Diane of the Green Van

by Leona Dalrymple

  CHAPTER XVII

  IN WHICH THE BARON PAYS

  "Excellency," said Philip politely, "I have returned."

  "Ah!" said the Baron cordially, marveling somewhat at the forbiddingglint in the young man's eyes. He was to learn presently its portent.

  Within doors, a few men chatted in the billiard room. A girl wassinging. The Baron, however, was the only occupant of the comfortableporch-room with the green-shaded lamp, to which Philip had come,passing Themar, who had left a tray of ice and _creme de menthe_ uponthe table.

  With his customary deliberation the Baron selected a glass, filled itwith shaved ice, which he as carefully covered with green _creme dementhe_, and pushed the delectable result across the table to hissecretary.

  Philip accepted with a formal expression of thanks.

  "I am delighted," rumbled the Baron, sipping his iced mint with keenappreciation, "to see that you are fully recovered."

  "And Themar?" inquired Philip coldly.

  "He was not injured so badly as I feared," admitted Tregar slowly."His accident," commented Philip quietly, "was to say the leastcoincidental--and convenient."

  "Just what do you mean?"

  "Just why," begged Philip icily, "did you wish me to intrude furtherupon the hospitality of Miss Westfall?"

  "There was an errand," reminded the Baron blandly. "Having dischargedit myself, Poynter, I might--er--trust to you to report itsconsequences. There are possibilities of confidences over a campfire--"

  "You expected me to--spy upon Miss Westfall?"

  "Even so.

  "Pray believe," said Philip stiffly, "that any confidence of MissWestfall's would have been to me--as your own."

  "I am to understand then," commented His Excellency suavely, "that youmade absolutely no effort--"

  "You are to understand just that," said Philip quietly. "Moreover," hemanfully met his chief's level glance with one of inexorable decision,"I sincerely regret that hereafter I shall be unable to discharge myduties as your secretary."

  The Baron stirred.

  "I may be honored by your reasons, Poynter?" he inquired quietly.

  "The duties of a spy," flashed Philip, "are peculiarly offensive to me.So is Themar."

  "Themar!"

  "Excellency," said Philip curtly, "to-night as I entered, the lamplightfell full upon the face and throat of your valet."

  "Yes?"

  "Themar's throat, Excellency, bears peculiar scars."

  "My dear Poynter! Themar's fall injured him severely about the faceand hands."

  "I have not forgotten," insisted Philip grimly, "that Miss Westfall'sservant sunk his terrible fingers into the throat of the man whoseknife scar I bear. Whether or not his knife was meant for me, I cannot say. Nor have I sufficient proof openly to accuse him, but of thismuch I am convinced. Themar's presence near the camp of Miss Westfallis, in the face of your peculiar and secretive errand, ominouslysignificant."

  The Baron sighed. There was frank hostility in Philip's eyes.

  "Miss Westfall," added Philip hotly, "is the unsuspecting victim of apeculiar network of mystery of which I feel you hold the key. Her campis constantly spied upon. Upon the night of the storm there were twomen lurking mysteriously in the forest near her camp fire. The knifeof one I was unfortunate enough to receive. The other," Philip's eyesglinted oddly, "the other, Excellency," he finished slowly, "tried, Ifirmly believe--to kill Miss Westfall."

  "Impossible!" exclaimed the Baron, greatly shocked.

  "If I might know the nature of your peculiar interest in MissWestfall," urged Philip bluntly, "I would have greater faith in yourapparent surprise."

  The Baron reddened.

  "That is quite impossible," he regretted formally. "Pray believe thatyou have magnified its importance into exceedingly ludicrousproportions. I fear I am obliged to dispense with your faith in myintegrity on the conditions you mention. Your resolution to leaveme--that is final?"

  "Entirely so."

  "I am sorry," said the Baron simply. And, meeting his chief's eyes,Philip felt somewhat ashamed of one or two of his highly coloredsuspicions and reddened uncomfortably.

  "It is at least--comforting," observed the Baron quietly, "to feel thatwhatever I may have said in confidence to you will be honorablyforgotten."

  "Excellency," said Philip with spirit, "though I may not speak to MissWestfall of your interest or my suspicions, for reasons which need nonaming among gentlemen, it is but fair to warn you that henceforth Ishall regard myself as personally responsible for her safety."

  "Gallantly spoken!" declared the older man, and watched his secretary,as he bowed and withdrew, with more regret than he had seen fit toexpress. Then, lying back in his chair he listened with unsmilingattention as Philip entered the billiard room with a laughing shot ofabuse for Dick Sherrill which aroused an immediate uproar of welcome.

  Watching the Baron's narrowed eyes, one might have wondered greatly.For Baron Tregar looked very tired and grim. At length, having smokedhis cigar quite to the end, he went up to his room and summoned Themar.

  "Ah, Themar!" said he softly, and laughed with peculiar relish.

  Themar shifted restlessly.

  "Excellency," he began, uncomfortably aware of unpleasant mockery inhis chief's keen eyes.

  The Baron matched the tips of his powerful fingers and studied themintently.

  "Themar," said he acidly, "within a fortnight I have lost a car whoseburned remains were found several miles from here, and a secretarywhose friendship and invaluable service I prize more highly than yourlife. I feel that you can to some extent explain both of thesedisasters."

  "Excellency knows," reminded Themar glibly, "that the car was stolenfrom the Sherrill garage."

  "I have merely supposed so," corrected the Baron coldly. And rising heinspected the curious scars upon his valet's throat with interest."Odd!" he purred, "that an aeroplane may simulate the marks of tearingfingers." Swept by a sudden gust of terrible anger, he grippedThemar's shoulders and shook him until the valet's face was dark withfear.

  "Why," hissed the Baron, "did you lie? Why did you go to the Westfallcamp and attack Poynter? Why did you swear these scars came from adisastrous flight in a stolen aeroplane? Why have you been spying uponMiss Westfall when I expressly forbade it?"

  "Excellency," choked Themar, horrified by the Baron's unprecedenteddisplay of passion, "there was a blunder--I dared not tell."

  "Who blundered?" thundered his chief.

  "I. Granberry, I thought, was to go to his cousin's camp," pantedThemar quaking. "I heard Sherrill telephone--later he told some men--"

  "You took the car--" prompted the Baron icily.

  "I--I did not know it was Poynter until he fell," urged Themartrembling. "Granberry and he are similar in build."

  "Who attempted to kill Miss Westfall?" blazed the Baron, shaking hisvalet into chattering subjection.

  "Excellency, I know not!" protested Themar swallowing painfully."There was still another man--he dashed ahead and stole the car."

  After all, reflected the Baron wryly, in this damnable muddle he muststill use Themar. To antagonize him now would be foolhardy.Wherefore, with a civil expression of regret at his loss of temper andcertain curt instructions, he dismissed Themar, sullen and chastened,and betook himself to an open window, where he sat smoking thoughtfullyuntil the house grew quiet and one by one the lights in the valleyfaded out. In the web which had engulfed one by one, himself, Themar,Granberry, Miss Westfall and Poynter, a murderous stranger wasfloundering. Who and what he was, it behooved His Excellency todiscover.

  "It would seem," reflected the Baron with grim humor as he thought ofhis car and his secretary, "that I am paying heavily for my part in atask not greatly to my liking."

  In the adjoining room behind locked doors, Themar worked feverishlyupon a cipher inscribed upon a soiled linen cuff.