In Strange Company Part 31

"Oh, Jack, that is a long story, and a sad one. But I will tell you.

Once I was poor,--oh, so poor! And to keep myself from starving I sold my honour. A little son was born to me--born in sin and shame. I loved him more than all the world, but knowing what I was, I dared not imperil his immortal soul by letting him remain with me. So I gave him into the keeping of the Good Sisters. But when I did so, I bound myself by a great oath. In bringing him into the world I had done him a wrong which I could never repay. Poverty had compelled me to it, so I swore that I would never rest until I had collected a certain sum of money, by any means, good or bad, to be his property when he should become a man; so that he should never experience the miserable want which wrought his mother's ruin. This I set myself solemnly to accomplish. For a long time I could hear of nothing. Then I joined a certain Society and learnt the game Veneda and the Albino were playing. By chance I discovered Veneda's secret, and I threw my lot in with him, determining to steal the locket which contained the paper, and by that means obtain the money. How I fought for it, how he deceived me, and how the Albino tracked us down, you know. There is one thing, perhaps, of which you are not aware."

"What is that?"

"That your presence in London with the locket is known to him. That he is aware of your escape with Veneda, your journey to the island, your voyage to Singapore in Sir Richard Tremorden's yacht, and your arrival in England by the _Turkish Pacha_."

"Good heavens!" I cried, astounded. "How on earth did he learn all that?"

"How does he get to know of anything? He is the most wonderful man under the sun, I think, and certainly the wickedest. His agents in Batavia found out your escape from a cab-driver and a boatman. Lady Tremorden described your rescue in a letter she contributes to a ladies'

newspaper. And he was in the docks when the _Turkish Pacha_ arrived from Singapore."

I was so overcome with astonishment that I could not reply. She continued--

"Jack, you don't know what escapes you've had. One night you crossed the river to a house on the Surrey side, didn't you?"

I nodded. I remembered the occasion perfectly. I went over to spend the evening with an acquaintance, but not feeling well, left early.

"Well, that night, by his orders, three men waited two hours for you on Westminster Bridge. Somehow they must have missed you. Had they caught you, you would most certainly have lost the locket, and probably your life. One night you went to supper on board the _Prince of Tartary_, lying off Blackwall?"

I nodded again.

"Those three men followed you. You slept on board, or they would have had that locket and thrown your body into the stream."

"But, Juanita, this is simply murder."

"Jack, you may not believe what I am going to tell you, but it is nevertheless true. I have quarrelled hopelessly with Macklin, and I'm hiding from his anger now."

"Why did you quarrel with him, Juanita?"

"Because he wanted me to help him in another scheme to murder you. I refused, and he attempted my life. He is hunting for me everywhere, thinking I shall communicate with you."

"But, Juanita, if you still want that money for your child, and you didn't spare me before, why do you do so now?"

Big tears rose in her eyes, and her voice trembled as she replied--

"Jack, my child is dead. And think, he died on the day that I betrayed you in Batavia. It was the judgment of heaven on my sin. Had he lived, I should have betrayed you again. But now that I know he is dead, I will not side with that man against you. But you must be careful. If you have the precious paper, why don't you go to the place, and get the money at once?"

"Because I can't. I have sworn not to open the locket until I have been a month in England. The time expires in three days, then I shall do so.

But, Juanita, you must leave London at once, you are not safe here. Go into the country, and in a week I will send you money enough to enable you to get out of England. You must let me help you in return for what you've done for me."

"Ah! you don't know," she answered sadly. "Now my little one is gone, my life seems over; I am tired of the battle. I would rather die ... Jack, if possible I should like to give my life to save yours, to show what the worth of my love really is. Perhaps you would sometimes think kindly of me then."

"I shall never think otherwise. Believe me, there is only kindness in my heart towards you."

"Yes! Only kindness. Your love is dead. Jack, some day you will marry a good woman. Don't let her believe me to have been altogether bad."

"Don't you know me better than that, Juanita?"

"But now that the Albino----"

"Well?"

We both sprang to our feet, and turned in the direction of the voice.

_The Albino stood before us smiling sweetly!_

"And what of the Albino, my dear Juanita? You see, he appears to answer for himself. But there, don't let's talk of him. This is indeed a pleasant surprise. Quite like old times, I declare. John Ramsay, how d'you do?"

"You little devil!" I cried. "How did you get in here?"

"By the front door, my dear boy,--how else? The door has not been built yet that could keep John Macklin out. But you don't seem pleased to see me."

"I should be delighted if I thought I should never set eyes on you again. I've come to the bottom of a good many of your tricks, and I've a good mind to wring your neck, you murderous little reptile."

"That's nonsense, arrant nonsense. But let's get to business. Look here, John Ramsay, you're very smart, but I'm smarter. I want that locket Veneda gave you. I must have it sooner or later, so you may as well hand it over now. Give it to me, and I'll give you a cheque for a thousand pounds. Could anything be fairer?"

"I wouldn't give it you for two hundred times that amount."

"You're a fool, a madman! You're bringing about your own ruin. You've got it on you now--give it to me, or I swear you don't leave this house alive. You can't escape; I've got men in the street, and I'm armed, so hand it over."

My temper, never too good at the best of times, here deserted me altogether. Picking up the poker, I made a dash at him. Quick as lightning he whipped a revolver from his pocket and covered me. Seeing him about to pull the trigger, I came to a halt. Before I knew what had happened, Juanita had thrown herself between us. He fired. Juanita gave a little cry and fell at my feet. Mad with rage, I sprang over her body towards him. He fired again. I felt a stab as if a red-hot knitting-needle had been run through me, and became unconscious.

When my senses came back to me, I was in the Charing Cross Hospital, more dead than alive. The bullet which had brought me down had been extracted, and the police were anxiously waiting to examine me as to the reason of it all. One thing was very certain; the Albino had achieved his purpose, _for the precious locket, the cause of all the trouble, was gone_.

CHAPTER VI.

CONCLUSION.

Three days after my meeting with Juanita in Leicester Square, I was lying propped up in bed in the hospital, feeling very weak and miserable, when one of the nurses came to tell me that two visitors were coming up to see me.

"Who are they," I asked,--"men or women?"

"Ladies," the nurse replied, as if she were speaking of a third s.e.x.

"Drove up in their own carriage."

"Ladies!" I said. "Who _can_ they be?"

Any further wonderment was put a stop to by the entrance of the ladies themselves, escorted by the house surgeon. Can you guess who they were?

One was a lady I had never seen before, a chaperon, I suppose. The other was--but there, I must leave you to imagine who alone would have sufficient pity to forget the past, and to come and comfort the sick and sorrowful? _It was Maud!_ The Maud I had treated so shamefully, to whom I had done so great a wrong. I could hardly believe my eyes! With that exquisite grace that always characterized her movements, she floated up the long bare ward to where I lay, bringing with her sunshine and happiness unspeakable.

"Jack, Jack," she began, taking my great brown paw between her dainty hands, "welcome home, ten thousand welcomes home!"

Though the words she uttered were nothing more than ordinary, there was something in the way she said them that invested them with a charm no other woman could have given them.