CHAPTER XX. THE LETTER
At this second insult Archie quite expected to see the skipper again draw his revolver and shoot. He therefore jumped up rapidly to once more avert disaster. But perhaps the fiery American was awed by the presence of a second lady – since men of the adventurous type are often shy when the fair sex is at hand – for he meekly sat where he was and did not even contradict. Don Pedro shook hands with Sir Frank, and then Hervey smiled blandly.
“I see you don’t believe in my theory,” said he scoffingly.
“What theory is that?” asked Random hastily.
“Hervey declares that you murdered Bolton, stole the manuscript from him, and concealed it in your room,” said Archie succinctly.
“I can’t suggest any other reason for its presence in the room,” observed the American with a grim smile. “If I’m wrong, perhaps this almighty aristocrat will correct me.”
Random was about to do so, and with some pardonable heat, when he was anticipated by Donna Inez. It has been mentioned before that this young lady was of the silent order. Usually she simply ornamented any company in which she found herself without troubling to entertain with her tongue. But the accusation against the baronet, whom she apparently loved, changed her into a voluble virago. Brushing aside the little Professor, who stood in her way, she launched herself forward and spoke at length. Hervey, cowering in the chair, thus met with an antagonist against whom he had no armor. He could not use force; she dominated him with her eye and when he ventured to open his mouth his few feeble words were speedily drowned by the torrent of speech which flowed from the lips of the Peruvian lady. Every one was as astonished by this outburst as though a dog had spoken. That the hitherto silent Donna Inez de Gayangos should speak thus freely and with such power was quite as great a miracle.
“You – are a dog and a liar,” said Donna Inez with great distinctness, and speaking English excellently. “What you say against Sir Frank is madness and foolish talk. In Genoa my father did not speak of the manuscript, nor did I, who tell you this. How, then, could Sir Frank kill this poor man, when he had no reason to slay him – ”
“For the emeralds,” faltered Hervey weakly.
“For the emeralds!” echoed the lady scornfully. “Sir Frank is rich. He does not need to steal to have much money. He is a gentleman, who does not murder, as you have done.”
Hervey started to his feet, dismayed but defiant, and saw that he was ringed with unfriendly faces.
“As I have done. Why, I am – ”
Donna Inez interrupted.
“You are a murderer. I truly believe that you – yes, that you” she pointed a scornful finger at him “killed this poor man who was bringing the mummy to the Professor. If you were in my own country, I should have you lashed like the dog you are. Pig of a Yankee, vile scum of the – ”
“That will do, Inez,” said De Gayangos imperiously. “We wish to make this gentleman tell the truth, and this is not the way to go about the matter.”
“Gentleman,” echoed the angry Peruvian, “he is none. Truth! There is no truth in him, the pig of pigs!” and then, her English failing, she took refuge in Spanish, which is a fairly comprehensive language for swearing in a polite way. The words fairly poured from her mouth, and she looked as fierce as Bellona, the goddess of war.
Archie, listening to her words and watching her beautiful face distorted out of all loveliness, secretly congratulated himself upon the fact that he was not her prospective bridegroom. He wondered how Sir Frank, who was a mild, good-tempered man himself, could dare to make such a fiery female Lady Random.
Perhaps the young man thought himself that she was going a trifle too far, for he touched her nervously on the arm. At once the anger of Donna Inez died down, and she submitted to be led to a chair, whispering as she went, “It was for your sake, my angel, that I was angry,” she said, and then relapsed into silence, watching all future proceedings with flashing eyes but compressed mouth.
“Wal,” muttered Hervey with his invariable drawl, “now that the lady has eased her mind, I should like to know why this aristocrat says I placed that manuscript in his room.”
“You shall know, and at once,” said Random promptly. “Did you not call to see me a day or so ago?”
“I did, sir. I wished to tell you what I had discovered, so that you might pay me to shut my mouth if you felt so inclined. I asked where your room was, sir, and walked right in, since your flunky was not at the door.”
“Quite so. You were in my room for a few minutes – ”
“Say five,” interpolated the American imperturbably.
“And then came down. You met my servant, who told you that I would not be back for five or six hours.”
“That’s just as you state, sir. I was sorry to miss you, but, my time being valuable, I had to get back to Pierside. Failing you, I later came to see the Professor here, and told him what I had discovered.”
“You merely discovered a mare’s nest,” said Random contemptuously; “but this is not the point. I believe that you, and you only, could have hidden that manuscript among my books, intending that it should be discovered, so that I might be implicated in this crime.”
“Did your flunky tell you that much?” inquired Hervey coolly.
“My servant told me nothing, save that you had been in my room, where you had no right to be.”
“Then,” said the American quietly and decisively, “I can’t see, sir, how you can place the ticket on me.”
“You accuse me, so why should I not accuse you?” retorted Random.
“Because you are guilty, and I ain’t,” snapped the American.
“You join issue: you join issue,” murmured Braddock, rubbing his hands.
Random took no notice of the interruption.
“I have heard from Mr. Hope and Professor Braddock of the grounds upon which you base your accusation, and I have explained to them how I came to be on board your ship and both in and out of the Sailor’s Rest.”
“And the explanation is quite satisfactory,” said Hope smartly.
“I agree,” Donna Inez nodded with very bright eyes. “Sir Frank has explained to me also. He knew nothing of the manuscript.”
“And you, sir,” said Don Pedro quietly to Captain Hervey, “apparently did, since you stole it along with the mummy from Lima.”
“I confess the theft, but I didn’t know what the manuscript contained,” said the skipper dryly, “or I reckon you wouldn’t have to ask who stole the emeralds. No, sir, I should have looted them.”
“I believe you did, and murdered Bolton,” cried Random hotly.
“Shucks!” retorted Hervey, rising with a shrug, “if I had wished to get rid of Bolton, I’d have yanked him overboard and then would have written `accident’ in my blamed log-book.”
Braddock looked at Don Pedro, and Archie at Sir Frank. What the skipper said was plausible enough. No man would have been such a fool as to have murdered Bolton ashore, when he could have done so without suspicion on board the tramp. Moreover, Hervey spoke with genuine regret, since he had missed the emeralds and assuredly would not have hesitated to steal them even at the cost of Bolton’s life, had he known of their whereabouts. So far he had made a good defense, and, seeing the impression produced, he strolled to the door. There he halted.
“If you gents want to lynch me,” he said leisurely, “I’ll be found at the Sailor’s Rest for the next week. Then I’m going as skipper of The Firefly steamer, Port o’ London, to Algiers. You can send the sheriff along whenever you choose. But I mean to have my picnic first, and to-morrow I’m going to Inspector Date with my yarn. Then I guess that almighty aristocrat wilt find himself in quod.”
“Wait a moment,” cried Braddock, running to the door. “Let me talk to you and arrange what is best to be done. If you will – ”
He proceeded no further, for without vouchsafing him a reply, Hervey, now quite master of the situation, passed through the door, and the Professor hastily followed him. Those who remained looked at one another, scarcely knowing what to say, or how to act.
“They will arrest thee, my angel,” cried Donna Inez, clasping Random’s arm.
“Let them,” retorted the young man defiantly. “They can prove nothing. With all my heart and soul I believe Hervey to be the guilty person. Hope, what do you say? – and you, Miss Kendal?”
“Hervey has certainly made an excellent defense,” said Archie cautiously. “He wouldn’t have been such a fool as to murder Bolton ashore when he could have done it so easily when on the narrow seas.”
“I agree with you there,” said Random quickly. “But if he is innocent; if he did not bring the manuscript into my room, who did?”
“I wonder if Widow Anne herself is guilty?” said Lucy in a musing tone.
All present turned and looked at the girl.
“Who is Widow Anne?” asked Don Pedro with a puzzled air.
“She is the mother of Sidney Bolton, the man who was murdered,” said Hope quickly. “My dear Lucy, why do you say that?”
Lucy paused before replying and then answered the question by asking another one.
“Did you ask Sidney to get you some clothes from his mother to clothe a model?”
“Never in my life,” said Hope promptly, and, as Lucy, saw, truly.
“Well, I accidentally met Mrs. Bolton to-day, and she insisted that her son had borrowed from her a dark shawl and a dark dress for you.”
“That is not true,” said Hope hotly. “Why should the woman tell such a lie?”
“Well,” said Lucy slowly, “it struck me that the woman who spoke with Sidney through the Sailor’s Rest window might be Widow Anne herself, and that she has invented this story of the clothes being lent to account for their being worn, should she be discovered.”
“It’s certainly odd she should speak like this,” said Random thoughtfully; “but you forget, Miss Kendal, that she proved an alibi.”
“What of that?” cried Don Pedro hurriedly, “alibis can be manufactured.”
“It will be best to see this woman and question her,” suggested Donna Inez.
Archie nodded.
“I shall do so to-morrow. By the way, does she ever come to your room in the Fort, Random?”
“Oh yes, she is my laundress, you know, and at times brings back the clothes herself. My servant is usually in, though. I see what you mean. That she might have received the manuscript from Bolton, and have left it in my room.”
“Yes, I think that,” said Archie slowly. “I should not be at all surprised to learn that a portion of Hervey’s theory is correct. Bolton may have found the manuscript packed up in the mummy, amongst the graveclothes, in fact. If he read it – as he would and could, seeing that he was an excellent Latin scholar, thanks to Professor Braddock’s training – he might have formed a design to steal the emeralds when he was in the Sailor’s Rest. Then someone saved him the trouble, and packed him off to Gartley instead of the mummy.”
“But why should Widow Anne leave the manuscript in my room?” argued Random.
“Can’t you see? Bolton knew that you wanted the mummy for Don Pedro, and was aware how you had – so to speak – used threats in the presence of witnesses, since you spoke out aloud on the deck.”
“Only to warn Bolton against the Indians,” pleaded Random.
“Exactly; but your words were capable of being twisted as Hervey has twisted them. Well, if Widow Anne really went to see her son – and from the lie about the borrowed clothes it looks like it – he may have given her the manuscript, so as to throw the blame on you.”
“The murder?”
“No, no,” said Archie testily. “Bolton did not expect to be murdered. But I really believe that he intended to fly with the emeralds, and hoped that when the manuscript was found in your room you would be accused. The idea was suggested to him, I believe, by your visit to The Diver.”
“What do you think, Miss Kendal?” asked Random nervously.
“I fancy that it is possible.”
Sir Frank turned to the Peruvian.
“Don Pedro,” he said proudly, “you have heard what Hervey says; do you believe that I am guilty?”
For answer De Gayangos took his daughter’s hand and placed it in that of the young soldier.
“That will show you what I think,” he said gravely.
“Thank you, sir,” said Random, moved, and shook his future father-in-law heartily by the hand, while Donna Inez, throwing all restraint to the winds, kissed her lover exultingly on the check. In the midst of this scene Professor Braddock returned, looking very pleased.
“I have induced Hervey to hold his tongue for a few days until we can look into this matter,” he said, rubbing his hands “that is, if you think it wise, all of you. Otherwise, I am quite willing to go myself to-morrow and tell the police.”
“No,” said Archie rapidly, “let us thresh out the matter ourselves. We will save Sir Frank’s name from a police court slur at all events.”
“I do not think there is any chance of Sir Frank being arrested,” said Don Pedro politely; “the evidence is insufficient. And at the worst he can provide an alibi.”
“I am not so sure of that,” said Random anxiously. “I went to London certainly, but I did not go to any place where I am known. However,” he added cheerfully, “I daresay I’ll be able to defend myself. Still, the fact remains that we are no nearer to learning who killed Bolton than we were.”
“I am sending Cockatoo to Pierside to-morrow to stop at the Sailor’s Rest for a time,” said Braddock quickly. “He will watch Hervey, and if there is anything suspicious about his movements, we shall soon know.”
“And I turn amateur detective to-morrow and question Widow Anne,” said Hope, after which remark he had to explain matters to Braddock, who had been out of the room when Mrs. Bolton’s strange request had been discussed.
Meanwhile Donna Inez had been whispering to her lover and pointing to the mummy. Don Pedro followed her thoughts and guessed what she was saying. Random proved the truth of his guess by, turning to him.
“Do you really want to take back the mummy to Peru, sir?” he asked quietly.
“Certainly. Inca Caxas was my forefather. I do not wish to leave him in this place. His body must be restored to its tomb. All the Indians, who look upon me as their present Inca expect me to bring the body back. Although,” added De Gayangos gravely, “I did not come to Europe to look for the mummy, as you know.”
“Then I shall buy the mummy,” said Random impetuously. “Professor, will you sell it to me?”
“Now that I have examined it thoroughly I shall be delighted,” said the little man, “say for two thousand pounds.”
“Not at all,” interposed Don Pedro; “you mean one thousand.”
“Of course he does,” said Lucy quickly; “and the check must be paid to Archie, Sir Frank.”
“To me! to me!” cried Braddock indignantly. “I insist.”
“The money belongs to Archie,” said Lucy obstinately. “You have seen what you desired to see, father and as Archie only lent you the money, it is only fair that he should have it again.”
“Oh, let the Professor have it,” said Hope good-naturedly.
“No! no! no!”
Random laughed.
“I shall make the check payable to you, Miss Kendal, and you can give it to whomsoever you choose,” he said; “and now, as everything has been settled so far, I suggest that we should retire.”
“Come to my rooms at the inn,” said Don Pedro, opening the door. “I have much to say to you. Good night, Professor; to-morrow let us go to Pierside and see if we cannot get at the truth.”
“And to-morrow,” cried Random, “I shall send the check, sir.”
When the company departed, Lucy had another wrangle with her father about the check. As Archie had gone away, she could speak freely, and pointed out that he was enjoying her mother’s income and was about to marry Mrs. Jasher, who was rich.
“Therefore,” argued Lucy, “you certainly do not want to keep poor Archie’s money.”
“He paid me that sum on condition that I consented to the wedding.”
“He did nothing of the sort,” she cried indignantly. “I am not going to be bought and sold in this manner. Archie lent you the money, and it must be returned. Don’t force me to think you selfish, father.”
The upshot of the argument was that Lucy got her own way, and the Professor rather unwillingly agreed to part with the mummy and restore the thousand pounds. But he regretted doing so, as he wished to get all the money he could to go towards his proposed Egyptian expedition, and Mrs. Jasher’s fortune, as he assured his step-daughter, was not so large as might be thought. However, Lucy overruled him, and retired to bed, congratulating herself that she would soon be able to marry Hope. She was beginning to grow a trifle weary of the Professor’s selfish nature, and wondered how her mother had put up with it for so long.
Next day Braddock did not go with Don Pedro to Pierside, as he was very busy in his museum. The Peruvian went alone, and Archie, after a morning’s work at his easel, sought out Widow Anne to ask questions. Lucy and Donna Inez paid an afternoon visit to Mrs. Jasher and found her in bed, as she had caught a mild sort of influenza. They expected to find Sir Frank here, but it seemed that he had not called. Thinking that he was detained by military business, the girls thought nothing more of his absence, although Donna Inez was somewhat downcast.
But Random was detained in his quarters by a letter which had arrived by the mid-day host, and which surprised him not a little. The postmark was London, and the writing, evidently a disguised hand, was almost illegible in its crudeness. The contents ran as follows, and it will be noticed that there is neither date nor address, and that it is written in the third person:
“If Sir Frank Random wants his character to be cleared and all suspicion of murder to be removed from him, he can be completely exonerated by the writer, if he will pay the same five thousand pounds. If Sir Frank Random is willing to do this, let him appoint a meeting-place in London, and the writer will send a messenger to receive the money and to hand over the proofs which will clear Sir Frank Random. If Sir Frank Random plays the writer false, or communicates with the police, proofs will be forthcoming which will prove him to be guilty of Sidney Bolton’s death, and which will bring him to the scaffold without any chance of escape. A couple of lines in the Agony Column of The Daily Telegraph, signed `Artillery,’ and appointing a meeting-place, will suffice; but beware of treachery.”
CHAPTER XXI. A STORY OF THE PAST
Mrs. Jasher’s influenza proved to be very mild indeed.
When Donna Inez de Gayangos and Lucy paid a visit to her on the afternoon of the day succeeding the explanations in the museum, she was certainly in bed, and explained that she had been there since the Professor’s visit on the previous day. Lucy was surprised at this, as she had left Mrs. Jasher perfectly well, and Braddock had not mentioned any ailment of the widow. But influenza, as Mrs. Jasher observed, was very rapid in its action, and she was always susceptible to disease from the fact that in Jamaica she had suffered from malaria. Still, she was feeling better and intended to rise from her bed on that evening, if only to lie on the couch in the pink drawing-room. Having thus detailed her reasons for being ill, the widow asked for news.
As no prohibition had been placed upon Lucy with regard to Hervey’s visit and as Mrs. Jasher would be one of the family when she married the Professor, Miss Kendal had no hesitation in reporting all that had taken place. The narrative excited Mrs. Jasher, and she frequently interrupted with expressions of wonder. Even Donna Inez grew eloquent, and told the widow how she had defended Sir Frank against the American skipper.
“What a dreadfully wicked man!” said Mrs. Jasher, when in possession of all the facts. “I really believe that he did kill poor Sidney.”
“No,” said Lucy decisively, “I don’t think that. He would have murdered him on board had he intended the crime, as he could have done so with more safety. He is as innocent as Sir Frank.”
“And no one dare say a word against him,” cried Donna Inez with flashing eyes.
“He has a good defender, my dear,” said the widow, patting the girl’s hand.
“I love him,” said Donna Inez, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did, so far as she was concerned.
Mrs. Jasher smiled indulgently, then turned for further information to Lucy.
“Can it be possible,” she said, “that Widow Anne is guilty?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. She would not murder her own son, especially when she was so very fond of him. Archie told me, just before we came here, that he had called to see her. She still insists that Sidney borrowed the clothes, saying that Archie wanted them.”
“What do you make of that, my dear?”
“Well,” said Miss Kendal, pondering, “either Widow Anne herself was the woman who talked to Sidney through the Sailor’s Rest window, and has invented this story to save herself, or Sidney did get the clothes and intended to use them as a disguise when he fled with the emeralds.”
“In that case,” said Mrs. Jasher, “the woman who talked through the window still remains a problem. Again, if Sidney Bolton intended to steal the emeralds, he could have done so in Malta, or on board the boat.”
“No,” said Lucy decisively. “The mummy was taken directly from the seller’s house to the boat, and perhaps Sidney did not find the manuscript until he looked at the mummy. Then Captain Hervey kept an eye on Sidney, so that he could not open the mummy to steal the emeralds.”
“Still, according to your own showing, Sidney looked at the actual mummy – he opened the mummy case, that is, else he could not have got the manuscript.”
Lucy nodded.
“I think so, but of course we cannot be sure. But the packing case in which the mummy was stowed was placed in the hold of the steamer, and if Sidney had wished to steal the emeralds, he could not have done so without exciting Captain Hervey’s suspicions.”
“Then let us say that Sidney robbed the mummy when in the Sailor’s Rest, and took the clothes he borrowed from his mother in order to fly in disguise. But what of the woman?”
Lucy shook her head.
“I cannot tell. We may learn more later. Don Pedro has gone to Pierside to search, and my father says that he will send Cockatoo there also to search.”
“Well,” sighed Mrs. Jasher wearily, “I hope that all this trouble will come to an end. That green mummy has proved most unlucky. Leave me now, dear girls, as I feel somewhat tired.”
“Good-bye,” said Lucy, kissing her. “I hope that you will be better this evening. Don’t get up unless you feel quite able.”
“Oh, I shall take my ease in the drawing-room.”
“I thought you always called it the parlor,” laughed the girl.
“Ah,” Mrs. Jasher smiled, “you see I am practicing against the time when I shall be mistress of the Pyramids, You can’t call that large room there a parlor,” and she laughed weakly.
Altogether, Mrs. Jasher impressed both Lucy and Donna Inez with the fact that she was very weak and scarcely able, as she put it, to draw one leg after the other. Both the girls would have been surprised to see what a hearty meal Mrs. Jasher made that evening, when she was up and dressed. Perhaps she felt that her strength needed keeping up, but she certainly partook largely of the delicate dinner provided by Jane, who was a most excellent cook.
After dinner, Mrs. Jasher lay on a pink couch in the pink parlor by a splendid fire, for the night was cold and raw with a promise of rain. The widow had a small table at her elbow, on which stood a cup of coffee and a glass of liquor. The rose-colored curtains were drawn, the rose-shaded lamps were lighted, and the whole interior of the cottage looked very comfortable indeed. Mrs. Jasher, in a crocus-yellow tea-gown trimmed with rich black lace, reclined on her couch like Cleopatra in her barge. In the pink light she looked very well preserved, although her face wore an anxious expression. This was due to the fact that the mail had come in and the three letters brought by the postman had to do with creditors. Mrs. Jasher was always trying to make both ends meet, and had a hard struggle to keep her head above water. Certainly, since she had inherited the money of her brother, the Pekin merchant, she need not have looked so worried. But she did, and made no disguise of it, seeing that she was quite alone.
After a time she went to her desk and took out a bundle of bills and some other letters, also an account book and a bank book. Over these she pored for quite an hour. The clock struck nine before she looked up from this unpleasant task, and she found her financial position anything but satisfactory. With a weary sigh she rose and stared at herself in the mirror over the fireplace, frowning as she did so.
“Unless I can marry the Professor at once, I don’t know what will happen to me,” she mused gloomily. “I have managed very well so far, but things are coming to a crisis. These devils,” she alluded to her creditors, “will not keep off much longer, and then the crash will come. I shall have to leave Gartley as poor as when I came, and there will be nothing left but the old nightmare life of despair and horror. I am getting older every day, and this is my last chance of getting married. I must force the Professor to have a speedy marriage. I must! I must!” and she began to pace the tiny room in a frenzy of terror and well-founded alarm.
As she was trying to calm herself and succeeding very badly, Jane entered the room with a card. It proved to be that of Sir Frank Random.
“It is rather a late hour for a visit,” said Mrs. Jasher to the servant. “However, I feel so bored, that perhaps he will cheer me up. Ask him to come in.”
When Jane left, she stood still for a moment or so, trying to think why the young man had called at so untoward an hour. But when his footsteps were heard approaching the door, she swept the books and the bills and the letters into the desk and locked it quickly. When Random appeared at the door, she was just leaving the desk to greet him, and no one would have taken the smiling, plump, well-preserved woman for the creature who lately had looked so haggard and careworn.
“I am glad to see you, Sir Frank,” said Mrs. Jasher, nodding in a familiar manner. “Sit down in this very comfortable chair, and Jane shall bring you some coffee and kummel.”
“No, thank you,” said Random in his usual stiff way, but very politely. “I have just left the mess, where I had a good dinner.”
Mrs. Jasher nodded, and sank again on the couch, which was opposite the chair which she had selected for her visitor.
“I see you are in mess kit,” she said gayly; “quite a glorified creature to appear in my poor little parlor. Why are you not with Donna Inez? I have heard all about your engagement from Lucy. She was here to-day with Senorita De Gayangos.”
“So I believe,” said Random, still stiffly; “but you see I was anxious to come and see you.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Jasher equably, “you heard that I was ill. Yes; I have been in bed ever since yesterday afternoon, until a couple of hours ago. But I am now better. My dinner has done me good. Pass me that fan, please. The fire is so hot.”
Sir Frank did as he was told, and she held the feather fan between her face and the fire, while he stared at her, wondering what to say.
“Don’t you find this atmosphere very stuffy?” he remarked at length. “It would be a good thing to have the windows open.”
Mrs. Jasher shrieked.
“My dear boy, are you mad? I have a touch of the influenza, and an open window would bring about my death. Why, this room is delightfully comfortable.”
“There is such a strong perfume about it,” sniffed Random pointedly.
“I should think you knew that scent by this time, Sir Frank. I use no other and never have done. Smell!” and she passed a flimsy handkerchief of lace.
Random took the handkerchief and placed it to his nostrils. As he did so a strange expression of triumph crept into his eyes.
“I think you told me once that it was a Chinese perfume,” he said, returning the handkerchief.
Mrs. Jasher nodded, well pleased.
“I get it from a friend of my late husband who is in the British Embassy at Pekin. No one uses it but me.”
“But surely some other person uses it?”
“Not in England; and I do not know why you should say so. It is a specialty of mine. Why,” she added playfully, “if you met me in the dark you should know me, by this scent.”
“Can you swear that no one else has ever used this perfume?” asked Random.
Mrs. Jasher lifted her penciled eyebrows.
“I do not know why you should ask me to swear,” she said quietly, “but I assure you that I keep this perfume which comes from China to myself. Not even Lucy Kendal has it, although she greatly desired some. We women are selfish in some things, my dear man. It’s a most delicious perfume.”
“Yes,” said Sir Frank, staring at her, “and very strong.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Only I should think that such a perfume would be good for the cold you contracted by going to London last night.”
Mrs. Jasher turned suddenly pale under her rouge, and her hand clenched the fan so tightly as to break the handle.
“I have not been to London for quite a month,” she faltered. “What a strange remark!”
“A true one,” said the baronet, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket. “You went to London last night by the seven o’clock train to post this,” and he held out the anonymous letter.
The widow, now quite pale, and looking years older, sat up on the couch with a painful effort, which suggested old age.
“I don’t understand,” she said, trying to speak calmly. “I was not in London, and I did not post any letter. If you came here to insult me – ”
“There can be no insult in asking a few questions,” said Random, throwing aside his stiffness and speaking decisively. “I received this letter, which bears a London postmark, by the mid-day post. The handwriting is disguised, and there is neither address nor signature nor date. You manufactured your communication very cleverly, Mrs. Jasher, but you forgot that the Chinese perfume might betray you.”
“The perfume! the perfume!” Mrs. Jasher gasped and saw in a moment how the late conversation had led her to fall into a trap.
“The letter retains traces of the perfume you use,” went on the baronet relentlessly. “I have a remarkably keen sense of smell, and, as scent is a most powerful aid to memory, I speedily recollected that you used this especial perfume. You told me a few moments ago that no one else used it, and so you have proved the truth of my statement that this letter” – he tapped it – “is written by you.”