beatrice galloway's feelings were strangely mixed as she drove along beside her uncle towards gower street. it seemed as if lately the whole world had gone astray, as if all happiness had ceased to be. for many months past she had felt the loss of wilfrid mercer; indeed, she had missed him even more than she cared to acknowledge to herself. and yet, no sooner had he crossed her path again than all this trouble had come back with him.
of course, it was absurd to blame wilfrid, but nevertheless, ever since he had shown his face at maldon grange there had been nothing but misery and mystery.
and why did samuel flower hate the young man so? beatrice had been half ashamed to admit it when discussing the matter earlier in the evening with wilfrid, but she knew that he spoke no more than the truth when he said that her guardian was an enemy of his. beatrice was by no means suspicious, but this fact had been thrust upon her.
and yet samuel flower professed that wilfrid was a perfect stranger to him. there was something here that beatrice would have to get to the bottom of. under the shadow of the darkness she could make out nothing of samuel flower's profile except that it was hard and set. she was glad enough when the drive came to an end and the house in the square was reached at length.
cotter stood waiting in the hall. he appeared to be full of eagerness and the desire to speak, when flower checked him with a malignant frown and a flash of his eyes.
"presently, you fool," he muttered.
"it won't keep, sir, indeed, it won't," cotter muttered. "jansen has been here and must see you to-night. i told him you would not be back till late, but he went away saying he would call again."
beatrice, glancing up casually at her guardian saw that once more the pale grey tinge had crept over his face. the malignant look had died from his eyes, giving way to a fear almost unspeakable. the girl had never heard this man's name before, and yet, quite by instinct, she coupled it with something disgraceful and underhanded. what was this new terror? she walked quietly into the dining-room and threw her wraps upon a chair by the side of the fire. as she laid her fan upon the mantelpiece an object in a small box fell to the floor. beatrice picked it up carefully.
"i had almost forgotten," she murmured.
in a spirit of pure curiosity she raised the lid and the diamond moth flashed into view. certainly it had been most careless of uzali to leave the jewel on the supper-table after he had promised to get it repaired. beatrice had taken it almost mechanically from the waiter who had brought it to her, and almost without thought carried it home. she took it casually from the box and ranged the two parts close together on the table so that the light might fall upon it. really, it was a most lovely gem, one that any girl might be proud of, though beatrice shrank from it as if it had been a thing of evil. in her mind it was associated with a series of dark tragedies, purple crimes and deeds of violence with which somehow her uncle was not unconnected. she laid her finger upon the jewel almost with loathing. she was still contemplating its sinister beauty when flower entered the room and closed the door carefully behind him.
his mood had changed for the moment. he was by way of making himself agreeable.
"i hope you won't think i was rude to you just now," he said, "but i am greatly worried by business. everything seems to have gone wrong lately, and if things don't mend before long i shall find myself very awkwardly situated. like most successful men, i have enemies, and there is a conspiracy amongst them to drag me to the ground."
beatrice murmured something sympathetic. flower was telling her nothing new. she would have offered her assistance and advice had she thought it of the slightest use. she hardly heard what flower was saying. she did not notice that he had broken off abruptly in his speech and that his gaze was concentrated upon the diamond moth.
"so that is what you were talking about?" he said. "upon my word, it is exceedingly handsome. i should like to know the history of that jewel. but didn't it strike you as strange that an unknown man should have made you a present of the missing part of the ornament?"
"i don't know," beatrice said indifferently. "nothing strikes me as strange to-night. to begin with, it was such a remarkable gathering of people. everything seemed to be so free and easy that i was bewildered. you may laugh at me as you like, but when mr. uzali produced the missing half, i was not in the least astonished."
flower was about to ask a question when he altered his mind. he was leading up to a point cautiously.
"that being so," he said with assumed carelessness, "the man who made you this gift ought to have been rather an uncommon person to look at. what was he like? did he resemble an adventurer or soldier of fortune? was he a foreigner, or an actor, or what? as far as i could judge, though i was a long way off, he seemed a little insignificant man."
there was a forced gaiety in the speaker's voice which did not deceive beatrice.
"you are right," she said. "mr. uzali is a little man, and very plain, with features not unlike those of a good-looking monkey, yellow face and hands more like a bird's claw than anything else."
"ah!" flower exclaimed. "and his speech?"
"his speech told me nothing. his english was as good as yours or mine. mr. uzali is a polished man of the world and as much at home in this country as in his own. but i thought it odd that his hand should be exactly like the one which i saw that night in the conservatory trying to find the latch of the door. but you need not be unduly curious. indeed, i understood mr. uzali to express a wish to make your acquaintance."
"he wants to know me?" flower murmured. "he is anxious to come here—the thing is preposterous. my dear child, you don't know what you are talking about."
flower paused as if conscious that he was saying too much. the dark mood had come back upon him. he paced up and down the dining-room muttering. then once more he realized that he was not alone, for he turned almost savagely to beatrice and pointed to the clock on the mantel.
"i daresay we are making much ado about nothing," he said. "don't you think you had better go to bed? i must finish some work before we return to maldon grange to-morrow."
"are we going back to-morrow?" beatrice asked.
"i think so," flower said moodily. "on the whole, it is safer—i mean i prefer the country to london."
beatrice gathered up her wraps and departed, the old sense of coming tragedy stealing upon her again. but she was too tired to think about anything but bed. she touched her guardian's cheek with her lips, but he did not seem conscious of her presence. no sooner had she gone than cotter came into the room. he stood as if waiting for orders, his teeth chattering, his whole aspect one of ludicrous terror.
"well, you blockhead," flower cried, "why don't you speak? why stand there in that ridiculous attitude? anybody would think you a child frightened by a bogie. where is your pluck, man? you used to have plenty of it."
"never a man with more," cotter said half defiantly. "but i have seen what i have seen and i know what i know, and i will never possess even the nerve of a rabbit. oh, why didn't we leave well alone? why couldn't we be satisfied with our ill-gotten gains? surely you had more than enough. for years i have been dreaming about this danger. for years i have known that it was coming. sooner or later it was bound to find us out. and the worst of it is, you can't fight it. it is miles away one day and the next it stands grinning at your elbow. it may be in the house at the present moment for all i know, just as it was at maldon grange."
"drop that!" said flower fiercely. "drop that, you lily-livered coward, or i will do you a mischief. is there nothing in the world worth speaking about except those yellow-faced devils who are after us now? isn't it bad enough that jansen should turn up at this moment?"
flower paused as an electric bell in the basement purred loudly and a sort of muffled cry came from cotter as if he had been listening to his death-knell. he stood gazing abjectly into flower's face, his own white and sweat-bedabbled.
"wake up, idiot," flower said savagely. "go and let him in. it is only jansen."
