introduced me to her brother, George King. Do you know him?"
"Yes. He sometimes passes as her brother and sometimes as butler orchauffeur. But he is her husband, Henry Earnshaw, sometimes known asHoare."
"And your father assisted them in their frauds, eh?"
"That is my supposition. I have no actual knowledge, for it was severalyears ago, when I was but a girl," was her reply.
"And you fear that the outcome of the meeting to-night may be anothermutual arrangement?"
She nodded sadly in the affirmative.
"The combination of Dad and these people would, indeed, be a formidableone," she said. "Ah! if he would only take my advice and end it all!He has sufficient to live upon comfortably. Why does he court disasterin this way? He has always been, so very good to me, ever since I was atiny child, that I cannot help loving him."
I did not reply. What could I say? I longed to speak frankly to herand take her out of that atmosphere of evil. Yet what could I do? Howcould I act?
"I have a suspicion that poor Mr Arnold was a friend of that woman," Isaid a few moments later, as she stood against the table before me.
"Yes," was her reply. "He was her friend and benefactor, I believe. Hedid all he could for her defence before the judge, but to no avail."
"Somebody betrayed her into the hands of the police?"
"Dad told me so once. He believes it to have been her own husband, theman Earnshaw."
I did not speak for a few moments. I was thinking of that strangeletter which had threatened vengeance against the mysterious scholar,Mr Arnold. The latter had been accused of what he had not done, yetthat very accusation had given me a clue to some very curiouscircumstances, and had forewarned me as to the true character of thewealthy widow of Ridgehill Manor.
"Has your father any ground for declaring the woman's conviction to bedue to Earnshaw?"
"Yes, I believe so; but he has never told any one, except myself."
"But if he and Mrs Olliffe become on friendly terms again, he willdoubtless reveal what he knows."
"Probably. Then the man Earnshaw will turn against her--and against Dadalso. In that lies the great peril for Dad which I apprehend."
I realised how far-seeing she was, how carefully she had weighed all theconsequences, and how anxious she was for her father's safety. On theother hand, however, Shaw was certainly not a man to run any unnecessaryrisks. From what I had seen of him, he appeared full of craft andcunning, as became one who lived upon his wits.
"Tell me what you know concerning Mr Arnold's association with thiswoman of a hundred different names," I urged. "I have a reason for mycuriosity."
"I know but little. Once, when I was about fifteen, Dad and I travelledwith Mr Arnold from Vienna to Territet, and met her at the Hotel desAlpes there. She was very affable and nice to me, and she told me whatan excellent friend Mr Arnold had been to her. I recollect theincident quite well, for on that day she bought me a little chainbracelet as a present. I have it now."
"Your father quarrelled with Arnold, I believe?"
"Yes," she said. "They had some difference. I never, however,ascertained the real facts. He evidently wished to see me, for he wroteto me making an appointment; and when I went to the hotel for thatpurpose, I learnt, alas! that he was dead."
"Had he lived, his intention was to meet your father in secret at Totnesin Devonshire. Why in secret, I wonder?"
"That same question has been puzzling me for a long time, Mr Kemball,"she said quickly. "I have arrived at the conclusion that he feared lestMrs Olliffe might know of his arrival in England and set some one towatch his movements. He feared her."
"Then there may have been some reason why the woman desired that theyshould not meet, eh?"
"Apparently so."
I reflected. Mrs Olliffe now knew that I had borne a message to Shawfrom the dead man who had destroyed a fortune. Did she fear itsresults, and was she, for that reason, holding out to Shaw the olivebranch of peace?
I suggested that to Asta, and she was inclined to agree with me.
"We must do what we can to break off your father's friendship with thiswoman," I declared. "It is distinctly dangerous for him."
"Yes, Mr Kemball," she cried. "I only wish we could! I only wish--"
Her sentence was interrupted by a sound which startled both of us. Welistened, looking into each other's serious face without uttering aword. The sound emanated from the next room--Shaw's bedroom--the doorof which was closed.
It was that low, peculiar whistle which I had first heard on the morningI had visited Titmarsh after poor Guy's mysterious death, and had heardon a second occasion when visiting at Lydford.
"There's Dad again?" she cried, in a strained voice. "He evidentlydoesn't know we are still up." The whistle was again repeated--a low,long-drawn, peculiar sound, in a high shrill note.
It was not the unconscious whistle of a man thinking, but a sound fullof meaning--a distinct call, which even as we listened in silence wasrepeated a third time.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
THE MAN WITH THE CRIMSON BUTTON.
Pale and startled, she raised her finger in a gesture of silence, and weboth stole noiselessly from the room, closing the door behind us.
Upon the thick carpet of the corridor we crept past Shaw's door, andAsta disappeared into her own chamber, which adjoined, while I went onto mine.
I could not get that peculiar whistle out of my ears. It seemed asthough it were a signal to somebody; yet though I went back to Shaw'sdoor and listened there for a full hour, I heard no sound of anymovement. The room was in darkness, and he was, no doubt, alreadyasleep.
When I turned in, I lay a long time thinking over the reason of Shaw'sfriendship with the woman Olliffe. What Asta had told me only seemed toincrease the mystery, rather than diminish it.
I must have dropped off to sleep about two o'clock, puzzled and faggedout by the long hours on the road, when I was suddenly awakened byhearing a loud, shrill scream.
I started up and listened. It was Asta's voice shrieking in terror.
I sprang out into the corridor without a second's hesitation and rappedupon the door, crying--
"What's the matter. Let me in."
In a few seconds she unbolted the door, and opening it I encountered herin a pale pink _robe-de-chambre_, her luxuriant chestnut hair fallingabout her shoulders, her large dark brown eyes haggard and startled, herhands clenched, her countenance white to the lips.
"What has happened, Miss Seymour?" I asked, glancing quickly around theroom.
"I--I hardly know," she gasped in breathless alarm. "Only--only," shewhispered, in a low voice, "I--I've seen the hand--the Hand of Death--again!"
"Seen it again!" I echoed; but she raised her finger and pointed to herfather's door.
"Tell me the circumstances," I whispered. "There is something veryuncanny and unnatural about this which must be investigated. Last nightit appeared to me a hundred and twenty miles away, and now you see itto-night. Are you quite sure you saw it."
I asked the latter question because it was still dark, and she hadswitched on the electric light.
"I felt a cold rough contact with my cheek, and waking saw the handagain! I burn a night-light--as you see," and she pointed across to achild's night-light in a saucer upon the washstand.
"And it vanished as before?"
"Instantly. I thought I heard a slight sound afterwards, but I musthave been mistaken."
"Yes," I said, making a quick examination of the room, and lookingbeneath the bed. "There is certainly nothing here."
I noted that the communicating door between her room and her father'swas still secured by the small brass bolt.
"Well," I declared, "it is utterly inexplicable." My voice evidentlyawakened Shaw, for we heard him tap at the door and ask in a deep,drowsy voice--
"What's the matter in there, Asta?"
"Oh, nothing at all, Dad," was the girl's reply. "Only I fancy theremu
st be a rat in my room--and Mr Kemball is looking for it."
"Didn't you scream?" he asked wearily.
"Yes," I said, as she unbolted the door, and her father entered. "MissSeymour's scream woke me up."
"Did you see the rat?" Shaw asked me.
"No," I laughed, in an endeavour to conceal our fear. "I expect ifthere is one it has got away down its hole. I've searched, but can findnothing."
"Ah!" growled the man awakened from his sleep. "That's the worst ofthese confounded Continental hotels. Most of them are overrun withvermin. I've often had rats in my room.
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