The Cardinal Moth

by Fred M. White

  *CHAPTER XXVII.*

  *MRS. BENSTEIN INTERVENES.*

  Mrs. Benstein was dining alone and early, for Benstein had an importantengagement later, and usually he made a point of being in bed betimes.He had had a good day, which was no uncommon thing for him, and he wasloquacious and talkative as usual. From the head of the table Mrs.Benstein smiled and nodded, but, as a matter of fact, she had not theleast idea what her husband was talking about. Not until the coffee wason the table and the cigarettes going round did she speak. She alwaysliked her coffee in that perfect old Tudor dining-room--the dark oak andthe silver and the shaded lights all made so restful a picture.

  "Now I want to give you half an hour," she said. "You will be in plentyof time to see Lord Rayfield afterwards. Did you read the account ofthe Streatham inquest in the _Evening Standard_ as I asked you?"

  "Read every word of it whilst I was dressing," Benstein said.

  Mrs. Benstein smiled. From the way her husband was dressed, the paperin question had monopolized most of his attention. At any rate, heseemed to have grasped the case.

  "What did you think of it?" she asked.

  "Well, it's a queer business," Benstein said, thoughtfully. "Seems tome to be a lot of fuss to make about a paltry flower that any accidentmight destroy. Never could understand Frobisher wasting his money overthat sort of trash."

  "No, you wouldn't," Mrs. Benstein said, quietly. "But mind you, thatflower is more or less of a sacred thing, and the Shan of Koordstanwould have given his head to get it. He's Oriental through and through,despite his thin veneer of polish and his Western vices. I supposethose concessions that the Shan has to dispose of are valuable?"

  Benstein's deep-set little eyes twinkled.

  "Give a million for 'em and chance it," he said. "So you think thatFrobisher----"

  "Precisely. Much as he loves orchids, he didn't want the Cardinal Mothfor keeping, as the Americans say. With that lever he meant to get holdof those concessions. Now I have discovered that it was young HaroldDenvers who found the Cardinal Moth and brought it to England. He tookit down to Streatham, thinking that it would be safe there. But PaulLopez got to know about it, and so did another man, apparently--I meanthe man who was murdered."

  "You think that he was murdered by Lopez, Isa?"

  Mrs. Benstein made no reply, but smiled significantly. She might havestartled her husband with some strange information, but she did not careto do so at present.

  "That will be the general impression after to-day's proceedings," shesaid. "And Paul Lopez has disappeared. But I feel pretty sure that hehas not left England."

  "I am certain of it," Benstein chuckled. "Lopez has never got any money.He tried me for a loan only yesterday to take him away. Guess I couldput my hand upon him in an hour."

  "You think he is to be found at that gambling club you are so interestedin?"

  "Certain of it, my dear. Lopez is friendly enough with old Chiavari,who has found him a bed and food before now. Rare good customer toChiavari he has been. If Lopez is not hiding at 17, Panton Street, I'mno judge. Do you want to see him?"

  Mrs. Benstein intimated that she did, at which Benstein said nothing andevinced no surprise. He had the most profound, almost senile confidencein his wife and her intelligence, and she did exactly as she liked, andher obedient husband asked no questions.

  "Very well, my dear," he said, as he rose and looked at the clock. "I'mgoing past Chiavari's and I'll look in. If Lopez is there, expect himin half an hour."

  Benstein waddled out of the room and presently left the house.Something seemed to amuse Mrs. Benstein as she sat in the drawing-roombefore her piano. Half an hour passed, the clock was striking nine, andthe footman opened the door to admit a stranger.

  "A gentleman to see you, madame," he murmured. "He says you would notknow his name."

  Isa Benstein signalled assent. She closed the door as Lopez came in andled the way to a small room beyond, furnished as a library more or less.There was an American roll-top desk and a telephone over it. IsaBenstein pushed a box of cigarettes towards her companion.

  "How did you guess where to find me?" he asked.

  "I didn't guess," Isa Benstein said, quietly. "I never guess anything.You were near the Coroner's court this morning, because I saw you. Youdid not deem it prudent to appear, so you had a friend who gave you thenews _en passant_. After that you would deem it prudent to go away for alittle while beyond the range of the police. But unfortunately as usualyou have no money."

  "Correct and logical in every detail," Lopez cried. "What a couple weshould have made."

  "You indeed! The brilliant wife and the equally brilliant husband whowould have gambled everything away as soon as it was made. Strange,too, a man so clever could be such a fool. So here you are stranded inLondon without a feather to fly with."

  "Correct again. Unless you are going to help me."

  "Why should I help you? You are friendless as well as penniless. Thereis only one man in London who would be glad for his own sake to supplyyou with funds, and that is Sir Clement Frobisher. But you dare not gonear him or write to him or have any communication with him for fear ofthe police."

  "Once more absolutely correct, Isa. Truly a wonderful woman. If youfail me----"

  "We shall come to that presently. What do you know of that Streathambusiness?"

  "Very little indeed. If you want me to swear on my oath that I hadnothing to do with the crime I am prepared to do so."

  "But you know perfectly well who the man is. He was lying dead on thefloor of the conservatory at Streatham, at the very time when you stolethe Crimson Moth placed there by Mr. Denvers."

  Lopez started and turned colour slightly. He did not know that this wasmere conjecture on the part of his questioner, but it was. Speakingfrom her intimate knowledge and calculating by time she felt sure thatshe had not been far wrong. And here was the face of Lopez confirmingher impressions.

  "You need not trouble to deny it," she went on. "I know pretty welleverything. Mr. Denvers had not left many minutes before the accidenthappened. Was there an automatic steam-pipe in the conservatory?"

  "Of course. And you may be quite certain that--but do you really knoweverything, Isa?"

  "Absolutely. I can speak from experience. I did not know till the nightof Lady Frobisher's party, but I found out then. If you don't believeme, look here."

  Mrs. Benstein bared her arm, and displayed the cruel circular woundabove the elbow. She was very pale now, and her eyes were dark. Veryslowly she pulled her sleeve down again.

  "Now you can tell how much I know," she said. "Who was the man who losthis life at Streatham?"

  "I don't know his name, but he appeared very familiar to me. He was aGreek, a tool of Lefroy's and that queer fellow Manfred. He was tooadventurous, and he died."

  "And Manfred was too adventurous and he died also. I was a littlecurious, and I nearly met the same fate. That fate was deliberatelyplanned for me by Frobisher; in intent that scoundrel is as guilty ofmurder as if he had fired at me from behind cover. He thought to trickme, to make me his puppet and tool, and by flattering my vanity obtainpossession of the Blue Stone."

  "Only the scheme did not come off," Lopez grinned.

  "It failed, because I have ten times Sir Clement's brains and none ofhis low cunning. But the scheme would never have been tried at all hadyou not suggested it."

  "I!" Lopez stammered. "Do you mean to say----"

  "You suggested it; you told Frobisher where the Blue Stone was. Hisquick brain did the rest. Now perhaps you begin to guess why I sent foryou to-night."

  "I thought perhaps you intended to help me," Lopez said with his eyes onthe carpet.

  "Why should I help you? To put money into your purse you did nothesitate to ruin me and my husband, knowing that my one poor vanityinduced me to deck myself out in borrowed plumes. As a girl you askedfor my heart and I gave it you; I g
ave all the love I had for any man.I have never been able to feel the same since. Don't flatter yourselfthat I care the least for you; the flower has been dead many years. Iforgave you that. I did not get you crushed and broken, as I couldeasily have done. And now you dare drag me once again into your net. Isent for you to-night to make conditions; the whole truth must be told.You are to stay in London, and on Friday you are to give your evidenceat the adjourned inquest."

  "You are never going to have it all out?" Lopez said blankly.

  "Indeed I am. Whether you and Frobisher are actually guilty of crime inthe eyes of the law I don't know or care. But you both have a deal toanswer for. Don't you play me false."

  Lopez looked up and down again swiftly. He was thinking how he couldturn this thing to advantage and go his own course at the same time. Hedid not hear the tinkle of the telephone-bell behind him; he took noheed as Mrs. Benstein placed the receiver to her ear.

  "Yes," she said. "I am home. See you in ten minutes. Ask him to waitoutside the drawing-room door. Oh, yes, the messenger came quitesafely. Good night."

  If Lopez heard all this it was quite in a mechanical way. He spokepresently, urging the uselessness of the proceedings that Isa Bensteinsuggested. She said something in reply, something cold and cutting, butshe was taking no further interest in the matter. She was listening forsomething, the ring of the front-door bell and a step outside. It cameat length, and she rose.

  "My mind is quite made up," she said. "And I am not going to give you achance to go back upon me. Will you open that door, please? I thankyou. Inspector Townsend, will you be so good as to step in? As I toldyou over the telephone, the messenger arrived quite safely."

  Lopez's hand shot swiftly behind him; then he dropped it to his side andsmiled. He had been beaten, but he showed no emotion or the slightestsign of anger.

  "I think you had better come quietly," he said. "I have plenty ofassistance outside. The charge is wilful murder over that affair atStreatham. Shall I call a cab for you?"

  Lopez nodded. As he passed out of the house Isa Benstein went to thetelephone again, and called up the office of the _Evening Banner_. Therewas a hurried conversation, then the communication was cut off. Itseemed to Mrs. Benstein that she had every reason to be pleased with herevening's work. "It would be good to see Frobisher's face when he knowsthat," she said. "And he will know to-night."

  It was getting late now, but some of the evening papers were runningextra specials. There had been a big railway accident in the North, andthere was a little capital out of that. Frobisher heard the raucous cryof the boys as he came out of his club. He was restless and ill atease; he could not sit down and contemplate the beauty of his orchidsto-night.

  "Terrible accident," a boy screamed as he passed. "More about theStreatham 'orror. Arrest of Paul Lopez to-night. Arrest of the missingwitness. Speshul."

  "Here, boy, let me have a paper," Frobisher called out. "Never mind theconfounded change. Give me a paper, quick." His hand trembled as hetook the still damp sheet, his legs shook as he made his way back to thequietude of the conservatory. He must see to this at once.

  Yes, there it was, a few short pregnant lines to the effect that PaulLopez had been arrested by Inspector Townsend a little after nine thatnight. It looked cold and bald enough in print, but it thrilled thereader to his marrow.

  "The fool!" he hissed. "The fool had no money to get away with. Whydidn't he come to me or send? I'd have given him all he wanted if ithad been half my fortune."