mona. I nursed her, sir. I was born in the Grange and have served the landwinds all my life. When Mrs. Chint went away with her husband, I followed, and when she and him died, I came back here with Miss Mona as Sir Oliver wished to be the housekeeper. Preilis nodded sympathetically, I know that you are devoted to Miss Mona, he said, approving of this devotion. Are two, my lord, ain't you? asked the old woman pointedly. The young man grew as red as the brick wall against which he was leaning, but Mrs. Blexley, seeing this sign of anger, went on hastily. I don't mean boldness, my lord. Indeed, I don't, but Miss Mona does need a friend sadly, my lord, and she tells me that you are one. I am, said Preilis firmly and fleshing again, glad that she spoke thus of me. But about this, Madame Marie Eppengrave. I never liked her, my lord, an oily flatter she was with a gimlet eye and a buttery tongue. She was always trying to get the better of Sir Oliver, and gave him that nasty thing that made the smoke. Preilis naturally looked startled. Why, Sir Oliver brought the herb from Easter Island fancy he did. I don't, my lord, and what's more, he didn't. I went into the library to ask Master what he'd have for dinner, and Madame Eppengrave, if that is her name, the old bag of rags, was showing Master a lot of dry stems and purple leaves and talking about trances and such like rubbish. That was just a week before Sir Oliver's death. What do you make of that, Mrs. Preilis thoughtfully? I don't make anything of it, Sir. But it was strange that the nasty smoky weeds she gave Master should bring about his death. Madame Marie had no reason to wish Sir Oliver dead. Oh no, my lord, why she lost a good friend in him, and often must have desired him to be alive and kicking. All the same, Sir, she gave him them withered leaves, and through them Master came by his end. Preilis nodded absently. He required time to think over the matter and turned away to be alone. Then a thought struck him, and he returned to the housekeeper. What about the will? He demanded. It wasn't burnt. You must be mistaken. The court, much them lawyers knew about it, cried Mrs. Blexley, struggling to her feet. I never said it to them, because they said as it would help Miss Mona to get out of their nasty clutches if the will was proved to be burnt. So I said what I was told for Miss Mona's sake. But Sir Oliver was writing out another will. How do you know? Asked Preilis sharply and much disturbed. I saw him writing it, said Mrs. Blexley firmly. I was blind to my knowledge, but you can take my word for it, my lord, that the unsigned will was burnt, and that Miss Mona is entitled by the other to the property. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of The Sacred Herb by Fergus Hume This Sleaver-Vox recording is in the public domain. Jadby plays a card. Mrs. Blexley's communications certainly afforded Lord Preilis ample food for reflection. What she had said about Madame Marie as the young man mentally termed her, implied that the fortune teller was somehow implicated in the tragedy of Sir Oliver's death. Yet he had been a good friend to the lady, and by his death she lost a valuable client. It was impossible to think that she had killed the baronet herself, or had been a consenting party to his death. But undoubtedly, according to Mrs. Blexley's firm asservation, she had given Lannwyn the roots and leaves of the sacred herb. And from using these in the prescribed way to induce a trance, Sir Oliver had been rendered helpless. Had he not been chained hand and foot by the fumes of the herb, he could not have been killed, as in spite of his lost leg he was no despicable antagonist. The herb, therefore, was the main factor in the tragedy, and Madame Marie had placed the same in the man's hands. Of course, it was just possible that someone named unknown had found Sir Oliver helpless, and so had taken the opportunity to kill him. Madame Marie may have discovered the guilty person, and to recompense her for the loss of a wealthy friend had been bribed by the same person to silence. This pointed to the guilt of Captain Jadby, who might have been anxious to get rid of the baronet, so as to enter into his heritage. But the assertion of the housekeeper about the new unsigned will went far to show that the sailor was innocent. Captain Jadby assuredly would have destroyed the will which gave the property to Mona, and not an unsigned document which mattered nothing to him. Much puzzled by the new aspect of the case, Prelis sought out Mr. Mordibon, and related what he had heard in the kitchen garden. The solicitor at first scoffed the idea of the unsigned will being destroyed, but later cautiously ventured the remark that there might be something in it. Though mind you, he remarked thoughtfully, Mrs. Blexley does not prove her case, as we say in legal circles. She states that Sir Oliver made a new will in his own handwriting, but she cannot prove that this was the particular will which was burnt. But Sir Oliver's handwriting could be recognized, urged Prelis. It was, replied Mordibon tersely, the will leaving the property to Miss Chint was in my late client's handwriting also. He always preferred to write out his own testaments. To draw them up, you mean? Not in this a special instance, my lord. The will leaving all to Captain Jadby and made in the South Seas years ago is a personal document since I have seen it. The unsigned will also was personal, as so far as I know Sir Oliver did not employ any lawyer to draw it up. But I drew out the document by which Miss Chint inherited, and Sir Oliver copied it himself, and had it signed by Mrs. Blexley and Agstone. So you see that we can't actually say which will was burnt, as there is not sufficient remaining of the document. From some of the scraps found, which alluded to Miss Chint as my dear niece, it would seem that the will in her favor must have been destroyed since Sir Oliver, when angered, would not have spoken kindly of her in the document alluded to by Mrs. Blexley. Prelis nodded absently. I presume that the new will would also have been signed by Mrs. Blexley and Agstone as witnesses. I think so since Sir Oliver trusted both, but according to the housekeeper the will was not witnessed. For all we know, it may not even have been signed. Mrs. Blexley says that it wasn't. I think she is right, said Mortibond thoughtfully, since the testator has to sign in the presence of witnesses, and Mrs. Blexley would probably have been one. What about Captain Jadby? He was absent on many occasions, and had he signed as a witness he would not have benefited. Madam Marie Eppengrave? Hmm. Mortibond considered. She and Agstone might have signed certainly, but in that case she would have come forward to state to whom the new will left the property. It could not have been Jadby since the old will held good if the second was destroyed. Madam Marie may have been bribed by Jadby to hold her tongue about the third will so that the first could stand. Which points to the fact that the second must have been destroyed, yet Mrs. Blexley says that it was not. I agree, admitted preless, but as you say, she does not prove her case. Mortibond nodded. The sole way in which the case can be proved is by the production of the second will. Or of the third, remarked preless quietly. The assassin of Sir Oliver burnt one will. We know not which and holds the other. He will produce it when he is ready. And so lay himself open to arrest, and did Mortibond neatly. He paused and went on deliberately. I advise a waiting game. A waiting game? Mortibond nodded. Let the other side move first. Do you mean Captain Jadby? Ask preless abruptly. And this unknown assassin who holds one of the last two wills. Jadby, we know, retains the first, which gives the property to him. He will probably come down to insist upon his rights. I shall refuse to let him have the grange or the income until the other wills are proved to be destroyed, or at least until he proves that the burnt will is the one giving the property to Miss Chint. That was proved at the trial. The story requires that the case should be reopened. Not for the trial of Miss Chint, cried preless in alarm. Mortibond laughed heartily. You can make yourself easy on that score, my lord. No one can be tried twice for the same offense. Well, I agree with you that it is best to wait and see what Jadby does, and then we can checkmate him as you suggest. Meanwhile, I shall go to London and call on Madame Marie in New Bond Street. She may know of something likely to elucidate the mystery of the land-win-grange crime. If she does, said Mortibond, with a chuckle, she certainly will not speak out. A clever woman, Madame Marie. I can deal with clever women, said preless, rather concededly. Deal with Miss Chint then, finished the lawyer, and the conversation ended for the time being. It was all very well for Mortibond to suggest dealing with Mona, but that young lady was much too feminine for preless to tackle. He could make nothing of her. Sometimes she was kindness itself to him, and then she would hold him at arm's length with freezing politeness. Even as yet, he could not determine her relations to Ned. Otherwise, then, that unofficial engagement existed. She gave him no chance of learning the exact truth. When he praised Ned, she would assent cordially to the most enthusiastic eulogians, and yet, when he hinted, and being in love, he could not help hinting that Ned did not behave she entirely agreed. In desperation he would have spoken to her about Constance Rover, but a feeling of loyalty to his absent friend prevented his doing this. Once or twice, preless determined to leave for London, and wash his hands of all these mysteries, of which Miss Chint was not the least. But he was so deeply in love that, as the position was, he could not tear himself away. Yet, like a true gentleman, preless never revealed by word or deed, or even look that he was at Mona's feet. It was with a feeling of relief that preless came one day to the Grange, and found Lady Sophia officially established as Mona's friend. All day long, the young man had been walking his feelings on the downs, trying by violent exercise to calm his agitated nerves. He tore along at top speed for miles. Cursing himself for a fool in submitting to be lured by a willow wisp, since seeing how matters stood between Mona and Ned, he could not hope to make the girl Lady preless. But however far he went, the lodestone of the Grange, magnetized by Miss Chint's mere presence, always drew him back to her dainy feet, there to sigh hopelessly for the moon. On this occasion he arrived back to afternoon tea, and was greeted effusively in the drawing room by his aunt. Though I can't say that you look well preless, said Lady Sophia, putting up her lawn yet, what have you been doing for so long, late hours and indigestible suppers, no doubt. Ask Miss Chint, replied preless, somewhat sulkedly. She knows what a rake I am. Mona, who was presiding over a well provided tea table, glanced at the dark circles under the young man's eyes, at his lack of color, and noted his cross looks. The survey, for some reason, appeared to give her a large amount of satisfaction. I don't know, Lord preless, his character, she observed demurely. He's a door mouse, always asleep, said Lady Sophia, sipping her tea. So Ned told me, and his nickname also, but he's a very energetic door mouse, surely in exploring the world as he has done. It would be much better if he stayed at home and married. Preless could not stand this observation in Mona's presence. That is entirely a personal matter, Aunt Sophia, he snapped. Not at all, answered the Lady Cooley. As you are the head of the house, its members should have some say in your marriage. Unless you marry a nice girl, I shouldn't call on her. Have some more tea, Lord preless, said Mona, sorry to see how very annoyed he was, yet secretly pleased. Heaven knows for what reason. Thank you, he passed his cup. I am glad to see you, Aunt Sophia, and surprised. He ended with emphasis. Lady Sophia put up her launette again. One is always surprised to find virtue in unexpected places, she remarked coolly. I plagiarize that from Monnier, my dear. Yes, I am virtuous, coming over into these wilds on a hot day, and I want the reward of my virtue. What reward do you want? asked preless, gruffly. The right to look after this dear girl, Lady Sophia padded Mona's arm, I propose that she shall come abroad with me for a few months. Then next year we can return, and I can present her again at court. I never believe the rubbish that people talked, my sweetest Mona, so you can safely trust yourself under my wing. I shall be delighted, said Mona, giving the elder lady's arm a little affectionate squeeze, but don't you think I ought to remain here until the truth is found out? You silly child! The truth has positively been shouted from the housetops. Everyone knows that you are innocent, not, added Lady Sophia in her usual inconsequent fashion, that I should blame you if you were guilty. I never liked Sir Oliver. He was very kind to me, said Mona impetuously. He meant well. That condemns him. People one doesn't like always mean well. However, he's dead, so we'll say no more about him. But you'll come to Germany with me, my dear. I'm going to some bad... I can't tell you the name exactly. It's too long and sounds too much like swearing. But it's a new bad that has to do with the new disease. And have you got the new disease, Aunt Sophia? I never was healthier in my life, my dear boy. But there's a cave near this bad with bones and skulls of the stone age. I want to see what, like the poor, dear things were in those happy times. They won't look pretty as merely bones, said Preilis dryly. Perhaps not. Only dogs like bones. But I dare say there will be some dear diseases with which they cut off the heads of animals that lived before the flood. And beads too, perhaps. Fancy beads. It brings the poor, dear things so near to us to think they wore beads. While Lady Sophia rattled on thus, talking about everyone and everything to set Mona at her ease, the girl herself was listening. I hear a fly, she said, starting to her feet, expectantly. Where? Asked Lady Sophia, looking up at the ceiling. What sharp ears you must have, child! Hark! Miss Chint walked to the drawing-room door, opened it and passed through. A moment later they heard her voice raised in joyful welcome. And Preilis tried hard to suppress his jealousy. He did not need Lady Sophia to tell him that it was that Shepworth man. All the same he contrived to be fairly amiable when Ned entered with greetings. How do you do, Lady Sophia? Dory, I am so glad to see you. What a hot day it has been. Thank you, Mona. I shall be glad to have a cup of tea. Preilis stared as Ned sat down in a comfortable chair near Miss Chint, for he did not understand Shepworth, who had so lately escaped peril, chatting in this silly fashion. The barrister did not look well either, as his face was pale and his eyes sunken. I expected you down here before, growled Preilis after a pause. I could not get down, rattled on Ned, stirring his tea. Another lump of sugar, please, Mona. There was much to do, but now that Agstone has been buried and my character cleared, I have come down to circumvent our friend Captain Jadby. Mona started nervously. Oh, Ned, is there anything wrong? Not at present, but Jadby will try and put things wrong. He will be here in a quarter of an hour. Here, Mona rose in dismay. Are you sure? Shepworth nodded and cast a hasty glance at Preilis. He came to me yesterday and said that he was coming down to see you for a certain purpose. As Preilis is here and I know very well what Jadby wants to say, I thought it best to come down too. By watching at the station I found what train he was going by and nipped in also. At hide I secured the only fly and so have gotten ahead of him. Shepworth glanced at his watch. He'll soon be here and then he paused. And then, queried Lady Sophia, astonished, bless me, Mr. Shepworth, what then? How mysterious you are! You surprise me! Captain Jadby will surprise you more, rejoined Shepworth dryly, and so I am glad that you are here, Dory. Why? Demanded that young gentleman who was as astonished as his aunt. Shepworth merely nodded mysteriously and whispered to Mona, who nodded in reply with very bright eyes and with another glance at the puzzled Preilis. He could not understand even in the presence of the engaged couple if they really were in love. Shepworth was certainly attentive and Mona was extremely amiable. But there was something wanting in their behavior. They had not kissed, for one thing, as engaged lovers surely would do. But perhaps that sign of future marriage had taken place in the hall. Lady Sophia also puzzled, would have asked questions which her more diffident nephew was afraid to put, but that the footman brought in a card. Captain Jadby, said Mona, reading the same. Ned, must I see him? It will be as well rejoin Shepworth significantly and in the presence of Mardabon. He has gone out on a walk and won't be back for some time. Explain the girl nervously, but I feel safe with you and Lord Preilis. Why with me? Preilis asked when the footman departed in the South Sea sailor, you were always so kind. She observed in a low voice and cast down her eyes, blushing scarlet much to Preilis's amazement. He really did not know what to make of all this. But Mona's sudden color ebbed from her cheeks when Captain Jadby entered, for she appeared to be rather afraid of the buccaneer. Jadby, halting and bowing on the threshold, did look rather lawless in spite of his civilized flannel garb. He had arrayed himself in white and wore a scarlet cumberbund and a scarlet tie. These touches of too vivid color added to his smooth dark face with fiery black eyes and curly black hair and general hint at foreign blood, bespoke him the buccaneer from the fringes of the empire. His manners also left something to be desired, for after bowing to Lady Sophia and Miss Chint and greeting Preilis with a sullen nod, he turned towards Shepworth. Then his eyes flashed and his mouth grew hard. You have stolen a march on me, he declared, coming forward. As you see, replied Shepworth very coolly, after what you told me yesterday it was necessary. I wonder that you are not afraid to come, said Jadby, sneering viciously. Why should Mr. Shepworth be afraid, demanded Mona, catching at Lady Sophia's hand to keep up her courage? Ask him, snarled the captain, posing picturesquely. Why should you be afraid, Mona reiterated, turning to her lover? Captain Jadby can explain, replied Shepworth, swavly. And may I suggest, said Preilis politely, that in explaining, Captain Jadby might remember that there are two ladies present. The buccaneer shrugged his shoulders and pointedly turned his back on Preilis, a rudeness which that young gentleman noted carefully, intending to rebuke Jadby later for the same. You are, I understand, Miss Chint, engaged to Mr. Shepworth. He said to Mona, insolently, she glanced at Shepworth, but kept her temper. Everyone knows that news, it is common property. And I love you, he went on steadily. Rather a public place to speak like that to me, Captain Jadby, I am true to you and he, pointing to Shepworth, is false. He loves another woman. And I forbid you to mention that woman's name, cried Shepworth meaningly. Then you admit it, cried the sailor triumphantly. He does, said Mona unexpectedly, because I know it. What? Jadby recoiled in dismay. His thunderbolt had fallen and failed. My engagement, pursued Miss Chint, is merely official. End of Chapter 15.