The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

by Robert Reed

  “You don’t think it’s yours?” said the girl .

  “I don’t know,” said Sir Ralph . He was obviously agitated . They

  followed him from the room to his study—a handsome combination

  between that and the library . From a steel drawer in his desk he took

  a key and led the way again upstairs .

  Sir Ralph was more than an amateur collector . Whatever his

  judgments might be on the Bench, there were few who could dispute

  his knowledge of those articles of virtue which it was his delight

  to collect . The Morte-Mannery collection, though a small one, was

  famous . It was Sir Ralph’s pleasure, from time to time during the

  year, to show his treasures to the great connoisseurs of Europe .

  The joy of possessing something which nobody else had, or if

  they had, only in a minor degree and in a less valuable form; and,

  moreover, to hold these wonders of dead craftsmen which were

  coveted by less fortunate people, and which is the basis of every

  true collector’s pride, was the great passion of Sir Ralph Morte-

  Mannery’s life .

  He had devoted forty years to securing and arranging the hundred

  and fifty lockets which formed his collection. The room in which

  they lay had been specially constructed with a view to resisting fire

  and burglars .

  It was an open secret that, in rebuilding Highlawns after he had

  acquired it, the whole scheme of renovation had circled about the

  collection room . It was more like a prison than a museum, thought

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  Frank, as he followed his conductor through the narrow entrance

  guarded with steel doors faced with rosewood .

  It was lighted by a large window, heavily barred, and the glass

  itself being set with strong steel network . Burglar alarms of the most

  ingenious character rendered entrance without detection almost

  impossible . Floors, wall and roof were of reinforced concrete . One

  long case ran the length of the room, a strip of carpet on each side

  forming the only attempt that had been made at comfort . The cases

  themselves were under heavy wooden shutters, and these Sir Ralph

  unlocked .

  It was a disappointing display to the average man . Row after row

  of medallions, dull gold, silver, jewels, enamels . There was nothing

  to excite the enthusiasm of any other than a connoisseur .

  Very quickly, one by one, Sir Ralph unshuttered the cases, his

  anxious eyes running over the neatly-ticketed rows .

  “No,” he said, after a survey, “nothing has gone . I thought from

  your description that my Leonard .…”

  The fire of the enthusiast came to his eyes. With hands that shook

  a little he unlocked one case, and lifted out a small gold medallion .

  “Why!” exclaimed Frank in astonishment as he took it in his

  hand, “this is the very locket which the man gave me!”

  Sir Ralph smiled .

  “That is impossible,” he said . “Impossible! Only two such lock-

  ets were known, and one has been irretrievably lost .” He held the

  little jewel in his hand gingerly . “This and its fellow were made by

  the greatest artist that the world has ever known, Leonardo da Vinci .

  The date is probably 1387, and the design is Leonardo’s own . It

  expresses something of the master’s genius . As you know, he was

  a man who was not satisfied with painting pictures; there was no

  branch of art, from sculpture, to the very mixing of paint, in which

  he did not interest himself . He was a doctor and a chemist of no

  mean qualities, and it was after the great plague in Milan in 1386

  that he made the two lockets, of which this is the only one extant .

  “One he gave to his patron, Il Moro, the usurper of the Duchy,

  and the other he gave a year or two subsequently to Caesar Borgia .

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  They were both commemorations of his patron’s escape from the

  plague . You will observe on the back”—he turned the jewel over

  gently—“there is an allegorical representation . You see the picture

  of the little fiend? “—he pointed it oat with his little finger—“that

  represents the sickness which visited the whole of Italy . You see the

  angel?—that must represent his ‘unconquerable patrons .’ What the

  other signs are—” he smiled, and this cheerless room saw all the

  smiles that Sir Ralph was prepared to bestow upon the world—“are

  incomprehensible to me . Probably Leonardo was a Futurist .”

  He chuckled at his own harmless jest, and the girl listened to him

  wonderingly, for he was a different man in this atmosphere . She had

  never seen him so before; he was human, and tender and keen .

  “The other medallion,” Sir Ralph went on, “was stolen from the

  Dublin museum . The thief was traced, after a great deal of trouble,

  to a cross-Channel boat; he was seen to go on the boat to cross from

  Harwich to the Hook of Holland . There must have been some of

  his confederates on board, for in the night a great outcry was heard

  in one of the cabins, and the detective who watched him saw him

  fleeing along the deck pursued by two foreigners. Before they could

  either arrest the men who were following or capture the man him-

  self, he had leapt overboard, and with him, it was presumed, had

  passed the second medallion .”

  “What was the meaning of it all?” asked Frank .

  Sir Ralph shook his head .

  “We don’t know . It was supposed at the time that he was en-

  deavouring to give the jewel to some of his confederates, and that

  in the act of doing so he was seen . The men who were chasing him

  that night on the ship gave a plausible explanation; they said they

  thought he was mad and endeavouring to commit suicide, and they

  were trying to prevent him .”

  He turned the jewel over again, and looked at it lovingly before

  he replaced it in its case .

  “Whatever it was your unfortunate man had,” he said, “it was

  not the fellow to this .” Outside, he was himself again, cold, hard,

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  commonplace, but that little glimpse of his true character revealed

  much to Marjorie .

  She understood now the ferocity of the sentence he had passed

  upon Mansingham . His collection was more than wife or child, more

  precious than ambition; his passion was strong enough to override

  his sense of justice .

  He looked at his watch with a frown . He had remembered one of

  the unpleasant facts of life .

  “Vera has not returned . I thought she would have come down by

  the same train as you .”

  “I was the only passenger for Burboro’, as far as I can remem-

  ber,” said Frank .

  Sir Ralph looked at his watch again .

  “There’s another train in by now,” he said, “she ought to be here .”

  He had hardly spoken the words when Vera’s voice was heard in

  the hall below, making inquiries of the servants .

  “Oh, there you are,” she cried .

  She looked up as the party descended the broad stairway into the

&
nbsp; hall . For a moment a look of wonder came into her eyes at the sight

  of Frank .

  “You have never met Mr . Gallinford, have you?” asked Marjorie,

  as she introduced them .

  “I am very glad to meet you now, at any rate,” said Vera, cheer-

  fully .

  She was glad, too, that there was some other interest to temper

  her husband’s annoyance . That he should be annoyed she took for

  granted . It was the atmosphere which invariably met her on her re-

  turn from town .

  He looked again at his watch and then at her, and she understood

  the significance of the examination.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, carelessly . “I lost the fast train and had

  to take the slow one . It was very annoying . I think my watch must

  have been wrong .”

  Vera had a very beautiful voice, low and rich, and full of beauti-

  ful qualities .

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  “You’ve been seeing our wonderful collection?” she said .

  Sir Ralph snorted . He hated any claim to partnership in respect

  to his medallions, and Vera knew it . It was her oblique reply to his

  unspoken attack .

  “You haven’t seen the best of them; you ought to see the belts,”

  she said .

  “That is a collection which is not sufficiently complete,” inter-

  rupted Sir Ralph stiffly, “to be examined. Really, Vera, I wish you

  would not embarrass me by these references .”

  He strode off to the library, leaving them alone .

  She laughed softly .

  “He’s a great trial sometimes,” she said, half to herself .

  Then she turned to the girl, and Marjorie noticed with pleasure

  that the moodiness and depression of yesterday was entirely dis-

  sipated . She was at her brightest, her ready smile came and went .

  In a few moments she was chatting with Frank Gallinford about

  Italy as though she had known him all her life .

  “It must be a quaint country,” she said . “You know, I’ve a pecu-

  liar affection for the land, I am half Italian myself .”

  “Are you really?”

  It was Marjorie who asked the question with girlish delight . “Oh,

  I say, how romantic! Don’t you ever want to stab uncle with a sti-

  letto or something?”

  She laughed, but Frank’s smile was a trifle grim. He had too vivid

  a recollection of somebody striking at him with a stiletto to derive

  the full amount of amusement out of the question . That was part of

  the story which he had not deemed it necessary to tell .

  “Oh, no,” drawled Vera, “I never feel sufficiently bloodthirsty.”

  Suddenly Frank’s face went drawn and grey . He stepped back

  with a little cry .

  “What is the matter?” asked Marjorie, in alarm .

  He passed his hand over his eyes .

  “But really—aren’t you ill?”

  He shook his head .

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  “No, it’s a little passing giddiness,” he muttered . He was seized

  with an over-powering anxiety to get away .

  “I forgot,” said the girl, sympathetically, “you’ve had such a try-

  ing night . I’ll see if your room is ready; perhaps if you were to lie

  down for an hour or two you would be better .”

  He nodded, and, raising his head, met Vera’s curious eyes .

  “If you will forgive the impertinence,” he said, slowly, “that is a

  curious ring of yours .”

  She turned white and put her hands quickly behind her back; but

  too late—he had seen the square black opal—for the second time in

  twenty-four hours .

  CHAPTER IX

  COUNT FESTINI

  “Why, Miss Meagh, how perfectly delightful!”

  Marjorie turned with a start . She was leaving Victoria Station,

  and had stopped at a bookstall to buy a few magazines .

  She had been visiting Ida Mansingham, the wife of the convict,

  who was in a nursing home . She had had a bad nervous breakdown,

  and it was due to the generosity of George Hilary and Tillizini that

  she had been placed in comfort .

  A young man was standing before her, his white teeth showing in

  a smile of sheer delight .

  “How extraordinary! I have not seen you for two months . Where

  have you been hiding?”

  She offered her hand with some embarrassment . Her last parting

  with Count Festini had been such that it seemed that they could

  never meet again on terms of commonplace friendship . His passion-

  ate declaration still rang in her ears . He had come to Ireland for the

  hunting, had fallen—so he declared—hopelessly in love with her,

  and had declared his passion .

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  He had stormed and raved when she had gently refused him; yes,

  this well-bred and perfectly-mannered young man had behaved more

  like a madman than a sane product of twentieth century civilization .

  And here he was as though nothing had happened .

  “I tried to find where you were,” he said.

  His eyes had the tender softness of the South . His voice was

  without any trace of foreign accent . He was, as usual, she observed,

  faultlessly dressed, with none of the ostentation or errors in taste

  which so often in the foreigner mar the good tailor’s best efforts .

  “I have been away in the country,” she said, a little hurriedly .

  She was expecting Frank at the station . He might come up at any

  moment . She wondered what would be the effect on this volcanic

  young man if she introduced the big Englishman as her fiancé.

  “And I have been tied to town,” he said . “Oh, what a deplor-

  able place London is for those whose business keeps them there! It

  is delightful to the visitor, to the dilettante, but for the unfortunate

  dweller by compulsion, terrible .”

  He threw out his hands in mock despair .

  “London is a bad habit,” he went on, “and the ideal one, for it is

  a bad habit one can get away from when one likes .”

  “Few bad habits are like that,” she smiled .

  He had apparently completely recovered from his infatuation and

  was genial only to a point of correctness .

  Some thought occurred to her, and she smiled .

  “Do I amuse you?” he said, with a twinkle in his dark eyes .

  “I was thinking,” she said, “how curious it is that I seem to have

  met nothing but Italians—to have lived almost in an atmosphere of

  Renaissance the last few days .”

  His eyes steadied .

  “That is very curious,” he said, quietly . “I could have almost said

  the same . And who are the Italians who have been favoured by as-

  sociation with the most lovely lady in England?”

  She raised her hand .

  “Please,” she said, softly, “let us forget .”

  “I could never forget,” he said .

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  He spoke calmly enough for her ease and comfort .

  “But I have agreed myself to forego hope . After all,” his shoul-

  ders rose imperceptibly, “one cannot have all the things one wants in

  this world . I have most of
them, yet one which is more than all the

  others together, is denied me . That is my punishment .”

  He smiled again . “But you did not answer me .”

  She hesitated . She had no wish to talk of Tillizini . He was one of

  those mysterious individuals engaged in a business of such a charac-

  ter that it seemed that any reference to him would be a betrayal . She

  saw the absurdity of this view almost as quickly as she formulated

  the idea .

  “One of them,” she said, “was Professor Tillizini .”

  His cigarette was half way to his mouth . He checked its course

  for the fraction of a second .

  “Signor Tillizini,” he drawled . “How very interesting . And what

  had the great Antonio to tell you? Did he ask for your finger-prints,

  or take a sample of your blood, or express any desire to measure

  your head?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, with a laugh . “He didn’t do anything so dread-

  ful . Do you know him?”

  “Slightly,” he said, carelessly . “Everybody in Italy, of course,

  knows Tillizini, and I should imagine almost everybody in England

  is similarly informed . And where did you meet this great man?” he

  bantered .

  “At Burboro’,” she said . “He came to visit my uncle .”

  “At Burboro’?”

  Again she noticed the slight emphasis to his words .

  He was looking at her steadily, speculatively, she thought . He

  was quick to realize that his attitude was a little more than disinter-

  ested, for he gave a short laugh .

  “You think I am inquisitive, do you not?” he said . “But don’t

  you know that everything associated with you has immense interest

  for me? You see,” he said, apologetically, “I have never met your

  uncle . I didn’t know that you had such a relative— though most

  people have . At any rate, I have discovered where you are staying,”

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  he said, with laughing menace . “I have only to run to ground this

  uncle of yours, and the rest will be easy . I shall come to Burboro’,”

  he threatened, with one slim finger raised in mock earnestness, and

  go round asking ‘Has anybody seen Miss Marjorie’s uncle?’ It will

  create a little sensation, will it not?”

  “I will save you that trouble,” she smiled . “My uncle is Sir Ralph

  Morte-Mannery .”

  “Oh, indeed,” he nodded his head . “I thought it might be .”

  “Why?”