The Mystery Queen

"Vincent's a queer fish. That's all I can say," retorted Laurance. "Well, you can't say more and you can't say less, I suppose. We'll go and have a look at the queer fish in his pond whenever you like."

"At eleven o'clock then."

"Right oh! I can talk to the uncle and you can talk to the niece. It's a fair division of labor." This arrangement was willingly agreed to by Laurance, as Dan was certain it would be since he saw that his friend was fathoms deep in love. Afterwards, the two went out of doors and surveyed the landscape. Sheepeak was situated on the top of a lofty tableland, the village being a tolerably large collection of substantial stone houses, whence the moors spread north and south, east and west. From where they were, the friends could see the green squares of cultivated fields, the purple bloom of the heather, and the azure hues which distance gave to the distant mountains. Here and there the vast country, which looked enormously large from the elevation whence they surveyed it, dipped into verdant dales, snugly clothed with forests, and sprinkled with manor-houses and villages, big and little. The lands were so far-stretching and the prospect so extensive, that Dan became mightily impressed with the magnitude of the sky. It covered them like a huge inverted cup, and as there was nothing to break its league-long sweep, Dan felt quite small in the immensity which surrounded him above and below. "I feel like a pill in the Desert of Sahara," said Mr. Halliday, sighing. "What is the sensation of feeling like a pill," rejoined Laurance drily, for he was not an imaginative individual. "Only a poet can explain, Freddy, and you are very earthy."

"I never knew you were a genius," snapped Laurance, with a shrug. "You have much to learn," replied Dan reprovingly; "and as it's near eleven o'clock, suppose we light out for Vincent." Freddy agreed, and skirting the village for three-quarters of a mile, they suddenly came upon a small cottage, with walls and roof of yellowish stone covered with lichen, and standing in a small garden of wind-tormented vegetation. A low stone wall divided this from the high road, and the visitors entered through a small wooden gate to pass up a cobble-stone walk to the modest door. But the cottage itself was dwarfed wholly by huge sheds of wood covered with roofs of galvanized tin, which loomed up suddenly behind it, on a vast scale more in keeping with the character of the landscape. These were the workshops of Vincent, where he built his machines and housed them from prying eyes. The fields at the back cultivated into smooth lawns were where the aeroplanes started to fly over hill and dale, to the wonderment of the inhabitants. "Though they are pretty well used to Vincent's vagaries by this time," said Freddy, ending his explanation. Mildred received them in the small parlor of the cottage which was about the size of a doll's drawing-room, and expressed herself as pleased to make the acquaintance of Mr. Halliday. Her uncle, she mentioned, was busy as usual in his workshop, but would see the visitors in half an hour. While she explained, Dan took stock of her, and admitted that she was really a very amiable and pretty girl, though not a patch on Lillian. But then Dan did not care for tall ladies with olive complexions, blue eyes, dark hair, and the regal melancholy look of discrowned queens. Mildred-the name suited her-was too tall and stately for his taste, which approved more of little golden-haired women, fairy-like and frolicsome. Miss Vincent looked serious and thoughtful, and although her smile was delicious, she smiled very seldom. It seemed to Dan that her solitary life in these moorlands and in the company-when she enjoyed it-of her morose uncle, made the girl sober beyond her years, which were not more than two-and-twenty. However, many minds many tastes, and Dan could not deny but what Freddy's fair Saxon looks went very well with the Celtic mystic appearance of the inventor's niece. They were a handsome couple, indeed, but much too solemn in looks and character for Dan, whose liking leaned to the frivolous side of things. "Don't you find it dull here, Miss Vincent?" asked Halliday casually. "Dull!" she echoed, turning her somewhat sad eyes of dark blue in his direction, "oh, not at all. Why I have a great deal to do. We have only one servant and I assist in the housework. My uncle is not easy to cater for, as he has many likes and dislikes with regard to food. Then he employs a certain number of workmen, and I have to pay them every Saturday. Indeed, I look after all the financial part of my uncle's business."

"Is it a business, or a whim-a hobby?" inquired Dan respectfully, for, being frivolous, he was struck with awe at the multitude of Miss Vincent's employments. "Well, more of the last than the first perhaps," said Mildred smiling at his respectful expression. "Uncle Solomon really doesn't care for publicity. All his aim is to construct a perfect machine, and he is always inventing, and improving, and thinking of new ways in which to obtain the mastery of the air."

"His machines have been tried by other people, though," remarked Freddy. "Oh, yes, and with great success. But uncle doesn't even read the papers to see what is said about his aeroplanes, although he is always anxious to read what other inventors are doing, and takes a great interest in races across Channel and over the Alps, and from city to city. But he is wrapt up in his own schemes, and works for twelve and more hours out of the twenty-four in perfecting his machines. Public applause or public rewards don't appeal to him, you see, Mr. Halliday; it's the work itself."

"Ah, that is the true spirit of genius," said Dan approvingly, "a man like that is sure to arrive."

"He will never arrive," said Miss Vincent quietly, "for as soon as he arrives at one point, he only regards it as a resting-place to start for a further goal. He doesn't care for food or drink, or clothes, or politics, or amusements, or anything for which the ordinary man strives. His machine takes up all his attention."

"Happy man. To have one strong aim and to be allowed to work at that aim, is the true happiness of any man. I shall be glad to have a talk with him."

"He doesn't talk much, Mr. Halliday."

"A man obsessed with one idea seldom does," retorted the young fellow. "I hope, however, he will let me have a machine for this race. I can handle any aeroplane, once it is explained to me, and Freddy here, says that your uncle's machines have many improvements likely to tell against competitors."

"I am not sure if he will let you have a machine," said Mildred, her face clouding; "he is very jealous and whimsical you know." "Like all inventors," murmured Laurance rising; "let us go and see him."

"Yes," added Dan, also getting on his feet, "and then you take Freddy away, Miss Vincent, and let me talk to your uncle. I shall get what I want, somehow." Mildred laughed and led the way out of the cottage by the back door. "It is not an easy task you have set yourself to do," she said, doubtfully; "here are the workshops and the buildings where the machines are housed, and yonder is Uncle Solomon." The buildings looked plebeian and gimcrack with their flimsy wooden walls and tin roofs, impressive only in their magnitude. They must have cost a deal to erect in this neighborhood where all the houses, great and small, were of stone; and wood was comparatively scarce. Vincent, as Dan considered, must be well-off to indulge in so expensive a hobby. To be sure by racing he could gain prizes, and if successful could also sell machines at a good figure; but from what Mildred said, it seemed to Dan that her uncle had the true jealous spirit of an inventor, and did not let his darlings go out of his hands if he could help it. To live on this vast moorland, working at his inventions and experimenting with his ideas, was enough for Solomon Vincent, without the applause and rewards of the world. Undoubtedly to carry out his plans he must have a private income, and not an inconsiderable one at that. "Uncle, this is Mr. Laurance and Mr. Halliday," said Mildred, introducing the two young men, though the first did not require mention. But Vincent, like most inventors, was absent-minded, and it took him quite a minute to recognize Laurance, whom he had not seen on the previous night. "Mr. Laurance and Mr. Halliday," he said casually, and turning from the workman to whom he had been speaking-"yes, of course. You understand about the propeller, Quinton," he added, again taking up his conversation with the workman, "it must be seen to at once," and quite oblivious of the company he went on giving instructions, until the man went away to do his task, and Mildred touched her uncle's arm. "This is Mr. Laurance and Mr. – "

"Of course I know it is Mr. Laurance," said Vincent testily, "do you think I am blind? How do you do, Laurance? Good-by, I am busy."

"And this is Mr. Halliday who wants a machine," went on Mildred persuasively. "Indeed. Then Mr. Halliday shan't get one," retorted Vincent, and sauntered into the nearest shed with a scowl on his lean face. He was an acrid-looking man of fifty, with untidy gray hair and an untrimmed beard. "Follow him, and he will talk," said Mildred hastily, "I shall remain here with Freddy, as uncle doesn't like many people to be about him."

"He is not easy to get on with," sighed Dan, "I can see that." However, he took the girl's advice and went into the shed after the ungracious inventor, leaving the lovers to return to the cottage parlor, which they did forthwith. Laurance was quite astute enough to lose no time, since the moments spent with Mildred were all golden and not easily obtainable. Dan marched into the shed with a fine air of possession, and again surveyed Vincent, who was examining some specifications near a window. The man was carelessly dressed in a shabby suit of blue serge, and seemed to care little about his personal appearance. Marking once more his shaggy hair and beard, and yellow skin considerably wrinkled, the young man went up to him. As if waking from a dream, Vincent looked up, and Dan met the gaze of two very keen dark eyes, whose expression was anything but amiable. "Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the owner of the eyes crossly. "My name is Halliday. I want a machine to race between London and York. I have just been introduced to you by your niece."

"My niece should have more sense than to have brought you here," cried the inventor fiercely; "you come to spy out my ideas and to steal them."

"I assure you I don't," said Dan drily. "I am not a genius as you are."

"All the more reason you should pick my brains," snapped Vincent in no way mollified by the compliment as Dan intended he should be. Halliday laughed. "If I did, I could make no use of my pickings, Mr. Vincent, as you may guess. I can handle a machine, but I can't put one together."

"Who told you about me?" demanded the man suspiciously. "Laurance."

"He's a meddlesome fool."

"Well," said Dan cheerfully, "there may be two opinions about that you know."

"I don't want him, and I don't want you, and I don't want any one. Why do you come and bother me when I don't want you?"

"Because my wants are to be considered. See here, Mr. Vincent," added Halliday in a coaxing voice, for he saw that it was necessary to humor this clever man like a child, "there is to be a race between London and York for a big prize given by The Moment, the paper Mr. Laurance works for. I wish to compete, but my machine isn't so good as I should like it to be. I hear that you have made several improvements which make for speed and easier handling of aeroplanes. Let me have one of your latest, and I'll share the prize with you. It's two thousand, you know."

"I don't want money," snapped Vincent abruptly. "I congratulate you," said Dan coolly; "and yet large sums must be needed to help you to build machines. You must be rich. Are you rich?" Vincent grew a dusky red, and glanced in an odd way over his shoulder, as if he expected to find some one at his elbow. "Mind your own business," he said in a harsh voice, and with suppressed fury; "whether I'm rich or not is my business. You shan't have an aeroplane of mine. Clear out." Dan did clear out, but as he went, wondered why the man was so angry and confused. He seemed quite afraid of the simple question that had been put to him.

CHAPTER VII

THE HERMIT LADIES

Dan was not naturally of a suspicious nature, but since taking up the profession of a detective, he had become so. Slight matters that formerly he would not have noticed, now attracted his attention, and, as the saying goes, he saw a bird in every bush. For this reason while returning slowly to the cottage, he considered Vincent's backward glance, which hinted at nervousness, and his unnecessarily angry reply to the question as to whether he was rich. Usually dreamy and absent-minded, the turn taken by the conversation had awakened the tiger in the man, and apparently he regarded Halliday as over-inquisitive. Yet why the inventor should take this view, Dan could not conjecture. But after musing for a few minutes, the young man began to think he was making a mountain out of a mole-hill. And whatever secret Vincent had in his life, as his suddenly aggressive attitude showed, it could have nothing to do with the particular quest upon which Dan was bent. Halliday, therefore, dismissed the matter from his mind with a shrug, and went into the cottage to disturb the lovers. "Well, Mr. Halliday," remarked Mildred, whose cheeks were flushed and whose eyes were bright, "what did my uncle say?"

"Very little, but what he did say was to the point. He refuses to let me have a machine."

"How like him," ejaculated Laurance quickly; "but upon what grounds?" Dan scratched his chin. "Really, I don't know. He seems to think that I am a spy desirous of learning his trade secrets. He called you a meddlesome fool, Freddy."

"Ah, that is because I wish to marry Mildred," replied Freddy drily; "it is very natural that Mr. Vincent should object to a man who comes to rob him of his treasure, so I don't mind his abuse."

"I am not a treasure," cried Mildred, becoming pink. "You are. Who knows that better than I, my darling."

"You think too well of me."

"Impossible. You are the best and dearest-"

"Stop! Stop!" Mildred covered her face. "Remember we are not alone."

"Oh, don't mind me," said Dan phlegmatically, "I'm in love myself, Miss Vincent." She nodded comprehendingly. "With Miss Moon. Freddy has told me."

"Has he told you that my marriage depends upon my finding out who murdered her father?" questioned the young man dismally. "Yes, and that you need money for the search."

"Which money," continued Laurance determinedly, "must be obtained by Dan winning this London to York race. That can be done, I am certain, with one of your uncle's aeroplanes, Mildred, as he has made wonderful improvements in their structure, and-"

"But he declines to furnish me with a machine," interrupted Halliday in a vexed tone, "not even my offer to share the £2,000 prize tempts him. He is too rich, I suppose?" He cast an inquiring glance at the girl. Mildred shook her head. "Uncle Solomon is not rich," she replied quietly. "He must be," insisted Dan sharply; "he could not indulge in such an expensive hobby otherwise."

"Mrs. Jarsell helps him with money, though, to be sure, he has a little of his own. Still, unless she supplied money, Uncle Solomon could not go on building aeroplanes, especially as he rarely sells one, and wishes to keep all his inventions to himself. His idea is to invent a perfect machine and then sell it to the Government, and he fancies that if he allows any one else to handle his aeroplanes, his secrets may be prematurely discovered."

"Well, I can see his objection in that way," assented Dan, "since more ideas are stolen than pocket handkerchiefs, as Balzac says. But Mrs. Jarsell?"

"She is a rich and rather eccentric lady, who lives at The Grange," said Mr. Laurance, before Mildred could reply. "I am as wise as I was before, Freddy. It's an odd thing for a lady to finance an inventor of flying-machines. She must be large-minded and have a very great deal of money."

"She is large-minded and she has plenty of money," admitted Mildred vivaciously; "her influence with my uncle is extraordinary."

"Not at all if she supplies the cash," said Dan cynically, "but I have an idea, Miss Vincent. Suppose we enlist Mrs. Jarsell's sympathies."

"About the murder?"

"No," said Halliday, after thinking for a moment or so. "I don't see the use of talking too much about that. The more secret Freddy and I keep our hunt, the better prospect have we of success, since the gang will not be on guard, as it were. No, Miss Vincent, introduce me to Mrs. Jarsell as a young and ardent lover who wishes to make money in order to marry the girl of his heart. If she is romantic-and nine old ladies out of ten are romantic-she will induce your uncle to, give me his newest aeroplane."

"If she decides to help you, Uncle Solomon certainly will give you what you want," Mildred assured him, "since Mrs. Jarsell has supplied him with so much money for his experiments." She thought for a second, then raised her head cheerfully. "We shall see Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour this afternoon."

"Who is Miss Armour?"

"Mrs. Jarsell's companion and relative and confidential friend. She's a dear old thing, and is sure to sympathize with your romance."

"All the better, so long as she can influence Mrs. Jarsell."

"She can influence her, as Mrs. Jarsell swears by her," put in Freddy. "Oh, I think you'll pull it off, Dan. It's a good idea to work old Vincent through the hermit ladies."

"The hermit ladies," echoed Dan wonderingly, "an odd reputation. Hermits are usually masculine."

"Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour are an exception," said Laurance laughing, "in fact they are modern representatives of that eccentric couple of ladies who lived at Llangollen. You remember them."

"I have heard the names," murmured Dan reflectively. "The old ladies of Llangollen, who eloped together and lived in Wales. I should rather like to see this pair that follow so strange an example. When are we to go?"

"This afternoon," repeated Mildred, nodding brightly, "I really think something may come of the visit, Mr. Halliday. You and Freddy go back to 'The Peacock' for dinner and then call for me later-say at three o'clock. I am a favorite with the hermit ladies and have leave to bring any one to afternoon tea. Especially nice young men. Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour are fond of young men."

"Giddy old things," said Dan gaily. "I hope they will take a fancy to me, as I shall do my best to charm them. Well?" "You must go now, Mr. Halliday, as I have much to do before taking an hour off." "Vincent works you too hard, Mildred," said Laurance impatiently, as he took up his cap, "you can't call a moment your own."

"I shall call two hours or so my own this afternoon," replied Mildred amiably, and sent the young men away quite happy, since there was a promising chance that Dan would gain his ends. "That's a delightful girl," said Dan, when the two were seated at dinner. "I should like to marry her if Lillian were not in existence."

"I'm glad that Lillian is, Dan, since I want to marry Mildred myself. Don't poach, you animal."

"I won't," promised Halliday generously, "I don't like dark hair. But it's no use arguing. Let us eat and drink, for I have to fascinate Mrs. Jarsell and her bosom friend. I'll get hold of that aeroplane, somehow."

"We are here for that purpose," said Laurance, determined to have the last word, and as Dan was hungry he let him have it. The Grange-at which they arrived late in the afternoon, the two men escorting the one girl-was a large, rambling mansion built of yellowish stone, its original color more or less washed out by rain and burnt out by sunshine. The surface of the massive walls was grimy with black and rough with lichens, while the broad, flat stones of the roof were covered with damp green moss. The house, although in two stories, was of no great height, and stood on the uttermost verge of the hill, which sloped abruptly down into the valley. The view should have been very fine, but sundry tall houses had been built round The Grange, which prevented the owner from enjoying the magnificent prospect. This shutting-in-according to the legend-was due to the malice of a disinherited brother in Jacobean times, who had created quite a village round about the estate so as to block out the view. But the present inhabitants did not mind much, for, as Mildred explained, both Miss Armour and Mrs. Jarsell stayed within doors a great deal. "In fact, Miss Armour is more or less paralyzed, and sits in a big chair all day, reading and knitting, and talking and playing Patience," said Mildred, as the trio turned into a small courtyard, and found themselves facing a squat door, set in a porch sufficiently massive to serve for the entrance to a mausoleum. An elderly maid, in an incongruous dress of brilliant scarlet, admitted them into a darkish hall, whose atmosphere, suggestive of a Turkish bath in a mild way, hinted that the house was heated by steam pipes, as indeed was the case. There were some carved boxes of black oak in the hall and three or four uncomfortable high-backed chairs, but the walls and floor were bare, and the general aspect was somewhat bleak. However, when the visitors were conducted along a narrow passage, ill-lighted and dismal, they were introduced to a large low-ceilinged room, richly and luxuriously and picturesquely furnished. The brilliant garb of the maidservant suited this room much better than it did hall or passage, and there was a suggestion of tropical splendor about the woman and the sitting-room, which revealed in Mrs. Jarsell a strong love of color, warmth, and light. Indeed, although there were three large windows looking out on to a garden, and immediately facing the door by which they had entered, yet the light which was admitted being insufficient-perhaps because of the wintry gloom-the apartment was brilliantly illuminated by six lamps. Three of these stood at one end of the room, and three at the other, on tall brass stands, and the light, radiating through opaque globes, filled the place with mellow splendor. The vivid scene it revealed was a strange and unexpected one to find in these barren wilds. What impressed Dan straight away, was the prevalence of scarlet. The walls were covered with brightly toned paper, the floor with a carpet of violently brilliant hue, and even the ceiling was splashed with arabesque designs, blood-red against the white background. The furniture was of black oak upholstered in satin of the same fiery tint, while the draperies were of a dense black, funereal in aspect. A large fire glowed on a wide hearth in a vermilion-tiled alcove, and the poker, tongs, shovels, and pincers were of brass. Also there were brass candlesticks, a tripod of the same alloy in which incense slowly smoldered and even brazen warming-pans of antique pattern were ranged on either side of the fireplace. Thus, the general color-scheme was of black, scarlet, and yellow. What with the barbaric hues, the warm atmosphere, and the faint scent of incense, Dan felt as though he had stumbled on the den of a magician, malicious and dangerous. But this may have only been an impression caused by coming suddenly into this tropical room out of the chill air and neutral-tinted landscape. Neither Mrs. Jarsell nor Miss Armour, however, carried their love of violent color into their personal attire, as both were arrayed-somewhat incongruously, considering the season-in unrelieved white. The former lady was tall and bulky and somewhat assertive in manner, with a masculine cast of countenance and watchful dark eyes. From the smooth olive texture of her skin, she had probably possessed jet-black hair, before age turned her still plentiful locks completely white. She was not, as Dan concluded, more than fifty, as she possessed great vitality, and gripped his hand in a vigorous, manly way, quite in keeping with her commanding looks. Her white gown was made perfectly plain; she did not display even a ribbon, and wore no jewellery whatsoever, yet her whole appearance was distinguished and dignified. Indeed, when she welcomed the young people she assumed something of a motherly air, but if the hint conveyed by the barbarically decorated room was to be taken, she was anything but maternal. Mrs. Jarsell, as Dan mentally confessed, was something of a puzzle; he could not place her, as the saying goes. Miss Armour had also an unusual personality, being the antithesis of her friend in looks and manner. To Mrs. Jarsell's massive assertiveness, she opposed a fragile timidity, and was as small of body as the other was large. Her oval, many-wrinkled face was the hue of old ivory, her features were delicate, and her small head drooped in a rather pensive manner. Her white hair, not so plentiful as that of Mrs. Jarsell, was smoothly arranged under a dainty cap of white lace, decorated, oddly enough, with diamond ornaments. And, indeed, she wore enough jewellery for both ladies; rings on her slender fingers, and chains round her neck, and bracelets on her wrists, with a belt of turquoise stones, a ruby brooch, and earrings of pearls. On a less refined person, this overloading of ornaments would have looked vulgar, but Miss Armour, although she glittered at all points like a heathen idol, preserved a calm dignity, which caused her sumptuous display to appear perfectly natural. It was very strange that such a mild-looking woman should deck herself out in this manner, so she, also, was a puzzle to Halliday's intelligence. Indeed, the two ladies, in their splendid room, suggested to Dan dreams of the Arabian Nights, and gave him the impression of being concerned in some gorgeous romance. Miss Armour, seated in the big chair which Mildred had mentioned, looked over Dan with mild, brown eyes, and evidently approved of his good looks. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Halliday," she said in a soft and musical voice, quite silvery in its sound. "To an old person, such as I am, the young are always welcome." Dan felt called upon to pay a compliment. "You don't look old," he said bluntly. "Well, now-a-days, sixty cannot be called old," said Miss Armour with a pretty laugh, "as I am assured that women of that age actually dance in London."