CHAPTER VIII A CURIOUS DISCOVERY

It was now quite two months since the death of Colonel Carr, and all this time Robin had been in London. He had written to Herrick telling him he felt so much better that he would not go abroad. "I have a new idea for a novel," wrote Joyce, "and now that I have the leisure, I intend to throw myself heart and soul into it. I still keep on my flat." Herrick therefore determined that his first visit should be to the little man.

Stephen and the doctor took up their abode in the Guelph Hotel in Jermyn Street. It was the first time the young man had been in London, and the novelty and excitement of town life, did much to dispel the grief he felt for the death of his step-mother. It was not that he regretted her the less, but he was sensible enough to see that it was foolish to weep over an irremediable misfortune. He therefore took Herrick's advice and threw himself with ardour into fitting himself out with a complete ward-robe for the first time in his life. The doctor took him to the best West-End shops, instructed him in the topography of the fashionable locality, and when Stephen was fairly set going, found time to attend to his own business.

He first went to his house in West Kensington, and saw that it was all right. Then he called upon the young practitioner who had nursed his practice while he was away, and made him an offer to sell it. The young doctor who had only lately started in the district was overjoyed at the chance as Jim had got together a fair number of patients. Herrick made the terms of purchase as light as possible, and spread the payment over a considerable time. Dr. Grant asked two days for consideration, as being poor it was necessary he should see his way how to pay the money. At once Jim consented to this, and after finishing this necessary business, he went off to Robin's flat. The arrangement and discussion with Grant had taken up the best part of the afternoon, and it was close upon seven when Herrick found time to see his friend. At first he hesitated, and half made up his mind to put it off until the next day. But as he was in the neighbourhood, he finally decided to go, and sent a wire to Marsh that he would not be home until ten o'clock. He intended to ask Joyce for a meal, making sure that he would be welcome. Yet strange to say, Robin was not so hearty as Herrick expected. Perhaps he had not got over his anger at the desertion of the doctor; but after his last letter Jim could not think that such was the case. In spite of their severance, Herrick still wished to keep an eye on Robin knowing that he was foolish in many ways. Therefore when Joyce showed a disposition not to invite him to stay, Herrick at once determined that he would remain. There was a reason at the back of this confusion, and Herrick in the interests of a weak man, resolved to find out what it might be. Seeing that he was bent on remaining, Robin made the best of what he evidently considered a bad job, and became more of his old self.

"You are not looking so well, as your letter led me to hope Robin," said Herrick, when the two were smoking in the study.

"I am in the best of health," said Robin quickly. "But of course I have been working hard at my book, and that takes it out of a chap."

"Read me some of the chapters," said Herrick, who once had been a kind of literary adviser to the author.

Robin shook his head uneasily. "Not until the book is done," he said. "I want you to get an impression as a whole. This will be my master-piece. Besides," he added glancing at the clock, "we might be interrupted. At half past seven a friend of mine is coming to dinner."

"I hope my unexpected coming will not upset your arrangements Joyce?"

"Of course not--how can you think so?" said Robin with an air of constraint that did not escape Herrick. "You are always welcome. Will you stop the night? I can put you up."

"No! I must get back to Marsh. I am his companion and doctor for the time being. A very good billet I assure you Robin."

"What about your practice?" asked Joyce.

"I am now selling it to Grant. It is such a small practice that it is not worth my while to stick to it as against an assured income of a thousand a year."

"Is that what Marsh gives you?"

"Yes! I do not mind telling you Robin as you are such an old friend. But do not mention this to anyone else. I stay with Marsh for three years. In this way I shall be able to save money and buy a practice in a better part of the town. It is a wonderful bit of luck."

"It is indeed, and I congratulate you," replied Robin cheerfully and shaking his friend by the hand. "Marsh must be well off to be able to afford your companionship at that price."

"Yes! He has been left about eight thousand a year more or less by Colonel Carr, his late uncle. But that is his business Robin. We will not talk about it."

"Have they yet found out who killed Colonel Carr?"

"Not yet. Of course it is supposed that Frisco killed him; but the man has disappeared. When he is caught we shall know the truth. You read the case Robin. What do you think?"

"It seems as though that man were guilty," replied Joyce slowly, "but I am not prepared to offer an opinion. The fact is I am so busy with my book that I have put all these horrors out of my head. By the way, what about your Southberry Helen?"

"Miss Endicotte? Oh, I have seen a good deal of her."

"And you are still in love?"

"Not very passionately perhaps. But I think a respectable affection is better to marry upon than a wild romantic adoration that will not resist the wear and tear of life. I hope some day if Miss Endicotte will allow me, to marry her--that is when I have a good practice. But if another man more worthy of her comes along, why--"

"Ardent lover!" laughed Joyce. "If you really felt any passion you would not contemplate with equanimity the idea of an intruder. I believe you like that little journalistic girl better."

A kind of dull anger stirred in the doctor's breast at hearing Bess so flippantly alluded to. But he saw that Joyce did not mean any harm, so turned off the remark with a laugh. "She is a charming young lady Robin. But she is better as a comrade than she would be as a wife."

"A comrade is what you want," said Joyce shrewdly. "Your luke-warm affection will not win you the love of a woman."

"Perhaps not. However we shall see," Herrick was annoyed, for he felt there was some truth in this remark. He was glad when a ring came to the door and interrupted a conversation which was rapidly getting unpleasant to him. "There's your friend. Who is he?"

"A Mexican called Don Manuel Santiago."

"Humph! It it not often one foregathers with that nationality in London. Where did you meet him?"

"At the Apollo Club, Johnstone introduced me to him. Here he is. I think you will like him."

Herrick was not so sure. He had met with Mexicans on their native heath and did not like the breed. However as the man was the guest of Joyce, he felt compelled to behave at least politely. All the same knowing Robin's weakness in picking up doubtful acquaintances, he determined to be observant of the Mexican.

"Dr. Herrick, Don Manuel Santiago. And this Se?or, is my very best friend."

The little dark man clicked his heels together, foreign fashion, and bowed politely. Herrick looked at him from head to foot in one swift glance, and made up his mind that the man was a rogue, an adventurer, if nothing worse. He was not tall, and he was very lean. His face was swarthy; he had a hook nose, a black moustache, and a pair of restless shifty dark eyes. Accurately dressed in an evening suit, he wore too much jewellery. Yet for all this he did not look vulgar. There was a somewhat dangerous air about him. Herrick watching his face intently made up his mind that Don Manuel was a half caste Indian.

"I am pleased to meet you Se?or," said Don Manuel in good English but with a foreign accent. "Dr. Herrick? Ah! I know the name."

"Indeed!" said Dr. Jim, looking surprised. Robin also shared his astonishment, and expressed it.

"Why, Santiago you did not tell me you knew Herrick!" said he, as they took their seats at table.

"Did I not?" replied the Don carelessly. "Ah! that was no doubt because his name was never mentioned between us. But if I am not mistaken," said he addressing himself directly to Jim, "you were concerned in that strange case of my friend Colonel Carr."

Herrick almost bounded from his seat. That here of all places and in so unexpected a way, he should meet with a stranger who knew Carr, was like fiction. Had the incident occurred in a novel, he would have put it down as a freak of imagination on the author's part. Yet the thing had happened in real life and to himself. "Was Carr a friend of yours?" he asked.

"Twelve years and more ago," replied Santiago quietly, "we knew one another intimately in Mexico."

"Mexico!" muttered Herrick, recalling what Bess had said about Frisco's tales of North and South America, "not in Peru?"

"We went to Peru together--on an expedition."

"What sort of an expedition?" asked Joyce eagerly.

"To make our fortunes. That is the sort of expedition we all are bound to undertake."

Herrick thought of Colonel Carr's money. Was he on the point of learning sufficient of the man's wild life in the Americas, to reveal what his secret was? "Did you succeed?" he asked.

"I did not--the Colonel did. Afterwards he returned to England, and I lost sight of him. When I came over six months ago, I heard of him, and intended to pay him a visit. But I put it off and off and off--until--" he made a rapid gesture, "poor Carr! His was a sad end."

"An unexpected one," said Herrick fixing his eyes on the man. "Did you know his servant, Frisco?"

"No!" replied Manuel calmly. "Frisco was after my time, or before it; I forget which."

Somehow Herrick felt instinctively that this was a lie. According to Bess the ex-sailor had been with Carr throughout his wandering life. It was incredible that if such was the case (and Jim preferred to believe Frisco rather than Santiago)--that Frisco should not have gone on to Peru. He would be needed on an expedition such as Manuel spoke of.

"Were you treasure-hunting" asked Jim.

Don Manuel nodded "Yes! The Peruvians buried a lot of gold and jewels, at the time of the Conquest. Carr got wind of a hiding place from some one--an Indian I believe, and induced me to go with him to Peru. I was doing nothing at the time, so I went."

"Carr found the treasure?"

"I believe so. Colonel Carr was rich was he not?"

"Very rich," chimed in Joyce. "Do you remember Herrick, how astonished we were at the magnificence of that house?"

"I remember," said Herrick curtly. The interruption did not please him, as he wanted particularly to hear what Santiago had to say. "But Se?or Manuel, if you started on this search together, how was it that you do not know for certain if Colonel Carr was successful?"

Don Manuel's face grew black and his eyes flashed. "If you would know the reason Se?or, Colonel Carr was a devil!"

"Ha!" said Herrick with a short laugh. "That is no news."

"We shared the expenses of the expedition, we were to share the profits; but Carr treated me shamefully. The treasure was said to be concealed beyond Cuzco--where it does not matter. I know, but I do not intend to tell. I fell ill at the first stage of the journey after we left Cuzco and were amongst the mountains. What did Carr do? He left me to the care of the Indians, and pushed on himself. That was the last I saw of the devil. For two years I was held captive amongst the Indians and barely escaped with my life. I hunted for Carr when I got to Callao; but he had disappeared. I traced him to Mexico. He vanished from Vera Cruz. I was worn out and ill. I went back to my own family, and all these years I thought nothing about the Colonel. But chance brought me to England, and chance led me to hear where Colonel Carr was settled. As I said I would have seen him to reproach him for his treachery, but----" Don Manuel shrugged--"he is dead. That is the end."

"A strange story, and not creditable to Carr," said Herrick wondering if all this was a lie. "Who was it told you where Colonel Carr lived?"

"I did not," said Joyce on whose face Jim's eyes rested for a moment. "I knew nothing of this until this moment."

"Where I heard the name Se?or, can be of little interest to you," said the Don with a sneer. "It was in London. I tell you no more."

"I do not want you to tell me anything," retorted Herrick the blood rushing to his face. "So far, I am interested in your story, but if you choose to be silent, you are at liberty to do so."

"Pardon," said Manuel humbly, "I did not intend to provoke your anger," but as he spoke there was a nasty glitter in his eyes, "I cannot tell you who gave me the information without breaking confidence with a friend."

Herrick grunted, but he said nothing. Santiago was evidently a dangerous little devil. For all he knew the Mexican might have had something to do with the murder. Of all strange circumstances that Herrick had stumbled upon this surely was the strangest! To find the man who knew of the past of Colonel Carr, in the company of Robin Joyce.

As the meal was now at an end, the three adjourned to the study where they began to smoke. Herrick had his pipe, Joyce a cigarette, and Manuel produced one of those long lean Mexican cigars, that only a hardened smoker can enjoy. As he bent forward over the spirit lamp, Jim saw by the touch of grey on his temples and the wrinkles down the side of his neck that the man was much older than he had thought. At the first glance Santiago looked--if you wanted to be disagreeable--say thirty-five. Herrick was now sure he was over fifty. But the man was in wonderfully good condition. Having noticed him at the table Jim saw that he was both abstemious and temperate.

For some reason not apparent, Manuel desired to ingratiate himself with Herrick, and tried by picturesque talk to banish the disagreeable impression he had made by his last remark. He told the most wonderful stories of his adventures by land and sea. According to his own account he had lived a life of hair-breadth escapes. South America he knew from Quito to the Horn, and had explored the unknown portions at the risk of his life. He had been captive to Indians, he had been tortured--Herrick noted that his left ear was missing--and he had been almost frozen while ascending Chimborazo. Then he had hunted for treasure, fought for it with knives when it was found, and by his own confession had more than one death to his account. All this he told in vivid picturesque language and with a wonderful command of the English tongue. Herrick complimented him on his capabilities as a linguist.

"Oh, I know seven or eight languages," said Manuel boastfully "not to speak of Indian dialects. I have been all over Europe. Yes, Se?or, when I made money--and I have made a great deal--I came always to Europe to spend it. That I did royally. Oh, the know me in every capital. Of all, give me Vienna. Oh, Se?or, I am known on the Prater."

"And to the police no doubt," thought Herrick; but for his own private reasons did not give vent to this opinion. He said aloud, "I suppose Don Manuel, you were not surprised to hear of Colonel Carr's death."

Santiago flashed a quick glance at the imperturbable countenance of the doctor. "Oh, but I was," said he "to escape all the dangers of the tropics, and then to die in a quiet little English village. Strange! To be sure though," added Manuel with another glance, "he brought his murderer with him. And Frisco was capable of anything!"

"Oh!" put in Herrick sharply, "I thought you did not know Frisco!"

"Nor did I Se?or," said Santiago covering his mistake with wonderful swiftness "but I heard of him. He was a devil worse than Carr, if that can be possible. They were attached to one another but quarrelled--Oh, yes, Se?or I assure you they quarrelled. Once over a game of cards, Carr slashed Frisco across the face."

"Oh, that was it, was it?" murmured Herrick as he recalled the criss-cross slash on Frisco's face which had been described to him. "A queer couple. What was Frisco's real name?"

"I do not know," snapped Manuel with a surprising curtness considering his late voluble talk. Shortly he took his leave, with a politely expressed hope that he would meet Herrick again. When the Mexican was gone, Joyce turned eagerly to his friend and asked what he thought of him. "If you want to know my real opinion, he is a thorough little blackguard. Cut him Robin, or you will get into trouble."

"I don't see why I should. He is a decent fellow. His only vice is gambling. He would sell his shirt to gamble."

"Humph! Looks a card-sharper. Where does he gamble principally?"

"In a club down in Pimlico,--the Parrot Club. Very few people know about it. But the play is very high?"

"Oh. So you met Santiago there," said Herrick lazily.

But Joyce saw the trap and avoided it. "No! I told you I met him at the Apollo Club--that is respectable enough I hope? And Archy Johnstone introduced him to me. He is decent, isn't he?"

"Oh, I have nothing to say," replied Herrick with a yawn, putting on his coat, "only, if that man gets you into trouble don't blame me. He will probably induce you to gamble and all your new income of five hundred a year will go once and for all."

A peculiar expression swept across Joyce's face and he opened and shut his hands nervously. However he held his tongue, and having said good-night Herrick went away, sorry to see that his friend was in such bad company. He regarded Don Manuel as a rook and Joyce as a pigeon. But he knew the little man well enough to know that his interference was vain. Joyce could be as obstinate as a mule at times.

When he got back to the Guelph Hotel it was close on eleven. All the same Stephen was sitting up for him over a meditative pipe. The sight of his honest handsome face was quite a relief to Herrick after the crafty looks of Manuel. And truth to tell, Joyce had fallen also in Herrick's estimation; for as a man he could not compare with Marsh. Not for the first time Dr. Jim began to think there was something sly and evil about Robin. Hitherto, he had been too much taken up with the man's nerves to think much of his moral character. But after this long absence he saw plainly that Joyce was deteriorating rapidly. The company he had been in this very night proved it, if there were any truth in the saying that birds of a feather flock together.

"Hullo Stephen!" said Herrick taking off his coat, "why did you not go to bed man? Sitting up all alone, like a maid on the Eve of St. Agnes."

"I did not want to go to bed until you came home," said Stephen, "you know I always like a chat. Have some whisky?"

"Thanks. Shove over the tobacco-jar. Well Marsh, I have arranged about the sale of my practice. It's all right."

"I am delighted. You are sure you do not mind giving it up?"

"Not for a thousand a year," replied Herrick with a laugh. "I never made so much in all my medical life. Not to mention the delights of your society. What have you been doing?"

"Shopping mostly. Then I called in on Frith and Frith to talk about business. I heard of your friend Joyce there."

"The deuce you did!" said Jim wheeling round. "I have just been dining with him, and I do not think he is improved. Frith and Frith are his lawyers I know. How did his name crop up?"

"In the course of my talk about the Colonel's business."

Herrick stared. "What do you mean?" he asked roughly.

"Well, you will be rather astonished," continued Marsh lighting his pipe, "but the fact is Colonel Carr allowed Mrs. Joyce, the mother of your friend an income of five hundred a year."

"No!" said Herrick, and thought that this was just the sum Robin said he had been left by his mother's will.

"Yes! Why, I do not know. Nor could Frith tell me. The Colonel never called to see Mrs. Joyce; he never wrote her a letter. But he directed Frith to pay her an annuity of five hundred pounds."

"An annuity? Then it ceased at her death?"

"Of course. The son gets nothing. The reason Frith mentioned it, was that he wished to know if I had found anything amongst my uncle's papers likely to show why the annuity had been paid, and whether it ought to be continued to the son."

"Queer!" said Herrick. He remembered that Robin had told him that he had interviewed the lawyers and had been informed of his income. Why had Robin told a lie? "I suppose," said the doctor after a pause, "that Frith did not take it upon himself to promise Joyce the continuance of this annuity?"

"Certainly not," replied Stephen, "he had no right. Of course I told him that I knew nothing about the matter and would not pay anything to Joyce. Still--as he is your friend?--"

"Never mind that. I don't want you to pay him anything. Did Joyce call to see Frith do you know?"

"A week after his mother's death. He has not been since. They told him then that he need not expect any more money."

"A week after his mother's death," related the doctor "and it was two months later we were on that walking tour! Did not Joyce call to see Frith somewhere about the twenty-fourth of July?"

"No! It was towards the end of April he called. He has not been near them since. You look rather pale, Herrick."

"It's nothing," replied the doctor. "I have had rather a turn, that's all."