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Mr. Marx's Secret

E. Phillips (Edward Phillips) Oppenheim

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MR. MARX’S SECRET

MR. MARX’S SECRET

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM Author of “Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo,” “The Double Traitor,” “The Illustrious Prince,” etc. WITH FRONTISPIECE BY F. VAUX WILSON BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1916 Published, January, 1916 Reprinted, January, 1916 (twice) February, 1916 Printers S. J. Parkhill &amp; Co., Boston, U.S.A. Published, January, 1916 Reprinted, January, 1916 (twice) February, 1916 Printers S. J. Parkhill &amp; Co., Boston, U.S.A. “I am going to put that beast out of his misery,” he ans

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MR. MARX’S SECRET CHAPTER I. NEWS FROM THE PACIFIC.

MR. MARX’S SECRET CHAPTER I. NEWS FROM THE PACIFIC.

My home was a quaint, three-storeyed, ivy-clad farmhouse in a Midland county. It lay in a hollow, nestled close up against Rothland Wood, the dark, close-growing trees of which formed a picturesque background to the worn greystone whereof it was fashioned. In front, just across the road, was the boundary-wall of Ravenor Park, with its black fir spinneys, huge masses of lichen-covered rock, clear fish-ponds, and breezy hills, from the summits of which were visible the sombre grey towers of Raveno

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CHAPTER II. MR. FRANCIS.

CHAPTER II. MR. FRANCIS.

I was alone with my father in the kitchen, and he was looking as I had never seen him look before. It was late in the afternoon—as near as I can remember, about six weeks after the news had reached us of Mr. Ravenor’s wonderful adventures. He had just come in for tea, flushed with toil and labouring in the hot sun. But as he stood on the flags before me, reading a letter which had been sent up from the village, the glow seemed to die out from his face and his strong, rough hands trembled. “It’s

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CHAPTER III. THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.

CHAPTER III. THE MURDER AT THE SLATE-PITS.

It was late on this same evening. All day long the thunder had been rumbling and growling, and now the storm seemed close at hand. I had partly undressed, but it was too hot to get into bed, so I leaned out of my wide-open window, watching the black clouds hanging down from the sky, and listening to the rustling of leaves in the wood—sure sign of the coming storm. The air was stifling; and, longing feverishly for the rain, I sat in the deep window-sill and looked out into the scented darkness, f

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CHAPTER IV. MY MOTHER’S WARNING.

CHAPTER IV. MY MOTHER’S WARNING.

For many weeks after that terrible night in Rothland Wood, I lay wrestling with a fierce fever, my recovery from which was deemed little short of miraculous. A sound constitution, however, and careful nursing brought me round, and I opened my eyes one sunny morning upon what seemed to me almost a new world. The first thing that I can clearly remember after my return to consciousness was the extraordinary change which had taken place in my mother. From a beautiful, active woman, she seemed to hav

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CHAPTER V. RAVENOR OF RAVENOR.

CHAPTER V. RAVENOR OF RAVENOR.

It was generally expected that my mother would be anxious to depart as soon as possible from a neighbourhood which had such terrible associations for her. As a matter of fact, she showed no intention of doing anything of the sort. At the time I rather wondered at this, but I am able now to divine her reason. It chanced that the farm, of which my father had been tenant for nearly a quarter of a century, was taken by a neighbour who had no use for the house, and so it was arranged that we should s

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CHAPTER VI. A DOUBTFUL VISITOR.

CHAPTER VI. A DOUBTFUL VISITOR.

Late in the afternoon of the following day a visitor rode through the stack-yard and reined in his horse before our door. I was reading in the room which my mother chiefly occupied and, when I glanced out of the side-window, overhung and darkened by jessamine and honeysuckle, I had a great surprise. The book dropped from my fingers and I stood still for a moment, uncertain what to do. For outside, sitting composedly upon his fine black horse and apparently considering as to the best means of mak

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CHAPTER VII. A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.

CHAPTER VII. A MEETING AND A METAMORPHOSIS.

That it was my mother I could not at first believe. She wore a plain dark dress, with a black lace kerchief about her neck; but a dress, simple though it was, of a style and material unlike any that I had ever before seen her wear. Although I knew nothing of her history, I had always suspected that she was of a very different station from my father’s, and at that moment I knew it, for it seemed as though she had, of a sudden, made up her mind to assume her proper position. Not only were her dres

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CHAPTER VIII. AN ABODE OF MYSTERY.

CHAPTER VIII. AN ABODE OF MYSTERY.

For the first time in my life I was on my way to Ravenor Castle, summoned there by a brief, imperious note from Mr. Ravenor. Often had I looked longingly from the distant hills of the park upon its grey, rugged towers and mighty battlements; but I had never dared to clamber over the high wall into the inner grounds, nor even to make my way up the servants’ drive to win a closer acquaintance with it. One reason why I had abstained from doing what, on the face of it, would seem a very natural thin

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CHAPTER IX. MR. MARX.

CHAPTER IX. MR. MARX.

At first I had eyes only for the dark figure seated a few yards away from me at a small writing-table drawn into the centre of the room. He was bending low over his desk and never even raised his eyes or ceased writing at my entrance. Before him on the table, and scattered around his chair on the floor, were many sheets of white foolscap covered with his broad, firm handwriting, some with the ink scarcely dry upon them; and while I stood before him he impatiently swept another one from his desk

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CHAPTER X. LADY SILCHESTER.

CHAPTER X. LADY SILCHESTER.

Mr. Ravenor sat like a man stunned by a sudden shock, while the shrill ringing grew more and more imperative. Then suddenly, when I least expected it, he spoke, and the fact that his calm, even tone betrayed not the slightest sign of agitation or anything approaching to it, was a great relief to me. After all, his silence might have meant indifference. “Go over there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room from which the sound came. I did so and saw just before me what seemed to be a dark

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CHAPTER XI. THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.

CHAPTER XI. THE CRY IN THE AVENUE.

The letter which Mr. Ravenor had been writing to my mother was finished and sealed at last. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked steadily at me. “I shall not see you again before you go, Philip Morton,” he said, “so I wish to impress upon you once more what I said to you about my nephew, who is Lady Silchester’s son, by-the-bye. I know that he is going on badly, but I wish to know how badly. Unfortunately, he has no father, and, from what I can remember of him, I should imagine that he is

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CHAPTER XII. A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.

CHAPTER XII. A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.

Far away below me—for Ravenor Castle stood on the highest point in the country—a dull-red glow in the sky, and many twinkling lights stretched far and wide, marked the place where a great town lay. On my right hand was a smooth stretch of green turf, dotted all over with thickly growing spreading oak trees. On the left was a straggling plantation, bounded by a low greystone wall, which sloped down gradually to one of the bracken-covered, disused slate-quarries, with which the neighbourhood aboun

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CHAPTER XIII. THE CLOUD BETWEEN US.

CHAPTER XIII. THE CLOUD BETWEEN US.

It was late when I reached home and, from the darkness in all the windows, I concluded that my mother and the one country domestic who comprised our little household had already retired. My hand was raised to rap at the closed door, when it occurred to me that I might just as well effect an entrance without disturbing anyone. Our sitting-room window opened on to the front garden in which I stood and was seldom fastened, so I stole softly over the sodden grass and pressed the sash upwards. It yie

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CHAPTER XIV. A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.

CHAPTER XIV. A MEETING IN THE COFFEE-ROOM.

It was eleven o’clock on the following morning. I had been reading in the garden for some time, and was just thinking of starting for a walk, when a dogcart from the Castle stopped at the gate, and Mr. Ravenor’s servant—the man who had conducted me from the lodge to the Castle—was shown into the house. I went to him at once and he handed me a note. “Mr. Ravenor has sent you this, sir,” he said respectfully. I tore it open and read (there was no orthodox commencement): “Before going to Dr. Randal

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CHAPTER XV. A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER.

CHAPTER XV. A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER.

“What have you been up to in Torchester, eh? Shopping?” Mr. Marx inquired. I saw no reason for concealing anything from him, nor did I do so. Rather awkwardly I told him of Mr. Ravenor’s note to me, and that I had been with Reynolds all the afternoon. Perhaps I spoke with a little enthusiasm of our somewhat elaborate purchases. At any rate, when I had finished, he laughed softly to himself—a long, noiseless, but not unpleasant laugh. “Well, I’m glad I met you,” he said, his lips still twitching,

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CHAPTER XVI. MISS MABEL FAY.

CHAPTER XVI. MISS MABEL FAY.

The cab pulled up with a jerk underneath a long row of brightly burning lights. We dismounted, and I followed Mr. Marx up a broad flight of thickly carpeted stairs into a semi-circular corridor draped with crimson hangings and dimly lit with rose-coloured lights. A faint perfume hung about the place, and from below came the soft melody of a rhythmical German waltz which the orchestra was playing. I almost held my breath, with a curious mixture of expectation and excitement, as I followed Mr. Mar

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CHAPTER XVII. BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE TORCHESTER THEATRE.

CHAPTER XVII. BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE TORCHESTER THEATRE.

I followed my guide to the end of the corridor, through a door which he unlocked and carefully locked again, and past the side of the deserted stage, on which I paused for a moment to gaze with wonder at the array of ropes and pulleys and runners which the carpenters were busy putting to rights, and at the canvas-covered, unlit auditorium, which looked now—strange transformation—like the mouth of some dark cavern. After picking our way carefully, we reached a door on which was painted “Manager’s

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CHAPTER XVIII. AT MIDNIGHT ON THE MOOR.

CHAPTER XVIII. AT MIDNIGHT ON THE MOOR.

We were more than half-way home before Mr. Marx broke a silence which was becoming oppressive. “Well, have you enjoyed your evening?” he asked. “Of course I have, and I’m very much obliged to you for taking me to the theatre,” I added. After all, perhaps I was misjudging him. What possible motive could he have for being my enemy? “Oh, that’s all right,” he declared, carefully lighting a cigar and throwing the match out of the window. “I’m afraid you’ve had more than one illusion dispelled this e

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CHAPTER XIX. A STRANGE ATTACK.

CHAPTER XIX. A STRANGE ATTACK.

It could not in reality have been more than a minute or two, although it seemed to me then a terribly long while, before I again heard the sound which had attracted my attention. When I did, it was quite close at hand, just at the beginning of the range of farm-buildings which skirted the road. There was no possibility of any mistake. The situation was sufficiently plain, at any rate. Scarcely fifty yards away a man was coming running towards me, either barefooted or with very soft shoes on; and

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CHAPTER XX. THE MONASTERY AMONG THE HILLS.

CHAPTER XX. THE MONASTERY AMONG THE HILLS.

When I awoke in the morning the sun was already high in the heavens and it was considerably past my usual hour of rising. I jumped out of bed at once and began my toilet. I had scarcely finished my bath when there came a loud tap at the door. “Hallo!” I cried out. “Anything the matter?” “Yes, sir. Please, sir, John wants to know whether you locked anything up in the coach-house last night. There was——” “Yes, I did,” I interrupted quickly. “Tell him not to go there till I come down.” “Please, sir

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CHAPTER XXI. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.

CHAPTER XXI. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.

The paroxysm of my grief passed slowly away, and I rose to my feet and looked around with streaming eyes. Mr. Ravenor was still by my side, and together we carried my mother back to the monastery. The news of our approach had preceded us, and long before we reached our journey’s end the solemn minute-bell was tolling out to the silent night, awakening strange echoes in the hills and finding a reverberation of its mournfulness in my heart. Austere and impressive as the great bare front of the mon

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CHAPTER XXII. FOR LIFE.

CHAPTER XXII. FOR LIFE.

My mother’s death marked an epoch in my life, for immediately afterwards a great change came over my circumstances and position. Of the dreary days just before and after the funeral I shall here say but little. Their sadness is for me and me alone. Until after the ceremony I remained at the monastery, seeking relief from my thoughts by rambles over the hills, by watches at dead of night before the spot where, with many candles burning round her open coffin, my mother lay, and by long conversatio

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CHAPTER XXIII. MY GUARDIAN.

CHAPTER XXIII. MY GUARDIAN.

On the third day after my adventure in the park Mr. Ravenor called to see me. He came in splashed from head to foot and had evidently ridden a long distance and fast. I offered him a chair and some refreshment, for he looked pale and tired, but he declined both, and walked slowly up and down the room, his hands grasping a long riding-whip behind his back. “I can only give you a minute or two now, Morton,” he said, with some slight return of his former brusque hauteur ; “I am expecting visitors f

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CHAPTER XXIV. MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.

CHAPTER XXIV. MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.

At a quarter to eight I stood in the great hall of Ravenor Castle. On my first visit its vastness and gloom had somewhat chilled me; now it was altogether different. A small army of servants in picturesque livery and with powdered hair were moving noiselessly about. Soft lights were burning on many brackets, dispelling the deep shades which had hung somewhat drearily about; and there was a fragrant perfume of flowers and a pleasant sense of warmth in the air. I began to understand at once the st

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CHAPTER XXV. MR. MARX’S WARNING.

CHAPTER XXV. MR. MARX’S WARNING.

My first impulse, on glancing through Mr. Marx’s brief note, was to show it to Mr. Ravenor; but, after a second’s consideration, I changed my mind. Mr. Marx was a complete mystery to me. At times it seemed possible that the interest which he undoubtedly showed in me was genuine and kindly, and I struggled against my dislike of the man. Then I remembered his brutal conduct to the lunatic and the other inexplicable parts of his behaviour, and the darkest suspicions and doubts began to take shape i

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CHAPTER XXVI. A LOST PHOTOGRAPH.

CHAPTER XXVI. A LOST PHOTOGRAPH.

It was about five o’clock on as dreary an afternoon as I ever remember, when the slow train, which crawls always at a most miserable pace from Peterborough across the eastern counties, deposited me at Little Drayton. Besides the station-master there were but two people on the wet platform—one a porter, who made for my bags with almost wolflike alacrity after a moment’s amazed stare, at me, presumably at the rare advent of a passenger with luggage; the other was a thin, dark young man, clad in a

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CHAPTER XXVII. LEONARD DE CARTIENNE.

CHAPTER XXVII. LEONARD DE CARTIENNE.

We all three stood and looked at one another for a moment, Milly Hart with her finger still pointing to the vacant place where the photograph had been. Then Cecil broke into a short laugh. “We’re looking very tragical about it,” he said lightly. “Mysterious joint disappearance of Leonard de Cartienne and a photograph of Mr. Hart. Now, if it had been a photograph of a pretty girl instead of a middle-aged man, we might have connected the two. Hallo!” He broke off in his speech and turned round. St

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CHAPTER XXVIII. “AS ROME DOES.”

CHAPTER XXVIII. “AS ROME DOES.”

I awoke on the following morning with that vague, peculiar sense of having entered upon an altogether new phase of life. By degrees my semi-somnolent faculties reasserted themselves and I remembered where I was. My new life had indeed begun in earnest. I sprang out of bed and pulled up the blind. It was a very strange prospect I looked out upon, after the luxuriant hilly scenery of the home where I had lived all my life. Before me was a flat, uncultivated common, dotted here and there with a few

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CHAPTER XXIX. A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.

CHAPTER XXIX. A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.

In less than a week’s time I was master of the state of affairs at Borden Tower. Dr. Randall, with the best possible intentions, was the worst possible man that could have been chosen for the guardianship of two such pupils as Lord Silchester and Leonard de Cartienne. He was a scholar and a pedant, utterly unsuspicious and ignorant of the ways of the world, himself so truthful and honourable that he could scarcely have imagined deceit possible in others, and certainly not in his own wards. Of th

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CHAPTER XXX. ECARTÉ WITH MR. FOTHERGILL.

CHAPTER XXX. ECARTÉ WITH MR. FOTHERGILL.

At a little before eight o’clock de Cartienne, Cecil, and I presented ourselves at the bar of the “Bull” Hotel, and inquired for Mr. Fothergill. We were shown at once by a waiter into a small private sitting-room, brilliantly illuminated and unmistakably cosy. Under the chandelier was a small round table glittering with plate and flowers; and, standing upon the hearthrug, critically surveying it, was a middle-aged, dapper-looking little man, in well-cut evening clothes, with a white camellia in

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CHAPTER XXXI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

CHAPTER XXXI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and aching head which usually follow either a drugged sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up on the sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around in blank surprise. Daylight was streaming in through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the gas was still burning with a dull, sickly light. The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night orgie. Several packs of cards were lying strewn over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. There were half-a-dozen tumblers

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CHAPTER XXXII. FORESTALLED.

CHAPTER XXXII. FORESTALLED.

For a full minute neither of us moved. Then de Cartienne rose slowly to his feet and walked to the door. “Here, take this!” I said, holding out the envelope towards him. “The private memoranda upon it may be useful to you.” He snatched it from my fingers and tore it into atoms. Then he walked quietly away, with an evil look upon his face. At luncheon Cecil appeared, white as a ghost, and looking anxious and disturbed, as well he might. Dr. Randall was quite uneasy at his appearance, and acquiesc

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CHAPTER XXXIII. A GLEAM OF LIGHT.

CHAPTER XXXIII. A GLEAM OF LIGHT.

After leaving the photographer’s shop, I walked slowly across the little market-place and down the narrow street towards the “Rose and Crown.” My recent discovery had given me a good deal to think about, or rather, had afforded me matter for a variety of wild conjectures, but I could follow none of them to a very satisfactory conclusion. I was like a man groping in the dark. I had stumbled upon several very extraordinary and inexplicable facts; but what connection, if any, they had with one anot

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CHAPTER XXXIV. DR. SCHOFIELD’S OPINION.

CHAPTER XXXIV. DR. SCHOFIELD’S OPINION.

In ten minutes we were in the streets of Little Drayton again, and Cecil had brought the dog cart to a standstill outside the “Rose and Crown.” He would have gone in with me, but I begged him not to. I jumped down and walked straight into the little parlour. Milly was sitting there alone, gazing absently into the fire. She looked up in surprise at my sudden entrance, and half rose. “Milly, I want to ask you a question,” I said, going up to her side. “It’s about your father’s disappearance.” “Yes

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CHAPTER XXXV. AN INVITATION.

CHAPTER XXXV. AN INVITATION.

We drove straight into the courtyard, having no groom with us and entered the house from the back. As we passed the little room on the ground floor given up for our sole use as a repository for cricket-nets, fishing-tackle, guns, spare harness, and such like appliances, I opened the door, intending to hang my whip up. To my surprise de Cartienne was there in an old coat, with his sleeves turned up, cleaning a gun. He looked up and greeted us as we entered. “What a time you men have been! What ha

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CHAPTER XXXVI. A METAMORPHOSIS.

CHAPTER XXXVI. A METAMORPHOSIS.

It seemed almost as though some magical metamorphosis had taken place within the walls of Ravenor Castle. Directly we came in sight of it we had the first intimation of its altered aspect. Instead of the one or two solitary lights shining above the dark woods, it seemed a very blaze of illumination, and when we drew up at the great front door the change was still mere apparent. Liveried servants with powdered hair were moving about the hall. From open doors there came the sound of laughing voice

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CHAPTER XXXVII. MR. MARX IS WANTED.

CHAPTER XXXVII. MR. MARX IS WANTED.

It was long past midnight before the last little knots of guests had wished one another good night, and even then Lord Penraven and a few chosen companions only adjourned to a smaller smoking-room in the back regions of the Castle. I knew that Mr. Ravenor was not with them, however, for I had seen him, after having outstayed all save this handful of his guests, cross the hall and enter the library. In about half an hour I followed him. I had expected to find him resting after the great strain wh

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CHAPTER XXXVIII. I ACCEPT A MISSION.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. I ACCEPT A MISSION.

There was a silence which threatened to last for ever. At length Mr. Ravenor turned his head slightly and looked towards me. The eagerness which he saw in my face seemed to strike some grim vein of humour in him, for his lips parted a dreary, fleeting smile. “Are you expecting to hear a confession?” he asked, as it passed away. A confession from him! God forbid! From him who had ever seemed to me so far above other men, that none other were worthy to be classed with him! All the old fire of my b

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CHAPTER XXXIX. MY RIDE.

CHAPTER XXXIX. MY RIDE.

It was a few minutes past nine when I descended into the long, oaken gallery where breakfast was served, and at the head of the principal table sat Mr. Ravenor in hunting costume. Everyone who was down was evidently bound for the meet. The men were nearly all in scarlet coats, and the women in riding-habits and trim little hats, with their veils pushed back. There was a great clatter of knives and forks, and a good deal of carving going on at the long, polished sideboard, and above it all, a lou

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CHAPTER XL. MY MISSION.

CHAPTER XL. MY MISSION.

For the first time in my life I was in London—and alone. There had been no reply from Mr. Marx to the telegrams commanding his instant return, and so on the third morning after my arrival at Ravenor Castle I quitted it again to go in search of him. Accustomed though he was to conceal his feelings, and admirably though he succeeded in doing so in the presence of his guests, I could see that Mr. Ravenor was deeply anxious to have the suspicions which my story had awakened either dispelled or confi

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CHAPTER XLI. THE COUNT DE CARTIENNE.

CHAPTER XLI. THE COUNT DE CARTIENNE.

My surprise at this last piece of information could not pass unnoticed. Both the hall-porter and his assistant were evidently well-trained servants, but they looked curiously at me and then exchanged rapid glances with one another. I recovered myself, however, in an instant. “This Count de Cartienne,” I asked, “is he young? I think I know him. Rather dark and thin and short? Is that he?” The man shook his head. “No, sir. Count de Cartienne is a tall, aristocratic-looking gentleman, middle-aged.

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CHAPTER XLII. NEWS OF MR. MARX.

CHAPTER XLII. NEWS OF MR. MARX.

For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for the simple reason that I was far too astonished to make any remark. My new acquaintance sat looking at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly toying with his eyeglass; yet, notwithstanding his apparent nonchalance, I felt somehow aware that he was watching me keenly. “My name appears to be a surprise to you,” he remarked, keeping his eyes fixed steadily upon my face. “Have you heard it before, may I ask?” “Yes,” I assented, “one of the fe

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CHAPTER XLIII. ABOUT TOWN.

CHAPTER XLIII. ABOUT TOWN.

We passed up the heavily-carpeted steps into the central hall of the hotel. The Count stopped for a moment to inquire for letters at the chief porter’s bureau, and as we turned away we came face to face with Lord Langerdale. He hesitated when he saw us together, but only for a moment. Then he advanced with a genial smile upon his well-cut, handsome face. “You’re the very man I wanted to see, de Cartienne,” he said. “I suppose you know your young friend’s name by this time? Will you introduce us?

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CHAPTER XLIV. A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.

CHAPTER XLIV. A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.

During the earlier part of the evening, since we had left the hotel, my companion had shown no disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silence amounted almost to moroseness, and he had not always answered my questions. But immediately we had started on this new expedition his manner underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay himself out with feverish eagerness to entertain me and to absorb my attention. “I hope you’re not tired,” he said suddenly, at the end of one of his anecdotes. “We hav

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CHAPTER XLV. A MYSTERIOUS COMMISSION.

CHAPTER XLV. A MYSTERIOUS COMMISSION.

The underground noises continued for about a quarter of an hour, during which time my companion busied himself by removing from the club-room various articles—the false top of a table marked out in a curious fashion, several mahogany boxes, and other contrivances strange to me, but presumably gambling appliances, with all of which he disappeared through the door by which de Cartienne had made his exit, returning again directly. At last everything was quiet, ominously quiet; then the door from th

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CHAPTER XLVI. A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.

CHAPTER XLVI. A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.

We could scarcely have accomplished more than a mile of our homeward journey when, with a sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, the carriage was brought to a standstill. On the opposite side of the road were two carriages, or, rather, flys, from one of which a tall, slim man was in the act of descending. Several other men on horseback were just riding up from behind. They were all in plain clothes, but something about their physique and general appearance had an unmistakable suggestion of p

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CHAPTER XLVII. LIGHT AT LAST.

CHAPTER XLVII. LIGHT AT LAST.

We were in London again, bowling smoothly along wide stretches of silent, gas-lit streets, empty, and almost deserted now, for it was past two o’clock. Soon we turned sharply into Northumberland Avenue, and pulled up at the hotel. The man on the box—footman I suppose he was, although he was not in livery—opened the carriage-door for me and then took possession of the small trunk. “If you will allow me, sir, I will take this up to your room,” he said. “You needn’t trouble,” I answered. “I can man

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CHAPTER XLVIII. A PAGE OF HISTORY.

CHAPTER XLVIII. A PAGE OF HISTORY.

Lord Langerdale’s suite of apartments was on the second floor, and when we reached them it was no small relief to me to find the room into which we turned empty. I sank mechanically into the chair to which he pointed, whilst he himself remained standing a few feet away from me. “From what you have told me,” he said gravely, “I have not the least doubt but that my wife and your mother were sisters.” I gave a little gasp and began to wonder whether this was not all a wild dream. Lord Langerdale re

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CHAPTER XLIX. I WILL GO ALONE.

CHAPTER XLIX. I WILL GO ALONE.

We all sat down to breakfast together. Lord Langerdale divided his attention between his breakfast and The Times . “Are you going shopping to-day, Elsie?” he asked, looking up from his paper. She glanced at him inquiringly. “I think so. Why?” “Be very careful about your change, then. There has never been so much bad money about as just now. The papers are full of the most startling rumours. Coining must be going on in London somewhere upon an enormous scale, and the police are—— Why, Philip, wha

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CHAPTER L. I MEET MY FATHER.

CHAPTER L. I MEET MY FATHER.

After a wearying journey I stood at last before the great gates of the castle, the bell at my feet giving shrill notice of my presence. The lodge-keeper hurried out and welcomed me. I walked swiftly up the winding ascent, straight across the flagged courtyard and entered the castle by a side-door. Then, heedless of the surprised looks of the servants, I made my way to the library, and knocking softly at the door of the inner room, entered. At first it seemed to me that he was not there, for the

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CHAPTER LI. DAWN.

CHAPTER LI. DAWN.

On the morrow as we walked out together, my father and I, making our way as though by common consent up towards the bare brown hills, I remembered that there were many things which I wished to say to him. “I want to ask you about Mr. Marx, father,” I began. “Everything concerning him is so utterly mysterious, especially his going away so suddenly. Apart from the fear of his having used some sort of foul play towards Hart—or Francis—I can’t help thinking that there is something else wrong with hi

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CHAPTER LII. WHERE IS MR. MARX?

CHAPTER LII. WHERE IS MR. MARX?

Not until we had reached the Castle and were in the library did my father speak to me. Then his words were grave enough. “We have done Mr. Marx an injury, Philip,” he said slowly. “How?” I asked. “Listen, and you will know.” He went to the telephone and signalled. The answer came at once. “Someone has been asking for me at the gate,” he said. “Who is it?” “A stranger, sir, to see you.” “What name?” “Hart, sir.” “Is he waiting?” “Yes, sir. I told him that it would be useless, but he refuses to go

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CHAPTER LIII. MESSRS. HIGGENSON AND CO.

CHAPTER LIII. MESSRS. HIGGENSON AND CO.

At ten o’clock we reached St. Pancras, travelling by fast train from Torchester, and half an hour later a hansom put us down at the Hotel Metropole. Immediately in front of the entrance Count de Cartienne’s small brougham was waiting, and as we descended from the cab his servant stepped forward and handed me a note. I tore it open and read it under the gas-lamp. “Come to me at once and you will find Mr. M——. Bring the box with you.—C——.” I passed the note on to my father and drew him a little on

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CHAPTER LIV. A RAID.

CHAPTER LIV. A RAID.

In a few minutes Count de Cartienne returned: He flashed a sudden keen glance at me. “I wonder if you have any idea as to the contents of that box,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed curiously upon me. Looking back now, I see clearly that I was guilty of the grossest folly in answering as I did. But I was young, impetuous, conscious of great physical strength, and with all that contempt of danger which such consciousness brings. So, without hesitation, I drew from my pocket the evening paper which

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CHAPTER LV. THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.

CHAPTER LV. THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.

It was twenty minutes to eight when we arrived at Mellborough, and, as we had not sent word on, there was no carriage to meet us, nor, as it happened, any spare vehicle. After a brief word or two with the stationmaster, we decided to walk down into the town and order a fly. When we reached the house, the butler stepped forward, his ruddy face blanched and his voice shaking. “Thank God you are come, sir! The man you left here, he’s gone a raving lunatic, and he’s shut himself up there, and got yo

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CHAPTER LVI. THE END OF IT.

CHAPTER LVI. THE END OF IT.

We were together, my father and I, under the shade of a little cluster of olive trees high up among the mountains. Far away below us the Campagna stretched to the foot of the dim hills steeped in blue which surround the Eternal City, towards which we had been gazing in a silence which had been for long unbroken. It was I at last who spoke, pointing downwards to where the bare grey stone walls of a small monastic building rose with almost startling abruptness from a narrow ledge of sward overhang

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