The Lost Million

by William Le Queux

toRidgehill."

  "Tramu may have had you watched, Dad."

  "No fear of that, child," he laughed. "Surridge arranged for a hiredcar for me to-day from Bath to Westbury, where I took train to Newbury,and the `sixteen' met me there and brought me here. So for Tramu tofollow is out of the question. I have not seen Surridge, but merelycarried out his arrangements. He may, of course, have had a motive inthem."

  "No doubt he had, Dad."

  The butler at that moment returned with the next course, therefore ourintimate conversation was abruptly interrupted.

  As I sat at that table, lavishly spread and adorned with a wealth offlowers and a profusion of splendid old Georgian silver my eyes wanderedto the sweet-faced girl who, in a low-cut gown of palest _eau-de-nil_chiffon, with velvet in her hair to match, held me so entirely andutterly entranced.

  Later that evening, while I had a cigar alone with Shaw, who lay backlazily in his chair, I detected his annoyance that I should have watchedhim meet the woman Olliffe. And yet how cleverly he concealed hisanger, for he was, on the contrary, apologetic for the abrupt ending ofour motor-tour, and profuse in his thanks to me for my silence wheninterrogated by the police at Aix.

  Was this actually the man who had made the attempt to break open my safeand secure the bronze cylinder of Melvill Arnold?

  No! I could not believe it. He was an adventurer, without a doubt, butmen of his stamp are invariably loyal to those who show them friendship.What, I wondered, had caused Guy Nicholson to doubt his affection forAsta? I certainly could detect nothing to cause me to arrive at suchconclusion.

  The girl entered the room to obtain a book, whereupon, removing hiscigar from his mouth, he said, in a low voice--

  "Come and sit here, dear. I haven't been with you lately. I fear youmust have found Bournemouth dreadfully dull."

  "Well, I did rather. Mr Kemball's unexpected arrival was most welcome,I assure you," she declared, sinking into a chair and placing both handsbehind her beautiful head as she leaned back upon the yellow silkcushion.

  "I confess I had no suspicions that Mr Kemball was in Bath," declaredher father, with a smile. Then turning to me, he added: "I feared tocommunicate with you, lest Tramu might be watching your correspondence.He is one of the few really intelligent police officials that Francepossesses."

  "He is evidently extremely anxious to make your acquaintance," Ilaughed.

  "I believe so. And I am equally anxious to avoid him. While I remainhere, however, I am quite unsuspected and safe. It is reallysurprising," he added, "what an air of respectability a little profusecharity gives to one in a country district. Become a churchwarden, getappointed a justice of the peace, sit upon the board of guardians, givea few teas and school-treats, and subscribe to the church funds, andthough you may be an entire outsider you can do no wrong in the eyes ofthe country folk. I know it from experience."

  "Ah! you are a little too reckless sometimes, Dad," exclaimed the girl,shaking her head. "Remember that when you've not taken Surridge'sadvice, you've run into danger."

  But the man with the small, shrewd eyes smiled at the girl's words ofwisdom.

  Again and again there recurred to me those strange expressions in theletter of poor Guy. Ah! if he only had lived! And yet if he were stillalive my love for the girl before me must have been a hopeless one.Only on those last weeks had she abandoned her deep! black. That sheoften sat for hours plunged in bitter memories I knew full well. Wouldshe ever sufficiently forget to allow me to take his place in her youngheart?

  Knowing her nature, her honest, true, open-hearted disposition, Isometimes experienced a strange heart-sinking that, after all, she couldnever reciprocate my love. Yet now, as the weeks had gone on, myaffection had become stronger and stronger, until I was seized by apassion akin to madness. I loved her with my soul, as truly and as wellas ever man has loved a woman through all ages.

  Yet, for what reason I cannot even now determine, I felt a strangeforeboding that evil was pursuing her. I experienced exactly the samefeeling that Guy Nicholson had felt when he penned that letter to me,the delivery of which was, alas! so long delayed.

  Presently, when Asta had risen again and left the room, Shaw turned tome and said--

  "Poor girl, Guy's death was a great blow to her, but she is graduallygetting over it--don't you think so? I should never have risked goingto the Continent had it not been for her sake--in order to give her achange. But in these last few weeks we've had sufficient change, in allconscience. She's always so cool and level-headed that I feel lostwithout her, Kemball."

  His words were surely not those of an enemy. No, more than ever was Iconvinced of his devotion to the girl who, as a tiny child, he hadadopted as his own daughter.

  Mention of Nicholson, however, afforded me opportunity to tell him howtardily I had received a letter from the dead man.

  "It was written only an hour before he died," I added.

  "Written, I suppose, after his guests had left, eh?" asked Shaw, hisface a little hard and changed, I thought. "He mentioned me. What didhe say? What did he tell you?"

  "Nothing," I replied, sorry that I had spoken so injudiciously.

  "Poor Guy didn't like me, I fear," declared my host quietly. "He didn'tknow what you know, and hence he viewed me with suspicion. I couldn'tvery well tell him the truth--or he would have cast poor little Astaaside."

  "I quite understand," I said.

  "Well, what did he say against me?" he asked, looking at me strangelywith those small, mysterious eyes of his.

  "Nothing whatever."

  "You are deceiving me. I know what he has told you. He has revealed toyou something--something--"

  "He has revealed nothing," I declared. "Why should he?"

  But the man lying back in his chair drew at his cigar hard andcontemplatively, a strange smile overspreading his broad features. Isaw that he was unconvinced, and that upon his countenance was a curiousdark expression such as I had never before seen.

  Yet it was only for an instant, for next moment he was smiling, andinvited me, as I was, to remain there the night.

  I, however, declined, for I expected some important business letters athome, and was compelled, therefore, to return to Upton End, towardswhich destination I set forth about ten o'clock.

  I had travelled about ten miles, when three miles the other side ofCorby village, a double calamity befell me. Not only did one of my backtyres burst, but something went wrong with my magneto. Hence in thedarkness, and with rain beginning to fall, I was brought to a completestandstill. Midnight passed. I was several miles from anywhere, andmagnetos are tricky things. I could not get the car to budge, eventhough I had put on my Stepney wheel.

  I must, I suppose, have been pottering about for fully three hours, andnot a soul had passed me in either direction. The distant chimes of achurch somewhere had struck two, and when just about to give up theattempt to readjust the magneto, I suddenly heard the sound of agalloping horse approaching in the darkness.

  As it came up I saw it was ridden by a youth, and I was just about tohail him and ask him to fetch assistance when, with the perversity ofsuch instruments, the magneto started again quite merrily. Therefore Ionce again mounted at the wheel, and flashing past the lonely horseman,pushed on through the rain over the many weary miles till I at lastreached my own home.

  Next morning, while seated alone at breakfast, I heard a sound, and, tomy great surprise, recognised the same young horseman, muddy andwearied, coming up the drive. With curiosity I went forth to meet him,when he handed me a note, saying--

  "Miss Seymour, of Lydford, asked me to bring this at once, sir. It isvery important. I've been riding all night."

  "Yes," I cried. "Why, I remember I passed you in my car!"

  I tore open the letter, and found in it some scribbled words in pencil,which read--

  "_I am in deadly peril! If you are my friend come here at once, andsave me_!--Asta."

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.


  IN THE BALANCE.

  "How did you get this?" I asked the youth. "Who are you?"

  "I'm John May, sir," was his answer. "I work in the gardens at Lydford,an' last night, soon after eleven, as I was a-comin' home fromRockingham, I met Miss Asta out in the drive. She was like a mad thing.She 'ad the letter and wanted it delivered at once. So I went to thestables and, sayin' nothink, came away."

  "Then she had written this note, and gone out in the hope of findingsome one to deliver it?" I exclaimed, glancing at his horse, andnoticing that it was absolutely done up after an all-night ride.

  "I didn't know it was you, sir, that passed me in a motor-car," theyoung gardener went on.

  "No," I said, re-reading