The House of Whispers Part 26

"Whatever att.i.tude you might have taken would have had the same result.

We used the information, and found ourselves fooled--tricked by a very crafty old man, who actually prepared those doc.u.ments in case he was betrayed."

"Admitted," said Flockart. "But even though we made fools of ourselves in Athens, and caused the Greek Government to look upon us as rogues and liars, the girl is suspected; and I for one don't mean to give in before we've secured a nice, snug little sum."

"How are we to do it?"

"By obtaining knowledge of the game being played in Paris, and working in an opposite direction," Flockart replied. "We are agreed upon one point: that for the past few years, ever since Goslin came on the scene, Sir Henry's business--a big one, there is no doubt--has been of a mysterious and therefore shady character. By his confidence in Gabrielle, his care that n.o.body ever got a chance inside that safe, his regular consultations with Goslin (who travelled from Paris specially to see him), his constant telegrams in cipher, and his refusal to allow even his wife to obtain the slightest inkling into his private affairs, it is shown that he fears exposure. Do you agree?"

"Most certainly I do."

"Well, any man who is in dread of the truth becoming known must be carrying on some negotiations the reverse of creditable. He is the moving spirit of that shady house, without a doubt," declared Flockart, who had so often grasped the blind man's hand in friendship. "In such fear that his transactions should become known, and that exposure might result, he actually had prepared doc.u.ments on purpose to mislead those who pried into his affairs. Therefore, the instant we discover the truth, fortune will be at our hand. We all want money, you, I, and Lady Heyburn--and money we'll have."

"With these sentiments, my dear friend, I entirely and absolutely agree," remarked the shabby man, lighting a fresh cigarette. "But one fact you seem to have entirely overlooked."

"What?"

"The girl. She stands between you, and she might come back into the old man's favour, you know."

"And even though she did, that makes no difference," Flockart answered defiantly.

"Why?"

"Because she dare not say a single word against me."

Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but made no comment.

"She knows better," Flockart added.

"Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, _mon cher ami_,"

remarked the other dubiously. "She's young, therefore of a romantic turn of mind. She's in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for us."

"Why?"

"Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit.

This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless of her own danger."

Flockart drew a long breath. What this man said was, he knew within his own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel and so unscrupulous. His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry's wife, it had been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind man's right hand.

Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie--the man upon whom Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever. The Baronet, after his daughter's confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to Walter's initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, and, it was believed, in Athens also.

The pair were, however, now separated. Krail, in pursuit of his diligent inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a farmer's sheep-dog. Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now correspond. This much Krail had himself discovered.

The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat disconcerting one. On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental self-sacrifice, "giving him away." If she did, what then? The mere suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip.

Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all. Perhaps it was as well that he did not. There is a code of honour among adventurers all the world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when they chance to fall upon evil days.

"Yes," Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail's suggestion they turned and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, "perhaps it's a pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine. Yet surely she's safer with her aunt?"

"She was driven from Glencardine!"

"By her father."

"You sacrificed her in order to save yourself. That was but natural.

It's a pity, however, you didn't take my advice."

"I suggested it to Lady Heyburn. But she would have nothing to do with it. She declared that such a course was far too dangerous."

"Dangerous!" echoed the shabby man. "Surely it could not have placed either of you in any greater danger than you are in already?"

"She didn't like it."

"Few people do," laughed the other. "But, depend upon it, it's the only way. She wouldn't, at any rate, have had an opportunity of telling the truth."

Flockart pulled a wry face, and after a silence of a few moments said, "Don't let us discuss that. We fully considered all the pros and cons, at the time."

"Her ladyship is growing scrupulously honest of late," sneered his companion. "She'll try to get rid of you very soon, I expect."

The latter sentence was more full of meaning than the speaker dreamed.

The words, falling upon Flockart's ears, caused him to wince. Was her ladyship really trying to rid herself of his influence? He laughed within himself at the thought of her endeavouring to release herself from the bond. For her he had never, at any moment, entertained either admiration or affection. Their a.s.sociation had always been purely one of business--business, be it said, in which he made the profits and she the losses.

"It would hardly be an easy matter for her," replied the easy-going, audacious adventurer.

"She seems to be very popular up at Glencardine," remarked the foreigner, "because she's extravagant and spends money in the neighbourhood, I suppose. But the people in Auchterarder village criticise her treatment of Gabrielle. They hear gossip from the servants, I expect."

"They should know of the girl's treatment of her stepmother," exclaimed Flockart. "But there, villagers are always p.r.o.ne to listen to and embroider any stories concerning the private life of the gentry. It's just the same in Scotland as in any other country in the world."

"Ah!" continued Flockart, "in Scotland the old families are gradually decaying, and their estates are falling into the hands of blatant parvenus. Counter-jumpers stalk deer nowadays, and city clerks on their holidays shoot over peers' preserves. The humble Scot sees it all with regret, because he has no real liking for this latter-day invasion by the newly-rich English. Cotton-spinners from Lancashire buy deer-forests, and soap-boilers from Limehouse purchase castles with family portraits and ghosts complete."

"Ah! speaking of the supernatural," exclaimed Krail suddenly, "do you know I had a most extraordinary and weird experience when at Glencardine about three weeks ago. I actually heard the Whispers!"

Flockart stared hard at the man at his side, and, laughing outright, said, "Well, that's the best joke I've heard to-day. You, of all men, to be taken in by a mere superst.i.tion."

"But, my dear friend, I heard them," said Krail. "I swear I actually heard them! And I--well, I admit to you, even though you may laugh at me for being a superst.i.tious fool--I somehow antic.i.p.ate that something uncanny is about to happen to me."

"You're going to die, like all the rest of them, I suppose," laughed his friend, as they descended the dusty, winding road that led to the palm-lined promenade of the quiet little Mediterranean watering-place.

CHAPTER XXIV

"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK"

On their left were several white villas, before which pink and scarlet geraniums ran riot, with spreading mimosas golden with their feathery blossom, for Ospedaletti makes a frantic, if vain, bid for popularity as a winter-resort. Its deadly dullness, however, is too well known to the habitue of the Riviera; and its casino, which never obtained a licence, imparts to it the air of painful effort at gaiety.

"Well," remarked the shabby man as they pa.s.sed along and out upon the sea-road in the direction of Bordighera, "I always looked upon what the people at Auchterarder said regarding the Whispers as a mere myth. But now, having heard them with my own ears, how can I have further doubt?"

"I've listened in the Castle ruins a good many times, my dear Krail,"

replied the other, "but I've never heard anything more exciting than an owl. Indeed, Lady Heyburn and I, when there was so much gossip about the strange noises some two years ago, set to work to investigate. We went there at least a dozen times, but without result; only both of us caught bad colds."