A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story

"Ah!" Morley looked thoughtful. "So that was the motive, you think?"

"I am sure of it, and a quite strong enough motive for many people," said Ware grimly. "If Mrs. Benker can verify this man, I'll have him arrested. He will have to explain why he came here instead of the office boy, and why he fled on that night."

"Yes, yes!" cried Morley excitedly. "And he might perhaps explain why the governess helped him to escape."

"Ah!" Giles' face fell. "So he might; but if he dares to inculpate her in this crime – "

"Ware," said Morley, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "if I were you I should do nothing rash. Every one thinks that Miss Denham is guilty. If this Franklin is the man who fled with her, he will accuse her to save himself. Certainly there is the motive of the money, but that might be explained away."

"I don't see how it can."

"Nor I; still, there is always the chance. Again, he may take alarm – always presuming he is the man – and fly. I tell you what, Ware, you bring Mrs. Benker down, and take her into the grounds of the Priory. I will arrange that Franklin, without suspecting her or us, shall meet her, accidentally, at some place where we can hide. Then we can overhear if he is the man or not."

"He'll deny that he is."

"Why should he? There is nothing, so far as he knows, that Mrs. Benker can lay hold of. If he is the man he will admit his identity, if not, he will explain who he is. Whereas if we show ourselves and show that we suspect him, he will be on his guard. No, Ware; better let the woman meet him by chance."

"It's a good plan," replied Giles, shaking hands heartily with Morley. "I am delighted that you should co-operate with me. We will yet prove that Anne is innocent."

"I hope so," cried his host, slapping Giles on the back. "Off with you, Ware, to do your part. I'll attend to Franklin. But say no word of our plan to any one. Upon my word," cried he jubilantly, "I feel just as though I were in the profession again." And thus laughing and joking, he sent his visitor away in the best of spirits.

Delighted that he had some one to help him, Giles lost no time in performing his part of the business. He sent a letter to Mrs. Benker, asking her to come down for a couple of days. It was his intention to invite Alexander also, as the boy would also be useful in identifying Franklin as his mother's former lodger; but since leaving Asher's Alexander had been taken up by Steel, who saw in him the makings of a good detective. If Alexander learned anything he would certainly tell his master, and then Steel would come down to interfere. Ware did not want him to meddle with the matter at present. He wished to be sure of his ground first, and then would ask the assistance of the detective to have Franklin arrested. Of course, he had every confidence in Steel, but for the above reason he determined to keep his present action quiet. Also, Steel was on the south coast, hunting for evidence concerning The Red Cross yacht, and would not be pleased at being taken away to follow what might prove to be a false trail. Ware therefore said nothing to Mrs. Benker about what he desired to see her, but simply asked her to come down on a visit.

There was a prospect of his having another visitor, and one he did not much wish to meet. This was the Princess Karacsay. Several times he had called to see her, but she had always put off her promised explanation on some plea or another. Instead of attending strictly to the business which had brought them together, she made herself agreeable to Giles – too agreeable he thought, for he had by this time got it into his head that Olga Karacsay was in love with him. He was not a vain young man, and tried to think that her attentions were merely friendly; but she was so persistent in her invitations and – in the slang phrase – made such running with him, that he grew rather nervous of her attentions. Several times she had proposed to come on a visit to Rickwell, but hitherto he had always managed to put her off. But her letters were becoming very imperative, and he foresaw trouble. It was quite a relief to Giles when the post arrived without a letter from this too persistent and too charming lady. However, she did not trouble him on this especial occasion, and he was thus enabled to give all his time to Mrs. Benker.

That good lady duly arrived, looking more severe than ever and with several new tales about the iniquities of Alexander. She expressed herself greatly obliged to Giles for giving her a day in the country, and got on very well with the old housekeeper. But when Ware told her his reason for asking her, Mrs. Benker grew rather nervous, as she did not think how she could support an interview, and, also, she wanted to know what the interview was for. To some extent Giles had to take her into his confidence, but he suppressed the fact that he suspected Franklin of the crime. He merely stated that Steel – who had introduced Giles to Mrs. Benker – had reason to believe that the so-called Wilson was wanted by the police. All that Mrs. Benker had to do was to see if Franklin was really her former lodger. After much talk and many objections, she consented to do what was wanted.

This was to wander in the park of the Priory and meet Franklin accidentally near a ruined summer-house, near what was known as the fish-ponds. Morley had arranged that Franklin should meet him there, and was to be late, so as to afford Mrs. Benker an opportunity of speaking to the man. Morley and Ware concealed themselves in the summer-house and saw Mrs. Benker parading the grass. Shortly Franklin arrived, walking slowly, and Mrs. Benker saluted him.

CHAPTER XIV

TREASURE TROVE

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Mrs. Benker to the new-comer, "but I do hope I'm not – Why" – she changed her tone to one of extreme surprise – "if it ain't Mr. Wilson!"

The man did not move a muscle. Ware, who was watching, was disappointed. At least he expected him to start, but the so-called Wilson was absolutely calm, and his voice did not falter.

"You are making a mistake; my name is Franklin."

"It isn't his voice," muttered the landlady, still staring; "but his eyes are the same."

"May I ask you to go?" said Franklin. "You are trespassing."

Mrs. Benker shook her rusty black bonnet.

"You may change your hair from red to black," she declared, "and you may shave off a ginger beard, but you can't alter your eyes. Mr. Wilson you are, and that I'll swear to in a court of law before a judge and jury. Let them say what they will about me being a liar."

"Of what are you talking, woman?"

"Of you, sir; and I hope I may mention that you were more respectful when you boarded with me."

"Boarded with you!" Franklin stared, and spoke in an astonished tone. "Why, I never boarded with you in my life!"

"Oh, Mr. Wilson, how can you? What about my little house in Lambeth, and the dear boy – my son Alexander – you were so fond of?"

"You are raving."

"I'm as sane as you are," said the landlady, her color rising, "and a deal more respectable, if all were known. Why you should deny me to my face is more than I can make out, Mr. Wilson."

"My name is not Wilson."

"And I say it is, sir."

Both the man and the woman eyed one another firmly. Then Franklin motioned Mrs. Benker to a seat on a mossy bank.

"We can talk better sitting," said he. "I should like an explanation of this. You say that my name is Wilson, and that I boarded with you."

"At Lambeth. I'll take my oath to it."

"Had your boarder red hair and a red beard?"

"Red as a tomato. But you can buy wigs and false beards. Eyes, as I say, you cannot change."

"Had this Wilson eyes like mine?" asked Frankly eagerly.

"There ain't a scrap of difference, Mr. Wilson. Your eyes are the same now as they were then."

"One moment. Had this man you think me to be two teeth missing in his lower jaw – two front teeth?"

"He had. Not that his teeth were of the best."

Franklin drew down his lip.

"You will see that I have all my teeth."

"H'm!" Mrs. Benker sniffed. "False teeth can be bought."

"I fear you would find these teeth only too genuine," said the man quietly. "But I quite understand your mistake."

"My mistake?" Mrs. Benker shook her head vehemently. "I'm not the one to make mistakes."

"On this occasion you have done so; but the mistake is pardonable. Mrs. – Mrs. – what is your name?"

"Mrs. Benker, sir. And you know it."

"Excuse me, I do not know it. The man who was your lodger, and whom you accuse me of being, is my brother."

"Your brother!" echoed the landlady, amazed.

"Yes, and a bad lot he is. Never did a hand's turn in all his life. I daresay while he was with you he kept the most irregular hours?"

"He did – most irregular."

"Out all night at times, and in all day? And again, out all day and in for the night?"

"You describe him exactly." Mrs. Benker peered into the clean-shaven face in a puzzled manner. "Your hair is black, your voice is changed, and only the eyes remain."

"My brother and I have eyes exactly the same. I guessed your mistake when you spoke. I assure you I am not my brother."

"Well, sir," said the woman, beginning to think she had made a mistake after all, "I will say your voice is not like his. It was low and soft, while yours, if you'll excuse me mentioning it, is hard, and not at all what I'd call a love-voice."

Grim as Franklin was, he could not help laughing at this last remark.

"I quite understand. You only confirm what I say. My brother has a beautiful voice, Mrs. Benker; and much harm he has done with it amongst your sex."

"He never harmed me," said Mrs. Benker, bridling. "I am a respectable woman and a widow with one son. But your brother – "

"He's a blackguard," interrupted Franklin; "hand and glove with the very worst people in London. You may be thankful he did not cut your throat or steal your furniture."

"Lord!" cried Mrs. Benker, astounded, "was he that dangerous?"

"He is so dangerous that he ought to be shut up. And if I could lay hands on him I'd get the police to shut him up. He's done no end of mischief. Now I daresay he had a red cross dangling from his watch-chain."

"Yes, he had. What does it mean?"

"I can't tell you; but I'd give a good deal to know. He has hinted to me that it is the sign of some criminal fraternity with which he is associated. I never could learn what the object of the cross is. He always kept quiet on that subject. But I have not seen him for years, and then only when I was on a flying visit from Italy."

"Have you been to Italy, sir?"

"I live there," said Franklin, "at Florence. I have lived there for over ten years, with an occasional visit to London. If you still think that I am my brother, I can bring witnesses to prove – "

"Lord, sir, I don't want to prove nothing. Now I look at you and hear your voice I do say as I made a mistake as I humbly beg your pardon for. But you are so like Mr. Wilson – "

"I know, and I forgive you. But why do you wish to find my brother? He has been up to some rascality, I suppose?"

"He has, though what it is I know no more than a babe. But they do say," added Mrs. Benker, sinking her voice, "as the police want him."

"I'm not at all astonished. He has placed himself within the reach of the law a hundred times. If the police come to me, I'll tell them what I have told you. No one would be more pleased than I to see Walter laid by the heels."

"Is his name Walter?"

"Yes, Walter Franklin, although he chooses to call himself Wilson. My name is George. He is a blackguard."

"Oh, sir, your flesh and blood."

"He's no brother of mine," said Franklin, rising, with a snarl. "I hate the man. He had traded on his resemblance to me to get money and do all manner of scoundrelly actions. That was why I went to Italy. It seems that I did wisely, for if I could not prove that I have been abroad these ten years, you would swear that I was Walter."

"Oh, no, sir – really." Mrs. Benker rose also.

"Nonsense. You swore that I was Walter when we first met. Take a good look at me now, so that you may be sure that I am not he. I don't want to have his rascalities placed on my shoulders."

Mrs. Benker took a good look and sighed. "You're not him, but you're very like. May I ask if you are twins, sir?"

"No. Our eyes are the only things that we have in common. We got those from our mother, who was an Italian. I take after my mother, and am black, as you see me. My brother favored my father, who was as red as an autumn sunset."

"He was indeed red," sighed Mrs. Benker, wrapping her shawl round her; "and now, sir, I hope you'll humbly forgive me for – "

"That's all right, Mrs. Benker. I only explained myself at length because I am so sick of having my brother's sins imputed on me. I hope he paid your rent."

"Oh, yes, sir, he did that regularly."

"Indeed," sneered Franklin; "then he is more honest than I gave him credit for being. Because if he had not paid you I should have done so. You seem to be a decent woman and – "

"A widow!" murmured Mrs. Benker, hoping that he would give her some money. But this Mr. Franklin had no intention of doing.

"You can go now," he said, pointing with his stick towards an ornamental bridge; "that is the best way to the high-road. And, Mrs. Benker, if my brother should return to you let me know."

"And the police, sir," she faltered.

"I'll tell the police myself," said the man, frowning. "Good day."

Mrs. Benker, rather disappointed that she should have received no money, and wishing that she had said Walter Franklin had not paid her rent, crept off, a lugubrious figure, across the bridge. Franklin watched her till she was out of sight, then took off his hat, exposing a high, baldish head. His face was dark, and he began to mutter to himself. Finally, he spoke articulately.

"Am I never to be rid of that scamp?" he said, shaking his fist at the sky. "I have lived in Italy – in exile, so that I should not be troubled with his schemes and rascalities. I have buried myself here, with my daughter and those three who are faithful to me, in order that he may not find me out. And now I hear of him. That woman. She is a spy of his. I believe she came here from him with a made-up story. Walter will come, and then I'll have to buy him off. I shall be glad to do so. But to be blackmailed by that reptile. No! I'll go back to Florence first." He replaced his hat and began to dig his stick in the ground. "I wonder if Morley would help me. He is a shrewd man. He might advise me how to deal with this wretched brother of mine. If I could only trust him?" He looked round. "I wonder where he is? He promised to meet me half an hour ago." Here Franklin glanced at his watch. "I'll walk over to The Elms and ask who this woman, Mrs. Benker, is. He may know."

All this was delivered audibly and at intervals. Giles was not astonished, as he knew from Mrs. Parry that the man was in the habit of talking aloud to himself. But he was disappointed to receive such a clear proof that Franklin was not the man who had eloped with Anne. Even if he had been deceiving Mrs. Benker (which was not to be thought of), he would scarcely have spoken in soliloquy as he did if he had not been the man he asserted himself to be. Giles, saying nothing to his companion, watched Franklin in silence until he was out of sight, and then rose to stretch his long legs, Morley, with a groan, followed his example. It was he who spoke first.

"I am half dead with the cramp," said he, rubbing his stout leg, "just like old times when I hid in a cupboard at Mother Meddlers, to hear Black Bill give himself away over a burglary. Ay, and I nearly sneezed that time, which would have cost me my life. I have been safe enough in that summer-house – but the cramp – owch!"

"It seems I have been mistaken," was all Giles could say.

"So have I, so was Mrs. Benker. We are all in the same box. The man is evidently very like his scamp of a brother."

"No doubt, Morley. But he isn't the brother himself."

"More's the pity, for Franklin's sake as well as our own. He seems to hate his brother fairly and would be willing to give him up to the law – if he's done anything."

"Well," said Ware, beginning to walk, "this Walter Franklin – to give him his real name – has committed murder. I am more convinced than ever that he is the guilty person. But I don't see what he has to do with Anne. Her father is certainly dead – died at Florence. Ha! Morley. Franklin comes from Florence. He may know – he may have heard."

Morley nodded. "You're quite right, Ware. I'll ask him about the matter. Humph!" The ex-detective stopped for a moment. "This involuntary confession clears George Franklin."

"Yes. He is innocent enough."

"Well, but he inherited the money," said Morley. "It's queer that his brother, according to you, should have killed the girl who kept the fortune from him."

"It is strange. But it might be that Walter Franklin intended to play the part of his brother and get the money, counting on the resemblance between them."

"That's true enough. Yet if George were in Italy and within hail, so to speak, I don't see how that would have done. Why not come to The Elms with me and speak to Franklin yourself? He will be waiting for me there."

"No," answered Ware after some thought, "he evidently intends to trust you, and if I come he may hold his tongue. You draw him out, Morley, and then you can tell me. Mrs. Benker – "

"I'll say nothing about her. I am not supposed to know that she is a visitor to Rickwell. He'll suspect our game if I chatter about her, Ware. We must be cautious. This is a difficult skein to unravel."

"It is that," assented Giles dolefully, "and we're no further on with it than we were before."

"Nonsense, man. We have found out Wilson's real name."

"Well, that is something certainly, and his brother may be able to put us on his track. If he asks about Mrs. Benker, say that she is a friend of my housekeeper. You can say you heard it from your wife."

"I'll say no more than is necessary," replied Morley cunningly. "I learned in my detective days to keep a shut mouth. Well, I'll be off and see what I can get out of him."

When Morley departed at his fast little trot – he got over the ground quickly for so small a man – Giles wandered about the Priory park. He thought that he might meet with the daughter, and see what kind of a person she was. If weak in the head, as Mrs. Parry declared her to be, she might chatter about her Uncle Walter. Giles wished to find out all he could about that scamp. He was beginning to feel afraid for Anne, and to wonder in what way she was connected with such a blackguard.

However, he saw nothing and turned his face homeward. Just as he was leaving the park on the side near the cemetery he saw something glittering in the grass. This he picked up, and was so amazed that he could only stare at it dumb-founded. And his astonishment was little to be wondered at. He held in his hand a half-sovereign with an amethyst, a diamond, and a pearl set into the gold. It was the very ornament which he had given Anne Denham on the night of the children's party at The Elms – the coin of His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII.

CHAPTER XV

AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW

The discovery of the coin perplexed Giles. It was certainly the trinket attached to the bangle which he had given Anne. And here he found it in the grounds of the Priory. This would argue that she was in the neighborhood, in the house it might be. She had never been to the Priory when living at The Elms, certainly not after the New Year, when she first became possessed of the coin. He decided, therefore, that at some late period – within the last few days – she had been in the park, and there had lost the coin. It would, indeed, be strange if this trifling present which he had made her should be the means of tracing her to her hiding-place.

And that hiding-place was the Priory. Giles felt sure of this. If she was in the neighborhood and walking about openly, she would be discovered and arrested. Therefore she must be concealed in the house. She had gone off with Walter Franklin, and here she was under the wing of his brother George. The case grew more mysterious and perplexing as time went on. Giles did not know which way to turn, or what advantage to reap from this discovery.

Certainly, if he could get into the Priory and search the house, he might discover Anne. Or, it might be, that if he confided in Franklin and told him of his love for Anne, the man might tell the truth and let him have an interview. But the matter took some thinking out. He decided to let it remain in abeyance at present. After kissing the coin – had it not been Anne's? – he slipped it into his waistcoat-pocket and returned home.

Here a surprise, and not a very agreeable one, awaited him. He reached his house just in time to dress for dinner, and found a letter, which had been delivered by hand. It was from Olga Karacsay, and announced that she and her mother were stopping at the village inn. She asked Giles to come over that evening, as she wished to introduce him to the elder Princess. Ware was vexed that this inopportune visit should have taken place at the moment. He did not wish to be introduced to Olga's mother, and had more to do than to chatter French to a foreign lady. However, being naturally a most polite young gentleman, he could not refuse the request, and after dinner proceeded to the village.

Morris, the landlord of "The Merry Dancer" – which was the name of the inn – was a burly man, and usually extremely self-important. On this night he excelled himself, and looked as swollen as the frog in the fable. That two Princesses should stay in his house was an honor which overwhelmed him. To be sure, they were foreigners, which made a difference; still, they had titles, and plenty of money, and for all Morris knew – as he observed to his flustered wife – might be exiled sovereigns. Morris received Giles in his best clothes, and bowed himself to the ground.

"Yes, Mr. Ware, their Highnesses are within – on the first floor, Mr. Ware, having engaged a salon and two bedrooms."

"I didn't know you had a salon, Morris!" said Giles, his eyes twinkling.

"For the time being I call it such," replied the landlord grandly. "My daughter is a French scholar, Mr. Ware, and called the sitting-room by that name. Me and Mrs. Morris and Henrietta Morris wish to make their Highnesses feel at home. Allow me to conduct you, sir, to the salon of their Highnesses. The garkong is engaged with the dejune, along with the femmie de chambers, who also waits."

"You are quite a French scholar, Morris."

"Henrietta Morris, my daughter – or I should say, mon filly – has instructed me in the languidge, sir. This way to the salon, sir," and Morris marshalled the way with the air of a courtier of Louis XIV.

Giles entered the sitting-room, which was pretty and quaint but extremely unpretentious, bubbling over with laughter.

Olga came forward, and catching sight of his face, laughed also as she shook hands with him.

"I see you know the jest," she said.

"Morris informed me of it as soon as I entered his door. Why have you come down to this dull place, Princess?"

"Ah, no" – she made a pretty gesture of annoyance – "you must to-night call me Olga – "

"I should not think of taking such a liberty," said Giles quickly.

Olga pouted. "Then, Mademoiselle Olga," said she, "my mother you must call the Princess Karacsay. Will you allow me, Mr. Ware, to present you to my mother?"

She led the young man forward, and he found himself bowing to a stout lady, who at one time must have been beautiful, but in whom age had destroyed a great amount of her good looks. She was darker than her daughter, and had a languid, indolent air, which seemed to account for her stoutness. Evidently she never took exercise. Her face was still beautiful, and she had the most glorious pair of dark eyes. Her hair was silvery, and contrasted strangely with her swart face. One would have thought that she had African blood in her. She wore a yellow dress trimmed with black lace, and many jewels twinkled on her neck and arms and in her hair. Her tastes, like her appearance, were evidently barbaric. In this cold, misty island she looked like some gorgeous tropical bird astray.