Charlebois paused to rest for a moment.
"If I am a little disjointed," he resumed, with his gentle smile, "you must bear with me—it is only that I may compress what I have to say into as few sentences as possible. If we were in Karnavia to-night, I suppose I should whisper the name of Versel-Thega, and whisper it with the fear that even the walls had ears."
"Versel-Thega!" exclaimed Stranway. "What is that?"
"A band of thugs, murderers, blackmailers and thieves; a secret society of immense power that has been in existence there for many years, and that draws its membership from the degenerates of all classes," Charlebois answered, a sudden harshness creeping into his voice. "Hastvik, the man you saw lying there, is one of its leaders—and for nineteen years, little princess, he and those behind him have plotted and schemed to find you and take your life. You will understand now why, in later years, by giving you occasionally an active part in the organisation, I sought to school you to situations, sometimes wholly unexpected by you, which would demand from you in return cool, quick-witted action and resourcefulness, so that one day, if the worst befell, this training might stand you, a woman, in good stead; and you will understand now as well, since your life depended upon it, why even your name was kept secret, and, as an additional safeguard, kept secret even from you. It was known only to two people—Kyrloff and myself. As a child and in young girlhood, you could not have been trusted with it; and later, when that period was over, we felt that it would be the kinder thing not to inject unnecessary anxiety and dismay into your life, but to keep you still in ignorance during the few years that yet remained before the danger you were then in would, in the natural course of events, as you will presently see, be definitely and finally a thing of the past."
Again Charlebois paused. From outside, floating in through the windows, came the occasional low tones of some one or other of the men talking together; within the room the silence was tense.
"Prince Stolbek was a member of the Versel-Thega," said Charlebois softly, but with a grim smile that belied his tones. "His social position gave him immunity from suspicion, and was of incalculable value to the society. The advantage was mutual. He lived by his share of the proceeds made by that preying band of vultures. But—I am taking too long even for a long story. Stolbek kept pressing his attentions upon your mother, Myril—until your father married her instead. Your father was an American consulting engineer. His name was Thornton Havelock. For nearly a year after their marriage they travelled, and then returned to Karnavia. Just after your birth your mother made her will, leaving everything to you, though in trust until your twenty-first birthday. Kyrloff, then a young and prominent lawyer, himself but recently married, and a childhood friend of your mother's, drew the will. He and your father were the trustees."
Charlebois pulled the brown head down beside him, and held it protectingly against his cheek.
"The rest is hard to tell, little one—but you must know. I will hurry over it. Your mother died a few weeks after you were born. A year later your father was mysteriously killed—murdered. Kyrloff and his wife took you to their home. Twice in the next six months an attempt was made on your baby life. And then Kyrloff, stumbling upon the truth—he will tell you how some day himself—fled with you and his wife to America. For months they travelled here and there in an effort to throw their pursuers off the trail, and finally, disguised as settlers and peasants, they hired a little shack in the Adirondacks. It was there that they took me in one night when I was nearly dead from sickness, starvation and exposure—but I have already referred to that."
She was crying softly. Charlebois' own eyes were dim. Stranway knelt and put his arm around Myril's shoulders.
"There is not much more to tell," Charlebois went on. "Stolbeck and his vile society were back of the plan. All that they had to do was to put you out of the way. The fortune would then pass to Stolbek, and, by compact, he was to share it with the Versel-Thega. Hastvik, who had followed Kyrloff to America, eventually traced Kyrloff to the shack, and that night in the attack killed Kyrloff's wife, and, as I believed then, Kyrloff himself. The story now comes to myself. The documents in the box that I could not read, Myril, were your mother's will, her marriage certificate, your birth certificate, and many of her private papers. With plenty of money at my command for the moment—the money that was in the box—I secured accommodation in one of the houses where I escaped; but before I was physically able to leave there, to my intense joy and relief, for, as I have said, I had thought him dead, Kyrloff found me. I then learned your story. There was but one thing to do. Until you were twenty-one, until, to be precise, twelve o'clock to-night, your life would be in constant peril. After that your fortune was in your own hands to will where you pleased, and your enemies were beaten. So——"
"To-night!" cried Stranway. "Why, then, this is——"
"Her birthday, yes—or will be as soon as it is midnight," Charlebois smiled. "And may there be many, very many more, and—there, there! Let me finish!"
Stranway had swept Myril to her feet, and now, her eyes lowered shyly, she was holding out her hands to him.
The little old gentleman coughed teasingly.
"Let me finish," he repeated. "I said there was only one thing to do. Kyrloff was known to Hastvik; I was not—then. So in a sense, from that day, Myril, I became your guardian. We dared not leave you too long in one place, so, under an assumed name which, likewise, we were obliged to change from time to time, you were brought up by a great many different people—but always in the most cultured surroundings we could obtain. Meanwhile Kyrloff, who now had resumed more or less his normal life and habits, was dogged constantly by Hastvik; but Hastvik was unable to obtain any clue to Myril's whereabouts until a year ago, when he had the ill or good luck, whichever you choose to call it, to intercept a letter written by me to Kyrloff, and through which my connection with the affair was discovered. Happily though, Kyrloff was expecting the letter, and, anxious because of its non-arrival—he was then in Karnavia—cabled me at once." The little old gentleman turned suddenly to Stranway. "A year ago! The date is significant, is it not, my boy?" he smiled. "Yes, I imagine it is! A year ago, to your great chagrin, and, I am afraid, ill-concealed impatience, and certainly to your utter consternation and bewilderment, the Orchid disappeared—and for a year, until to-night, you have not seen her. The reason is now, of course, obvious to you. The moment I received Kyrloff's cable I sent Myril away from New York, and during all this past year she has been safely hidden in a little town in northern Canada."
"Yes," said Stranway slowly. "Yes, I understand that now. But there is another point that I do not quite understand. You knew this fellow Hastvik, and you had the power—why didn't you settle with the brute and give him the short shrift he deserved?"
"My boy," replied the little old gentleman, with his quizzical smile, "though you may have an ace in your hand, it is not always wise to lead it. If we had put Hastvik, whom we knew, out of the road, another whom we did not know, would have taken his place, the tables would have been turned, and we would have been the ones who were fighting in the dark. And you must remember, that even up to to-night, Hastvik believed I did not know him personally, and that I would not recognise him even if I saw him—a belief, I might say, that, though entirely erroneous as you will see in a moment, I have taken the greatest care to foster, for, as I had Myril in my keeping, the advantage was all with me. And now we come to to-night. Two years ago, I bought this place, and——"
"Two years?" Stranway interrupted. "Why I heard Hastvik say——"
"Last week, no doubt," interposed Charlebois quietly. "Quite so! But wait, my boy! The plans for to-night, for this little girl's birthday, were laid long ago. The property was bought under another name than mine, the house furnished, redecorated, and the estate put in order; and last week I bought it—from myself. Hastvik, as he believed, and as I intended him to believe, got wind of the transaction quite through his own cleverness; and, in exactly the same w
ay, he discovered that I required the services of a butler. He applied, presenting references, which, if they had not been forged, would have been unimpeachable. I engaged him, and supplied him with money. I told him that I proposed to give a little birthday dinner here to-night as a surprise, and that he was on no account to let it become known. I impressed upon him the fact that no one knew I had bought the house, and that I wished the whole affair to be entirely a surprise—even to my own guests. I left all the arrangements in his hands, told him to hire what servants he required, and to get a good chef—and I gave him the keys to the house. The rest,"—Charlebois smiled grimly—"you can pretty well guess for yourselves. Hastvik naturally had very valid reasons of his own with which to account for this desire on my part for so much secrecy. The date was significant—it was Myril's birthday! The game was in his hands. What could be more suitable than a house in the country that had no near neighbours, and that was not even known to be occupied! Myril would be in his power with still a few hours to spare on the last night of grace—and the servants he hired were the thugs associated with him. He intended to make an end of us all—and I intended to bring him at last to an account which would send him to the electric chair! I did not intend that, when the time arrived that rendered it useless for him to make any further attempt on Myril's life, he should merely pack up his belongings and leave the country. That was why I made such enticing arrangements for him here to-night. We were playing at very pretty cross-purposes, you see. Everything went as I had planned, until in some way, Myril, they must have caught you down there at the little hotel, to which, as I had instructed you before you left Canada, you were to go directly on your return to the States this morning without stopping or communicating with anybody in New York. I did not have a chance for more than a word with Kyrloff before you came in, but he told me that when he went for you a little while ago to bring you here as we had arranged, you had disappeared, and so, fearful that something had happened, he rushed up here. What did happen, Myril?"
"It was just after dark, not more than half-past seven," she said slowly. "I was down by the water when I was seized, and, I believe, chloroformed, for I do not remember anything else until I found myself tied and gagged upstairs there in that room."
Charlebois' kindly old face wrinkled into a frown.
"It seemed so safe a plan, so safe a place, and so convenient," he said soberly. "It was only two miles from here, and, as I said, Kyrloff was to call for you and bring you here at the pre-arranged hour to-night. But, perhaps, it was too convenient—too near this house. Yes, that was it! I erred there. Some one at the hotel, in spite of the fact that we had, as we believed, made so sure everything was safe for you there, and that you would be carefully guarded, must have, either deliberately or inadvertently, betrayed our trust, for, if Hastvik had simply stumbled upon you by chance, he would not in that way alone have known who you were as he had not seen you since you were a baby. I do not know what happened at the hotel, I do not know how your identity came to be established to Hastvik's satisfaction, I do not know who the guilty one is, but"—his hand clenched tightly—"we will not be long in finding out! In any case, when I first regained consciousness after I was shot, I was sure that in some way they had succeeded in trapping you, Myril, for, unless that were so, it would have been suicide to Hastvik's plans to make any attack on me. But"—his face cleared, and he smiled brightly—"we will not dwell on that phase of it any more. It is over now, and there was another and a happier reason for coming to this house to-night. I had not expected to make the presentation under quite these circumstances, but——" He ended his sentence, in lieu of words, with an expressive little wave of his hand.
"Presentation?" inquired Stranway, wonderingly.
"Of course," said Charlebois, and suddenly into the steel-blue eyes there came a merry twinkle. "Don't young couples have to set up housekeeping any more these days? It's yours, my boy."
"Mine!" In amazement, the colour sweeping to his face, Stranway leaned forward. "Mine—you——"
"Now don't make a fuss!" said the little old gentleman, with sudden tartness. "You know how I dislike thanks. It upsets me! Makes me nervous! And I'm in no condition to be upset to-night. I won't listen to a word—not a word! I told you to-night that you were my heir, my boy, and this is just——"
He stopped abruptly as the door opened.
Dr. Damon stepped into the room.
"I've got that man ready to be moved," announced the doctor gruffly. "What are you going to do? Stay here—or go back?"
The twinkle came again to the steel-blue eyes.
"Why, whatever you think best, doctor," said the little old gentleman with suspicious meekness. "I'm under your orders, you know."
For a moment the doctor scowled—and then he laughed.
"Very well," he said, "then back you go! Our improvised ambulance is large enough, and I'll take that other chap along too, so as to watch you both. But first, we'll have a look at those dressings."
"Just as you say," said Charlebois, with the same twinkle and the same meekness; then, with a smile, holding out his hands to Myril and Stranway: "You'll have to run along now and let the doctor do his fussing. Flint has got his car fixed again, so don't wait for me—the doctor isn't likely to break any speed laws going in. Come and see me early in the morning."
Myril knelt again and buried her face on the little old gentleman's shoulder; and Stranway, because there was a strange choking in his throat, and because no words would come, silently grasped the other's outstretched hand—and then they passed out through the French window to the lawn.
But now, Stranway, with a whispered word, led the way a little to one side into the shadows and the darkness, where there was none to see. And here, presently, Myril drew back from him a little breathlessly, struggling with her disordered hair.
"Have you forgotten your warning, sir," she demanded, with dainty, mock severity. "The crime of lese-majesty is a very grave crime, I would have you know—and I am the Princess Myril."
"Princess? Myril? No!" Stranway cried—and caught her into his arms again. "To me you will always be—the Orchid!"
THE END
The Red Ledger Page 26