The Mysterious Three

by William Le Queux

engaged, and on breaking off your engagement."

  He made a quick little gesture of impatience.

  "Oh, I don't mean congratulations of that kind," he said quickly. "Ishouldn't ask you to waste your time in congratulating me upon anythingso commonplace as an engagement of marriage. I want you to congratulateme upon something you don't yet know."

  "Well, what is it?" I said impatiently. "Have you come into afortune?"

  "Right the very first time!" he exclaimed. "Yes, I have. I'veinherited, quite unexpectedly, a very large fortune. But the odd thingis this. My benefactor is, or rather was, unknown to me. Untilyesterday I had never even heard his name."

  "How wonderful! But how splendid!" I cried out. "Do tell me moreabout it. Tell me everything."

  "I will. And now prepare to receive a shock. The will leaving me thisfortune was found in the safe discovered among the debris of Chateaud'Uzerche, after the fire?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  A FURTHER TANGLE.

  Certainly, this was a most remarkable development. I listened withoutcomment.

  Yet when Faulkner had given me, at the luncheon table, all the detailsby way of "explanation," as he put it, the tangle seemed even greaterthan before he had begun.

  The will, dated three years previously, had been drawn up by awell-known firm of London lawyers. It was quite in order, and thetestator's name was Whichelo, Samuel Whichelo, formerly of Mexico City,merchant, but then resident at Wimbledon Common. The testator, who hadbeen unmarried, left a few legacies to friends and servants, butpractically the whole of his fortune he bequeathed entirely to FrankFaulkner, "in return for the considerable service he once rendered me."

  Faulkner had handed me a copy of the will--it was quite a short will.When I came to this sentence I naturally looked up.

  "Ah!" I said, "then there is a method in the testator's madness. But Ithought you told me you had never even heard his name."

  "Until yesterday I never had heard it."

  "Then what was this `considerable service' he says you rendered him?"

  "Well, I'll tell you," he said. "Years ago, when I was knocking aboutthe world--I was then about twenty--I chanced to find myself, one night,in the China Town of San Francisco. I had a friend with me, about myown age. Foolishly, we were exploring at night, alone--that is, withoutan interpreter or guide of any sort, which is about as risky a thing asany ordinary unarmed European can do in San Francisco, where you maystill, I believe, find the scum of all the nations. Suddenly we heard acry. A man was calling, `_Au secours! Au secours_!' Without stoppingto think, I rushed in the direction whence the cry came. It wasrepeated. It was in a house which I recognised, at a glance, as anestablishment of doubtful repute. I must tell you that when I wastwenty I was considered a first-rate boxer, and it may have been theconfidence I felt in my ability to defend myself that made me rush,without hesitation, into that Chinese den. Cards and chits werescattered about the tables and on the floor, and nine or ten Chinamenwere in the room, struggling furiously with a tall, dark man of powerfulbuild, who was being rapidly overcome owing to the number of hisassailants. Chinese oaths were flying about freely, and I saw aknife-blade flash suddenly into the air."

  He paused for a second, then continued--

  "My blood was up. I felt as I feel sometimes now, that I didn't carefor anything or any one or what might happen to me. I rushed at thenearest Chinaman like a maniac--I believe he thought I was one. Myfirst blow knocked him silly. Then, right and left I hit out. I was inperfect condition at that time. Down went the Chinamen one afteranother, as my blows caught them on the chin--I used to be famous forthat chin-blow, I `specialised' in it, so to speak. I detest boasting.I tell this only to you, because I think it may amuse you and explain mywindfall. In less than two minutes I had stretched five of the Chinamensenseless with that chin-blow, and the remaining three or four, seizedwith panic, fled."

  "What then?" I asked.

  "At once I led the man who had called for help out into the street. Isaw he was pretty badly hurt, so with the help of my friend, who had nowjoined me again, I got him out of China Town, expecting to be set uponat any moment by friends of those Chinamen, thirsting for revenge.Though he had called `_Au secours_!' he was not French, it seemed. Hewas British Portuguese, though he lived in Mexico, he told me later. Wegot him to the hospital. `I must have your name--I must have yourname,' he exclaimed quite excitedly, as I was leaving, I remember. `Youhave rendered me a service I shall never forget--never. You must comeand see me to-morrow.' I told him I could not do that, as I was leavingearly next morning for Raymund, on my way to the Yosemite Valley. But Isaid I hoped we might meet again some day, and, as he insisted upon mydoing so, I gave him a card with my address--my London club address. Itwas at the club that I found, yesterday morning, the communication fromhis lawyers."

  "And by Gad!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, "you deserve this `bit ofluck,' as you call it, Frank. I think you acted splendidly!"

  "Oh, for Heaven's sake don't become emotional, old chap," he saidhurriedly. "If you knew how I hate gush, you wouldn't."

  "It isn't gush," I answered. "What wouldn't I have given to see youbuckling up those Chinamen one after another. Splendid!"

  I turned to Violet.

  "I congratulate you," I said, taking her hand, "on marrying a real man.I think the two of you are the pluckiest pair I have ever met. It willbe long before I forget that incident on the roof of Chateau d'Uzerche.But for you, neither Frank nor I would be alive to-day."

  "Nor the Baronne, nor Dago Paulton," she added mischievously. "Oh, yes,I am a heroine! A heroine to save such very precious lives!"

  "Are you not grateful to the Baronne?" I asked quickly. "After all,she did adopt you, and bring you up."

  "Yes," the girl answered, with a swift, reproachful glance, "she adoptedme and brought me up, but only that I might help to further her ownends. She didn't adopt me out of affection, I can assure you."

  I saw that I had again trodden upon thin ice, so I quickly changed thetopic.

  "But the great mystery," I said, addressing Faulkner, "is not yetsolved. How on earth did Whichelo's will, leaving you this fortune,come to be in the safe in Chateau d'Uzerche, in the Basses Alpes? Whendid Whichelo die?"

  "Four months ago. The lawyers distinctly remember him making a will,but he had never returned it to them, and, since his death, they hadbeen trying to find it. They even advertised for it."

  "To whom would his fortune have gone, had he died intestate?" Iinquired suddenly.

  "To his younger brother, Henry. From what the lawyers tell me, thisbrother of his must be a peculiar man. His life appears to be amystery. He is, however, known to be intimate with your friend, SirCharles Thorold. Sir Charles and he were in Mexico together ten yearsago, the lawyers tell me, and were there again about three years ago."

  "Who are the lawyers who wrote to you?" something prompted me to ask.

  "You mean about the will? Oh, a firm in Lincoln's Inn, Spink andPeters."

  Instantly I thought of old Taylor.

  "Ah," I said, "I have heard of them. Thorold has had some businessdealings with them. By the way--who opened the safe?"

  "The French police. It seems, that since the fire, neither Dago Paultonnor the Baronne de Coudron have shown any signs of life. Even theinsurance people have not been written to by them."

  "Paulton and the Baronne are probably afraid of being arrested," I saidat once.

  We talked a little longer, but Faulkner seemed unable to throw anyfurther light on the mystery of the will being found in the safe, andthe lawyers were equally in the dark. Probably they would never haveheard of the will had the French police not communicated with them.

  "Oh, I have another bit of news for you," Faulkner said suddenly. "SirCharles Thorold is to return to Houghton."

  "My father going back to Houghton!" Vera exclaimed, amazed. "Why, whotold you that? I've heard nothing of it."


  "Read it in the newspaper this morning," Faulkner answered. "I have thepaper here--in my pocket."

  He tugged out of his coat-pocket a copy of a morning paper, unfolded it,and presently found the announcement.

  "There it is," he said, passing the paper to her, with his finger on theparagraph.

  The announcement ran as follows--

  "We are able to state that Sir Charles and Lady Thorold have decided toreturn to their country residence, Houghton Park, in Rutland, which hasbeen vacant since the mysterious affair when the body of Sir