The Mystery of the Ravenspurs

"Not quite. The princess is cunning. We shall have to extract a confession from her; we shall have to get her and her two slaves together. It is all a matter of hours, but we shall have to be circumspect. If the woman finds she is baffled she may be capable of a bitter revenge to finish with."

"What are you going to do?" Geoffrey asked.

"We are going back to the castle the same way we came," Tchigorsky explained. "We are going to show your uncle Ralph our find. For the present it is not expedient that Sergius Tchigorsky should come to life again."

The box was locked once more and replaced, and then the two burglars crept from the house. They had not disturbed anybody, for the upper windows of the farmhouse were all in darkness.

A brisk walk brought them to the castle. Upstairs a dim light was still burning in Ralph Ravenspur's window. The light flared up at the signal, and a few minutes later the three were seated round the lamp, while the window was darkened again.

Ralph sat stolidly smoking as if he had not moved for hours. He evinced not the slightest curiosity as to the success of his companions. Tchigorsky smote him on the back with unwonted hilarity.

"So you have been successful?" he croaked.

"Oh, you have guessed that!" Tchigorsky cried.

"It was a mere matter of time," Ralph replied. "It was bound to come. I knew that from the first day I got here."

"All very well," Tchigorsky muttered; "but it was only a 'matter of time' till the Ravenspurs were wiped out root and branch."

"You knew the day you got here?" Geoffrey exclaimed.

Ralph turned his inscrutable face to the speaker.

"I did, lad," he said. "I came home to ascertain how the thing was worked. Before I slept the first night under the old roof I knew the truth. And I came in time – guided by the hand of Providence – to save the first of a fresh series of tragedies.

"You wonder why I did not speak; you have asked me before why I did not proclaim my knowledge. And I replied that the whole world would have laughed at me; you would have been the first to deride me, and the assassin would have been warned. I kept my counsel; I worked on like a mole in the dark; and when I had something to go on, Tchigorsky came. Before you are many hours older the miscreants will stand confessed."

Tchigorsky nodded approval. He was deftly rolling a cigarette between his long fingers.

"Ralph is right," he said. "We have only to fire the mine now. By the way, Ralph, you were clever to get that key."

"Easy enough," Ralph croaked. "I knew the woman would be uneasy about her papers, so I gave her a touch of the cordial on her lips and brought her to her senses. A certain messenger who shall be nameless was sent off with the key. The messenger was detained, is still detained according to arrangements, and her pocket was picked. Elphick dropped back and gave me the key, which I passed on to you."

Geoffrey followed in some bewilderment. The messenger business was all strange to him.

"Did you know that diary existed?" he asked.

"Of course I did," Ralph growled. "In a measure, I might say that I had seen it. Many a time at night have I lain in a flower-bed under that woman's window and heard her reading from the diary or writing in it. That is why I asked no questions when you came in. I knew you had been successful. And now, Princess Zara, it is my turn."

Ralph's voice dropped to a whisper, an intense, burning whisper of hate and vengeance. He rose and paced the room like a caged bird.

"What will be her fate?" asked Geoffrey.

"Burn her, slay her, hang her," Ralph cried. "No death is too painful, too loathsome for a creature like that. I could forgive her fanatical cruelty; I could forgive the way she fought for her creed. But when it comes to those allied by ties – "

The speaker paused and sat down.

"Who talks too fast says too much," he remarked sententiously.

"What is the next move?" Geoffrey asked.

"Bed, I should say," Tchigorsky suggested dryly. "As far as one can judge we are likely to have a busy day before us to-morrow. And don't you be surprised at anything you see or hear. It will be all in the day's work, as you English say. I am going to lie up in hiding here, but I shall turn up when the time comes. Good-night."

It was late when Geoffrey rose the following day, and the family had long had breakfast when he came downstairs. Most of the family were still in the breakfast room or on the terrace in the sunshine.

"How is the visitor?" he asked.

"Mrs. May seems very queer," Mrs. Gordon explained. "She complains of a sort of paralysis in her lower limbs. At the same time she refuses to see a doctor, saying that she has had something of the kind before."

"Does she account for her presence here?" said Geoffrey.

"Oh, yes. Of course she had heard you were missing and been informed that everybody from the castle was on the beach. It was getting dark when she saw two strange suspicious-looking men coming this way. She felt sure that they had designs on the house and followed them. She tried to get somebody to assist her, but could not see a soul anywhere. Then she put on that queer dress and came on here.

"The two men entered the castle and she crept after them. They discovered her and one of them gave her a blow on the head that stunned her. When she came to her senses again she was lying in bed. Wasn't it plucky of her?"

"Very," Geoffrey said dryly; "but where is Marion?"

"Marion, like yourself, seems to be lazily inclined to-day. It is so very unlike her; indeed, I fear the poor child is anything but well. Those quiet people always feel the most, and poor Marion was greatly upset yesterday."

Vera came in at the same moment. She had a merry word or two for Geoffrey as to his late appearance. She had not seen Marion as yet. "Run up to her room, there is a dear girl," said Geoffrey. "This sort of thing is not like Marion; I fear something has happened to her."

"I wish you would," Ravenspur observed.

Vera disappeared only to come back presently with the information that Marion's room was empty, and that her bed had not been occupied. She held a little envelope in her hand.

"I can only find this," she said.

Ravenspur snatched the letter, and tore it open.

"Extraordinary," he exclaimed. "Marion says she has found a clue to the troubles and is following it up at once. If she does not come back till late we are not to worry about her. Strange! But I have every confidence in the girl."

"May she not come to harm!" Vera said fervently.

"Oh, I hope not," Mrs. Gordon cried. "But will this mystery and misery never end?"

CHAPTER LIII

A LITTLE LIGHT

Mrs. May, Princess Zara, the brilliant mystery who wielded so great an influence over the destiny of the house of Ravenspur, lay on her bed smiling faintly in the face of Mrs. Gordon Ravenspur, who stood regarding her with friendly solicitude. Mrs. Gordon had no suspicions whatever; she would have trusted any one. All the lessons of all the years had taught her no prudence in that direction. A kind word or an appeal for assistance always disarmed Mrs. Gordon.

"I hope you are comfortable?" she asked.

Mrs. May smiled faintly. She appeared a trifle embarrassed. She was acting her part beautifully as usual. Her audacity and assurance had carried her through great difficulties and she had confidence in the future.

"In my body, perfectly," she said. "But I am so uneasy in my mind."

"And you will not have a doctor?"

"Not for worlds. There is nothing the matter with me. I have suffered like this before. I have a weak heart, you know, and excitement troubles me thus. But I don't want a doctor."

"Then why should you worry?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

"I am ashamed of myself," the woman confessed with a laugh. "I have been wondering what you must think about me. This is the second time you have had to detain me as an involuntary guest under your roof. The first time I was the victim of idle curiosity; the second time I did try to do you a good turn. I hope you will remember that."

"It was kind and courageous of you," Mrs. Gordon said warmly. "How many people would have done as much for strangers! And please do not talk about it any more or I shall be distressed."

Mrs. May was by no means sorry to change the conversation. A thousand questions trembled on her lips, but she restrained them. She was burning to know certain things, but the mere mention of such matters might have aroused suspicions in a far simpler mind than that of Mrs. Gordon.

"So long as you are all well it doesn't matter," she said. "This afternoon I shall make an effort to get up. Meanwhile, I won't keep you from your household duties. Could I see one of those charming girls, Miss Vera or Marion? I have taken such a fancy to them."

"Vera shall come presently; she has gone to the village," Mrs. Gordon explained. As to Marion she could say nothing.

"Marion has been an enigma to us lately," she explained. "I need not tell you of the dark shadows hanging over this unhappy house, or how near we have been to the solution of the mystery on more than one occasion. And now Marion has an idea, queer child.

"She went out, presumably last night, leaving a note to say she had really got on the track at last, and that we were not to worry about her even if she did not return to-day. So strange of Marion."

Mrs. May had turned her face away. She was fearful lest the other, prattling on in her innocent way, should see the rage and terror and despair of her features.

"Queer!" she murmured hoarsely. "Did she write to you?"

"No, to my husband's father. Her note was given to me. Even now I don't know what to make of it. Would you like to see the letter? You are so clever that you may understand it better than I do."

"I should like to see the letter."

It was an effort almost beyond the speaker's powers to keep her voice steady. Even then the words sounded in her ears as if they came from somebody else. From her pocket Mrs. Gordon produced the letter. Mrs. May appeared to regard it languidly.

"If I knew the girl better I could tell you," she said. "It sounds sincere. But my head is beginning to ache again."

Mrs. Gordon was all solicitude. She drew down the blinds, and produced eau de Cologne, and fanned the brow of the sufferer after drenching it with the spirit. Mrs. May smiled languidly but gratefully. At the same time it was all she could do to keep her hands from clutching the other by the throat and screaming out that unless she was left alone murder would be done.

"Now I really can leave you," Mrs. Gordon said.

"It would be the greatest kindness," the invalid murmured gratefully.

The door softly closed; Mrs. May struggled to a sitting position. Her eyes were gleaming, yet a hard despair was on her face. She ought to be up and doing, but her lower limbs refused their office.

"A forgery," she said between her teeth. "Marion never wrote that letter. If they were not blind they could see that for themselves. Marion has been decoyed away; and, if so, somebody has that key. If I only knew. Tchigorsky is dead and Ralph Ravenspur is an idiot. Who, then, is the prime mover in this business?"

The woman did not know, and for the life of her she could not guess. Tchigorsky was out of the way – dead and buried. Ralph Ravenspur and Geoffrey were antagonists not worthy of a second thought. But somebody was moving and that somebody a skilled and vigorous foe.

For once the arch-conspirator was baffled. The foe had the enormous knowledge of knowing his quarry, while the quarry had not the least notion where or how to look for the hunter. And the fish was fast to the line. Unless it got away at once the landing net would be applied; then there would be an end of all things.

But she could not move; she could do nothing but lie there gasping in impotent rage. There was only one person in the world who could help her now, and that was Marion. And where was Marion? Only the man on the other side of the chess board knew that.

She wished she knew; oh! she wished she knew a score of things. Did the people of the castle suspect her? Hardly that, or Mrs. Gordon had not been so friendly.

What had become of the coat and glass mask she was wearing at the time things went wrong in Geoffrey Ravenspur's room? Had her subordinates heard her cry? Had they fled, or had they been taken? If they had fled, had they removed the instruments with them?

Mrs. May would have given five years of her life for enlightenment on these vital questions. Even she could not read the past and solve the unseen.

Tears of impotent rage and fury rose to her eyes. While she was lying there wasting the diamond minutes the foe was at work. At any time that foe might come down with the most overwhelming proofs and crush her. Marion had been spirited away. Why? So that the key of the safe might be stolen and used to advantage.

Once more the woman tried to raise herself from the bed. It was useless. She slipped the bed-clothes into her mouth to stifle the cries that rose to her lips. She was huddled under them when the door opened and Vera stepped in.

"Did you call out?" she asked. "I was passing your door and fancied I heard a cry. Are you still suffering from a headache?"

Mrs. May's first impulse was to order the girl away. Then an idea came to her.

"The headache is gone," she said sweetly. "It was just a twinge of neuralgia. I wonder if you would do me a favor."

"Certainly."

"Then I wish you would get me some paper and envelopes. I have a note to write. There is a child in the village I am fond of. She comes and sits in the tangle at the bottom of the Jessops' garden and talks to me. I am afraid she thinks more of my chocolates than me, but that is a detail."

"You want to write the child a note. How sweet of you!"

"Oh, no," Mrs. May said. She was going to embark on a dangerous effort and was not quite certain as yet. But desperate diseases require desperate remedies. "It is nothing. And I don't want anybody to know."

"I am sure you can trust to me."

"Of course I can, my dear child. And I will. Please get me the materials."

Vera brought the paper and essentials. With a smile on her face Mrs. May wrote the letter. Inside the envelope she placed something she had taken from the bosom of her dress.

"A cake of chocolate," she explained smilingly. "See, I do not address the envelope, but place on it this funny sign that looks like an intoxicated problem in Euclid. The child will understand. And now I am going to ask you to do me a favor. Will you please take the letter without letting anybody know what you are doing, and put it at the foot of the big elder in the tangle? I dare say it sounds very stupid of me, but I don't want the child to be disappointed."

Vera professed herself ready and also to be charmed with the idea. She would go at once, she said, and Mrs. May raised no obstacle. At the end of the corridor Vera was confronted with her uncle Ralph. He held out his hand.

"I was listening," he said. "I knew beyond all doubt that something of the kind would be attempted. I want that letter."

"But uncle, I promised – "

"It matters nothing what you promised. It is of vital importance that the inside of that letter should be seen. Chocolate for a child, indeed. Death to us all, rather. You are going to give me that letter and I am going to open it. Afterwards it shall be sealed again, and you shall convey it to its destination. The letter!"

Dazed and bewildered, Vera handed it to him. It was not a nice thing to do, but, then, nice methods were not for Mrs. May. Ralph grasped the letter and made off towards his room.

"Wait here," he said. "I shall not be a few minutes. I am merely going to steam that envelope open and master the contents. Don't go away."

Vera nodded. She was too astonished for words; not that she felt compunction any longer. Presently Ralph returned.

"There you are, my child," he said. "If I seemed harsh to you, forgive me. It is no time for courtesies. You can take the letter now and deliver it. It has been a good and great discovery for us."

CHAPTER LIV

EXIT THE ASIATICS

Tchigorsky, Ralph Ravenspur, and Geoffrey sat smoking in the blind man's room. It was late the same afternoon and from the window could be heard the thunder of the incoming tide. Tchigorsky appeared to be in excellent spirits, puffed his cigarette with gusto and came out in the new rôle of a raconteur.

"We have them all now," he said. "To-day will settle everything. It was a pretty idea of Ralph's to hang about the corridor under the impression that the woman would try to send some kind of message to her familiars. Real genius, I call it."

"Not a bit of it," Ralph said doggedly. "Pshaw, a child would have done the same. The woman was bound to try to send a letter. She lies there helpless, but knows that somebody is moving in her tracks. And, to add to her suspense, she hasn't an idea who is following her up.

"Don't you see she is in the dark? Don't you understand that she suspects she has been trapped? She wants to know all about her infernal apparatus. She wants her information all at one fell swoop. And when she found that Marion was missing she felt certain that her time was near."

"What is her hold over Marion?" Geoffrey asked.

"And why has Marion gone away?" Tchigorsky said evasively. "We shall come to a full understanding about that presently. Let us begin to unravel the skein from the start. I read that letter which Ralph gave to me, the letter which by this time is in the hands of that woman's familiars. They have instructions to come to the castle at dusk and enter it by way of the vaults. When the family are at dinner the Orientals will make their way up to their mistress."

"But can they?" Geoffrey asked.

"Of course they can. Many a night have they been here. But we have already stopped any danger that way by locking the door of the vault, the one below sea level. Then we shall go down the cliffs presently and take the chaps like rats in a trap. They will be arrested and handed over to the police because the time has come when we can afford to show our hands. The end is very near."

"But the evidence against Mrs. May?" Geoffrey suggested.

Tchigorsky tapped his breast pocket significantly.

"You have forgotten the diary," he said. "I have evidence enough here to hang that vile wretch over and over again. I have evidence enough to place in the hands of the Government which will convince those gentry in the temples beyond Lassa that they had better be content to leave us alone in future unless they desire to have their temples blown about their ears. This diary clinches the whole business. The house of Ravenspur is free."

"God grant that it may be so," Geoffrey said fervently. "We have only to wait till dusk. Tell me the rest of your adventures in the Black Valley."

Tchigorsky nodded as he proceeded to make a fresh cigarette.

"There is not much more to tell," he said. "Some day, when I have more leisure on my hands, I will give the whole business, chapter and verse. I have only told you enough for you to know the class of foe you have to deal with.

"Well, as I told you, we shot two of the priests whose business it was to guide our stumbling feet to the bottom and then leave us there. We knew that these men would never be missed, so that we hadn't much anxiety on that score. The others, despite their sacred calling, were just as anxious to live as anybody else.

"To prevent any chance of escape, we took off our flowing robes, tore them into strips, and bound our guides to ourselves. It was a good thing we did so, for before long we plunged into darkness so thick that its velvety softness seemed to suffocate us.

"You will hardly believe me, but for two whole days and nights we stumbled on in that awful darkness without food or rest, except now and again when we fell exhausted. All that time we could see nothing, but there were awful noises from unseen animals, roars and yells and cries of pain.

"Loathsome, greasy reptiles were under our feet, the clammy rocks seemed to be alive with them. Yet they did us no harm; indeed, their sole object seemed to be to get out of our way. Sometimes great eyes gleamed at us, but those eyes were ever filled with a terror greater than our own.

"After a bit this sense of fear passed away. Had we been alone, had we possessed no hope of ultimate salvation, the unseen horrors of the place would have driven us mad. We should have wandered on until we had dropped hopelessly insane and perished. Even a man utterly devoid of imagination could not have fought off the mad terror of it all. As for me, I will never forget it."

Tchigorsky paused and wiped his forehead. Glancing at Ralph, Geoffrey could see that the latter was trembling like a leaf.

"We came to the end of it at length," Tchigorsky went on. "We came to light and a long desolate valley whence we proceeded into an arid desert. Here we found our latitude and dismissed our guides. We ought to have shot them, but we refrained. It would have saved a deal of trouble. They were not less dangerous than mad dogs.

"We got into communication with our guides and servants in a day or two, and there ended the first and most thrilling volume of our adventures. How the Princess Zara has persecuted us ever since you know. And how we are going to turn the tables on that fiend of a woman you also know."

There was a long silence after Tchigorsky had finished and dusk began to fall. Geoffrey looked out of the window toward the sea. Suddenly he started.

"Blobber Rock," he gasped. "Covered! Not a vestige of it to be seen! It is high spring tide to-day, the highest of the month, and I had forgotten all about it."

"What difference does it make?" Tchigorsky asked.

"It fills the underground caves," Geoffrey cried. "We have locked the doors of the lower vault, and in that vault are the two Asiatics waiting the orders of their mistress. A spring tide fills that vault with water. If those men got that letter, as they are pretty sure to have done by this time, then they are dead men. Once they get into the cave the tide would cut them off, and they would be drowned like rats in a sewer. Of course, they would have no idea the vault was closed to them, and – "

"Quite right," Tchigorsky interrupted. "I never thought of that. And I had no knowledge of the state of the tide. And there are other caves where – "

He was going to say "where Marion is," but paused. Ralph seemed to divine what was in his mind. The reply seemed incontinent, but Tchigorsky understood.

"All the other caves are practically beyond high-water mark," he said. "What Geoffrey says is correct and our forgetfulness has saved the hangman a job. But wouldn't it be well to make sure?"

Tchigorsky was of that opinion.

"No need to alarm the household," he said. "Geoffrey shall procure a lantern, and I will come and assist in the search. I don't want to be seen just yet; but it really does not much matter, as there is no need for further concealment. If these men are drowned, they are drowned, and there is an end of the matter. In any case, we have the chief culprit by the heels."

It was possible, after all, to reach the vaults without being seen. Geoffrey procured a lantern and the party set out. When they were at the bottom of the steps they could hear the sea slashing and beating on the walls and sides of the vault. A great wave slipped up as the door opened.

Geoffrey bent down with the lantern in his hand. For some time he searched the boiling spume without success.

"Can you see anything?" asked Tchigorsky.

"Nothing whatever," said Geoffrey. "It is possible that they might not – Ah!"

He shuddered as he raised the light. The spume ceased to boil for a moment, then a stiff, rigid hand crept horribly from the flood. A brown sodden face followed. There lay one of the Asiatics past the power of further harm.

"You have seen one," Tchigorsky shouted, "and there is the other."

Another face came up like a repulsive picture on a screen. A minute later and the two bodies were dripping on the steps of the vault.

CHAPTER LV

A SHOCK FOR THE PRINCESS

It was not a pleasant task, but it had to be done. Fortunately it was possible to do everything discreetly and in order, for the vaults were large, and there was not the slightest chance that any of the household would come near.