The Mystery of the Ravenspurs

CHAPTER L

A KIND UNCLE

Ralph crept toward the door. Marion came close to him, her hands fumbling nervously with the bolts and bars. Some of the bars were heavy, and Marion was fearful lest they should fall with a clang and betray her.

Ralph stretched out his hand and drew back a bolt.

"Allow me to assist you," he said. "I am used to this kind of work."

A scream rose to Marion's lips, but she suppressed it. The effort set her trembling from head to foot. Yet it seemed to her that there was no cause to be frightened, for she had never heard Ralph's voice so kind before.

"Uncle," she stammered, "what are you doing here?"

By way of reply Ralph opened the door. He gave the sign for Marion to precede him, and then followed her out into the night. The heavy door closed behind him.

"I might with equal justice ask you the same question," he said. "Nay, more; because you are merely a young girl and I am a man. And you know I don't sleep like most virtuous people. I suffer from insomnia and never sleep for long anywhere. Perhaps I am like the cat who prowls about all night and slumbers in the daytime. But where are you going?"

"Uncle Ralph, I cannot tell you. It is a secret. If you knew everything you would pity me."

There was a deepening ring in Marion's voice. Ralph caressed her hand tenderly.

"Don't trouble," he said. "I know."

"You know where I am going. You – you know!"

"Certainly I do. I know everything, my dear."

"Not everything, uncle. Not of my connection with that woman, for instance."

"Indeed I do, Marion."

"You are aware of our relationship! You know that!"

"My dear child, I have known it for years. But your secret is safe with me. I am not going to betray you. Could I have the heart to do so after all you have done for my family? Angel Marion."

He repeated the last words over and over again in a low, caressing voice, pressing the girl's hand softly as he did so. Even then Marion was not sure whether he was in earnest or whether he was grimly ironical.

"I never thought of this," Marion murmured.

"Perhaps not," Ralph replied. "Mrs. May is a bad woman, Marion."

"The worst in the world," Marion replied. "You only know her as Mrs. May?"

"I only know her as she is, dear. And yet I feel that in some vague kind of way she is mixed up with our family misfortunes. Oh, if I could only see, if I could only use my eyes. Then I might know that woman still better."

Marion shuddered at the steely, murderous tones. Ralph patted her hand reassuringly.

"But you need not be afraid," he said. "You are all right – the brightest angel in the world. You are torn by conflicting emotions; you fancy your duty lies in certain directions, and you are troubled over it. And yet it will come right in the end, Marion. We did not lose Geoffrey after all."

"Thank God, no. And yet there is plenty of time."

"There is ample time for the right as well as the wrong, Marion. But do not let us talk of the past any more, my dear. I am not going to pry into your secrets, and I know how far to trust you. Let me walk part of the way with you. I can wait by the barn till you return."

Marion raised no objection. It was the dead of night now and there was no fear of meeting anybody. Yet Marion started uneasily as Ralph began to whistle. She ventured to suggest that the noise was not prudent.

"Perhaps you are right," Ralph said amicably. "At any rate I will wait here till your return. You have not far to go, of course?"

"I have a very little way to go, uncle. I am going to Jessop's farm."

Ralph nodded. The farm loomed up not far off. As Marion darted off Ralph lighted his pipe and whistled again. Something moved in the bushes.

Meanwhile Tchigorsky and Geoffrey were nearing the window. Tchigorsky moved on resolutely and confidently with the air of a man who is sure of his ground. He put up his hand and fumbled for the catch. It gave at once and the pair of burglars slipped quietly into the room.

"We shall be safe," he said as he proceeded to strike a match. "It is just as well to take every precaution. What would the estimable Jessop say if he could see into his parlor?"

Geoffrey smiled.

"He'd be astonished," he said, "a little dismayed, too. But he would say nothing so long as I am here. Jessop would stand on his head for me."

The strong rays of the lamp lighted up the room. There were flowers everywhere, dainty china on the table full of blooms, bowls filled with choicest fruits. Wines sparkled in the crystal goblets on the sideboard, a silver cigarette box was conspicuous, and on a safe lay an object to which Tchigorsky called his companion's attention.

"What do you make that out to be?" he asked.

Geoffrey picked up the drapery. On the top of it lay something red with a feather in it. It appeared to be a costume of some kind. As Geoffrey held it aloft a light gradually broke in upon him.

"Well," Tchigorsky asked, "have you solved the problem?"

"I have," Geoffrey replied. "It is the blue dress and tam-o'-shanter hat which have played so conspicuous a part lately. But what brings them here? Has Mrs. May a companion hidden somewhere, a companion who might be Marion's sister?"

"Seems like it," Tchigorsky said with a dry smile. "But I am not going to enlighten you any further on that question at present. Mrs. May and the girl in the blue dress are two separate people, anyway."

"You forget that I have seen them together," said Geoffrey.

"I had forgotten that. Well, it won't be long now before the identity of the lady in the smart dress and coquettish hat is established. Meanwhile we came here in search of something far more important than a woman's costume. Help me to turn out all those drawers, and be careful to replace everything exactly as you find it. We have a good three hours before us and much depends upon the result of our search. Keep a keen eye open for papers in any language that is unfamiliar to you."

For an hour the search proceeded and yet nothing came to light. There were plenty of bills, most of them emanating from West End establishments – accounts for dresses and flowers, boxes for theaters, and the like, but nothing more.

Tchigorsky glanced keenly round the room.

"I am afraid we shall be compelled to show our hand," he said. "Mrs. May is so clever that I half expected to find private papers in some simple place, while an examination of her safe would disclose nothing. She has not anticipated burglary and what I am looking for is in the safe."

"Dare you open it?" Geoffrey asked.

"And show my hand, you mean? I fancy so. We are so near success now that it really does not matter. Put the safe on the table," replied Tchigorsky.

The heavy iron box slipped as Geoffrey raised it and clanged on the floor. An exclamation of anger and annoyance came from Tchigorsky and an apology from the younger man. They both stood upright for a few minutes listening intently. But the people upstairs were sleeping the sleep of the just. There came no answering sound.

"Blessings upon the pure air and the high conscience that hold these people," Tchigorsky muttered more amicably. "It's all right, my young friend. Hoist up the box, and let us see if my little steel jimmy will have any effect. I would rather have had the key. It is never well to betray your plans if you can – "

The speaker paused. From outside a little way off there arose a long, shrill scream, the cry of a woman in distress. The sound set Geoffrey's blood leaping; he pushed for the window, but Tchigorsky detained him.

"Where are you going?" he asked sternly.

"Outside," Geoffrey exclaimed. "A woman is there. She asks for assistance. Can you stand there calmly and see – "

"See you making an ass of yourself, eh? My dear boy, on my word of honor there is no woman in danger yonder. In a measure I am glad to hear that cry, though it proves to me that our allies have not been so artistic over their work as they might have been. You will not hear that cry again."

"Perhaps not," Geoffrey said, reassured considerably by Tchigorsky's placid manner; "but I hear footsteps outside."

Tchigorsky smiled. He had taken some steel bits from his pocket, but he replaced them again.

"If they are, then they are the footsteps of a friend," he said. "This being so, there will be no need for me to give you lessons in the way not to open a safe. Are you right? It seems as if the window was opening."

The window was indeed opening. It moved half an inch, and then there was a "hist," and something clanged on the floor. Tchigorsky took the matter as coolly as if it had all been arranged beforehand. He did not move as the window closed again and stealthy footsteps outside moved away.

"It is all right?" Geoffrey asked.

Tchigorsky smiled broadly.

"Splendid!" he said. "It could not have been better. My boy, this is the night's work which is going to crown our endeavors. Yonder we have the proofs, and here we have the means of getting them."

He picked the metallic object from the floor. He fitted it to the lock of the safe, and instantly a mass of queer things was discovered. Tchigorsky's eyes gleamed as he saw this; they positively flamed as he turned out a lot of papers.

At the bottom was a book in metal covers. As Tchigorsky fluttered it open a cry broke from him.

"Found!" he exclaimed, "found! We have them in the hollow of our hands."

CHAPTER LI

"WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?"

With less courage than she usually felt, Marion went on her way. Perhaps there was no more miserable being in England at that moment. It is hard to play a double part, hard to be thrust one way by cruel circumstances when the heart and soul are crying out to go the other.

This was Marion's position. And whichever way she went she was destined to be equally unhappy and miserable. She had to help her relations; she had to try to shield that infamous woman at the same time.

And now the great secret of her life had come to light. That was the bitterest trial of all. Vera had discovered that Marion loved Geoffrey. Ralph Ravenspur had made the same discovery long ago, but it did not matter so very much about him; Vera was different.

And here she was in the dead of night carrying out the errand of the deadliest foe the house of Ravenspur had ever known. She was half inclined to throw the whole thing to the winds, to disappear and never return again. Why should she —

She stopped. Something was stirring in the bushes on either side of her. Perhaps it was a rabbit or a fox. Probably somebody had dogged her footsteps.

"Who are you?" Marion cried. "Speak, or I call for help."

The threat was futile, considering the time of night. The bushes parted and two men appeared. Marion gave one loud scream, but before she could repeat the cry a hand was laid on her lips.

Whoever they were, they were not unduly rough. The hand that stayed further clamor was hard, but it was not cruel.

"You are not to cry out again," a voice whispered. "I will not injure you if you promise not to call out."

Marion indicated that she would comply with this suggestion. Immediately the hand fell from her lips.

"This is an outrage," she said. "Who are you?"

"That is beside the point," was the reply. "It is an outrage, but we are not going to treat you badly. We are unfortunately compelled to keep you for some four-and-twenty hours from the custody of your friends, but you may rest assured that you will be treated with every consideration."

"I am your prisoner, then?"

"Since you like to put it in that way, yes."

Marion was properly indignant. She pointed out that the course these men were pursuing was a criminal one, and that it was likely to lead them into trouble.

But she might have been speaking to the winds. If she could only see these people! She had not the remotest idea what they were like. The man who spoke was evidently a gentleman; his companion seemed like a working man – a sailor by his walk. And yet it was impossible to see the faces of either.

"Where are you going to take me?" Marion asked.

"We are going to conduct you to one of the caves," was the reply. "Unfortunately no house is available for our purpose, or we should not put you to this inconvenience. But we have made every preparation for your comfort, and you are not likely to suffer for want of food or anything of that kind. And I pledge you my word of honor that you shall not be detained a minute beyond the specified time."

He touched Marion on the arm to indicate a forward movement.

"I suppose it is of no use to ask your name," Marion said coldly.

"I have no objection," said the other. "The time is coming when it will be necessary to speak very plainly indeed. My name is George Abell, and I am secretary to Dr. Sergius Tchigorsky. My friend's name is Elphick. He was at one time a servant in the employ of one of your family."

"Tchigorsky?" Marion cried. "But he is dead."

"That seems to be the popular impression," Abell said gravely.

The words appeared to strike a chill in Marion. She began to comprehend that all her sacrifices had been made in vain.

"Tchigorsky not dead?" she said hoarsely.

"No," said Abell. "I saw him a little time ago. It will perhaps not surprise you to hear that I am acting under his orders."

"But he could not know that I – "

"Dr. Tchigorsky seems to divine matters. He seems to know what people will do almost by instinct. He is a wonderful man and does wonderful things. But I cannot tell you any more; I am merely acting under orders."

He indicated the way and Marion proceeded without further protest. She felt like a condemned criminal when the sentence is pronounced. Certain things were coming to an end. A long period of suspense and anxiety was nearly finished. How it was going to end Marion neither knew nor cared. But she did know that the woman who was known as Mrs. May was doomed.

Not another word passed until the foot of the cliffs was reached. It was no easy matter to get down in the dark, but it was managed at length.

It was near the lonely spot where Geoffrey's stranded boat had been found. For days together nobody came here and Marion could not console herself with the fact that she would be rescued. Not that she much cared; indeed, it was a matter of indifference to her what happened.

Abell was polite and attentive. He indicated a pile of rugs and wraps; if Miss Ravenspur wanted anything she had only to call out and it would be supplied immediately.

"I wanted nothing but to rest," Marion said wearily. "I am tired out. I feel as if I could sleep for a thousand years. I am so exhausted mentally that I have no astonishment to find myself in this strange situation."

Abell bowed and retired. The night was warm and the cave, being above any, even the high spring tides, was dry. Marion flung herself down upon the pile of wraps and almost at once fell fast asleep. When she came to herself again the sun was shining high. Outside Abell was pacing the sands. Marion called to him.

"I want some breakfast," she said, "and then I should like to have a talk with you. If only I had a looking glass."

"You don't need one," Abell said respectfully if admiringly. "Still, that has been thought of. There is a looking glass in the corner."

Marion smiled despite herself. She found the glass and propped it up before her. There was no cause for alarm. She looked as neat and fresh as if she had just made a due and elaborate toilette. Geoffrey was fond of saying that after a football match Marion would have remained as neat and tidy as ever. She ate her breakfast heartily – good tea, with eggs, and bread-and-butter and strawberries.

"Do you want anything more?" asked Abell, looking in.

"Nothing, except my liberty," Marion replied. "You may come in and smoke if you like. How long are you going to detain me here?"

"Four-and-twenty hours."

"But I shall be missed. They will search for me. By this time, of course, they are hunting all over the place for me. They will come here – "

"I think not," Abell said politely. "It is too near home. Nobody would dream of looking for you in a cave close to the castle. We thought of all that. They will not look for you for other reasons."

Marion glanced swiftly at the speaker.

"How could you prevent them?" she demanded.

Abell puffed airily at his cigarette. He smiled pleasantly.

"There are many ways," he said. "You do not come down to breakfast. They begin to be alarmed at your absence. Somebody goes to your room and finds there a note addressed to your grandfather. That note is apparently in your handwriting. It contains a few lines to the effect that you have made a great discovery. You have gone at once to follow it up. The family are not to be alarmed if you do not return till very late. When you come back you hope to have a joyful revelation for everybody."

Marion smiled in reply. Abell seemed to be so sure of his ground.

"What you outline means forgery," she said.

"So I presume," Abell replied coolly. "But forgery is so simple nowadays with the aid of the camera. After what I have told you you will be able to see that our scheme has been thoughtfully worked out."

"And when I come back do I bring a joyful confession with me?"

Abell looked steadily at the speaker. There was something in the expression of his eyes that caused her to drop hers.

"That depends entirely upon yourself," he murmured. "One thing you may rely upon – the confession will be made and the clouds rolled away. It is only a matter of hours now. Surely, you do not need to be told why you are detained?"

For some reason best known to herself Marion did not need to be told. It was a long time before she spoke again. She ought to have been angry with this man; she ought to have turned from him with indignation; but she did nothing of the kind. And if she had, her indignation would have been wasted.

"You are in Dr. Tchigorsky's confidence?" she asked.

Abell shook his head with a smile.

"I know a great deal about him," he said. "I help him in his experiments. But as to being in his confidence – no. I don't suppose any man in the world enjoys that, unless it is your uncle Ralph."

Marion started. In that moment many things became clear to her. Hitherto she had regarded Ralph Ravenspur as anything but a man to be dreaded or feared. Now she knew better. Why had she not thought of this before?

"They are great friends?" she said.

"Oh, yes. They have been all over the world together. And they have been in places which they do not mention to anybody."

CHAPTER LII

"AS PROOF OF HOLY WRIT"

Tchigorsky hung over the papers before him as if inspired. There was not much, apparently, in the book with the metal clasps, but that little seemed to be fascinating to a degree. The Russian turned it over till he came to the end.

"You appear to be satisfied," Geoffrey said.

"Satisfied is a poor word to express my feelings," Tchigorsky replied. He stretched himself; he drew a deep breath like one who has been under water.

"I have practically everything here in this diary," he said. "It is written in a language you would fail to understand, but it is all like print to me. Everything is traced down from the first of the family catastrophes to the last attempt by means of the bees. There are letters from Lassa containing instructions for the preparation of certain drugs and poisons; in fact, here is everything."

"So that we are rid of our foes at last?"