The Cardinal Moth

by Fred M. White

  *CHAPTER XXVIII.*

  *NEMESIS.*

  Frobisher raged furiously up and down the conservatory for a time.Everything seemed to have gone wrong with him all at once. Hisfavourite clay pipe would not draw; as he jammed a cleaner down the stemangrily it came away in his hand. The case of spare pipes he could notfind anywhere. It crossed his imagination suddenly that some of themore delicate orchids in the roof were looking a little stale. Hetouched the gauge of the automatic steam-pipe that threw off vapour atregulated intervals and found it out of order. He shook the spring tapangrily as a terrier might shake a rat.

  "Confound the thing," he cried. "Everything seems to be wrong to-night.Here is a job for Hafid."

  Hafid came in trembling at the long ring of the electric bell. He hadnot seen his master in such a dark mood for many a day. Why had he notcome before? Where had the fool been? Hafid bowed before the storm.

  "I'm going out, you congenial idiot," Frobisher muttered. "Somethinghas gone wrong with the automatic steam-tap in the conservatory. Turnit on for a minute at eleven o'clock and again at twelve if I am notback. As you value your skin, don't forget it."

  Hafid bowed again, and his lips formed hoarse words that Frobisher couldjust hear.

  "Take it and burn it, and destroy it," he said. "Take it and burn it,and----"

  "You chattering simian," Frobisher cried. He sprang on Hafid and shookhim till his teeth chattered. "You besotted ass. Are you going to dowhat I say or not?"

  Hafid abased himself and promised by the name of the Prophet. There wasa slight hiss in the conservatory beyond that Frobisher did not notice.There was nothing wrong with the steam-valve, after all; perhaps it hadstuck somewhere for a moment, but at any rate it was working again now.But Frobisher was too passionately angry to see that.

  "Eleven o'clock," he commanded. "Don't forget the time. Now find mypipes for me. Find them in a minute, or I'll kick you from here to yourkennel."

  Hafid was fortunate enough to discover the cases of pipes preciselywhere his master had placed them. Then he slipped away discreetlyenough before worse befell him. For some time Frobisher smoked onmoodily. He looked like being beaten all along the line, and he hatedthat worse than losing his money. If the whole truth came out, and itcould be proved that he tacitly permitted these tragedies, no decent manwould ever speak to him again. Also, he was a little uneasy as towhether the law held any precedent for murder by proxy. Again, if Lopezwas forced to speak to save his own skin, the Cardinal Moth would haveto go. There was torture in the thought beyond the bitter humiliationof defeat. Beyond doubt, Mrs. Benstein was at the back of all this.Frobisher wondered if she quite knew everything. At any rate, if hecould see her he might pick up a useful hint or two. Women always talkif properly encouraged, and a triumphant woman could never quite keepher triumph to herself.

  "I'll go to-night," Frobisher muttered as he laid aside his pipe. "Idare say I can invent some ingenious excuse for calling at this time ofnight."

  He passed from the conservatory into the hall and from thence to thedrawing-room. Lady Frobisher was there, and Angela standing before thefire-place drawing on a long pair of gloves. The big Empire clock overthe mantel chimed the three-quarters past ten.

  "Where are you going at this time of the night?" Frobisher asked.

  "Lady Warrendale's," Lady Frobisher said without looking up from herpaper. "We are waiting for Nelly Blyson. We shall not start beforeeleven."

  "Then you can take me and put me down at the corner of Belgrave Square,"Frobisher said. "I've got a little business in that direction. Didn't Ihear Arnott's voice?"

  Lady Frobisher said nothing; she seemed to be deeply engrossed in herpaper. Angela lifted her dainty head just a little bit higher.

  "He certainly called," she said, "to see me. But he is not likely tocome again."

  Frobisher's teeth showed behind one of his sudden grins. He wanted togrip those white arms, to leave the small marks of his fingers behind.But there were better ways than that.

  "So you mean that you have refused him?" he asked.

  "Definitely and finally," Angela replied. "I paid him the compliment oftreating him like a gentleman, but I might have spared myself thetrouble. If you ask that man here again when I am present, I shall becompelled to leave the house and take up my quarters elsewhere."

  Frobisher grinned again. He could pretty well picture to himself theway in which Arnott would take his rejection. And the man was not agentleman. Frobisher's own breeding showed him that.

  "Very well," he said. "Go your own way for the present. Ask Parsons togive me a call when the car comes round. I shall be amongst myflowers."

  He strode back to the conservatory, hating everybody in the world,himself most of all. Hafid was crossing in the direction of theconservatory, a big old clock in the hall was close on the hour ofeleven.

  "Where are you going to, you black thief?" Frobisher demanded.

  "My master gave certain directions for eleven o'clock," Hafid said,timidly. "I was going to----"

  "I'll do it myself. But don't you forget twelve o'clock if I have notreturned. Go back to your room."

  The black shadow departed, Frobisher went on muttering. There was timefor half a pipe, and then--then a brilliant idea came to him. Hegrinned and laughed aloud.

  "I'll do it," he said. "I'll take the Cardinal Moth down and hide it.The thing will dry and shrivel for a time, and come back to all itsbeauty when it feels the grateful moist warmth again. Denvers shall nothave the laugh on me. I'll be robbed. It shall go out to the worldthat the famous Cardinal Moth has been stolen from my conservatory. AndI'll do it now, by Jove."

  Then, with this design, Frobisher pulled up the extending steps. Aminute later and his body was thrust into a tangle of looped ropes onwhich the Cardinal Moth hung. It was like untying a multitude of looseknots. The folds were all about Frobisher like a snake. So intent washe upon his work that he did not hear the hiss of the steam-valve below.The air was growing suddenly warmer and moister, but Frobisher did notseem to heed. Then, without any warning, something caught him by thewrists and held him as in handcuffs. He struggled and looked down. Acloud of steam was slowly ascending.

  "My God!" Frobisher burst out. "That valve was all right, after all.Here, Hafid, help!"

  But Hafid was some way off, and nobody seemed to notice. Frobisherstruggled, then another loop caught him round the chest, as he foughtfrantically, slipped up and pinned him round the throat. A thousandstars danced before his eyes; he could hear voices in the distance. Inthe hour of his peril he caught the sound of Harold Denvers' voice andwondered what he was doing here.

  There was a last despairing cry, a choke and a snort and a long shudderof the powerful limbs. The thousand stars went out as if suddenly sweptoff the face of the heavens by a passing cloud; it was dark with patchesof red in it, and Frobisher grew still after a long shuddering sigh.Then he hung for the space of a few minutes--ten, at the outside--beforethe strain relaxed and he fell crashing to the floor.

  There was light laughter in the hall, the fresh sound of a young girl'svoice, the firm tones of Harold Denvers demanding to see Sir ClementFrobisher on urgent business. Hafid came forward like a shadow.

  "My master is going out," he said. "The car is waiting."

  "Tell him I must see him at once," Harold said curtly. "Lady Frobisher,you had better go without your husband, as our business is likely totake some time."

  "I must hear my lord and master say so," Lady Frobisher replied. "Whatis that?"

  A long wailing cry from the conservatory, a yell of horror in Hafid'svoice. A strange light leapt into Harold's eyes as he dashed forward.He had guessed by instinct what had happened. Hafid was bending over thedead form of his master muttering to himself.

  "Take it and burn it, and destroy it," he wailed. "Ah, if they had takenand burnt, and----"

  "Hush," Harold commanded ste
rnly with a hand over Hafid's mouth. "I seethat you know quite as well as myself what has happened. Stay here amoment and be silent."

  Harold hastened back to the hall just in time to intercept LadyFrobisher and Angela. From the expression of his face they knew thatsome tragedy had happened.

  "It is my husband," Lady Frobisher said, quietly. "He is dead. Do notbe afraid to speak the truth."

  "I--I am afraid so," Harold stammered, "He--he has fallen from the roofof the conservatory. He must have died on the spot. Lady Frobisher, Iimplore you to go back to your room. Angela, will you go along! If youwill leave it to me, I will do everything that is necessary."

  Lady Frobisher went away quite calmly. The sudden shock had left herwhite and shaking, but after all she had nothing but contempt andloathing for the man who had fascinated her into matrimony. Harold drewall the servants away with the exception of Hafid, and hurried to thetelephone. He gave a minute, and a voice replied.

  "Is that you, Sir James?" he asked. "I am very glad to hear it. I amHarold Denvers, speaking to you from the residence of Sir ClementFrobisher. He is dead. I found him dead in the conservatory a fewminutes ago. What? Oh, yes, he died in precisely the same manner aspoor Manfred. Will you come at once, please? Thank you very much. Iam going to ring up Inspector Townsend now."

  Inspector Townsend was at Scotland Yard, and would be there immediately.Harold turned to Hafid, and led him back to the conservatory again.

  "How did it happen?" he asked, sternly. "Tell me the truth."

  "All I know," Hafid muttered. "My master thought the steam-valve waswrong. I was to turn on the tap at eleven o'clock, but my master saidthat he would do it himself. He must have been up with the Moth whenthe valve worked. The rest you know, sir. The rest I could not tellyou. The tap was not out of order, after all, and my master is dead."

  "It was a fitting end for such a scoundrel," Harold said, sternly.

  He glanced up to where the Cardinal Moth still danced and nodded. Someof the long sprays nearly reached the ground. The clinging spirals wereuntwisted here and there. And Harold understood.

  "He was removing the Moth," he told himself. "He was going to take itaway and hide it, possibly to pretend that he also had been the victimof a robbery. He knew that I should claim it soon. Knave and tricksterto the last! What a sensation this will make."

  Sir James Brownsmith came presently, followed by Townsend. There wasnothing to be said, nothing to be done beyond certifying that SirClement was dead, and that he had perished in the same mysterious manneras Manfred and the still unrecognised victim at Streatham.

  "It's a mystery to me, and yet not a mystery," Townsend said. "I'vepretty well worked it out. But how did Sir Clement manage to get caughtlike that?"

  "An accident," Harold exclaimed. "He thought that the steam-pipe wasnot in working order, and he was mistaken. But all England will havethe explanation of this amazing mystery to-morrow. We will have theinquest here, and I shall be in a position to show the jury exactly whathas happened. But, knowing what Frobisher knew, he was morally guiltyof the death of Mr. Manfred."

  There was no more to be said and nothing to be done beyond laying thebody decently out, and locking the door of the conservatory, whichTownsend proceeded to do. As Harold was going out Angela stopped him.

  "Was it murder again?" she asked.

  "It has not been murder at all, dearest," Harold said. "To-morrow youwill know everything. Before long I shall hope to take you from thisdreadful house altogether."

  Angela murmured something. Her eyes were steady, but her face was verywhite.

  "I shall be ready, Harold," she whispered. "Only not yet, not till myaunt.... And indeed it is a merciful release for her. Only I know whatshe has suffered. Good night."

  She touched her lips to Harold's and was gone.