down are still in my possession."
"He had strong reasons for doing so," went on the man sitting at histable. "The combination of the pair--both of whom were fearless andsuccessful speculators--soon raised the firm to the position of one ofthe best-known financial houses in London. They dealt in millions, asothers deal in thousands, and both men, in the course of a few years,amassed great fortunes. Suddenly, when just in the zenith of theirprosperity, a great and terrible exposure was made. It was found thatthey had, by promoting certain bogus companies, which had been largelytaken up, netted huge profits. The shareholders, numbering manythousands of widows, clergymen, retired officers, and such-like persons,who are ever ready to swallow the bait of a well-written prospectus,became furious, and the Public Prosecutor took up the matter actively.Though my client was, I assure you, utterly blameless in the matter, andafterwards paid back every penny he had received from the transaction,nevertheless such public outcry was made against him as a swindler,that, victim of circumstances, he was compelled to fly the country.Trusting implicitly to his partner, Harford--who, by a very shrewd move,cleared himself, although he was, no doubt, the actual culprit--he, onthe night of his flight, placed his little daughter, to whom he wasentirely devoted, in his care, urging him to adopt her, and not to allowher to know her real father's name."
"What?" I cried, starting suddenly to my feet as the amazing truthflashed upon me for the first time. "Then Asta is Edgecumbe's daughter,and Shaw's real name is Harford!"
"Exactly. With these facts in your mind you will be able to follow memore closely."
Again I sank back into my chair astounded.
"Well," he went on, "ingeniously as did Harford endeavour to cover hisconnection with the bogus promotions--of which the Britannia BankingCorporation, which you will remember, perhaps, was one--yet the PublicProsecutor, after the accounts and books had been examined, decided thathe was also a culprit, and two months after his partner's disappearancea warrant was also issued for his arrest. Harford, always wary, had,however, on the day previously, taken little Asta with him and left forGreece, with which country we have no treaty of extradition. Meanwhile,Edgecumbe had a younger sister who had married a man of bad character,an expert forger of banknotes, named Earnshaw, and who sometimes went inthe name of King, and the pair had, to a great extent, assisted Harfordin his fraudulent schemes entirely unknown to Edgecumbe. The woman andher husband were adventurers of the most ingenious class, and withHarford, reaped a golden harvest in the circulation on the Continent ofthe clever imitations of Bank of England notes. Edgecumbe was allunconscious of this, and, indeed, only became aware of the transactionsby accident. It seems that on the night of his flight from England hewent to the office after it had been locked up, in order to get somecash for his journey. There was only forty pounds in the safe, but onbreaking open a drawer in his partner's table he found a big roll of newnotes. He took them, and left on the table a memorandum of what he haddone. Ere he arrived at Dover, however, suspicion grew upon him thatthe notes were not genuine. So he kept them, and said nothing. It washis first suspicion that Harford was playing a double game. Through allthe years that elapsed from that day till his death they remained in hispossession as evidence against Earnshaw and his accomplice, but in orderthat after his death they should not be found in his possession, heapparently got you to destroy them."
"But this man Harford--or Shaw? Who was he?" I inquired eagerly.
"Of that I know very little, except that, before meeting Edgecumbe, hehad lived for many years in Ecuador and Peru, where he had been engagedin the adventurous pursuit of collecting orchids and natural historyspecimens. Probably while there, he knew of the giant venomoustarantula, and had trained one to answer to his call," was Mr Fryer'sreply. "Apparently, from what you have told me concerning thethreatening letter, Edgecumbe's sister suspected him of betraying her tothe police, and, after serving her sentence for swindling, she and herhusband again became on friendly terms with Harford, who, in the name ofHarvey Shaw, was then posing as a county magnate, deriving his incomepartly from the proceeds of his financial transactions, and partly fromthe passing at various banks on the Continent the bogus notes printed insecret in a room at Ridgehill Manor. It was for that reason the policeof Europe have, for the last ten years, been in search of Harford--theEnglish police because of the charges against him in the City, and theEuropean police because he has defrauded hundreds of _bureaux-de-change_all over the Continent by exchanging thousands of his marvellousimitations of Bank of England notes for foreign notes or gold. Yetbeing a man of such colossal ideas, such a splendid linguist, andpossessing such marvellous powers of invention and clever evasion, heacted so boldly and sustained his role of English gentleman so well,that he often passed beneath the very noses of those in active search ofhim."
"Then Edgecumbe was in entire ignorance of the true character of hislate partner?" I exclaimed.
"Absolutely--until too late. He only became convinced on the day of hisdeath. He wished you to assist him, though he warned you against him.Apparently, by slow degrees, during his rare visits to England, he hadbecome cognisant of Harford's criminal instincts, and of the fact thathe was in possession of that venomous pet which the man had once--Ibelieve--boastingly described as his `Hand,' yet Edgecumbe wasdiplomatic enough not to quarrel with him. Asta, ignorant of herparentage, looked upon Harford as her father and held him in highestesteem. For Edgecumbe to denounce him would be to disillusion the girlin whom all his hopes were centred, and who regarded him, not as afather, but as a very dear friend. On arrival in England he seems tohave written immediately to her, urging her to meet him, unknown toHarford, yet, when she went to the hotel it was only to discover, thathe was dead."
"But the terrible tarantula--the `Hand,' as Harford termed it--surelyEdgecumbe must have suspected something?" I said.
"He probably was unaware that the thing was so deadly venomous, and henever dreamed to what use the scoundrel would put it," said thesolicitor. "The truth only dawned upon him when too late! Remember heplaced the utmost confidence in you--and in you alone--a stranger."
"Yes. He gave me that bronze cylinder. I wonder what it can possiblycontain?"
"Let us take a taxi down to Chancery Lane," Mr Fryer suggested. "Letus carry it up here, open it--and ascertain."
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
A HEART'S SECRET.
"Mr Edgecumbe was always of an antiquarian turn of mind, and when heleft England he took up the study of Egyptology in order to occupy histime," said the solicitor, as we sat in the taxi whirling along NewgateStreet. "He spent many years in Egypt, and being, of course, inpossession of ample funds, he was enabled to make very extensiveexplorations, for which he was granted special privileges by theKhedive. Many of his discoveries have enriched the British Museum, theLouvre, and other museums on the Continent, while, stored here inLondon--in a place of which I hold the key--is a magnificent andvaluable collection of objects from the period of Shaaru, down to thatof the first Amenhotep, all of which will pass into the possession ofhis daughter, Miss Asta. Even the collection in the British Museumcannot compare with them in value or interest. Every object in our lateclient's collection is absolutely unique."
"As is the bronze cylinder," I added.
"Yes. I confess I have been filled with wonder as to what it cancontain ever since the receipt of the letter asking us to advertise onthe third of November for an unknown person--yourself, Mr Kemball.Whatever where the actions of the late Mr Edgecumbe, we must not losesight of the main fact that the death of his wife, whom he adored,caused in him certain eccentricities. He was devoted to his littledaughter Asta, and in order that she should never know that her fatherhad been accused and compelled to fly from justice, he induced hispartner to adopt her--only to discover afterwards that he was a criminaland unscrupulous, and was, moreover, in association with a man and womanwho were, undoubtedly, criminals. Yet having taken the step he had doneten years before, he could not well draw ba
ck. I advised him, as soonas exposure came, to stay and face the music. But the death of his wifehad utterly broken him, and his only reply was to say that he was tiredof an active business life, and preferred obscurity and study abroad.Yes, Mr Kemball," added the man at my side, "Arnold Edgecumbe was adecidedly remarkable man--a man of great talent and attainments, ofwondrous perception, and honest as few men in this city of London arehonest nowadays. He knew that Harford's arrest would bring disgraceupon Asta, and for that reason urged you to become his friend. Thesituation was, indeed, unique."
On arrival at the Safe Deposit vaults we found, unfortunately, that theyhad been closed a quarter of an hour, therefore there was nothing to dobut to wait till next morning.
So, after some final words with Fryer, I left him, promising to returnon the morrow, and then drove straight to St Pancras, and went down toLydford, arriving there soon after nine o'clock.
Asta was, I found, so much better that she had been left in charge of anurse whom Sir George had summoned from London that day. And at myurgent request she allowed me to see her patient alone.
As I stood beside her bed, our hands clasped in meaning silence, I sawthat she smiled gladly at my arrival.
Then, presently, when she had motioned me to a chair and I hadcongratulated her upon her rapid progress towards recovery, I related inas quiet a voice as I could all that I had learned that day in London.
"Mr Arnold was my father!" she cried, looking at me amazed andstupefied. "I never knew that--I--I can't believe it--and yet how kindhe has always been to me--what beautiful presents he used to buy for mewhen I was a child--and how tenderly he used to kiss me when we met. Ahyes!" she cried, "I ought to have known; I ought to have guessed. Poordear father--and he died without betraying to me the secret of mybirth."
"He was a lonely man, Asta," I said in a low voice, calling her by herChristian name for the first time. "He loved your mother and reveredher memory. And he kept from you the secret that he had been cruellymisjudged as a shark and a swindler. He entrusted you to the man I knowas Shaw, believing him to be upright and a friend. But, alas! howgreatly his confidence has been abused."
Her eyes were filled with tears.
"You alone, Mr Kemball, have stood my friend," she said scarcely abovea whisper, as she turned her bright gaze upon me. "When I saw thatterrible spider in my room I sent word to you, after chasing it out intothe corridor. A vague suspicion that it had been placed there purposelycrept over me. But Shaw must have allowed it to pass into my roomagain, after I had dropped off to sleep."
"I was your father's friend," I replied, "and I hope--"
"Poor dear father! Why did he not tell me? He wrote to me to come tothe hotel, urging me to say nothing to Mr Shaw. Perhaps he hadsomething to tell me--ah! who knows?" she exclaimed reflectively. "ButI arrived there, alas! too late--too late!"
"He probably intended to reveal to you the truth," I remarked, lookinginto her pale, wan countenance. "But had he done so perhaps--perhapsyou and I would not have been such close friends as we are to-day."
"Perhaps not," she sighed. "I remember how, when we motored to Aix,Shaw was very careful of a little box. Ah yes! I owe more to you thanI can ever repay."
"No," I said softly. "But--but let me make a confession to you, Asta,"and I took the tiny hand that lay outside the down-quilt. "When I firstknew you I grew jealous of poor Guy for--ah, forgive me--because--because, Asta, I loved you!"
Her pale face reddened, and her eyes were downcast. She tried towithdraw her hand from mine.
"But I knew what a good honest fellow he was, and I determined to becomehis friend. Alas! his friendship for me, because he intended to consultme and tell me what he had discovered, cost him his life."
"Ah no!" she cried, "do not recall that. It is all too terrible--tooterrible!"
"I know what a blow it was for you," I went on madly. "I suffered allyour poignant grief because I loved you--"
"No, no?"
"Let me finish--let me tell you, Asta, now, once and for all, what Ifeel and what is in my heart. I knew that, with memories of poor Guystill upon you, that you could care nothing for me--perhaps barely likeme. I know that at first you almost felt you hated me, yet I have keptmy secret to myself, and I have loved you, Asta--loved you better thanmere words of mine can tell."
And I bent and drew her gently to me.
She made no response. Only she looked at me swiftly, and a long sighescaped her lips.
"In all my life I have never loved any woman but you--so long as I liveI never shall," I declared, in a fervent voice. "If you are not mywife, Asta, then no other woman will ever be. I could not speakbefore--I dared not. I could not think that you even liked me, and Ishould have to take time to teach you the sweet lesson I longed to teachyou. But to-night, my beloved, I have thrown hesitation to the winds.Now that you are to live, I have told you--I ask you, my love, to be mywife!"
"And I--I thought--"
"Yes," I said, tightening my hold upon her hand and placing my armsoftly about her neck.
"I--I never thought that you loved me," she said suddenly. But the lookin her splendid eyes, the tone of her voice, the rare sweet smile whichparted her lips in sheer gladness, unconsciously shown at my confession,told me more than a whole volume of words could have told me.
And slowly my lips met hers in a long kiss--a long, long kiss ofecstatic love--a kiss that changed my whole life from that moment.
"I love you, dearest. I love you with all my soul," I said, lookingdown at the pale, thin little face that rested upon my shoulder as shelay.
"You love me?" Her words were scarcely a breath, but I heard themclearly enough in the silence of the room.
"I love you," I repeated, with fervour and simplicity. "I love you,Asta, as I have never loved, and as I shall never love again. But you--it is of you that I have had the doubt; it is your love that I havefeared I might not yet have won. Have you nothing to say to me? Yourest here in my arms. You have let me kiss your lips--"
Through the room there sounded a half laugh, half sob that silenced me.Two soft arms wound themselves about my throat and lay softly there; twosweet tear-dimmed eyes looked straight into mine with something in theirdepths that held me silent for sheer joy; and two warm lips lifted tomine gave me back, shyly, one out of my many caresses.
"Yes, Lionel, I do love you," she said at last, so low that I had tobring my ear close to her lips to catch the words. "And--and if youreally mean that you want me for your wife--"
"Really mean it!" I echoed. "My dear love, cannot you understand thatI live for you alone--only you--that for you to be my wife is thegreatest, almost the only wish of my life?"
"Then it shall be as you wish," she said softly. What passionate wordsescaped me I do not remember. All I know is that our lips met again andagain many, many times, and we sat in each other's embraces childishlyblissful in our new-born happiness.
For a long time, indeed, no further word was spoken between us. Ourminds were too full for mere uttered phrases.
Thus we sat until recalled to a sudden consciousness of the situation bythe nurse's light tap upon the door.
Then, before I left that room, and heedless of the presence of thenurse, I bent and kissed fondly upon the lips my wife who was to be.
Ah! can I adequately describe my feelings that evening, myheart-bursting to tell to some intimate friend the secret of our love?No, I will leave you who have loved to imagine the boundless joy I feltat the knowledge that Asta loved me after all, and that we werebetrothed.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT.
In London next day I met Mr Fryer by appointment at half-past eleven atthe Holborn Restaurant, being near Chancery Lane, and together we wentto the Safe Deposit Company's vaults, where we obtained the ancientcylinder from the strong box in which I had placed it, and then entereda taxi and drove to the City.
Across Holborn, in Red Lion Street, we found a locksmi
th, and took himwith us to Fryer's office in London Wall. He brought with him sometools, but when he seated himself and examined the mysterious cylinderhe shook his head, remarking--"This'll be a pretty tough job. It's beenvery well welded together. I'll have to file it off!"
"Is it ancient welding?" I asked.
"Oh no, sir. It's a very ancient bit o' bronze, but the top's been offof late, and when, welded on it's been painted over green to imitate thepatina of the old bronze. Whoever did it was one of those fakers ofantiques, I should say."
"Well," said the solicitor, "make a start on it, and get it open."
The mechanic seated himself at the table and, taking up a long sharpfile, began to cut into the hard metal, while we stood aside watchinghim intently.
What could it be that was so securely concealed therein--the Thing thathad been withheld even from Mr Fryer, the dead man's confidant ineverything?
For a quarter of an hour the man worked hard, but made little or noimpression upon the ancient metal. So the solicitor took me into anadjoining room, where after a brief chat he said--
"Since our conversation last night I've been carefully weighing matters.The motive of the cruel and ingenious assassination of your friendNicholson is perfectly plain. Harford knew that there was a will inexistence, for now I recollect Mr Edgecumbe, after getting me to makeit, told me that he had revealed its provisions to his friend.
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