"My mother believes-"
"I know. All the more credit to her. But we can discuss this on some more fitting occasion. Meantime we must talk of your father. I don't see why you shouldn't see him," said Mask musingly.
"Give me his address."
"Humph," said the lawyer, smiling slightly. "I'll see. But about this murder? Your father did not kill the man."
"No," said Allen sharply, "I swear he did not."
"Quite so. Well, who did, and what was the motive?"
"Robbery was the motive," said Allen, taking a letter out of his pocket. "Read this, I received it from Miss Strode."
Mask took the letter, but did not read it immediately. "I don't believe the motive was robbery," he declared deliberately; "Strode had little money. He certainly brought a hundred or so from Africa and I cashed his letters of credit."
"Did you give him the money in notes?"
"Yes; and what is more I have the numbers of the notes. I see what you mean: you fancy the notes were stolen and that the criminal can thus be traced."
"Read the letter," said Allen impatiently.
The lawyer did so, and thus became possessed of a faithful report of Saltars' communications to Eva which she had detailed for Allen's benefit. On ending he placed the letter on the table. "A blue pocket-book," said Mask musingly. "Yes, he had such a one. I remember he placed the notes in it. I wonder I didn't ask about that at the inquest. It's stolen. Humph! Looks like a commonplace robbery after all. Allen," he raised his eyes, "I gave Strode two hundred in ten pound Bank of England notes. As I have the numbers, I may be able to trace how much of this sum has been spent by inquiring at the Bank. The numbers that are missing will be those that Strode had in the blue pocket-book when he went on that fatal journey to Westhaven. If the murderer stole the book and has cashed the notes he may be traced by the numbers."
"I agree. But what about the forty thousand pounds?"
Mask shook his head. "I can't say. Strode certainly never mentioned to me that he had such a sum."
"Did he say he had diamonds?"
"No. Perhaps, as Miss Strode suggests, the forty thousand pounds may have been locked up in diamonds as a portable way to carry such a sum. But we found no diamonds amongst his effects, so it is probable he carried them on his person."
"And was murdered for the sake of them?"
"Perhaps. It was strange, though, that Strode should have spoken to me about his wooden hand. He promised that he would return from Wargrove to place a large sum of money in my hands-probably the forty thousand pounds, though he did not mention the amount."
"I dare say he intended to turn the diamonds into money and then give it to you."
"Perhaps," said Mask carelessly, "but we are not yet sure if the money was in diamonds. However, Strode said, that when he wanted the promised money, he would get it from me personally, and, if he did not apply in person, he would send the wooden hand. As he certainly would not have let the hand be taken from him while alive, it was a very safe token to send."
Allen looked down. "It seems as though he was afraid of being killed," he said musingly; "and he was killed, and the wooden hand was stolen."
"Not only that," said Mask, "but it was brought to me."
"What!" Allen started to his feet, "here! Why didn't you have the man who brought it arrested?"
"Because I could not," said Mask drily; "this is why I told you of my habits. It was after four when Johnstone and every one in the place was away. In fact, it was nearly six, and when I was getting ready to go, that this man came."
"What kind of a man was he?"
"A venerable old man, who looked like the Wandering Jew, with a long white beard, and a benevolent face. He asked if he could speak to me, and we talked. I must remind you that every one in this building is away at the hour of six."
"I understand. But what was the old man's name?"
"He gave none. He simply asked if I had a sum of money in my possession belonging to Mr. Strode. I said I had not; so he asked if Mr. Strode had left a packet of diamonds with me."
"Then there are diamonds!" cried Allen; "and you knew?"
"Now you mention it, I did know," said Mask coolly; "all in good time, Allen. I wished to learn how much you knew before I spoke out. I am a man who keeps secrets, mind you, and I don't say more than is needful. Well, this old man, when I said that I had no diamonds, told me in so many words that I was a liar, and insisted that I should give them up. To test him, I jokingly asked him if he had the wooden hand, which was to be the token to deliver the money or diamonds. He then produced the article."
"Why didn't you arrest him?"
"Let me remind you that I was alone with the Wandering Jew, and that he brought two men of whom I caught a glimpse. They remained in the outer room during our conversation. I asked the old man how he became possessed of the wooden hand. He refused to tell me, but insisted that I should hand over the diamonds. I protested that I had none, and told him what I tell you, as to what Strode said about giving me money later."
"What did the old man say then?"
"He began to believe me, and muttered something about the diamonds being in Strode's possession. Then he sang out, 'No go, Jerry,' to a red-headed ruffian outside. After that, he left."
"You should have followed, Mr. Mask, and have had him arrested."
"I could scarcely do that," said the lawyer drily, "the old gentleman was too clever. He went with one man, and left the red-headed Jerry to keep watch. I had to remain in this room till seven, or else Jerry threatened to shoot me."
"He would never have dared."
"Oh yes, he would, and in this lonely building no one could have stopped him. Well I agreed, and remained in here doing some work. At seven I opened the outer door. Jerry had decamped, but where he and his friends went I can't say?"
"Have you told the police?"
"No. I think it is wiser to remain quiet. These men will try again to get the money through the wooden hand; but they must first learn who killed Strode, and stole the diamonds-for I now agree with you, Allen, that the forty thousand pounds are locked up in diamonds. But now we have talked on this point and it seems clear, let us talk on another in the presence of a third person."
"Who?" asked Allen anxiously.
"Your father," said Mask. "Johnstone!"
The red-bearded clerk entered, and when within, removed a false beard and a wig.
"Father," cried Allen, rising. It was indeed Mr. Hill, pale and trembling.
CHAPTER XVI
MR. HILL'S STORY
Allen was so thunderstruck at the sight of his father, who had so unexpectedly appeared, that he could only stand silently staring. Mr. Hill gave a nervous titter, and tried to appear at his ease. But the sight of his pale face and trembling limbs shewed that the man was possessed by terror. Also he locked the door while Allen gaped. It was Mask who spoke first.
"You are surprised to find your father as my clerk," he said smoothly to Allen; "but when he came to me asking to be concealed, I arranged that Johnstone should take a much-needed holiday at the sea-side. I believe he is at Brighton," said Mr. Mask deliberately. "In the meantime, your father, by means of a clever disguise, adopted Johnstone's name, and personality, and looks. In the dim light of the office every one thinks he is Johnstone, and to tell you the truth," said Mr. Mask, smiling, "my clients are so possessed by their own fears, that they take very little notice of my clerk."
Allen scarcely listened to the half of this explanation. "Father," he cried, "whatever is the meaning of all this?"
Hill tittered again, and looked about for a seat as his limbs would hardly support him. As Mr. Mask had one chair, and Allen the other, it looked as though Hill would have to sink on the floor. But Allen pushed forward his own chair and made his father sit down. Then, so white was the man, that he produced his flask, and gave him a nip of brandy. "I never travel without this," said Allen, alluding to the flask. "It comes in handy at times," and he spoke this irrelevantly so as to put Hill at his ease.
The little man, under the grotesque mask of Johnstone, grew braver after the brandy, with Dutch courage. "You did not expect to find me here, Allen?" he said, with his nervous titter.
"I certainly did not," said his son bitterly; "and I don't know why you need disguise yourself in this way. I know you did not murder Strode."
"But I intended to," cried Hill, suddenly snarling, and showing his teeth, "the black-hearted villain."
"I thought Strode was your friend, father?"
"He was my enemy-he was my evil genius-he was a tyrant who tried to crush all the spirit out of me. Oh," Hill beat his fist on the table in impotent rage, "I'm glad he's dead. But I wish he'd died by torture-I wish he'd been burnt-sliced to atoms. I wish-"
"Stop," said Mask, seeing Allen turn white and faint, at the sight of this degrading spectacle, "there's no need to speak like this, Lawrence. Tell us how you came to be at the Red Deeps."
"How do you know I was at the Red Deeps?" asked Hill, shivering, and with the sudden rage dying out of him.
"Well, you took your son's revolver, and-"
"You said you didn't believe I fired the shot, Mask," cried the miserable creature. "I heard you say so, I had my ear to the keyhole all the time-
"Father-father," said Allen, sick with disgust at the sight of his parent behaving in this way.
"And why not?" cried Hill, turning fiercely on him. "I am in danger. Haven't I the right to take all measures I can for my own safety? I did listen, I tell you, and I overheard all. Had you not proved to Mask here, that the bullet which caused the death could not have been fired out of your revolver, I'd not have come in. I should have run away. But you know I am innocent-"
"Quite so," said Mask, looking searchingly at the speaker, "therefore the reason for your disguise is at an end."
Hill passed his tongue over his dry lips and crouched again. "No, it isn't," he said faintly, "there's something else."
"In heaven's name, what is it?" asked Allen.
"Leave me alone," snarled his father, shrinking back in his chair and looking apprehensively at his tall, white-faced son, "it's got nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me," said his son with calm firmness, "for my mother's sake I intend to have an explanation."
"If my wife were here she would never let you treat me in this way, Allen," whimpered the miserable father. "Sarah" – he did not call his wife Saccharissa now, the situation being too serious-"Sarah is always kind to me."
Allen with folded arms leaned against the bookcase and looked at his father with deep pity in his eyes. Hill was alternately whimpering and threatening: at one moment he would show a sort of despairing courage, and the next would wince like a child fearful of a blow. The young man never loved his father, who, taken up with himself and his whims, had done nothing to make the boy love him. He had never respected the man, and only out of regard for his mother had he refrained from taking strong measures to curb the pronounced eccentricities of Hill. But the man, miserable coward as he seemed, was still his father, and it behoved him to deal with him as gently as possible. In his own mind, Allen decided that his father's troubles-whatever they were-had driven him insane. But the sight of that cringing, crawling figure begot a mixture of pity and loathing-loathing that a human creature should fall so low, and pity that his own father should suddenly become a 'thing' instead of a man.
"I want to be kind to you, father," he said after a pause; "who will you trust if not your own son?"
"You were never a son to me," muttered Hill.
"Was that my fault?" asked Allen strongly. "I would have been a son to you, if you had let me. But you know, father, how you kept me at arm's length-you know how you ruled the house according to your whims and fancies, and scorned both my mother and myself. Often you have spoken to her in such a manner that it was only the knowledge that you are my father which made me refrain from interfering. My mother says she owes much to you-"
"So she does-so she does."
"Then why take advantage of her gratitude? She gives everything to you, father, and you treat her in a way-faugh," Allen swept the air with his arm, as though to banish the subject. "Let us say no more on that point. But I have come up here to get to the bottom of this affair, father, and I don't leave this place till I know all."
Hill tried to straighten himself. "You forget I am your father," he said, with an attempt at dignity.
"No; I do not forget. Because you are my father I wish to help you out of this trouble, whatever it is. I can save you from being accused of Strode's murder, but the other thing-"
"I never said there was anything else," said Hill quickly.
"Yes, you did, Lawrence," said Mask. "I have taken a note of it."
"Oh," whimpered Hill, "if you turn against me too-"
"Neither one of us intend to turn against you," said Allen in deep disgust, for the man was more like a jelly-fish than ever, and constantly evaded all attempts to bring him to the point. "For heaven's sake, father, summon up your manhood and let us know the worst!"
"I won't be spoken to in this way," stuttered Hill, growing red.
Allen made one stride forward, and looked down from his tall height at the crouching figure in the chair-the figure in its shameful disguise, with the white face and wild eyes. "You shall be spoken to in a perfectly quiet way," he said calmly, although inwardly agitated, "but you shall do what you are told. I have put up with this state of things long enough. In future, my mother shall govern the house, and you shall come back to it to indulge in whatever whims you like within reason. But master you shall not be."
"Who will prevent me?" said Hill, trying to bluster.
"I shall," said Allen decisively; "you are not fit to manage your own affairs or to rule a house. If you come back-as you shall-my mother, who loves you, will do all she can to make you happy. I also, as your son, will give you all respect due to a father."
"You're doing so now, I think," sneered Hill, very white.
"God help me, what else can I do?" cried Allen, restraining himself by a violent effort; "if you could see yourself you would know what it costs me to speak to you like this. But, for your own sake, for my mother's sake, for my own, I must take the upper hand."
Hill leaped panting from his seat. "You dare! – "
"Sit down," said his son imperiously, and pushed him back in his chair; "yes, I dare, father. As you are not responsible, I shall deal with you as I think is for your good. I know how to deal with men," said Allen, looking very tall and very strong, "and so I shall deal with you."
"You forget," panted Hill, with dry lips, "I have the money."
"I forget nothing. I shall have a commission of lunacy taken out against you and the money matters shall be arranged-"
"Oh," Hill burst into tears, and turned to the quiet, observant Mask, "can you sit and hear all this?"
"I think your son is right, Lawrence."
"I shall go to law," cried Hill fiercely.
"Can a man in hiding go to law?" hinted Mask significantly.
The miserable man sank back in his seat and wept. Sick at heart, Allen looked at the old lawyer. "You are my father's friend, sir," he said gently, "try and bring him to reason. As for me, I must walk for a time in the outer room to recover myself. I can't bear the sight of those tears. My father-oh, God help me, my father!" and Allen, unlocking the door, walked into the outer room sick at heart. He was not a man given to melodrama, but the sight of his wretched father made him sick and faint. He sat down in the clerk's chair to recover himself, and leaned his aching head on his hand.
What passed between Mask and Hill he never knew, but after half an hour the old lawyer called Allen in. Hill had dried his tears, and was still sitting hunched up in the chair. But he was calmer, and took the words which Mask would have spoken out of the lawyer's mouth. "I am much worried, Allen," said he softly, "so you must excuse my being somewhat unstrung. If you think it wise, I'll go back."
"So far as I know, I do think it wise."
"Let us hear the story first," said Mask.
"What story?" asked Allen sharply.
"My miserable story," said Hill; "I'll tell it all. You may be able to help me. And I need help," he ended piteously.
"You shall have all help, father. Tell me why you went to the Red Deeps and took my revolver."
Hill did not answer at once. His eyelids drooped, and he looked cunningly and doubtfully at his son. Apparently he did not trust him altogether, and was thinking as to what he would say, and what leave unsaid. The two men did not speak, and after a pause, Hill, now more composed, began to speak slowly:
"I have known Strode all my life, and he always treated me badly. As a boy I lived near his father's place at Wargrove, and my father liked me to associate with him, as he was of better birth than I. We studied at the same school and the same college, and, when we went into the world, Strode's influence introduced me into aristocratic circles. But my own talents aided me also," said Hill, with open vanity, "I can do everything and amuse any one. When I stopped at Lord Ipsen's-"
"My mother told me of that," said Allen with a gesture of repugnance, "and I don't want to hear the story again."
"I'm not going to tell it," retorted his father tartly, "my idea was to explain a popularity you will never attain to, Allen. However, I'll pass that over. I married your mother, and Strode married Lady Jane Delham, with whom I also was in love-and I would have made her a much better husband than Strode," said the little man plaintively.
"Go on, please," said Mask, glancing at his watch. "There isn't much time. I have to go out to luncheon."
"Always thinking of yourself, Mask," sneered Hill, "you always did, you know. Well, I saw little of Strode for some time. Then I lent him money and saw less of him than ever. Then he-"
"You told me all this before," interposed Allen, who began to think his father was merely playing with him.
"I'll come to the point presently," said Hill with great dignity; "let me say, Allen, that although I hated Strode, and had good cause too-yes, very good cause-I liked Eva. When you wished to marry her, I was pleased. She wrote to her father about the marriage. He sent her a cablegram saying he was coming home-"
"And when he did arrive at Southampton he told her she was not to think of the marriage."
"He told me also," said Hill, "and long before. He wrote from the Cape telling me he would not allow you to marry Eva."
"Allow me!" said Allen indignantly.
"Yes, and told me I was to stop the marriage. I wrote, and urged the advisability of the match. When Strode reached Southampton, he wrote again saying he intended Eva to marry Lord Saltars-"
"Did he make any mention of money?"
"No. He simply said that if I did not stop the marriage he would disgrace me," here Hill changed colour, and looked furtively at both his listeners.
"How disgrace you?" asked Mask sharply.
"I shan't tell you that," was the dogged reply, "all you need know is, that Strode could disgrace me. I-I-made a mistake when I was a young man," said Hill, casting down his eyes, so as not to meet the honest gaze of his son, "and Strode took advantage of it. He made me sign a document confessing what I had done-"
"And what in heaven's name had you done?" questioned Allen, much troubled.
"That's my business. I shan't say-it has nothing to do with you," said Hill hurriedly, "but Strode had the document and always carried it about with him. I wanted to get it and destroy it, so I asked him when he came to Wargrove to meet me at the Red Deeps, and then I would tell him how the marriage with you could be prevented. I also said that I knew something about Lord Saltars-"
"What is that?"
"Nothing," said Hill, this time frankly. "I really knew nothing, but I wanted Strode to come to the Red Deeps. He made an appointment to meet me there on Wednesday at nine."
"In that case, why did he wire to Eva he would be down on Thursday?"
"Because he wanted to come down quietly to see me. And," added Hill hesitating, "he had to see some one else. I don't know who, but he hinted that he had to see some one."
"When you spoke to him at the Red Deeps?"
"Yes. I went there on Wednesday and he was waiting. It was getting dark, but we saw plainly enough. I urged him to give up the document. He refused, and told me that he required more money. I grew angry and left him."
"Alive?"
"Yes. But I had your revolver with me, Allen. I took it with the idea of shooting Strode, if he didn't give up the document-"
"Oh," cried Allen, shrinking back. It seemed horrible to hear his father talk like this. "But you didn't-"
"No. I got behind a bush and fired. My shot touched his arm, for he clapped his hand to the wound. Then he turned with a volley of abuse to run after me. At that moment there came another shot from a clump of trees near me, and Strode fell face downward. I was so afraid at the idea of any one having been near me, and of having overheard our conversation-"
"And of seeing your attempt at murder," interpolated Mask.
"Yes-yes-that I dropped Allen's revolver and ran away."
"I found the revolver and took it home," said Allen; "so the way you acted the next morning when Wasp came was-"
"It was the morning after that," said his father drily, "on Friday, and Strode was shot on Wednesday. I never went near the Red Deeps again. I didn't know if Strode was dead, but I knew that he had been shot. I steeled myself to bear the worst, but did not make any inquiries out of policy. When Wasp came that morning at breakfast, I knew what he had to say. Strode was dead. I dreaded lest Wasp should say that the revolver had been found, in which case you might have got into trouble, Allen: but I was thankful nothing was said of it."
The young man was astounded at this cool speech: but he passed it over, as it was useless to be angry with such a man. "I picked up the revolver as I said," he replied; "but about the document?"
"I hadn't time to get it. The shot frightened me."
"Did you see who fired the shot?"
"No. I was too afraid. I simply ran away and never looked back."
At this point Mask held up his hand. "I hear some one in the outer office," he said, and rose to open the door. Hill slipped behind the table quivering with fear. However, Mask returned to his seat. "I am wrong," he said, "there's no one there. Go on."
"What else do you want to know?" questioned Hill irritably.
"Why you fainted and left the house, when you got that cross from Giles Merry?"
Hill stared. "You knew it was Giles?" he stammered; "what do you know of Giles?"
"Nothing. But Mrs. Merry recognised the direction on the brown paper as being in her husband's writing. Why did you faint?"
Hill looked down and then looked up defiantly. He was still standing behind the desk. "I stole the wooden hand!"
"What!" cried Mask and Allen, both rising.
"Yes. I had my reasons for doing so. I took it from the body, when I was in the death-chamber. I had it in my pocket when I saw you and Eva, and said it was stolen. And then," went on Mr. Hill very fast, so that Allen should not give expression to the horror which was on his face, "I took it home. But I feared lest my wife should find it and then I would get into trouble. Sarah was always looking into my private affairs," he whined, "so to stop that, I went and buried the hand on the common. Some one must have watched me, for I put that cross to mark the spot. When I opened the parcel and saw the cross I knew some one must have dug up the wooden hand and that my secret-"
"What has the wooden hand to do with your secret?"
Hill shuffled, but did not reply to the question. "It was Giles's writing. I knew he'd got the wooden hand, and my secret-Hark!" There was certainly the sound of retreating footsteps in the other room. Allen flung open the door, while his father cowered behind the desk. The outer door was closing. Allen leaped for it: but the person had turned the key in the lock. They heard a laugh, and then retreating footsteps. Mask, who had followed Allen, saw something white on the floor. He picked it up. It was a letter addressed to Sebastian Mask. Opening this he returned to the inner office. "Let us look at this first," said Mask, and recalled Allen: then he read what was in the envelope. It consisted of one line. "Open the wooden hand," said the mysterious epistle.
"No," shrieked Hill, dropping on his knees; "my secret will be found out!"