The Duke Decides

by Headon Hill

  CHAPTER XX--_In the Muniment Room_

  While Alec Forsyth was engaged in showing Ziegler out of the crypt, theDuke of Beaumanoir, in happy ignorance of the perilous effort his friendwas making for him, sat in the dark muniment room, still as a cat, withhis eyes on the door. He had drawn one of the oak chairs close to thesafe in which Senator Sherman's genuine bonds reposed. He hadestablished himself on guard, in case, trickery having failed, violentmethods should be adopted at the last moment to obtain the huge plunder.

  He thought it improbable that, with General Sadgrove in the house andAzimoolah somewhere loose around it, any of the gang would break inunseen, still less that they would reach the muniment room. He sincerelyhoped that the vigilance of those trained watch-dogs would prevail, for,though he was prepared to atone for his folly by defending the safe atthe cost of his life, if need be, he did not see how that could be donewithout opening up the scandal he had gone through so much to avoid. Hehad bought the safe, had met the Senator at Liverpool, and now, unknownto anyone, was keeping his lonely vigil in the firm determination that,at all hazards, the bonds should reach the Bank of England in safety;but there was a dread in his heart lest the tell-tale emergency he wasproviding against should arise.

  For here it becomes necessary to say that the letter sent to Ziegler inLondon five days before, and purporting to convey the Duke's submissionand request for instructions, which were called for by Alec Forsyth, wasnot written by the Duke at all, or even with his cognizance. It had beenthe joint production of General Sadgrove and Forsyth, with an eye toimmediate immunity for the Duke from further murderous attacks, and tothe enactment of some such dangerous comedy as had just been played inthe crypt. Though when that deceptive missive was penned, its authorsexpected, in varying degrees, as will presently be seen, tragedy ratherthan comedy. And he who by right of youth and friendship necessarilytook the greater risk was the one who, not being fully informed by hisuncle, had most cause for apprehension from the masquerade.

  But Beaumanoir, sitting in the dark with his Smith and Wesson at fullcock amid the archives of the house he was concerned to preservestainless, was aware of none of these tortuous dealings. Had his zealallowed him to indulge in the luxury of a light, he might have whiledaway the time by perusing some of the musty chronicles around him, andhave so drawn comfort from the knowledge that if his misdeed waspublished with the usual trimmings in every paper in the kingdom, hewould still compare favorably with some of his race who had gone before.So far he had never stolen poor men's land under the protection of theCommons Enclosure Act, or appropriated tenants' improvements to his ownenrichment.

  True, it was a dirty trick he had put his hand to--a dirty trick indirty company--and he hated himself for it to the full. But he had beena denizen of another world when Ziegler's emissary had annexed him, bodyand soul, as plain Charles Hanbury, in the Bowery saloon. He rememberedthat world now with a horror and a loathing greater, if possible, thanwhen he had endured it--the sordid life in the five-dollarboarding-house, the lunch of tough sandwiches of Texas beef which hadbulged his pockets on the way to his duties in the big dry goods store,the insolence of his Irish-American and German fellow-workers because ofhis English speech. And the haughty salesladies who had drawn theirskirts from him as they squeezed past the tame detective at thetime-keeper's box--sitting there in the dark muniment room, even hispresent trouble could not check a smile at thinking what those damselswould have done if told that he had been about to become a duke withinthe month.

  Yes, it had been a dirty trick that he had undertaken to escape allthis, but somehow the thing had not seemed so bad when he wasunacquainted with the persons interested. Just as old-time smugglerspersuaded themselves that there was no dishonesty in defrauding thestate, so in the same light he had regarded the spoliation of a bigcorporation like the Bank of England or the United States Treasury,whichever would have been the ultimate loser when the lawyers hadsettled the matter. He would never have gone into the business, even inhis despairing exile, if he had not looked upon it as a breach ofhonesty which no single individual would be an appreciable loser. Hemade no excuses for himself on this score, but merely analyzed his stateof mind philosophically, by no means salving his conscience because hehad dropped the affair the moment individualities had become involved,or laying claim to any merit for a repentance sustained at such imminentperil.

  "Whatever is the upshot of it all I can never be too thankful that Icame over in the same ship with the Shermans," he muttered, "and forbeing brought up with a round turn by the knowledge that the one to bearthe brunt of my iniquity would have been Leonie's father. Why, theexcellent Senator might have been suspected of having stolen the bondshimself. Funny that that view didn't occur to me till I knew thepeople."

  The same gratitude had filled his simple soul twenty times during thelast week, even when his enemies had pressed him most sorely; but itrecurred with redoubled force now that he was within sight of the end.By noon on the morrow the Senator would have safely housed thesecurities at the Bank, and then his own responsibility would cease.Ziegler could kill him then, and welcome, if he still thought it worthwhile, though the chief of the organization was not, he imagined, thesort of person to waste time and energy on a purely sentimental revenge.If Ziegler carried on the feud after the bonds were safe from him itwould be, as before, to secure silence about the attempt, and he couldfling no stigma on the family name without divulging details that wouldincriminate his gang. And the family name was all that mattered.

  Beaumanoir had just rounded off his forecast in this satisfactory mannerwhen he was suddenly startled back into the present by a faint sound fardown the corridor on which the muniment room abutted. He knew perfectlywell what the sound was--the "scroop" of the spring-driven swivel-rollerthat automatically closed a baize door shutting off the servants'premises. He had half risen from his chair when another sound--thetinkle of a pebble cast against the window from outside--distracted hisattention; but disregarding it in favor of the more pressing emergency,he made haste towards the door of the room.

  The room was at the extreme end of the corridor, looking along itlengthwise, and it was not therefore necessary for the Duke to disclosehimself at the door, which he had purposely left partially open, inorder to reconnoiter. Standing in the darkness a few feet from the door,he was able to see who was coming, and the sight sent a thrill ofdespair to his heart. All his pleasant anticipations of oblivion for histransgression were rudely shattered, for the old man who, white-beardedand with cat-like tread, came along the passage was Ziegler himself.Another figure was dimly discerned close behind, but of that the Duketook no heed. His eyes were riveted on the one in front--on the evil manwho had the power to change his destiny. There was something curiouslyfantastic, something unreal, in the aged miscreant gliding towards him,framed in the gaping darkness of the doorway.

  The opening into a branch passage, leading to another part of themansion, lay between Ziegler and the muniment room, and there was a barechance that he might turn in that direction. In reality he had toadvance but a few steps before the point could be settled, but it seemeda whole aeon to the Duke, and, to add to the tension of his nerves,another pebble struck the window. All hope of being able to preserve hissecret had fled now, and Beaumanoir strove to concentrate his reelingbrain on how best to summon assistance and ward off an attack on thesafe. If only he knew who that was throwing up stones fromoutside--whether friend or foe--he could decide whether to run to thewindow and open it or leave it alone. He dared not act in ignorance,possibly to admit a third adversary. The window was ten feet from theground, but the wall was covered with gnarled ivy stems up which anactive man could readily climb.

  While he was hesitating the matter was arranged for him. There was notime to reach the window, for Ziegler passed the branch corridor withoutas much as looking at it, and was coming straight on to the munimentroom. Beaumanoir raised his revolver, but lowered it again, incapable ofshooting a fellow-creature in cold blood, and also f
ascinated by ahorrible curiosity to learn the intruder's intention. He could not asyet be absolutely certain that Ziegler knew that the bonds were in thesafe. He would wait till it was attacked before he made a counter-move.

  In this mind he slipped behind a huge oak press laden with expiredleases, and had hardly ensconced himself when Ziegler entered the room,followed, to Beaumanoir's surprise, by a woman, whom he did notrecognize, in the faint light diffused from the corridor, as Rosa, Mrs.Talmage Eglinton's French maid. The shadowy figures--that of the frailold man and of the trim soubrette--stood motionless and silent justwithin the doorway, evidently mastering the landmarks of the room. Then,at a whisper from Ziegler, the maid glided with a nod of comprehensionto the nearest window, and was busy with the hasp when the rattle ofstill another pebble on the glass accelerated her movements. She swungthe casement outwards, and in a muffled voice called down:

  "'Tis ze right room. You are to come oop."

  A rustling noise, as of foliage shaken, rising from below warned theDuke that if he waited longer he might be beset by a horde ofassailants. It spurred him to instant action. Set in the wall close tohis place of concealment was the switch of the electric light, andstretching out his left hand he turned it on, at the same time steppingforward and covering Ziegler with his pistol. The old man blinked at himin the sudden glow, and then, quietly turning, shut the door. His objectmust have been to prevent his voice penetrating into the house, for hecroaked out to the Frenchwoman by the window the petulant order:

  "Tell Benzon to hurry."

  The maid, relaxing the venomous glare with which she was regardingBeaumanoir, put out her head and obeyed. A renewal of the rustling andthe sound of heavy breathing told her that her request had been heard,and drew a harsh laugh from Ziegler. Fixing the Duke with a cruel gaze,he remarked calmly, in his thin falsetto:

  "The champion safe-cracksman of America will be here in a moment. YourGrace will have the opportunity of seeing a very pretty piece of work ifyou care to remain till I have exchanged this package for the oneinside. You are not going to be fool enough to use that pistol and giveyourself away at this stage, and if you were, my friend Benzon would beequal to the occasion." And holding up the parcel of tissue paper whichhe had received from Forsyth in the crypt, he shook it mockingly at theDuke.

  But in so doing he reckoned literally without his host. With a springthat wrenched his lame foot painfully Beaumanoir leaped upon him, and,crushing the white beard to a throat that somehow seemed less scraggythan might have been expected, dragged him to the door and contrived toget it open with his left hand. So struggling, the pair stumbled intothe corridor, and Beaumanoir was about to shout lustily for help, whenhis voice dwindled into a panting:

  "Thank God you've come! I've got this one, but there is a woman inthere, and--and others are coming in through the window."

  For in the corridor, hurrying towards him, were General Sadgrove,Senator Sherman, and Alec Forsyth, each with revolvers in their hands,while Sybil Hanbury brought up the rear, looking as if she resented thatposition. In the presence of this formidable phalanx Beaumanoir felt hiscaptive wilt in his grasp, and indeed he himself was swept back by it,still holding on, into the muniment room, where the woman Rosa was inthe act of retreating from the window. The General took command quitenaturally, bidding Forsyth guard the door, while he himself advanced tothe window, very stern and upright, and muttering as he went:

  "What can Azimoolah have been about? He must be past his work."

  But the words were hardly spoken when the subject of his censure leapedin through the window, drawing his breath quickly, but not otherwiseinconvenienced by a limp bundle of humanity which he carried over hisshoulder, and now proceeded to dump like a sack on the floor. Aftersecuring the window, the Pathan turned and gravely saluted the General.

  "There were three others, sahib, but they are gone," he said simply. "Atsight of thy servant fear seemed to fall upon them, so that they fledacross the _maidan_ like deer flushed by a cheetah. But this one wasalready climbed nigh to the window, so I followed, and choking him alittle, brought him in." And with his foot he slightly spurned themotionless form of his prisoner, whom the Duke and Forsyth recognized asthe hero of the watch-spring saw who had been surprised cutting out thepanel at Beaumanoir House a week before.

  "Choked him a little!" said the General with a grim chuckle. "You don'tseem to have left much life in him, but it was no case for standing onceremony. And now, madam," continued the veteran, facing round to whereBeaumanoir stood with his grip on Ziegler's collar, "your disguise needhamper you no longer--that is, if you prefer to finish this business inyour own person. Get the pull of your sex, you know."

  "Yes, I guess that wig doesn't do justice to Cora Lestrade," interjectedSenator Sherman, and with a dexterous twirl of his wrist he jerked offthe elaborate head-gear which had effectually transformed the dashinglady known as Mrs. Talmage Eglinton into a repulsive old man. But it wasonly when feminine instinct had prompted her with a swift application ofher handkerchief to remove the purple stain that had added the semblanceof disease to old age that the Duke recognized his guest.

  "I do not understand," he murmured, feebly.

  And it seemed that Alec Forsyth, in spite of the part entrusted to himin the comedy of the crypt, had been ignorant of the identity of hisantagonist, for a cry of astonishment escaped him. On the other hand,the demure smile that played round Sybil Hanbury's pretty mouthbetokened a closer intimacy with the foregoings of this wonderfuldevelopment. Forsyth's sharp exclamation had the effect of rousingAzimoolah's captive from his swoon. The man raised himself on his elbow,and, grasping the situation, remained quietly watchful.

  "And now, your Grace, before another word is said, let me shake you bythe hand right here, and thank you for all the patient courage you haveshown and all the danger you have incurred to baffle as waspish a gangas ever hailed from my side of the ditch," said the Senator, suiting theaction to the word, greatly to the embarrassment of the Duke, andprovoking a scornful laugh from the fantastic figure in male attire.

  "Why, he was one of us," she sneered. "It was only when he found he hadsomething to lose that he backed out."

  The Senator looked her up and down with a fine contempt.

  "So much for a great reputation," he said. "My good Lestrade, thewarders who told me you were the cleverest woman in Sing-Sing must havemade a grievous error, for a really clever criminal would never havebeen cornered by a brave man pretending to join the confederacy. TheDuke has not tripped once all through the affair, except that he hasbeen a little too reckless in exposing his valuable life to peril. Theresult of his heroic conduct is that you are outwitted all along theline, and that the three millions are secure in that safe."

  This misdescription of the case, so adroitly near the mark and yetdiffering from the truth in the all-important word "_pretending_," madethe Duke catch his breath. Somehow the matter which he had believedhimself to be working single-handed seemed to have been taken out of hisshaky grasp, and, shamed by the unmerited praise, he waited for therejoinder of the adventuress. It came crisp and sharp.

  "Then what you have to do is to call in the police and hand us over tojustice," she said defiantly. "The authorities will be puzzled to find areason for all you worthy amateurs bottling up your knowledge of a crimethat would have shaken two continents. I think I shall be able toinstruct my counsel so that by the time he has done with him his Gracewon't be much of a hero."

  The Senator smiled superior.

  "Ah!" he retorted, pleasantly; "you might have tried that if you had hadthe chance. But then, you see, you won't have it. I'm only a visitorhere--like yourself, his Grace's guest--but I believe the intention isthat you and your friend, who really need not scowl so, are not to facea judge this time. General Sadgrove has charge of what we may call theliberation department, and he will enlighten you."

  The man Benzon, lying propped on his elbow, with Azimoolah standing overhim statuesquely menacing, shot a sly glance of triumph
at hisconfederate, but it met with only a sickly smile for a response.Lestrade's eyes turned with shrinking expectancy to the General, herinsolent demeanor having vanished, strangely enough, at the hint thatshe would not be detained.

  "Yes, there will be no prosecution," the General said, sternly. "TheDuke took the onus of defeating your aims upon him before he was calledto his present high station, and his friends are unanimous that he oughtnot to pursue the matter now. You, Madame Lestrade, will be allowed todepart early to-morrow morning in the name you have chosen to assume;and you, sir, can go at once by the way you came--through the window."

  The man Benzon rose to his feet with alacrity, trying vainly to catchthe eye of his accomplice, and shooting furtive glances at the packagewhich she still carried. There was evidently something that he did notunderstand, and wanted to before he availed himself of the unexpectedpermission. There came a curious gleam into the General's eyes as henoticed this perplexity, and when he took up his parable again there wasa ring in his voice that chained his hearers' attention. Sybil, too,leaned forward, watching the two bond-robbers alternately, as thoughexpecting a surprise for them.

  "Before you go I will explain what is puzzling you," the General wenton, addressing himself to Benzon, and pointing to the dummy package inCora Lestrade's hand. "You are under the impression that those are thebonds, and you are half inclined to think that we are letting you go inignorance of what you believe to be the case--that the genuine bondswere handed to that lady in the crypt by the Duke. Know, then, that theDuke wasn't in the crypt at all, nor were any bonds handed over. HisGrace's place was taken by Mr. Forsyth there, who succeeded in gettingfrom her the spurious bonds and handed her in return a lot of blankpaper. See--examine it for yourself."

  And quickly possessing himself of the parcel, he held it for inspection.A spasm crossed Benzon's sinister face, and there escaped him theinvoluntary cry:

  "But you looked at the things, Cora, and pronounced them correct. Yousaid we were only coming here for the heirlooms in the safe; yet youmust have known."

  "Quite so," the General proceeded, disregarding a smothered remark fromthe female culprit. "She knew that she had been hoodwinked, because sherecognized my nephew under his disguise, and so at once examined theparcel. Thereupon she deceived you and her other associates for aprivate reason that had nothing to do with the interests of yourprecious combination. Like to hear what that reason was?"

  Benzon flung a reproachful, half-imploring look at his strangely garbedchief, as though seeking for a denial from her, but failing to catch herdowncast eye, he gave a sullen assent to the question.

  "Very well," the General went on, inexorably. "She withheld herconfidence from her colleagues because she desired to save the life ofMr. Forsyth from the murderous vengeance of you gentlemen who are sohandy with charcoal braziers and railway accidents. So she made a lastdesperate effort to obtain the bonds by persuading you to break into thesafe under a false pretext--used you as tools, do you understand?--torepair her own breach of faith to you without having to confess it. Heridea was doomed to failure, anyway, for, apart from his Grace'svigilance, she was effectually watched by Miss Hanbury from the momentof her readmission into the house by that Frenchwoman. When 'Mrs.Talmage Eglinton',"--with a fine scorn on the name--"crept out dressedlike that, we wanted to see whether she would go straight to her roomwhen she came back, don't you know."

  He paused, but not with an air of finality. No one had ever suspectedJem Sadgrove in the old days of an eye for dramatic effect. He must havebeen coached by somebody into leading up to the question now to be putwith fierce insistence by the saturnine Benzon, and, to judge by theeager interest in Sybil's dilated eyes, that young lady had been thecoach.

  "Why should Cora Lestrade want to spare Mr. Forsyth?" asked the man,taking a step forward, to be instantly reminded of his position by thelean brown hand of Azimoolah falling like a vise on his shoulder. ThePathan evidently cherished a lingering hope that there might yet arise apretext for treating "the black tribe" in the old way.

  "Because, sir, a woman can't help herself in matters of the heart, andeven the worst of 'em is capable of an unselfish attachment," theGeneral replied, with slow emphasis. But he hastened to add, as if eagerto disavow responsibility for the introduction of sentiment: "At least,so I was advised. The little scheme for obtaining the sham securitieswas based on the supposition that this woman had a liking for Mr.Forsyth, and would do him no hurt if she recognized him. That forecasthas turned out to be well founded."

  "Uncle Jem!" Forsyth protested, flushing hotly.

  "Yes, laddie, I know you would not have taken the job on if I hadinformed you who Ziegler was," said the General. "There would have beenless to fear, but there would have been a dash of the underhand about itthat wouldn't have suited you. But I should never have allowed you towalk into such a death-trap as that crypt would have been without thesafeguard we--that is, I--trusted to. It wasn't a case for being toonice. There's no such thing as taking a mean advantage of peoplethreatening life and property, they told me when I was taught my trade."

  The man Benzon, who had kept his gaze fixed on the face of CoraLestrade, removed it now, and, with a cool politeness that struck anunaccountable chill to most of his hearers, thanked the General forenlightening him on "a point of considerable importance," and beggedpermission to depart if he was really not to be detained. At a sign fromhis master Azimoolah stood aside, and the man swung himself out of thewindow, gained a foothold on the ivy stems, and was gone. When they hadall turned away from the darkling face framed for a moment among thecreepers, it was seen that she who had loomed so largely in their livesof late as "Mr. Clinton Ziegler" and "Mrs. Talmage Eglinton" was swayingand about to fall.

  "Thank you," she said, recovering herself with a painful effort asSenator Sherman, who happened to be nearest, came to her assistance. "Itwas only a passing weakness, but I shall be glad if I may go to myroom."

  And with a flicker of the old impudence she mimicked General Sadgrove:

  "Even the worst of 'em is capable of feeling shaken on hearing sentenceof death pronounced," adding, with a swift change of manner, "and thatis what I have heard in this room to-night."

  But in the morning, when, with the Frenchwoman Rosa, she took herdeparture by a train leaving so early that none of the house-party werevisible, it was observed by the servants that Mrs. Talmage Eglinton wasin the highest spirits, and, if possible, more stylishly appareled thanusual. And Mr. Manson, the butler, looking regretfully after the stationbrougham as it drove away, murmured benedictions, having palmed thelargest tip that had come his way in a quarter of a century.

  "A thorough lady," he sighed, as he closed the hall door and went in topreside at the breakfast sideboard. "Pity she was called awayunexpected."