The Mystery Queen Page 8

  “I say, Freddy,” observed Halliday in a lazy tone, “why is the good lady so very savage?”

  “She isn’t. Mrs. Pelgrin is quite fond of me. I’ve stayed here often.”

  “Fond of you?” echoed Dan, with a chuckle. “Good Lord, how does she speak to those she isn’t fond of?”

  “It’s northern brusqueness. She’s honest—”

  “But rude. The two seem to go together with many people. They think they will be taken for rascals if they are decently polite.”

  Laurance remonstrated. “Mrs. Pelgrin is a rough diamond.”

  “I like my jewels polished. However, here we are and here we stay, and here we eat, if that amiable lady will bring in supper. Then I shall go to bed, as I shall certainly yawn my head off if I don’t.”

  “But it’s just after six,” cried Laurance. “I want to take you to see Vincent to-night—this evening, that is.”

  “Go yourself and see the beautiful Mildred,” muttered Dan drowsily. “Two’s company and three’s a crowd. I’m going to bed”; and, in spite of Laurance’s arguments against such sloth, to bed he went, after a brisk fight with Mrs. Pelgrin over a fire in his sleeping apartment. He said that he wanted one, while the landlady declared that it was unnecessary. Finally Dan got his own way, and when the fire was blazing, Mrs. Pelgrin said goodnight.

  “But you’re no more nor a butterfly,” she informed her guest, and went out banging the door, with muttering remarks concerning people who felt cold.

  “No doubt this weather is here regarded as tropical,” murmured Dan, getting into bed and referring to the weather; then he giggled over Mrs. Pelgrin’s manners until he fell asleep.

  Next morning Laurance woke him at eight, and Dan grumbled about getting up, although he was assured that he had slept the clock round. However a cold bath soon brisked him up, and he came down to the sitting-room with an excellent appetite for breakfast. Mrs. Pelgrin brought it in, and again joked in her fierce way about the cold, which the butterfly—as she again termed Dan—was supposed to feel so keenly. Laurance talked about Mildred, who had been delighted to see him, but mentioned regretfully that he did not think that Dan would get the machine he was in search of.

  “Why not?” asked Dan Halliday, lighting his pipe and finishing his third cup of coffee. “Vincent wants his aeroplanes exploited, doesn’t he? And where will he find a better chance than for an experienced man, such as I am, flying his latest invention in ‘The Moment’s’ London to York race?”

  “Vincent’s a queer fish. That’s all I can say,” retorted Laurance.

  “Well, you can’t say more and you can’t say less, I suppose. We’ll go and have a look at the queer fish in his pond whenever you like.”

  “At eleven o’clock then.”

  “Right oh! I can talk to the uncle and you can take on the niece. It’s a fair division of labour.”

  This arrangement was willingly agreed to by Laurance, as Dan was certain it would be since he saw that his friend was fathoms deep in love. Afterwards, the two went out of doors and surveyed the landscape. Sheepeak was situated on the top of a lofty tableland, the village being a tolerably large collection of substantial stone houses, whence the moors spread north and south, east and west. From where they were, the friends could see the green squares of cultivated fields, the purple bloom of the heather, and the azure hues which distance gave to the distant mountains. Here and there the vast country, which looked enormously large from the elevation whence they surveyed it, dipped into verdant dales, snugly clothed with forests, and sprinkled with manor-houses and villages, big and little. The lands were so far-stretching and the prospect so extensive, that Dan became mightily impressed with the magnitude of the sky. It covered them like a huge inverted cup, and as there was nothing to break its league-long sweep, Dan felt quite small in the immensity which surrounded him above and below.

  “I feel like a pill in the Desert of Sahara,” said Halliday, sighing.

  “What is the sensation of feeling like a pill?” rejoined Laurance drily, for he was not an imaginative individual.

  “Only a poet can explain, Freddy, and you are very earthy.”

  “I never knew you were a genius,” snapped Laurance, with a shrug.

  “You have much to learn,” replied Halliday reprovingly; “and as it’s near eleven o’clock, suppose we light out for Vincent.”

  Freddy agreed, and skirting the village for three-quarters of a mile, they suddenly came upon a small cottage, with walls and roof of yellowish stone covered with lichen, and standing in a small garden of wind-tormented vegetation. A low stone wall divided this from the high road, and the visitors entered through a small wooden gate to pass up a cobblestone walk to the modest door. But the cottage itself was dwarfed wholly by huge sheds of wood covered with roofs of galvanised tin, which loomed up suddenly behind it, on a vast scale more in keeping with the character of the landscape. These were the workshops of Vincent, where he built his machines and housed them from prying eyes. The fields at the back cultivated into smooth lawns were where the aeroplanes started to fly over hill and dale to the wonderment of the inhabitants.

  “Though they are pretty well used to Vincent’s vagaries by this time,” said Freddy, ending his explanation.

  Mildred received them in the small parlour of the cottage which was about the size of a doll’s drawing-room, and expressed herself as pleased to make the acquaintance of Mr. Halliday. Her uncle, she mentioned, was busy as usual in his workshop, but would see the visitors in half an hour. While she explained, Dan took stock of her, and admitted that she was really a very amiable and pretty girl, though not a patch on Lillian. But then Dan did not care for tall ladies with olive complexions, blue eyes, dark hair, and the regal melancholy look of discrowned queens. Mildred—the name suited her—was too tall and stately for his taste, which approved more of little golden-haired women, fairy-like and frolicsome. Miss Vincent looked serious and thoughtful, and although her smile was delicious, she smiled very seldom. It seemed to Dan that her solitary life in these moorlands and in the company—when she enjoyed it—of her morose uncle, made the girl sober beyond her years, which were not more than two and twenty. However, many minds many tastes, and Dan could not deny but what Freddy’s fair Saxon looks went very well with the Celtic mystic appearance of the inventor’s niece. They were a handsome couple, indeed, but much too solemn in looks and character for Dan, whose liking leaned to the frivolous side of things.

  “Don’t you find it dull here, Miss Vincent?” asked Halliday casually.

  “Dull!” she echoed, turning her somewhat sad eyes of dark blue in his direction, “oh, not at all. Why, I have a great deal to do. We have only one servant and I assist in the housework. My uncle is not easy to cater for, as he has many likes and dislikes with regard to food. Then he employs a certain number of workmen, and I have to pay them every Saturday. Indeed, I look after all the financial part of my uncle’s business.”

  “Is it a business, or a whim—a hobby?” inquired Dan respectfully, for, being frivolous, he was struck with awe at the multitude of Miss Vincent’s employments.

  “Well, more of the last than the first perhaps,” said Mildred smiling at his respectful expression. “Uncle Solomon really doesn’t care for publicity. All his aim is to construct a perfect machine, and he is always inventing, and improving, and thinking of new ways in which to obtain the mastery of the air.”

  “His machines have been tried by other people, though,” remarked Freddy.

  “Oh, yes, and with great success. But uncle doesn’t even read the papers to see what is said about his aeroplanes, although he is always anxious to learn what other inventors are doing, and takes a great interest in races across the Channel and over the Alps, and from city to city. But he is wrapt up in his own schemes, and works for twelve and more hours out of the twenty-four towards perfecting his machines. Public applause or public rewards don’t appeal to him, you see, Mr. Halliday; it’s the work itself.”

/>   “Ah, that’s the true spirit of genius,” said Dan approvingly, “a man like that is sure to arrive.”

  “He will never arrive,” said Miss Vincent quietly, “for as soon as he arrives at one point, he only regards it as a resting-place to start for a further goal. He doesn’t care for food, or drink, or clothes, or politics, or amusements, or anything for which the ordinary man strives. His machine takes up all his attention.”

  “Happy man! To have one strong aim and to be allowed to work at that aim, is the true happiness of any man. I shall be glad to have a talk with him.”

  “He doesn’t talk much, Mr. Halliday.”

  “A man obsessed with one idea seldom does,” retorted the young fellow. “I hope, however, he will let me have a machine for this race. I can handle any aeroplane, once it is explained to me, and Freddy here, says that your uncle’s machines have many improvements likely to tell against competitors.”

  “I am not sure if he will let you have a machine,” said Mildred, her face clouding; “he is very jealous and whimsical, you know.”

  “Like all inventors,” murmured Laurance rising, “let us go and see him.”

  “Yes,” added Dan, also getting on his feet, “and then you take Freddy away, Miss Vincent, and let me talk to your uncle. I shall get what I want, somehow.”

  Mildred laughed and led the way out of the cottage by the back door. “It is not an easy task you have set yourself to do,” she said, doubtfully; “here are the workshops and the buildings where the machines are housed, and yonder is Uncle Solomon.”

  The buildings looked plebeian and gimcrack with their flimsy wooden walls and tin roofs, impressive only in their magnitude. They must have cost a deal to erect in this neighbourhood where all the houses, great and small, were of stone; and wood was comparatively scarce. Vincent, as Dan considered, must be well-off to indulge in so expensive a hobby. To be sure, by racing he could gain prizes, and if successful could also sell machines at a good figure; but from what Mildred had said, it seemed to Dan that her uncle had the true jealous spirit of an inventor, and did not let his darlings go out of his hands if he could help it. To live on this vast moorland, working at his inventions and experimenting with his ideas was enough for Solomon Vincent, without the applause and rewards of the world. Undoubtedly to carry out his plans he must have a private income, and not an inconsiderable one at that.

  “Uncle, this is Mr. Laurance and Mr. Halliday,” said Mildred, introducing the two young men, though the first did not require mention.

  But Vincent like most inventors, was absent-minded, and it took him quite a minute to recognise Laurance, whom he had not seen on the previous night.

  “Mr. Laurance and Mr. Halliday,” he said casually, and turning from the workman to whom he had been speaking—“yes, of course. You understand about the propellor, Quinton,” he added, again taking up his conversation with the workman, “it must be seen to at once,” and quite oblivious of the company he went on giving instructions, until the man went away to do his task, and Mildred touched her uncle’s arm.

  “This is Mr. Laurance and Mr.—”

  “Of course I know it is Mr. Laurance,” said Vincent testily, “do you think I am blind? How do you do, Laurance. Good-bye, I am busy.”

  “And this is Mr. Halliday, who wants a machine,” went on Mildred persuasively.

  “Indeed. Then Mr. Halliday shan’t get one,” retorted Vincent, and sauntered into the nearest shed with a scowl on his lean face. He was an acrid-looking man of fifty, with untidy grey hair and an untrimmed beard.

  “Follow him, and he will talk,” said Mildred hastily, “I shall remain here with Freddy, as uncle doesn’t like many people to be about him.”

  “He is not easy to get on with,” sighed Dan, “I can see that.” However, he took the girl’s advice and went into the shed after the ungracious inventor, leaving the lovers to return to the cottage parlour, which they did forthwith. Laurance was quite astute enough to lose no time, since the moments spent with Mildred were all golden and not easily obtainable.

  Dan marched into the shed with a fine air of possession, and again surveyed Vincent, who was examining some specifications near a window. The man was carelessly dressed in a shabby suit of blue serge, and seemed to care little about his personal appearance. Marking once more his shaggy hair and beard, and yellow skin considerably wrinkled, the young man went up to him. As if waking from a dream, Vincent looked up, and Dan met the gaze of two very keen dark eyes, whose expression was anything but amiable.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” demanded the owner of the eyes, crossly.

  “My name is Halliday. I want a machine to race between London and York. I have just been introduced to you by your niece.”

  “My niece should have more sense than to have brought you here,” cried the inventor fiercely; “you come to spy out my ideas and to steal them.”

  “I assure you I don’t,” said Dan drily. “I am not a genius as you are.”

  “All the more reason you should pick my brains,” snapped Vincent, in no way mollified by the compliment, as Dan intended he should be.

  Halliday laughed. “If I did, I could make no use of my pickings, Mr. Vincent, as you may guess. I can handle a machine, but I can’t put one together.”

  “Who told you about me?” demanded the man suspiciously.

  “Laurance.”

  “He’s a meddlesome fool.”

  “Well,” said Dan cheerfully, “there may be two opinions about that, you know.”

  “I don’t want him, and I don’t want you, and I don’t want any one. Why do you come and bother me when I don’t want you?”

  “Because my wants are to be considered. See here, Mr. Vincent,” added Halliday in a coaxing voice, for he saw that it was necessary to humour this clever man like a child, “there is to be a race between London and York for a big prize given by ‘The Moment’, the paper Mr. Laurance works for. I wish to compete, but my machine isn’t so good as I should like it to be. I hear that you have made several improvements which make for speed and easier handling of aeroplanes. Let me have one of your latest, and I’ll share the prize with you. It’s two thousand, you know.”

  “I don’t want money,” snapped Vincent abruptly.

  “I congratulate you,” said Dan coolly; “and yet large sums must be needed to help you to build machines. You must be rich. Are you rich?”

  Vincent grew a dusky red, and glanced in an odd way over his shoulder, as if he expected to find someone at his elbow. “Mind your own business,” he said in a harsh voice, and with suppressed fury; “whether I’m rich or not, is my business. You shan’t have an aeroplane of mine. Clear out!”

  Dan did clear out, but as he went, wondered why the man was so angry and confused. He seemed quite afraid of the simple question that had been put.

  Chapter VII. THE HERMIT LADIES

  Dan was not naturally of a suspicious nature, but since taking up the profession of a detective, he had become so. Slight matters that formerly he would not have noticed, now attracted his attention, and, as the saying goes, he saw a bird in every bush. For this reason while returning slowly to the cottage, he considered Vincent’s backward glance, which hinted at nervousness, and his unnecessarily angry reply to the question as to whether he was rich. Usually dreamy and absent-minded, the turn taken by the conversation had awakened the tiger in the man, and apparently he regarded Halliday as over-inquisitive. Yet why the inventor should take this view, Dan could not conjecture. But after musing for a few minutes, the young man began to think that he was making a mountain our of a mole-hill. And whatever secret Vincent had in his life, as his suddenly aggressive attitude showed, it could have nothing to do with the particular quest upon which Dan was bent. Halliday therefore dismissed the matter from his mind with a shrug, and went into the cottage to disturb the lovers.

  “Well, Mr. Halliday,” remarked Mildred, whose cheeks were flushed and whose eyes were bright, “what did my uncle say?
”

  “Very little, but what he did say was to the point. He refuses to let me have a machine.”

  “How like him,” ejaculated Laurance quickly; “but upon what grounds?”

  Dan scratched his chin. “Really, I don’t know. He seems to think that I am a spy desirous of learning his trade secrets. He called you a meddling fool, Freddy.”

  “Ah, that is because I wish to marry Mildred,” replied Freddy, drily; “it is very natural that Mr. Vincent should object to a man, who comes to rob him of his treasure, so I don’t mind his abuse.”

  “I am not a treasure,” cried Mildred, becoming pink.

  “You are. Who knows that better than I, my darling.”

  “You think too well of me.”

  “Impossible. You are the best and dearest—”

  “Stop! Stop!” Mildred covered her face. “Remember we are not alone.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” said Dan, phlegmatically. “I’m in love myself, Miss Vincent.”

  She nodded comprehendingly. “With Miss Moon. Freddy has told me.”

  “Has he told you that my marriage depends upon my finding out who murdered her father?” questioned the young man dismally.

  “Yes, and that you need money for the search.”

  “Which money,” continued Laurance determinedly, “must be obtained by Dan winning this London to York race. That can be done, I am certain, with one of your uncle’s aeroplanes, Mildred, as he has made wonderful improvements in their structure, and—”

  “But he declines to furnish me with a machine,” interrupted Halliday in a vexed tone, “not even my offer to share the £2,000 prize tempts him. He is too rich, I suppose?” he cast an inquiring glance at the girl.

  Mildred shook her head. “Uncle Solomon is not rich,” she replied quietly.

  “He must be,” insisted Dan sharply; “he could not indulge in such an expensive hobby otherwise.”

  “Mrs. Jarsell helps him with money, though, to be sure, he has a little of his own. Still, unless she supplied money, Uncle Solomon could not go on building aeroplanes, especially as he rarely sells one, and wishes to keep all his inventions to himself. His idea is to invent a perfect machine and then sell it to the Government, and he fancies that if he allows anyone else to handle his aeroplanes, his secrets may be prematurely discovered.”