CHAPTER XIV
SIGNOR ANTONIO
Cain Merry was a particular pet of Miss Lorry's, and the lad felt grateful to her for the attention. He admired her exceedingly, and at one time had fancied himself in love with her. But Miss Lorry, experienced in admirers, laughed at him the moment she descried the early symptoms, and told him she was old enough to be his mother. It was creditable to Cain that he took the hint thus given, and devoted himself to Jane Wasp, with whom he had been in love ever since they attended the same board school. And after his passing fancy for Miss Lorry, the lad's love for the policeman's daughter became even more marked, much to the joy of Jane, who adored the dark-eyed scamp, and lost no opportunity of meeting him.
But Cain was such a Bohemian, that this was no easy matter. Owing to the nagging of his mother, he stayed away from Misery Castle as much as he could, and got jobs in the surrounding country and in London. Also there was some influence at work on Cain's character, which Jane could not understand: something that made him moody and inclined him to despair. In her simple way Jane tried to learn what it was, that she might comfort him, but Cain always baffled her.
On the morning after Miss Lorry's interview with Saltars, the lad was more dismal than usual, and was rather listless in his work. As the circus was packing up to move on to Chelmsford, there was little time to be lost, and Cain came in for many a hard word. At length the manager became exasperated at his indolence, and sent him off with a message to Miss Lorry, who had rooms near the Queen's Hotel. Nothing loath to be relieved from moving heavy beams, and taking down the large tent, Cain set off in better spirits.
On passing through the market place about ten o'clock he saw Jane, perched on a light market cart, and ran towards her with a bright face. The girl received him with a joyful cry, and explained that she had been looking for him for the past hour.
"Mrs. Whiffles drove me over," she explained, getting down to speak more freely; "she keeps the Wargrove inn, you know-"
"Of course I know," said Cain quickly; "I'm Wargrove as well as you, Jane. But how did your father let you go. I thought he was keeping you in, to help your mother."
"Ah, he does that," said Jane with a sigh; "father's a hard one, Cain, and hates you like poison. You see he's all for the law, and you-"
"And I'm a vagabond, as my mother says. Well, Jane, don't you fret, I'm getting a higher law than that your father serves. I'll tell you about it some day. How did you come over?"
"I told you. I came with Mrs. Whiffles. Mother wanted some things here, and as Mrs. Whiffles was going, she thought I might come too. I shan't tell father anything, nor will mother. He's out till two, and we must be back before then. But mother wouldn't have let me come had she known the circus was here, Cain. She says I'm not to think of you at all. I'm to go out to service."
"We may marry before you do that," said Cain quickly; "how did you know the circus was here?"
"Mr. Hill's groom Jacobs told me."
"Oh!" Cain frowned. "You're too thick with that Harry Jacobs."
"I've known him all my life, Cain."
"So have I, and I don't like him. He thinks he's every one, because he wears a smart livery. I wear just as smart a one in the circus."
"Yes, but the circus ain't decent, Cain. I could never marry you if you kept on there. I couldn't go about as you do, and if you're to be my husband I'd like to be near you."
"You shall be near me, and we'll marry to take service in something better than a circus," said Cain, his face lighting up.
"What's that?"
Cain drew near and was about to speak, when his ear was suddenly seized by a large dark man, who frowned. "Why aren't you seeing Miss Lorry, you young scamp?" said the stranger. "I've got to do your business. Mr. Stag asked you particularly to give that note. Hand it over."
"I'll take it now," said Cain, getting free; "leave my ear alone."
"You give the note to me, Cain. Who is this?" and he looked at Jane.
"She's a friend of mine from Wargrove," said Cain sulkily; "get back into the cart, Jane."
"From Wargrove?" said the dark man with a queer smile; "and her name?"
"I'm Jane Wasp, sir," said the girl, looking into the man's somewhat brutal face.
The man laughed. "Policeman Wasp's daughter, as I'm a sinner. How's your fool of a father? Catching every one he shouldn't catch, I suppose? He was always too clever."
Cain interposed. "Leave her alone fa-, I mean Signor Antonio," he said, "she's going home."
Signor Antonio turned on him with a snarl. "Hold your tongue, you whelp," he said, "I'll talk to whom I like and as long as I like. I want to know what Policeman Wasp's doing now?"
"He's looking after the murderer of Mr. Strode," said Jane politely.
The man started and laughed. "I hope he'll catch him: but it's a business rather beyond his powers, I fancy. Stop, you're the girl who delivered the package to Mr. Hill."
"To young Mr. Hill," said Jane, climbing into Mrs. Whiffles cart, "not to the father."
Signor Antonio turned on the boy with a frown. "I told you it was to be given to Mr. Hill himself."
"Well, he got it right enough," said Cain impatiently. "I gave it to Jane at Colchester, and she took it to Mr. Allen, who gave it to his father."
"And what happened?"
"I don't know," said Jane. "I didn't see Mr. Hill get it."
"You fool," cried Antonio turning on Cain with another snarl. "I wanted the girl to report how Hill looked when he opened the package, and now-"
"Jane's got nothing to do with this business," said Cain resolutely, "and I won't have her mixed up in your affairs."
"Do you know who I am?" demanded the man, black with anger.
"Yes," replied the boy with a queer look; "you're Signor Antonio."
Jane thought she would interfere as there seemed to be a chance of a quarrel. "Mr. Hill went to London after he got the parcel."
"On the same day?" asked the man eagerly.
"Yes, sir. Jacobs, who drives him, told me he went within two hours after he opened the parcel. He's gone up to attend a sale-"
"Oh," sneered Signor Antonio, "so he's gone to attend a sale? Very good, that's all right. The parcel was a notice about a sale-"
"Of musical instruments, I know, sir. Jacobs told me."
"You speak too much to Jacobs," cried Cain; "remember you're engaged to marry me, Jane."
"Stuff and nonsense," said Signor Antonio, who in spite of his Italian name and looks did not speak his own language; "you'll not marry the girl."
"But I shall," said Cain, setting his teeth; "mind your own business."
"This is my business, you brat-"
"Jane," said Cain pointing to the hotel, "yonder is Mrs. Whiffles waving to you. Drive over. I'll send you my address, and you can write to me. Goodbye, dear."
He would have climbed on the cart and kissed her, but that the so-called Italian drew him back. Jane, rather started and puzzled by the dominion this stranger seemed to exercise over Cain, drove hastily away to the curb where fat Mrs. Whiffles stood waving her fat arms. She looked back to see Cain and Antonio in fierce conversation, and dreaded a quarrel.
And indeed there would have been a quarrel but for the boy's self-possession. Cain appeared to have far more command of his temper than the older man, and spoke quietly enough. "See here," he said, "I won't have you interfering with my affairs."
"Do you know who I am?" demanded Antonio again.
"You asked me that before and in public," said Cain, "and I told you, you were Signor Antonio. But you know well enough what you are and so do I."
"And what am I?" jeered Antonio.
"You're the man that deserted his wife and child, and your name is Giles Merry."
"Yes, it is, and don't you talk of deserting, you brat. I'm your father, so you look out. I'll thrash you."
"Oh no, you won't," said Cain boldly, "I'm quite equal to standing up to you, father. Leave my business alone, I've put up with you ever since we met a year ago, and I did what you wanted because you promised me not to go near my mother. I learn that you have written that you intend to call on her."
"What if I do? She's my wife as you're my son. She's got a house over her head, and money, and I've got a right to share both."
"No, you haven't," said Cain sharply, "you're no father of mine, as you deserted me and mother when we were poor. Now that we've got money, you'd come and make mother miserable. I kept my part of the bargain, so you keep to yours. If you write mother again or go near her, I'll make things hot."
Antonio made a dash at the boy-they were now in a quiet side street-and gasped with rage. "You unnatural young cuckoo-"
"Leave me alone, father, or I'll sing out for the police."
"What!" Antonio, finding force would not do, began to whine, "you'd run in your poor old father?"
"I don't want to," said Cain, "but if you force me to, I must. All I ask is for you to keep away from mother, and leave me alone. If you don't, I'll tell Wasp something he may like to hear."
The older man turned pale through his swarthy skin. "What will you tell him?" he asked in a thick voice.
"Never you mind. But I know you saw Mr. Strode when he came to the circus that night after Lord Saltars. Then there's Butsey-"
"What about Butsey?" asked the father uneasily, and glaring.
"Nothing. Only he's a bad lot. I'm no great shakes myself," admitted Cain sadly, "but I'm beginning to see how wicked I am. If I was as bad as Butsey, father, I'd not treat you like this. You sent Butsey with a lying message to mother-"
"I wanted to know how she looked."
"No, you didn't. I believe you sent Butsey to steal that wooden hand."
"It's a lie. I don't know who took it."
"I believe Butsey did, though why you wanted it I don't know. And what is there between you and Mr. Hill, father, seeing you sent him that cross?"
"That's my business," growled Antonio, finding his son knew too much for him; "you hold your tongue."
"I will, as long as you keep away from my mother."
"Lord, I'll keep away," said Antonio good-humouredly. "I don't want to live with her nagging and whimpering. You're her son, sure enough-a young prig going against your lawful father."
"Only for my mother's sake. And you want me to do wrong. I'm seeing light, father, and I'm changing."
"What do you mean by seeing light? You're always saying that."
"I've been to the Salvation Army meetings," said Cain solemnly, "and I see what a sinner I am."
"Oh, you're going to turn parson, are you? Well, you can do what you like, but hold your tongue about my business."
"I'll do so. But tell me, father?" Cain looked anxiously into the brutal face, "had you anything to do with that murder?"
Antonio glared and looked like a devil. He made another dash at the boy, but at that moment three or four men came round the corner, and amongst them a policeman. At once Antonio burst out into a loud laugh and took to his broken English. "Ver' goot, my leetle boy, gif me the letter. I go to Mees Lorry. Ah, Dio!"
Cain saw that he would not receive a reply to his terrible question just then, so, glad to get away on the chance of having another talk with Jane, he escaped. Hardly had he turned the corner when his father was after him, and a deep voice breathed in his ear:
"I had nothing to do with that," said Antonio anxiously; "I'm bad, but not so bad as that. I don't know who killed the man. Go" – a push sent the boy reeling-"and hold your tongue. I'll keep my part of the bargain and leave your mother alone. Keep yours," and before Cain could recover his breath Antonio was ringing the bell of Miss Lorry's lodgings.
That lady was just up and at breakfast. Antonio was shown into her sitting-room, and found her drinking coffee. She saluted him with a smile. "Well, Giles, what's brought you here at this hour?"
"This letter from Stag," said Antonio, giving the note he had received from Cain; "and don't call me Giles, Bell."
"You seem very much afraid of people knowing you," she jeered, opening the envelope, and running her eyes over the letter. "Stag wants me to make another contract for the North." She threw down the note. "Well then, I won't."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"Go to London and marry Lord Saltars."
"He means business, then?"
Miss Lorry rose, and looked as though she would slap Antonio's face. "You hound," she hissed, "do you think I'd let any man play fast and loose with me. Not a word," she added, seeing a grim smile on the strong man's face. "I know what you would say. Leave the past alone, or it will be the worse for you. And see here, what's become of that boy Butsey?"
"He's in London at Father Don's."
"Poor little wretch. Being made into a devil such as you are. Then, you send for him to come to Chelmsford. I want him to deliver a letter, and the sooner it's delivered the better."
"Can't I deliver it?"
"No, you can't. I can trust Butsey. I can't trust you."
"Who is the letter to?"
"That's my business," flashed out Miss Lorry, returning to her interrupted breakfast; "tell Stag I'll see him about the note at my own time."
"But, Bell, if you leave the show, how will you live?"
"I've got money saved. You need not ask how much," she added, seeing the cupidity flash into the man's eyes, "for I am not going to tell you. I leave the show at the end of October, and then I remain in town till I become Lady Saltars."
"A nice bargain he'll get with you," growled Antonio. "I know you."
"As we've been together in the circus for years, you ought to-"
"I wasn't thinking of the circus, but of-"
"Hold your tongue," she cried, rising again, "mind your own business."
"You don't make it worth my while. Suppose I spoil your game with Lord Saltars?"
Miss Lorry's face became hard and her eyes glittered. "You dare to interfere, and I'll send to that policeman at Wargrove to tell him I saw you at Westhaven speaking to a pair of the biggest blackguards in London."
"And what will that do? I've got a right to speak to whom I choose."
"You can for all I care," said Miss Lorry, sitting down once more, "your business has nothing to do with me so long as you leave me alone. Why don't you go home to your poor wife?"
"My poor wife don't want me. And I wouldn't live with her for gold untold, seeing how she nags and moans. My wife?" sneered the man with an ugly look; "you're a nice one to talk of her."
"I tell you what, Giles Merry," said Miss Lorry, with great deliberation, "you'd better keep a civil tongue, or you'll have a bad time. I'll horsewhip you before the company, strong man as you are."
Antonio scowled. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I? You talk like that and you'll see. You always were a brute and you always will be. I only hope," added Miss Lorry, suddenly looking into his eyes, "that you aren't something worse."
Antonio met the look with great composure. "Meaning a murderer?" he said. "Cain asked me if I did kill Strode."
"And how do I know you didn't?"
"Because I did not," cried the man, rising and looking fierce.
"Well," said Miss Lorry, after a pause, "I daresay you didn't. But you know who did." She looked at him searchingly.
"I swear by all that's holy, I don't!"
Miss Lorry laughed disagreeably. "Fancy Giles Merry talking of holy things. Cain's worth a dozen of you."
"The young fool! He's going to join the Salvationists!"
"And a good job too," cried Miss Lorry, with a pleased look, "he may convert you."
"Let him try," said the affectionate father, "and I'll smash him."
"Perhaps you'd rather Cain joined Father Don, and Red Jerry and Foxy. Oh, I saw you talking to Jerry and Foxy at Westhaven. It's my belief," added Miss Lorry, crushing her egg-shell, "that those two have something to do with Strode's end."
"Why don't you tell the police so?"
"Because I've got my own fish to fry," retorted Miss Lorry, rising and wiping her mouth; "but the presence of London thieves at Westhaven when a gentleman was murdered and robbed, looks queer. If the police knew they'd collar Jerry and Foxy and Father Don too. I fancy you would be brought into the matter."
"Look here," cried Antonio with an oath, "do you charge me, or any of those three with murder?"
"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, and make money?"
"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly enough as a strong man with Stag."
"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that Strode did?"
"What good would that do?"
"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to get back Miss Strode's fortune."
"What!" – Giles pricked up his ears-"Fortune?"
"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy."
Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money."
"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him if he confessed to having money."
"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty thousand pounds! If I'd known that-"
"You'd have killed him to get it."
"I don't say that," growled Giles, putting on his hat, "and as I didn't kill him, there's no more to be said. Where's the money now?"
Miss Lorry looked curiously at him. "You should know!"
"What the blazes do you mean?"
"Oh, if you don't know there's no more to be said. As Strode is dead, you can't get the money now. Your blackmailing is of no value. Miss Strode will get the diamonds and marry Mr. Allen Hill."
"Hill?" said Giles thoughtfully; "does he take after that fool of a father of his?"
"No; he's a man and not a whimpering ass like Lawrence Hill."
Giles stood musing at the door. "So Miss Strode will get the diamonds?" he said; "blest if I don't see her, and-"
Miss Lorry whirled round. "You leave her alone or I'll make things unpleasant for you. The poor girl has sorrow enough, and she's a good girl."
"Keep your hair on, I'll do nothing-at present," added Antonio significantly: and with an ironical bow he departed.
Miss Lorry clutched her breast with a frown. "I'll write that letter and send it by Butsey," she said determinedly.
CHAPTER XV
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
Mr. Mask had a dark little office in the city down a long narrow lane which led from Cheapside. In the building he inhabited were many offices, mostly those of the legal profession, and Mr. Mask's rooms were on the ground floor. He had only two. In the outer one a clerk almost as old as Mr. Mask himself scribbled away in a slow manner, and showed in clients to the inner room. This was a gloomy little dungeon with one barred window looking out on to a blank wall, damp and green with slime. Light was thrown into the room through this window by means of a silvered glass, so the actual illumination of the apartment was very small indeed, even in summer. In winter the gas glared and flared all the day.
Here Mr. Mask sat like a spider in his den, and the place was so full of cobwebs that it really suggested spiders in plenty. There was a rusty grate in which a fire was never lighted, an old mahogany book-case filled with uninviting-looking volumes, and a tin wash-stand which was hidden behind a screen of shabby Indian workmanship. The walls were piled to the dingy ceiling with black japanned deed-boxes, with the names of various clients inscribed on them in white letters. Before the window-and dirty enough the glass of that was-stood a large mahogany table covered untidily with papers, deeds, briefs, memoranda, and such-like legal documents. A small clearing in front was occupied by red blotting paper, and a large lead ink bottle with a tray of pens. There was one chair for Mr. Mask and one for a client. Finally, as there was no carpet on the floor it may be guessed that the office was not an inviting-looking sanctum. Into this hole-as it might fitly be termed-Allen was shown one morning. He had not called immediately on Mr. Mask when he came to town, as he had been searching for his father for the last five days. But all inquiries proved futile. Allen went to the hotel at which Mr. Hill usually stayed, but could not find him there. He had not been stopping in the place for months. Allen sought the aid of the police, but they could not find Mr. Hill. Finally he put an advertisement in the paper, which remained unanswered. Also Allen had called on Mr. Hill's bankers, but found that he had not been near the place. It was so strange that Allen was beginning to feel afraid. The message conveyed in the symbol sent through Cain must be a very serious one, to make his father cut himself off from those who knew him, in this way.
As a last resource, Allen came to see Mr. Mask, feeling he should have done this before. Mask had a large business, but on the face of it appeared to do very little in the dingy office. But he was a man who could be trusted with a secret, and many people who knew this intrusted him with affairs they wished kept quiet. Consequently Mask's business was sometimes rather shady, but he made a great deal of money by it, and that was all he cared about.
A silent, cold man was Mask, and even in his own home at Bloomsbury he was secretive. Still the man had his good points, and had an undercurrent of good nature of which he was somewhat ashamed, heaven only knows why. If he had been as hard as he looked, he certainly would not have asked Mrs. Palmer to give poor Eva a home.
"Well, Mr. Allen," said Mask, who called him thus to distinguish him from his father, whom he had known many years, "so you have come at last?" Allen, who was placing his hat on the floor, as there was no table to put it on, started and stared. "Did you expect me?"
"Long ago," said Mask, putting his fingers together and leaning back with crossed legs; "in fact, you should have come to me five days ago. There was no necessity for you to consult the police as to your father's whereabouts, or to call at his bank and hotel, or to put that very injudicious advertisement into the paper."
"You seem to know all about my doings?"
"Quite so. I know a great many things. To be frank, Mr. Allen, I have had you watched by a private detective, ever since you came to town."
Allen rose in a towering rage. "How dare you do that, Mr. Mask?"
"I did so at your father's request," said the lawyer, on whom the young man's rage produced not the least effect.
"You have seen him?"
"I have. He came to me when he arrived."
"Do you know where he is?"
"I do-but I am not at liberty to tell you."
"Do you know why he is acting in this way?"
Mr. Mask's calm face suddenly wrinkled. "No," he said, looking perplexed, "frankly, Mr. Allen, I don't, and I am glad you have called. I wish to talk the matter over with you."
"Why didn't you send for me, then?"
"Because it is never my wish to take the initiative. People come to me. I don't go to them. I get a lot of business by waiting, Mr. Allen. People are only too glad to find a man who can keep a secret; I have made a fine business out of nothing, simply by holding my tongue."
"And do you intend to do so in this instance?"
Mask shrugged his spare shoulders. "That depends. Johnstone!"
He raised his voice rather, and the door opened to admit a small clerk with a large red beard and a bald head, and a face lined with wrinkles. What his age was no one could tell, and he said as little as he could, being as secretive as his master. Without a word he stood at the door, seen dimly in the half light of the office, for the day was dark. "Johnstone," said Mr. Mask. "I'll be engaged with this gentleman for some time. Let no one in, till I call again."
Johnstone bowed and departed without a word, while Mr. Mask went on in a smooth tone, "I sit in this office from ten in the morning till six at night. Johnstone comes at nine and leaves at four."
"Why before you?" asked Allen, wondering why this information was supplied.
"Because I like the office to myself to see nervous clients. The lawyers in the other offices of the building do not stay late, and frequently I am perfectly alone with clients who wish their business kept so secret that they don't want even to be seen entering this place."
"Are you not afraid?"
Mr. Mask shrugged his shoulders again. "No. Why should I be?"
"Some rough client might do you some harm."
"Oh, I don't think so. Any one who comes here finds it to his interest to conciliate me, not to threaten. But I confess that I was rather startled the other night."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll come to the story in time. Because I intend to tell it, I drew your attention to my hours. Well, Mr. Allen," Mask leaned back again, "and what can I do for you?"
"Tell me where my father is."
"I can't do that. I have not your father's permission to do so."
"How long will he be away?"
"Until I can induce him to return," said Mask blandly.
Allen leaned forward, and looked the lawyer in the eyes. "Is my father afraid of being arrested?"
Mask started. "No. Why do you say that?"
"Because-but before I tell you, may I ask his reason for staying away?"
Mask looked perplexed again. "I can't exactly tell you," he said. "I may as well be frank, Mr. Allen, as I don't like the situation. Your father, whom I have known all his life, came to me over a week ago in great agitation. He said that he was in danger, but what the danger was, he refused to confess. I insisted on an explanation, and he promised to tell me some day. Meantime he wanted to be hidden away for the time being. I arranged that for him."
"I don't think that was wise of you, Mr. Mask."
"My good Allen-I can call you so as I've known you since you were a lad-there is no reason why I should not help your father. He may have done something against the law, for all I know, but as he is my client, it is my duty to help him. He is a good client to me, and I am not such a fool as to lose him. It is my business to keep secrets, and here is one I have not found out. But I don't intend to let your father go away till I do find out," said Mask grimly. "On that condition I helped him. And after all," added the lawyer, "your father is quite in his sane senses, and I have no right to dictate to him, even when he acts in so eccentric a manner."
"He is always eccentric," said the son wearily; "but this behaviour is beyond a joke. How is my mother to live?"
"I can't send her money. Your father will see to that."
"But why am I shut out from my father's confidence?"
"I can't say. Remember," said Mask in a slightly irritable tone, "I am shut out also."
Allen, much perplexed over the situation which was sufficiently annoying and mysterious, thought for a moment. "Did my father tell you of the cardboard box he received?"
"He did not. He said nothing, save that he wished to hide for a time, and would reveal his reason later."
"Then I must tell you everything I know," said Allen in desperation. "If my father won't trust you, I must. My mother is in a great state of alarm, and for her sake I must get him to come back."
Mr. Mask looked doubtful. "I don't know whether he'll hear reason," he said, after a pause. "However, what you tell me will go no further."
"Well then, Mr. Mask, I know why my father is afraid."
"It's more than I do. Why is he afraid?"
"Because he thinks he may be arrested for the murder of Strode."
Mask pushed back his chair and rose quickly. It was not an easy matter to astonish a man, who, in that very room, had heard tales worthy of the Arabian Nights., but Allen had certainly managed to do so. "Do you mean to say he killed Strode?" he asked.
"No. But he thinks he did."
"How can that be?"
Allen related the episode of the pistol, and how he found that the bullet which killed Strode would not fit the barrel. "So you see my father thought he had killed him, and when this cross was sent-"
"What cross?" asked Mask, looking up quickly.
"I forgot. I thought you knew." And Allen related everything in detail. Mask heard the story with his chin on his hand, and in silence. Even when in full possession of the facts he did not speak. Allen grew impatient. "What do you think?"
Mask moved a few papers hither and thither, but did not look straight at his visitor. "It's a mystery," he said. "I know not what to say. But I am perfectly sure of one thing," he added with emphasis, "that your father never shot Strode-"
"I said so. The bullet that went through the heart did not fit the barrel of my revolver."
"You misunderstand me. I don't even believe that your father fired the shot which ripped the flesh of the arm. Why, Strode was his best friend and he was devoted to him."
"My father to Strode, or Strode to my father?"
"Both ways you can take it. Why, it was Strode brought about the marriage between your parents."
"My mother told me how the marriage came about," said Allen quickly, "but I understood that my father acted from a chivalrous motive."
Mask's lip curled. "I fear not," he said, "there were circumstances connected with your mother-"
Allen shifted himself uneasily and grew red. "I know-I know," he said sharply, "my mother told me about the necklace. Surely you did not believe her guilty, Mr. Mask?"
"No," said the lawyer emphatically, "I certainly did not. I can't say who stole the necklace, but it was lost and the thief has never been found. As to the marriage" – he waved his hand-"Strode brought it about-at least he told me so. How he managed I can't say, unless it was that he used his influence over your father."