something in the altered appearance of mrs. van santen, as she came in with resolute air and addressed her sons in a harsh, strident voice, revealed to gerard, as by a flash of inspiration, some of the truth respecting her.
that is to say, he recognized that he had been deceived in her; that the gentle, amiable, simple old lady, with her primitive dress and air of surprise at her new surroundings was a fraud; that, far from being the innocent old lady she appeared to be, grateful for the recognition of her smart english friends, and amazed at the position in which she found herself in that english society which she had been taught to consider stiff and exclusive, mrs. van santen was in truth a very keen-eyed woman, who understood thoroughly that british idiosyncrasy of being exclusive to its own countrymen, but over-ready to receive foreigners at their own valuation; that she had been quick to avail herself of it, and to do all in her power to assist her family towards a good position in english society, by a very clever affectation of humility and simplicity combined, which had disarmed while it charmed.
[291]the old woman advanced into the card-room, and, looking around her with eyes which were keen and sharp and penetrating, said, in an undertone—
“where’s that davison girl? i believe it’s she who is at the bottom of this!”
in the turmoil which had succeeded to the dead silence with which her first announcement that the house was surrounded was received, mrs. van santen was the coolest person in the room.
denver had leaped to the window with an oath, had looked out into the garden from the shelter of the curtains, and had drawn back again, with his fresh color gone, and the look of a hunted animal in his handsome eyes.
harry, on the other hand, had begun to busy himself in hastily collecting not only the cards which were lying on the table, but the money as well. in this latter occupation, however, he was stopped by cecil jones, who, having kept a keen eye on all that happened after his first unmasking of denver, noted harry’s occupation, and at once checked him in it.
“you had better leave the stakes alone,” said he quietly. “they are not yours, you know.”
harry van santen showed fewer signs of emotion than his brother had done. on being thus challenged, he just shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and withdrawing from the group that was clamoring round the tables, sat down in a corner, with his face to the back of his chair, and leaned down upon his[292] arms, biting his nails and keeping his eyes down.
it flashed through gerard’s mind as he looked at him that he must have been through similar scenes before, that he knew it was best to take things quietly, and to lie in wait for a chance to escape.
meanwhile denver was blustering, assuring his guests that there was no need to be uneasy, that an ugly trick was being played upon them, and that, if the ladies would retire, he and the other men would find out who were the authors of this fresh outrage, and would soon set matters right.
of this advice, however, no notice was taken. there were several ladies present, but they were all what denver himself irreverently spoke of as “old stagers,” women of rank or social position established enough not to be daunted by the prospect of another “row,” and old enough to know that the quieter they were the better were their own chances of getting out of the ugly affair with dignity.
all, moreover, were curious as to the issue of this business; and though one lady affected to be on the verge of hysterics, as nobody was at leisure to take any notice of her, she speedily recovered sufficiently to take the same interest as the rest in what was going on.
for events now began to move fast.
someone said “hush!” and then all became aware that there were voices and footsteps to be heard outside the house. one man went behind the curtains to[293] look out, and came back with a serious expression of face, to confirm mrs. van santen’s sensational statement.
the house was surrounded, and they were all virtually in custody.
not one of the people assembled, with the exception of old mrs. van santen, made an attempt to leave the room. she crossed the room with amazing rapidity for one of her years, but finding that someone had locked the door, she turned back again, and stood with a fierce look on her face, but without speaking, with her back to the door, watching for the crisis.
then there was a rattle and a rush in the next room, and a female voice, which they believed to be cora’s, uttered a slight scream.
then two policemen in uniform came into the room, and the foremost came up to the table and looked round.
before he could speak, cecil jones, from the opposite side of the table, addressed him—
“there are five of them,” he said, “two men and three women. three out of the five are in this room, the other two are, i believe, in those two rooms adjoining,” and he pointed to the other drawing-rooms. “these are the two men.” he pointedly rapidly to denver and harry van santen, and then, turning, indicated mrs. van santen, as he added: “and this is the head of them all.”
[294]while he was speaking three or four more men had come quietly into the room, and by the time he had ended, both denver and harry van santen found themselves practically prisoners, each having a constable in uniform on either side of him.
cecil jones’s concluding words had created a sort of subdued hubbub in the room. the amazement with which the onlookers learned that the dear old lady, whom they had all condescendingly pitied and rather liked, was the head of a gang of swindlers caused a new and strange excitement to ferment in the room.
they looked at each other, they looked at mrs. van santen, and were shocked to see in her usually mild eyes the ferocity of a wild beast at bay, as two constables came up to her, and, without attempting to touch her, kept her between them and stood on the watch one on each side.
“mrs. van santen! isn’t it a mistake?” whispered some of the ladies present. but the voice of cecil jones cut short the whispers.
“that is catherine burge, the woman who did fourteen years for insurance frauds,” was the answer which jones gave to a man who was remonstrating against the indignity offered to the old lady.
a murmur of dismay ran through the room, and passed on to the next, where all the rest of the guests were congregated in an eager group close to the door of the card-room.
[295]arthur was in the middle of this group, and beside him was cora van santen, the woman whom he looked upon as the loveliest and sweetest in the world.
cora was deathly pale, and her teeth were tightly set and her slender hands were clenched; but she had not said one word after the scream she had given when the police entered the house.
now, however, she suddenly asked a question. as half a dozen more constables came in single file into the room in which she was, entering by way of the french window, and at once taking up a position behind the group in the doorway, she said to arthur, in a fierce undertone—
“who let them in?”
“i don’t know,” said arthur, who felt sick and cold with excitement and the dread of hearing something which would reflect upon the woman he admired.
delia, who was also in the group, and who heard these words asked and answered, turned round and laughed harshly. she was looking altogether different from the charming, tactful, gracious creature who usually spent her time walking from one to another among the guests, smoothing the rough places and making herself popular with everyone.
“can’t you guess?” was all she said.
and then she turned her head disdainfully away again, and resumed her strenuous watch of the proceedings in the adjoining room.
by this time cecil jones had seen his orders carried[296] out in the card-room, had muttered a low-voiced apology to one of the guests, a sporting man of some social standing, whom he recognized, and had then advanced towards the group in the doorway. looking carefully among them, he said, addressing the constables who were standing behind them—
“there are two more here. that’s one of them,” and he glanced at delia. “and”—he turned again,—“there’s the fifth and the last,” and he indicated cora.
arthur was up in arms. struck with consternation, he saw a constable beckoning to cora to come out of the crowd which surrounded her. the girl, with a frightened scream, which contrasted strongly with the calmness shown by the others, tried to hide herself among the crowd. arthur at once tried to place himself between her and the police, so that she might make her escape, as she appeared to wish to do, into the card-room.
but cecil jones was confronting her, and he smiled, and said gently—
“it’s of no use, mr. aldington. you’d better advise the young lady to take things quietly. especially as we shall do her but little harm.”
cora, however, instead of profiting by this advice, began to weep so violently, to utter so many hysterical protests that she “had had nothing to do with it, nothing whatever, that they told her it would be all right, and that they ought to confess it now,”[297] that cecil jones made a sign to two of the constables, who gently made their way through the group of guests, and taking the weeping girl by the arms, led her back into the middle room, with arthur aldington, protesting indignantly, in close attendance.
when once she was free from the pressure of the crowd, however, cora suddenly resisted the attempts which they were about to make to lay her on the sofa, and springing upright, said—
“if you’ll let me go i’ll tell you everything i know. it isn’t really very much, and i’m real sorry now i ever took up with these people. my engagement was to sing, that’s all: one hundred and fifty dollars a day, and expenses. and i was to know nothing. well, and i don’t know anything, except that the police have come in. now you’ll let me go, won’t you?”
“i don’t suppose you’ll be detained long, miss,” said one of the men. “but as your name has been given us with the rest, we’re bound to take you before the magistrate with them. it won’t be more than a formal business as far as you’re concerned, i daresay, if you can prove what you’ve told us.”
“but i don’t want to be taken off as if i were a criminal,” said cora plaintively. “it’s not fair!”
“let me be answerable for the lady’s appearance at any time you may want her,” said arthur quickly.
but the ungrateful cora turned upon him and stamped her foot.
[298]“oh, no,” she said, “i’ll not have you answerable for me. i’d rather go through it myself. i’ve had to be civil to everybody so long that now i must just speak out and freely say what’s in my mind. mr. aldington, you’re a fool. you might have known how things were going, as your friend buckland did. he’s made himself safe, and i respect him for it. he’s taken care to be on the right side.”
arthur was stupefied by this rebuff. retreating with a few muttered words, neither very coherent nor very intelligible, he turned and met delia who had made no attempt to resist the constables, and who stood erect between two of them, with an air of boredom upon her handsome face.
“what will they do with us?” she asked arthur quite simply. “will we get the same as those men?”
“do you mean your brothers?”
she glanced behind her with an air of superb disdain.
“brothers?” she echoed, with much scorn. “those fellows our brothers? no. and we aren’t sisters, either, or daughters to that old woman. we’re each on our own. and there’s no credit in owning it, as i guess you folks know all about us, as much as we know ourselves.”
arthur was astounded.
she smiled at him scornfully.
“well, we’ve had a good time!” she said at last, in a half-regretful tone. “you britishers are mighty[299] easy to gull, aren’t you? one has only got to call oneself a millionaire, to speak with an accent that wouldn’t be tolerated on our side, and to give one’s address as chicago, and the best of you are ready to open your arms—and your pockets. so, if you’re taken in now and then, it’s not surprising.”
“then—aren’t you—anything to do with—the millionaire?” gasped arthur.
“just wish we were!” replied delia simply; “no such luck. we’re just a mixed lot of adventurers and adventuresses, making a common cause to ease the pockets of your silly society folk, and to get ourselves a pleasant time. if it had only lasted a little longer,” she added, with a sigh, “we’d each have landed a stockbroker or one of your wooden-headed baronets, and then we’d have been fixed up to rights!”
arthur turned slowly to look at cora. she had dried her eyes, and was sitting rather disconsolately on the sofa, while the constables who had charge of both these younger ladies remained at a moderate distance, satisfied that they had them both under observation.
a moment later, there was a movement in the group round the door which led to the card-room, and mrs. van santen, closely guarded by two constables, came in. at the sight of the two girls, she ran forward and would have thrown herself on delia’s neck, with a smothered sob and a cry of “my daughter!” but delia avoided her embrace and said shortly—
[300]“oh, we’ve had enough of this. we’re going to tell the truth, all that we know. our contract’s ended now, and we must save ourselves.”
mrs. van santen at once became a changed woman. the sweet look of tenderness with which she had flown towards delia altered to a hard expression of anger and resentment, as she stopped short and putting her head on one side, said—
“say, have you given us all away, then?”
“no,” answered delia shortly. “you have to thank those two card-sharpers in there for doing that.”
“do you mean my sons?”
“no, you haven’t any sons,” retorted delia, who seemed to take a sort of calm delight in making her confession as complete and as public as possible. “those two men whom you call your sons are no more children of yours than they are brothers of ours. they’re just a pair of swindlers who don’t know how to swindle without being found out.”
she made this statement calmly, in a high, clear voice, not without a rather cleverly devised intention of being heard and applauded by the people present, including the police.
she was old enough to know that her share and that of the singing girl cora, having been entirely passive and showy, rather than actively useful in the swindling practices carried on by their male confederates, the punishment in store for them could not be on the[301] same plane as that earned by the men themselves.
and as for mrs. van santen, why, she was old enough and experienced enough to look out for herself.
but this sudden change in the attitude of her adopted family seemed for a time to disconcert the old woman, who stared from delia to cora and back again with an air of uncertainty as to what course she should pursue in the circumstances. before long, however, she recovered herself, and, turning to the policeman who walked beside her and who appeared more vigilant than those who were looking after the younger women, she said, in a hard voice—
“well, you’ve got to prove that there’s anything wrong in adopting and providing for three or four young creatures who are not your own children by birth; and that’s the worst thing you can accuse me of, anyhow.”
“nobody has accused you of anything, ma’am,” said one of the officers. “and you’d best not say anything more, else it may be used against you presently.”
but mrs. van santen, alias catherine burge, laughed in his face.
“you needn’t tell me that,” she said. “i’ve had some dealings with your sort before, as some of you know. i don’t deny it. but that has nothing to do with my conduct now, and i tell you there’s nothing to be proved against me but too large a heart.”
[302]“well, ma’am, you confine yourself to proving that when you’re before the magistrates, and you won’t come to much harm if you succeed.”
but in spite of the purity of her intentions, the old lady did not look quite satisfied on this point. and gerard buckland, when he came out of the card-room a minute later in search of miss davison, saw that his gentle old new englander had been transformed into a hard-featured virago who glared at him with a suspicious eye.
the sight of him roused the savage slumbering in her breast. she even made a half attempt to rush towards him, but a movement on the part of the nearest policeman made her pause.
“i know who you’re looking for, mr. gerard buckland,” she said. “and i wish i knew myself where to find her. she’d not leave this house with her demure face unscratched if i could!”
gerard, who had begun to make a shrewd guess as to the reason of miss davison’s disappearance, knew better than to attempt to dispute with the angry woman.
he looked at arthur aldington, with a questioning upraising of the eyebrows, which the other rightly understood to be an invitation to accompany him on his departure.
arthur, still unwilling to leave cora, who meanwhile had ungratefully turned her back upon him and[303] was sitting close to delia on the sofa, talking to her in a low voice, coughed to attract the attention of the girl who had enchanted him.
cora looked carelessly over her shoulder.
“isn’t there anything i can do for you?” he asked in a low, hoarse voice.
“nothing whatever, thank you,” she replied coldly. “i’ve done with all of you. i’ve had to be civil long enough; now i can be natural, and—good-bye.”
she held out her hand quite abruptly and coldly.
he took it, held it for a moment in fingers that trembled, and then, dropping it with just one reproachful look at her, would almost have staggered as he went away, but for gerard, who took him by the arm, and led him to the inner door.
it was locked.
“may we go out?” asked gerard of the nearest policeman.
there was a pause, and the man went into the next room to consult cecil jones, came back with the key of the door, opened it, and silently let the two young men into the hall.
here a couple of frightened maid-servants and a sullen footman were sitting on the stairs, discussing the amazing situation.
“has miss davison gone away?” asked gerard of one of them.
but she only shook her head, and, looking horribly[304] alarmed, told him that she knew nothing, and that they had been warned not to say anything to anybody except the police.
with which discomfiting information the two young men had to be content, as they went out of the priory for the last time.
