The Mystery Queen Page 17

  “Yes. Serious to me and to Lillian also. Read that.”

  The journalist scanned the crimson type-writing, and his eyes opened larger and larger as he grasped the meaning of the message. “Where the deuce did you get this?” he demanded, hurriedly.

  “I found it in my pocket when I got back the other night.”

  “Where from?”

  “From the headquarters of the Society of Flies.”

  “There is a gang then?” asked Laurance, starting.

  “Yes. A very well-organised gang, presided over by Queen Beelzebub, the consort of the gentleman of that name, who is the god of Flies.”

  “Where are the headquarters?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We may be able to trace the gang by this,” said Freddy, examining the type-written paper. “If Inspector Tenson—”

  “If Tenson gets hold of that and learns anything, which by the way I don’t think he can, from that paper, my life won’t be worth a cent; neither will that of Lillian. I might not care for my own life, but I care a great deal for her. I want to have a consultation as to what is best to be done to save her from these devils.”

  “Well, you can depend upon my saying nothing, Dan. It seems serious. Tell me all about your discoveries.”

  Halliday did so, starting with his visit to the cinematograph with Lillian, and his recognition of Mrs. Jarsell in the animated picture. Then he recounted his journey to Hillshire, and what he had learned from Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew. “So on the face of it,” concluded Dan, earnestly, “I don’t see how Mrs. Jarsell could have got to London. She didn’t go by train and could not have gone by motor. Yet, I’m sure she was on the Blackheath grounds.”

  “It is a puzzle,” admitted Freddy, drawing his brows together, “but go on; you have something else to tell me.”

  “Rather,” and Dan detailed all that had taken place from the time he received Penn’s invitation to meet him in the Bakerloo Tube to the moment when he arrived at his rooms again in the four-wheeler. “What do you make of it all, Freddy?” asked Halliday, when he ended and relighted his pipe.

  “Give me time to think,” said Laurance, and rose to pace the room. For a time there was a dead silence, each man busy with his own thoughts. It was Dan who spoke first, and said what was uppermost in his mind.

  “Of course my hands are tied,” he said dismally, “I dare not risk Lillian’s life. These beasts have killed her father, and Durwin, and Penn, all because they got to know too much. They may kill Lillian also, and in the same mysterious way.”

  “But she knows nothing,” said Freddy, anxiously.

  “No. But I do, and if I speak—well, then you know what will happen. Queen Beelzebub saw that I cared little for my own life, so she is striking at me through Lillian. “The girl he loves!” says that message. Clever woman Mrs. Jarsell; she has me on toast.”

  “But, my dear fellow, you can’t be sure that your masked demon is Mrs. Jarsell, since you did not see her face, or recognise her voice.”

  “I admit that the mask concealed her features, and I believe that she spoke through an artifical mouth-piece to disguise the voice. Still, there is the evidence of her possessing the perfume, which plays such a large part in the gang’s doings. Also her appearance in the animated picture, which proves her to have been on the Blackheath ground.”

  “But Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew declare positively that she could not have been there.”

  “Quite so, but Mrs. Pelgrin and her nephew may be paid to keep silence,” retorted Dan, in a worried tone; “then Miss Armour, if you remember, prophesied that I should have a wonderful offer made to me. If I accepted I should marry Lillian and enjoy a large fortune. Well, an offer in precisely the same words was made to me, on condition that I joined the gang.”

  “But surely you don’t believe that a paralysed woman like Miss Armour has anything to do with this business?” questioned Laurance, sceptically.

  Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Miss Armour is the friend of Mrs. Jarsell, whom I suspect, and certainly told my fortune, as you heard. Mrs. Jarsell may have told her what to say, knowing that the prophecy would be fulfilled. I don’t say that Miss Armour knows about this infernal organisation, as the very idea would horrify her. But Mrs. Jarsell may use the poor woman as a tool.”

  “I can’t believe that Miss Armour knows anything,” said Freddy, decidedly; “to begin with, the Society of Flies needs useful people, and an invalid like Miss Armour would be of no use.”

  “I admit that Miss Armour is in the dark,” replied Halliday, impatiently; “all the same, her prophecy, together with the perfume and the cinematograph evidence, hints at Mrs. Jarsell’s complicity. Again, the false Mrs. Brown who murdered Sir Charles was stout and massive. Mrs. Jarsell is stout and massive.”

  “Plenty of women are stout and massive,” asserted the reporter, “but you saw the false Mrs. Brown yourself. Did you recognise Mrs. Jarsell as that person?”

  “No. But Mrs. Brown was so wrinkled for a fat woman that I remember thinking at the time she might be a fraud. I daresay—I am positive, in fact—that her face was made up, and while I looked at her she let down her veil—another hint that she did not wish to be examined too closely.”

  “If you think that Mrs. Jarsell murdered Moon and Durwin, and you have the evidence you speak of, you should reveal all to the police.”

  “And risk Lillian’s life and my own? Freddy, you must take me for a fool.”

  Laurance shook his head. “No. I don’t underrate your cleverness, and I see that you are in a tight place. You can’t move with safety to yourself and Miss Moon. Yet, if you don’t move, what is to be done?”

  “Well,” said Dan, after a pause, “I have a month to think matters out. My idea is to hide Lillian somewhere under the care of Mrs. Bolstreath, and then take action. So long as Lillian is safe I am ready to risk my own life to bring these mysteries to light.”

  “I am with you,” cried Freddy, enthusiastically, “it’s a good scheme, Dan. I wonder how Miss Moon is to be hidden though; since the Society of Flies may employ spies to find her whereabouts?”

  “Oh, every member of the Society is a spy,” was Halliday’s answer, “although I don’t know how many members of the gang there are. Penn could have told us, and perhaps could have proved the identity of Mrs. Jarsell with Queen Beelzebub. But he’s dead, and—”

  “And was murdered,” broke in Laurance decisively. “I am quite sure that—because he could prove too much for Mrs. Jarsell’s safety—he was got rid of.”

  “Oh!” Dan looked up with a smile, “then you believe that Mrs. Jarsell—”

  “I don’t know what to believe until more evidence is forthcoming,” said the reporter, impatiently, “but Miss Moon’s hiding-place, with Mrs. Bolstreath as her guardian?”

  Halliday reflected, and then made the last answer Freddy expected to hear, considering the circumstances. “At Sheepeak with Miss Vincent,” he declared.

  “Dan, are you serious? You place her under the guns of the enemy.”

  “Quite so, and there has been proof that under the guns is the safest place in some cases. It is in this, I am sure. Should Mrs. Jarsell be the person we suspect her to be, she will not foul her own nest at Sheepeak. Therefore she will not dare to have Lillian killed within a stone-throw of her own house. By daring all, we gain all.”

  “It’s a risk,” said Laurance, pondering. “I can see that.”

  “So can I. Everything is risky in this business.”

  “Then there’s Mildred,” rejoined the journalist, uneasily. “I really do not want her to be brought into the matter.”

  “It will be all right, Freddy, and much the safer for Lillian. Mrs. Jarsell won’t have the courage to hurt my promised wife, when your promised wife is in her company. Still, if you have qualms—”

  “No, no, no!” interrupted Laurance, eagerly, “after all, I cannot be half a friend, and if Mildred is willing, when she learns the whole circumstance, t
hat is, I shall agree. After all, if anything does happen, we can accuse Mrs. Jarsell, and if she is Queen Beelzebub she will end her career in gaol. I don’t think she will risk that by hurting the girls.”

  “Oh, she would never hurt Miss Vincent, I am sure, and would only harm Lillian because I have to be frightened into joining her gang. No, Freddy, a daring policy is the best in this case. We’ll place Lillian with Mrs. Bolstreath under Mildred Vincent’s charge—under the guns of the enemy as you say. I am sure the result will be good.”

  “But Sir John Moon will make a row if you take his niece away?”

  “Let him,” retorted Dan, contemptuously. “I can deal with that fribble of a man. After all, Lillian need only be absent from London for a month, and during that time we must break up the gang, with or without the aid of the police. If we don’t, I shall certainly be murdered, like Moon and Durwin and Penn have been, and on the same grounds—that I know too much. But I daresay Lillian will then be left alone, and Sir John can carry out his pet scheme and marry her to Curberry.”

  “I wonder,” said Laurance, musingly, “if Curberry has anything to do with the gang in question.”

  “I think not, he has nothing to gain.”

  “Now he hasn’t,” said Freddy, drily; “but he had a good deal to gain when he was a barrister and two lives stood between him and a title and a fortune.”

  The two men looked at one another. “I see what you mean,” said Dan, slowly, “h’m. Of course he may be a member and the society may have cleared his uncle and cousin out of the way. But we can’t be sure. One thing at a time, Freddy. I am going to see Lillian and Mrs. Bolstreath and get them to fly to Sheepeak.”

  “But you will have to reveal what we know, and that will frighten them!”

  Dan looked vexed and gnawed his nether lip. “I don’t want to say more than is necessary,” he replied, “as for their own safety, the less they know about the business, the better. Perhaps I may induce Lillian to elope with me to Sheepeak, and need not explain to her. But Mrs. Bolstreath must know more.”

  “Well,” said Freddy, putting on his hat, “I leave these matters in your very capable hands. So far as I am concerned, I am going to Blackheath to see about this death of Penn. I may get into the house—” He paused.

  “Well?” asked Halliday, raising his eyebrows.

  “Well, if Curberry does favour this Society of Flies, who knows what I may discover? Also some truths may come out at the inquest. Penn belonged to the gang as we know, and when he wanted a situation, he was taken on by Lord Curberry. That hints at much. However, we shall see; we shall see!” and with a careless nod Freddy took his leave, while Dan changed his clothes with the intention of calling at Sir John Moon’s house.

  Owing to a late breakfast, and the long conversation with Laurance, it was quite one o’clock before Dan reached his destination. He half expected to be refused admittance as usual, especially when he learned from the footman that Miss Moon was not in the house. But failing Lillian, who had no doubt gone out on a shopping expedition and would shortly return to luncheon, Dan sent in his name to Mrs. Bolstreath, with a request for an interview. It was best to explain the situation to her, he thought, since no time should be lost in assuring Lillian’s safety. The chaperon saw the young man at once, and when introduced into the room where she was seated, he was struck by her worried air. His thought immediately flew to the girl.

  “Lillian?” he asked anxiously, “is anything the matter with Lillian?”

  “Oh, that girl will break my heart with her freaks,” said Mrs. Bolstreath, in an irritable tone; “she knows that Sir John does not approve of her going out by herself, and that my retaining my situation depends upon my looking after her closely. Yet she has gone out without telling me.”

  “Where has she gone to?”

  “Well,” said Mrs. Bolstreath, looking at him, “I think she has gone to Lord Curberry’s house.”

  Dan’s lip curled. “that ought to please Sir John. Is he with her?”

  “No. Sir John is in the country for a few days. He would not be pleased at Lillian going to see Lord Curberry without my being present.”

  “But why has she gone to see a man she hates?” asked Halliday, perplexed.

  “It is not Lord Curberry she wishes to see.” Mrs. Bolstreath hesitated. “I suppose you saw that Mr. Penn is dead?” she asked, irrelevantly.

  “It was in the morning paper, I know—that is, the announcement of his death,” said Dan. “Laurance came and told me. Well?”

  “This morning Lillian received a letter from Mr. Penn, written a few days ago, saying that if anything happened to him, she was to go to Lord Curberry and find some important paper he has left behind him for her perusal.”

  “Oh!” Dan started to his feet, “then Penn has left a confession?”

  “A confession?” Mrs. Bolstreath looked puzzled.

  “He must have guessed that his death was determined upon,” said Halliday to himself, but loud enough for his companion to hear, “perhaps the truth will come out in that confession.”

  “What truth? For heaven’s sake, Mr. Halliday, speak plainly. I am worried enough as it is over Lillian’s escapade. Is anything wrong?”

  “A great deal. Mrs. Bolstreath, I have to confide in you in order to save Lillian from death—from a death like her father suffered.”

  Mrs. Bolstreath screamed. “Oh, what is it, what is it?”

  “You must be silent about what I tell you.”

  “Of course I shall. I can keep a secret. But tell me, tell me,” she panted.

  “If you don’t keep the secret all our lives are in jeopardy. There is no time to be lost. I must follow Lillian to Curberry’s house at once. Listen, Mrs. Bolstreath, and remember every word I say is important.” Then Dan in a tearing hurry related much that he knew, though not more than was absolutely necessary. However, he told enough to make Mrs. Bolstreath almost crazy with terror. “Keep your head and my confidence,” said Halliday, sharply; “we must beat these demons at their own game. Get ready and come with me to Blackheath; on the way I can explain further.”

  “You think that Lillian is safe?” implored Mrs. Bolstreath, preparing to leave the room and assume her out-of-door things.

  “Yes. Yet, if Curberry is connected with the gang and thinks she is hunting for Penn’s confession, he may—but it won’t bear thinking of. We must go to Lillian at once. You will work with me to save Lillian?”

  “With all my heart and soul and body,” cried the chaperon, wildly.

  “Then get ready and come with me at once,” said Dan, imperiously.

  Chapter XIV. A BUSY AFTERNOON

  Lord Curberry was something of a student and a great deal of a man-about-town, so his residence at Blackheath was an ideal one for an individual who blended such opposite qualities. His pleasant Georgian mansion of mellow red brick stood sufficiently far from London to secure privacy for study, and yet was sufficiently near to enable its owner to reach Picadilly, Bond Street, the clubs and the theatres easily, when he felt so disposed. The chief seat of the family, indeed, was situated in Somersetshire, but Curberry, not possessing a sporting nature, rarely went to live in the country. The Blackheath estate was not large, consisting only of a few acres of woodland, surrounded by a lofty stone wall; but this wall and the trees of the park so sequestered the house that its seclusion suggested a situation in the very wildest parts of England. In every way, therefore, this compact place suited Lord Curberry and he lived there for the greater part of the year.

  When Dan and Mrs. Bolstreath arrived they found that the house had been thrown open to the public, so to speak. That is, there was a crowd at the entrance-gates, many people in the grounds, and not a few in the very mansion itself. There was not much difficulty in guessing that Marcus Penn’s death had drawn a morbid multitude into the neighbourhood wherein he had come to his untimely end. Moreover, the inquest was to be held in the house, and the public desired ardently to hear if the verdict would be
“suicide!” “Murder!” or merely “Accident!” In any case, sensational developments were expected, since the death of the secretary was both violent and unexpected. As a barrister, Curberry assisted the law in every possible way and had permitted the inquest to take place in the house instead of ordering the body of the unfortunate man to be removed to the nearest mortuary. Everyone commented on his kindness in this respect, and approved of his consideration. For the time being Curberry was more popular than he had ever been before.

  As Dan walked up the short avenue, and noted the disorganisation of the establishment, he made a significant remark to the agitated chaperon. “I don’t think that Curberry will have much time to give to Lillian. All the better isn’t it?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Mrs. Bolstreath, much flustered.

  “Well, Penn must have concealed his confession somewhere about the house, so if Lillian wishes to find it, she must get rid of Curberry somehow.”

  “But wouldn’t it be wise of her to tell him and ask him to assist in the search?” suggested the lady.

  “No. If Penn wished Curberry to see his confession, he would have given it to him for delivery to Lillian. He doesn’t want Curberry to see what he has written. H’m”—Dan reflected that he had used the present tense— “I forgot that the poor chap is dead.”

  “But surely,” Mrs. Bolstreath’s voice sank to a horrified whisper, “surely you don’t think that Lord Curberry has anything to do with these horrible people you have been telling me about?”

  “I say nothing—because I know nothing—for certain, that is. I only suspect—er—well—that Curberry may be in the swim. Now don’t go and give away the show by changing your manner towards the man,” continued Halliday, hastily; “act as you have always acted and, indeed, I want you to make yourself as agreeable as possible. Take him away if you can, and leave me alone with Lillian.”

  “But for what reason?”

  “Well, if Curberry is mixed up in this shady business he will not leave Lillian alone. He may wonder, and probably does, at her unexpected presence here, on this day of all days; therefore he may suspect a confession by his secretary, and will keep his eyes open.”