The Cardinal Moth

by Fred M. White

  *CHAPTER V.*

  *AN INTERRUPTED FEAST.*

  To Frobisher's _petit diner_ the same evening of that eventful dayostensibly to meet the Shan of Koordstan, Lefroy came large andflamboyant, with a vivid riband across his dazzling expanse of shirt anda jewelled collar under his tie. There was an extra gloss on his blackmoustache, his swagger was a little more pronounced than usual. Helooked like what he was--a strong man weighed down by not too manyscruples.

  There were less than a dozen men altogether, a couple of well-knownmembers of the Travellers', a popular K.C., and a keen, hatchet-facedjudge with a quiet manner and a marvellous faculty for telling dialectstories. The inevitable politician and fashionable doctor completed theparty. As Lefroy and his secretary entered the drawing-room most of themen were admiring a portfolio of Morland's drawings that Frobisher hadpicked up lately.

  Hafid stepped noiselessly across the floor with a telegram on a salver.Frobisher read it without the slightest sign of annoyance.

  "The Shan is not coming," he said. "Koordstan is indisposed."

  "So I gathered when I called professionally this afternoon," Dr.Brownsmith said dryly.

  "Champagne," Frobisher laughed whole-heartedly. "All right, Sir James.I won't question you too far. So white is not going to mate in threemoves this evening, Lefroy?"

  Lefroy shrugged his shoulders carelessly. The Shan of Koordstan wassafe for the present. He had seen to that. Manfred had dropped quietlyinto a chair with just the suggestion of pain on his face. Asmooth-voiced butler announced that dinner was served.

  "Where does Frobisher get his servants from, Jessop?" Sir JamesBrownsmith asked the judge, as the two strolled across the halltogether. "Now there's a model of a butler for you. His voice has aflavour of old, nutty sherry about it. By Jove, what are thoseflowers?"

  There were flowers everywhere, mostly arranged by Frobisher himself. Inthe centre was a rough handful of green twigs bound together with asilver cord, and the whole surmounted by a coil of the pinky-whiteorchid with its fringe of trembling red moths.

  "Orchids," said the politician. "Something fresh, Frobisher? What doyou call it?"

  "The specimen is not named at present," Lefroy said meaningly.

  Frobisher glanced at the speaker and smiled.

  "Lefroy is quite right," he said. "The specimen lacks a name. It camein the first place from Koordstan, and there were three spines of theoriginal plant. It is a freak, there never was anything like it before,and there will probably never be one like it again. That self-sameorchid was very near to being the price of a kingdom once upon a time."

  "Only it is unfortunately impossible to tell the story," Lefroyremarked.

  Once again Frobisher glanced at the speaker and smiled. Most of theguests by this time were busy over their soup. They were not the classof men to waste valuable sentiment over flowers. It was only Frobisherwho glanced from time to time lovingly at the Cardinal Moth. Manfredseemed to avoid it altogether. He sat at the table eating nothing andobviously out of sorts with his food.

  "I've a bilious headache, Sir Clement," he explained. "The mere sightof food and smell of cooking makes me sick to the soul. Would you mindif I sat in the drawing-room in the dark for a little time? I amconfident that the attack will pass off presently."

  "Anything you please, my dear fellow," Frobisher cried hospitably. "Astrong cup of tea! A glass of champagne and a dry biscuit? No? If youring the bell Hafid will attend to you."

  Hafid salaamed as he dexterously caught a meaning glance from Frobisher.Lefroy brutally proclaimed aloud that a good dinner was utterly wastedupon Manfred. Brownsmith with his mouth full of aspic was understood tosay something anent the virtues of bromide. So the dinner proceededwith pink lakes of light on the table, the flowers and the cut glass andquaint silver. And there were blossoms, blossoms everywhere, thousandsof them. Frobisher might have been a great scoundrel--that he was a manof exquisite taste was beyond question. The elaborate dinner draggedsmoothly along, two hours passed, a silver chime proclaimed eleveno'clock.

  The cloth was drawn at length, as the host's whim was, the decanters andglittering glass stood on a brown glistening lake of polished oak, withhere and there a dash of fruit to give a more vivid touch of colour.Hafid handed round a silver cigarette-box, a cedar cigar cabinette onwheels was pushed along the table. Over the shaded electric lights ablue wrack of smoke hung. The silver chime struck twelve.

  "Hafid; you have made Mr. Manfred comfortable?" Frobisher asked.

  Hafid replied that he had done all that a man could do. Mr. Manfred wasreclining in the dark near an open window. All the other servants buthimself had retired. The butler had seen that everything necessary waslaid out in the smoking-room.

  "Always send the servants to bed as soon as possible," Frobisherexplained. "What with the spread of modern journalism, I find itnecessary. You never know nowadays how far one's butler is interested inthe same stock that you are deeply dipped in. And a long-eared footmanhas changed the course of diplomacy before now."

  "If everybody pursued the same policy, George," Baron Jessop murmured,"I and my learned friends of the Bench would have more or less of asinecure."

  "And Lord Saltaur, yonder would not have lost a beautiful wife," Lefroysaid loudly.

  A sudden hush seemed to smite the table. Lord Saltaur whitened to hislips under his tan; his long, lean hands gripped the edge of the tablepassionately. His own domestic scandal had been so new, so painful,that the whole party stood aghast at the brutality of the insult.

  "Frobisher," Saltaur said, hoarsely. "It is not pleasant to be insultedby a blackguard----"

  "What was that word?" Lefroy asked quite sweetly. "My hearing may be atrifle deficient, but I fancied his lordship said something about ablackguard."

  Frobisher interfered as in duty bound. As a matter of fact he wasenjoying the situation. Lefroy had drunk deeply, but then he had seenLefroy's amazing prowess in that direction too many times for any fearsas to his ultimate equilibrium. No, Lefroy was playing some deep game.As yet only the first card had been laid upon the table.

  "I think that the apology lies with you, Count," Frobisher saidtentatively.

  "A mere jest," Lefroy said, airily. "A _jeu d'esprit_. Lord Saltaur'swife."

  "You hound!" Saltaur cried passionately. "Whatever I have been, youmight leave the name of a pure woman out of your filthy conversation.If you don't apologise at once, I'll thrust your words down your throatfor you."

  A contemptuous reply came from Lefroy. There was a flash of crystal anda glass shattered on the Count's dark face, leaving a star-shaped woundon his cheek. A moment later and he and Saltaur were strugglingtogether like wild animals. Frobisher had so far forgotten himself as tolean back in his chair as if this were a mere exhibition got up for hisentertainment.

  "Is this part of the evening's amusement, Sir Clement?" the judge askedcoldly.

  Frobisher realised his responsibilities with a sigh for his interruptedpleasure. His civilisation was the thinnest possible veneer, a shoddything like Tottenham Court Road furniture.

  "Come, you chaps must drop it," he cried. "I can't have you fightingover my Smyrna carpet. Saltaur, you shall have your apology. Lefroy, doyou hear me?"

  Strong arms interfered, and the two men were dragged apart. Lefroy'steeth glistened in a ghastly grin; there was a speck of blood on hiswhite shirt front. Saltaur's laboured breathing could be heard all overthe room.

  "I take you all to witness that it was no seeking of mine," he cried."I was foully insulted. In a few days all the world will know that Ihave been made the victim of a discharged servant's perjury. Frobisher,I am still waiting for my apology."

  Lefroy paused and passed his handkerchief across his face. He seemed tohave wiped the leering expression from it. He looked a perfect pictureof puzzled bewilderment.

  "What have I done?" he asked. "What on earth have I said?" />
  "Beautiful," Frobisher murmured. "Artistic to a fault. What is hedriving at?"

  Baron Jessop explained clearly and judiciously. He was glad to have anopportunity of doing so. Viewing the thing dispassionately, he was boundto say that Count Lefroy had been guilty of a grave breach of goodtaste. But he was quite sure that under the circumstances----

  "On my honour, I haven't the slightest recollection of it," Lefroycried. "If there is one lady of my acquaintance I honour and respect itis Lady ---- the charming woman whom Lord Saltaur calls his wife. Asudden fit of mental aberration, my lord. An old wound in the headfollowed by a spell in the sunshine. This is the third time the thinghas happened. The last time in Serbia nearly cost me my life. My dearSaltaur, I am sorry from the bottom of my heart."

  "Funniest case I ever heard of," the puzzled Saltaur murmured. "All thesame, I'm deuced sorry I threw that wine glass at you."

  "Oh, so you chucked a wine glass at me! Laid my cheek open, too. Well,I should have done exactly the same thing under the same circumstances.From this night I touch nothing stronger than claret. If I'd stuck tothat, this wouldn't have happened."

  The good-humoured Saltaur muttered something in reply, the threads ofthe dropped conversation were taken up again. Hafid, who had watchedthe sudden quarrel with Oriental indifference, had gone off to theconservatory for hot water to bathe Lefroy's damaged face. There wasjust a lull for a moment in the conversation, a sudden silence, and thenthe smash of a crystal vessel on a tiled floor and a strangled cry ofterror from Hafid. He came headlong into the room, his eyes starting,his whole frame quivering with an ungovernable terror.

  "Mr. Manfred," he yelled. "Lying on the floor in the conservatory,dead. Take it and burn it, and destroy it. Take it and burn it, anddestroy it. Take it----"

  Frobisher pounced upon the wailing speaker and clutched him by thethroat. As the first hoarse words came from Hafid the rest of the partyhad rushed headlong into the orchid-house. Frobisher shook his servantlike a reed is shaken by a storm.

  "Silence, you fool!" he whispered. "You didn't kill the man, and Ididn't kill the man. If he is dead he has not been murdered. And it isno fault of yours."

  "Allah knows better," Hafid muttered, sulkily. "You didn't kill him, andI didn't kill him, but he is dead, and Allah will punish the guilty.Take it and burn it, and----"

  "Idiot! Son of a pig, be silent. And mind, you are to know nothing.You went to get the hot water from the orchid-house and saw Mr. Manfredlying there. As soon as you did so you rushed in to tell us. Now comealong."

  The limp body of Manfred had been partly raised, and his head rested onSir James Brownsmith's knee. The others stood waiting for the verdict.

  "The fellow is dead," the great doctor said. "Murdered, I should say,undoubtedly. He has been strangled by a coarse cloth twisted about histhroat--precisely the same way as that poor fellow was murdered atStreatham the night before last."

  A solemn silence fell upon the group. Hafid stood behind, his lipsmoving in silent speech:

  "Take it and burn it, and destroy it. Take it and burn it, and destroyit, for there is blood upon it now and ever."

  The drama was none the less moving because of its decorous silence. Thegreat surgeon knelt on the white marble floor of the orchid-house withManfred's head on his knee. Though Sir James Brownsmith's hand wasquite steady, his face was white as his own hair, or the face of thedead man staring dumbly up to the tangle of ropes and blossoms overhead.There the Cardinal Moth was dancing and quivering as if exulting overthe crime. A long trail of it had broken away, and one tiny cloud ofblossom danced near the surgeon's ear, as if trying to tell him thetragedy and its story.

  "A ghastly business," the judge murmured. "How did the murderer get inhere?"

  "How did he get out?" Frobisher suggested. "There is no exit from hereat all. All the servants have been in bed long ago, and the front dooris generally secured, at least the latch is always down."

  "But what brought poor Manfred in here?" Saltaur asked. "I understoodfrom Hafid that he was lying down in the drawing-room. Oh, Hafid! Wakeup, man!"

  "Take it and burn it, and destroy it," Hafid said mechanically.

  Frobisher shook him savagely, shook the dreamy horror off him like agarment. He was sorry, he said, but he could tell the excellent companynothing. A quarter of an hour before and Mr. Manfred had appeared to beasleep on the drawing-room sofa. Hafid had asked him if he neededanything, and he had made no reply.

  "Very strange," Sir James murmured, still diagnosing the cruel strandedpattern about the dead man's throat. "Perhaps Count Lefroy--where isthe Count?"

  "He went back into the dining-room," said Saltaur.

  Frobisher brought his teeth together with a click. For the moment hehad quite forgotten Count Lefroy. He passed from the library and intothe dining-room. Lefroy stood by the great shining table close againstthe fluttering pyramid of red moths, a thin-bladed knife in his hands.

  "And what might you be doing?" Frobisher asked softly.

  Lefroy smiled somewhat bitterly. He was perfectly self-possessed withthe grip of the man who knows how to hold himself in hand. And hesmiled none the less easily because there was murder raging in hisheart.

  "I am cutting my nails," he said.

  "Oh, I'll cut your claws for you!" Frobisher said. "Don't do that, whatwill your manicure artist say? And a social superiority (feminine)tells me that you have the finest hand of any man in London. You areunhinged, my dear Count. This little affair----"

  "This cold-blooded murder you mean. Oh, you scoundrel!"

  Lefroy had dropped the mask for a moment. There was contempt, loathing,horror in the last few words. Frobisher, counting the nodding swarm ofcrimson moths, merely smiled.

  "Twenty-seven, thirty-one, thirty-nine," he said. "You haven't stolenany of my flowers yet. Not a bad idea of yours to purloin a cluster, andsend it to our tin Solomon yonder, as an earnest of good intentionslater on. And why do you call me scoundrel?"

  "You are the most infernal villain that ever breathed."

  "Well, perhaps I am. It is very good of you to admit my superiorclaims, dear Lefroy. But I am getting old, and you may live to take myplace some day. Why----"

  "Why did you kill Manfred?"

  "My dear fellow, I didn't kill Manfred. You think he has been murderedin the ordinary sense of the word. Manfred has not been murdered, andnobody will ever be hanged for the crime. That you may take my wordfor. It is the vengeance of the Crimson Moth, death by visitation ofGod; call it what you will. And it might have been yourself."

  Frobisher's whole manner had changed, his eyes were gleaming evilly ashe hissed the last words warningly in Lefroy's ear. The latter changedcolour slightly.

  "I don't understand what you mean," he stammered.

  "And yet you are not usually slow at understanding. I repeat that itmight have been yourself. If you had attempted the raid of the CardinalMoth, instead of Manfred, you would have been lying at the presentmoment with your head on Brownsmith's knees, and the mark of the beastabout your throat."

  "And if I tell those fellows yonder what you say?"

  "You are at liberty to say anything you please. But you are not going tosay anything, my dear Lefroy; you are too fine a player for that. Youare going to wait patiently for your next innings. Come back to theothers. And perhaps I had better lock this door."

  Lefroy, like a wise man, accepted the inevitable. But the rest of theparty were no longer in the orchid-house. They had carried the dead manto the back dining-room, where they had laid him out on a couch.Frobisher rang up the nearest police-station on the telephone with therequest that an inspector should be sent for at once.

  "By gad, this is a dreadful thing, don't you know!" Saltaur said with ashudder. "Fancy that poor fellow being murdered whilst we werewrangling in the dining-room. I suppose there is no doubt that it ismurder, doctor?"

  "Not the shadow of a doubt about it," Sir James replie
d. "Poor Manfredmust have been admiring the flowers when the assassin stepped behind himand threw that coarse cloth over his head. A knee could be inserted onhis spine, and the head forced backwards. The cloth must have beentwisted with tremendous force. It is quite a novel kind of murder forEngland."

  "Oh, then you have heard of something of the same kind before?"Frobisher asked.

  "In India, frequently. I had a chance to examine more than one victimof Thugee, yonder. You remember what a scourge Thugism used to be inIndia some years ago. A Thug killed Manfred, I have not the slightestdoubt about it."

  "But there are no Thugs in England," the judge protested.

  "My dear fellow, I have had an unfortunate demonstration to thecontrary. And this crime is not necessarily the work of a native.Thugee is not dead in India yet, and some white scoundrel might havelearnt the trick. Your own servant, Hafid----"

  "A robust bluebottle would make a formidable antagonist for Hafid,"Frobisher interrupted. "Hafid, somebody is ringing the bell. If it's apoliceman, ask him in."

  Inspector Townsend came in, small, quiet, soft of manner, andundoubtedly dressed in Bond Street. He listened gravely to all thatFrobisher and Brownsmith had to say, and then he asked permission toview the body, and subsequently examine the premises.

  A close search of the house only served to deepen the mystery. All theservants slept on the top floor, and that part of the house was boltedoff every night after the domestic staff had retired. This was a whim ofSir Clement's, a whim likely to increase his unpopularity in case offire, but at present that was a secondary consideration. There was noexit from the orchid-house, no windows had been left open, and despitethe fact that there were guests in the house, the front-door latch hadbeen dropped quite early in the evening. A rigid cross-examination ofHafid led to no satisfactory result. The man was almost congealed withterror and shock, but it was quite obvious that he knew nothing whateverabout the mystery.

  "There will be an inquest to-morrow at twelve, Sir Clement," Townsendsaid. "It will probably be a mere formal affair at which you gentlemenwill be present. Good night, sirs."

  "We had better follow the inspector's example," Lefroy cried. "Goodnight, Frobisher."

  "My dear fellow, I wish you a cordial adieu," Frobisher cried. "And Ican only regret that our pleasant evening has had so tragic atermination. Townsend, you have locked up the back dining-room and takenthe key? Good! I want no extra responsibility."

  The big hall-door closed behind the last of them. Frobisher took Hafidfirmly by the collar and led him into the orchid-house.

  "Now, you rascal," he asked, "what on earth do you mean by it?"

  "Take it and destroy it, and burn it," Hafid wailed, with a wriggling ofhis body. He seemed to be trying to shake off something loathsome. "Oh,master, what is to become of us?"

  "You grovelling, superstitious fool," Frobisher said lightly. "Nothingwill become of us. Nobody knows anything, nobody will ever know anythingas long as you remain silent. We haven't murdered anybody!"

  "Allah looking down from Paradise knows better than that, master!"

  "Well, he is not likely to be called in as a witness," Frobishermuttered grimly. "I tell you nothing has happened that the law can takethe least cognisance of. Mind you, I didn't know that things would goquite so far. When I rang up the curtain it was comedy I looked for,not tragedy. Take the key and go into the dining-room. Remove thoseorchids and burn them, taking care that you destroy thirty-nine of thered flowers. Then you can go to bed."

  Hafid recoiled with unutterable loathing on his face.

  "I couldn't do it," he whispered. "I couldn't touch one of thoseaccursed blossoms. Beat me, torture me, turn me into the street tostarve, but don't ask me to do that, master. I dare not."

  He cowered abjectly at Frobisher's feet. With good-humoured contemptthe latter kicked him aside. "Go to bed," he said. "You are a greatercoward than even I imagined. Put the lights out, and I'll go to bedalso."

  The lights were carefully put out, except in the smoking-room, whereFrobisher sat pondering over the strange events of the evening. He wasnot in the least put out or alarmed or distressed; on the contrary, helooked like a man who had been considerably pleased with an interestingentertainment. For Manfred he felt neither sorrow nor sympathy.

  He did not look fearfully round the room as if half expecting to see theshadow of Manfred's assassin creeping upon him. But he smiled in hisown peculiar fashion as the door opened and a white-robed figure camein. It was Angela with her fine hair about her shoulders and a look ofhorror in her eyes.

  "So you've found out all about it," Sir Clement said. "I'm sorry,because it will spoil your rest. How did you come to make thediscovery?"

  "I had just come in," Angela explained. "I let myself in with mylatchkey. I did not come near you because I could hear that you wereentertaining company, so I went straight to bed. Then I heard Hafid'scry, and I came to the head of the stairs where I could heareverything."

  "You mean to say that you stood there and listened?"

  "I couldn't help it. So far as I could judge there was an assassin inthe house. Just for the moment I was far too frightened to move. Thatraving madman might have come for me next."

  "Well, you can make your mind quite easy on that score. As you know,the whole house has been most thoroughly searched from top to bottom,and there is nobody here but the servants and ourselves now. If I wereyou I should keep out of it. Go to bed."

  Sir Clement barked out the last few words, but Angela did not move.

  "There will be an inquest, of course?" she asked.

  "Oh, Lord, yes! The papers will reek of it, and half the reporters inLondon will look upon the place as a kind of public-house for the nextweek. Take my advice and keep out of it. You know nothing and you wantto continue to know nothing, so to speak."

  "But I am afraid that I know a great deal," Angela said slowly. "When Icame in I was going into the conservatory to place a flower that I hadgiven me to-night. It is a flower that I am likely to be interested inanother time. And there I saw a strange man walking swiftly the sameway. From his air and manner he was obviously doing wrong. My idea wasto follow and stop him. And when I reached the conservatory, to myintense surprise, he was nowhere to be seen."

  Frobisher bent down to fill his pipe. There was an evil, diabolicalgrin, so malignant, and yet so gleeful, as to render the face almostinhuman.

  "It may be of importance later on," he said. "Meanwhile, I should keepthe information to myself. Now go to bed and lock your door. I'm goingto finish my pipe in my dressing-room."

  Frobisher snapped out the lights, leaving the house in darkness. Foronce in her life Angela did lock her door. She could not sleep; she hadno desire for bed and yet her eyes were heavy and tired. She pulled upthe blind and opened the window; out beyond, the garden was flooded withmoonlight. As Angela stood there she seemed to see a figure creepingfrom one bush to another.

  "It is my fancy," she told herself. "I could imagine anything to-night.And yet I could have been certain that I saw the figure of a man."

  Angela paused; it was no fancy. A man crept over the grass and lookedup at the window as if he were doing something strictly on the lines ofconventionality. To her amazement Angela saw that the intruder was inevening dress, and that it was Harold Denvers.

  "Harold," she whispered. "Whatever are you doing there?"

  "I came on the chance," was the reply. "I have heard strange thingsto-night, and there is something that I must know at once. I was goingto try and rouse you with some pebbles. Dare you go down to thegarden-room window and let me in? Darling, it is a matter of life ordeath, or I would not ask."

  Angela slipped down the stairs noiselessly, and opened the window.