CHAPTER XI SETTLING DOWN

The cipher was so simple that Herrick wondered that he had not solved it before. It merely consisted of the alphabet arranged in two lines as follows:--

A.B.C.D.E.F.G.H.I.J.K.L.M.N.O.P.Q.R.S.T.U.V.W.X.Y.Z. Z,A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,

The cipher was written by using the second line as though it were the first. All that had to be done was to write out the alphabet as above, and use the first line in place of the second. Nothing could be more ingenious, or--when it was known--more simple. But for all that, Herrick would not have found the key, had he not recollected Stephen's remark that the number fifteen might be a date, and had not Bess related Frisco's apparently meaningless words.

However here was the reading of the riddle. Colonel Carr had been warned to do a certain thing, and was threatened with death if he did not do it. He was given up to the twenty-sixth of July, but the punishment, vengeance, or whatever it was had been executed on the twenty-fourth. Jim could see no reason for this anticipation of the cipher letter.

As to the cryptogram in the agony Column of the "Daily Telegraph," it would seem that someone knew that Frisco was in London and wished to see him about Carr's money. This rather bore out Herrick's belief that there was a conspiracy in progress to rob Stephen of his inherited wealth. Was Captain Manuel striking in the dark? Or had Robin Joyce anything to do with the matter? Herrick asked himself these questions, but he did not seek an answer from Bess. Until he was absolutely sure of Robin's guilt he did not wish to say a word. And if he told Bess about Santiago, he would have to reveal what Joyce\ had--presumably--done. At all events the mere mention of Santiago's name and where he met him would invite questions regarding Joyce.

"If I were you Dr. Jim," said Bess the next day, when they met to talk over their discovery, "I should go up to London and wait at Hyde Park Corner. It will be easy for you to see a person dressed as noticeably as the man who put in the cipher intends to be. I should think a navy blue serge with white hat, gloves, and boots would attract attention. You can then see if the person meets Frisco, and, and----"

"And give Frisco in charge," finished Herrick.

"No," said Miss Endicotte decisively, "I should not do that. At present public opinion and circumstantial evidence is so much against Frisco, that he would not have a fair trial. If he did murder Colonel Carr, which I don't believe--you can prove it by watching him. See where he and the man who meets him are going, follow on, and be guided by circumstances how to act. Have you any idea who put this in?"

Dr. Jim suspected Don Manuel, but he did not think it wise to say so. "I really cannot be sure," said he shirking the question, "of course we are all in the dark about this business. Again I notice that no time is mentioned in the cipher."

"Oh! I can understand that," replied Bess producing a slip of paper from her pocket, "when I got home last night I looked through the file of the 'Daily Telegraph' given to me by Colonel Carr. I thought there might be a third cipher. See, here it is. It appeared about the beginning of August."

Herrick looked at the third cipher. It was worded exactly the same as the one that had appeared in the newspaper at the later date, save that in it the hour of three o'clock was mentioned as the time of meeting.

"Humph!" said Dr. Jim, "I wonder if Frisco obeyed this first request?"

"I am sure he did," answered Bess readily, "if he had not, the time of meeting would be put into the second. No, Dr. Jim. It is because the person who wants to meet Frisco met him the first time, that he has omitted the hour. He knows that Frisco will be there at three o'clock if he comes at all. You go up and see what you can do."

"It is now the twenty-second," said Herrick after a moment. "All right, I'll go up. But I should say nothing of all this to Stephen."

"Nor to anyone," replied Bess warmly, "let us work out the thing ourselves and put an end to the conspiracy. I am sure it is one," she added, "for you see Carr's money is mentioned. I hope poor Stephen will not be murdered next!"

"I hope not," said Herrick rather gloomily. He was recalling what Mrs. Marsh had said to him about Frisco and of a possible danger to her step-son. "At all events I shall look after him carefully. But all this seems to show that Frisco is not the good man you thought him."

"It does look bad for Frisco," admitted Bess dejectedly, "still he may be able to explain if he can only summon up courage to take his trial. I should not like to be mistaken in Frisco. There was something I liked about him."

"Well, I'll go up to town and watch," said Herrick. "By the way, my friend Joyce is coming down here next week to stay for a time."

"I am so glad," said Bess eagerly. "I saw only a glimpse of him last time. He is an author, and we shall have so much to talk about."

Herrick was rather annoyed by her enthusiasm. He did not like the idea of Joyce whom he suspected, being too great a friend of this girl's. Yet when he came to think over the matter, his annoyance was ridiculous. He was jealous of Stephen with Ida, and now irritated at the prospect of Bess getting on well with Robin. "I do not love the two of them," said Herrick to himself with a vexed laugh, "yet I like both. At all events if Joyce does come down, I'll keep them apart as much as possible. I must know the truth about Joyce before I let him again into my circle of friends. In any case he is a liar if no worse."

This was an unsatisfactory frame of mind in which to renew a friendship. But Jim had no such intention. Finding that Robin had told him two deliberate falsehoods, he made up his mind that all was at an end between them. Herrick had a very high opinion of the sacredness of friendship, and was in addition as Dr. Johnson said "a good hater." He either liked a man greatly or disliked him immensely. With the utmost calmness he went to work to get his quondam friend by his side in order to learn the truth. If Joyce had murdered Carr, if he was mixed up with Frisco and Don Manuel in a conspiracy against Stephen, there was no punishment he did not deserve. But although Herrick was hard, he was also just. Every chance would be given to Joyce to prove his innocence. And if in the end he proved to be guilty, Jim knew in his heart of hearts that he would let him go free. Much as he might deserve the punishment of the law, Jim felt that for the sake of their old friendship he could not be the one to hand him over to Justice.

It must not be thought that Herrick took his discovery calmly. He suffered greatly on learning the worthlessness of the man he had so trusted. He had saved Robin's life by nursing him through a dangerous illness, and had been attracted by his ambition to become a great novelist. He had also tried to make a man of him by strengthening his will and mending his nerves, being sorry for the tortured creature. But since the man was so inherently bad Herrick sternly cut himself off from him. He waited only to be certain of the worst to cast Robin out of his life. But until he was certain, he gave him the benefit of the doubt. It was a painful position, but Jim set his teeth and stuck to it.

The journey to town was a complete failure. Herrick watched at Hyde Park Corner all day, and thereby incurred the unjust suspicions of the police. But he saw neither the eccentrically-dressed individual, who had described himself in the cipher, nor the ex-sailor, whom he hoped to recognise by his monstrous stoutness, and if chance offered, by the scar on his forehead. Neither one of them came to the rendezvous, so Dr. Jim returned to Saxham a sadder but not a wiser man. Bess consoled him.

"They must have got some suspicion that they were being watched," she said, "sooner or later another of these ciphers will appear in the paper and you will have a chance of catching them."

"Humph!" said Jim disbelieving, "if they are suspicious, they will make some other arrangements for you see, they must have guessed that in some way I had solved the cipher. It is all darkness and mystery," said Herrick vexedly. "For the time being at all events I intend to put it out of my head."

This he did and with considerable success. There was much to do at "The Pines" and with its new master. The estate had to be put in order, more servants had to be engaged with the assistance of Ida, and the walls and fences had to be put up again. Also the new vault was rapidly approaching completion and Stephen hoped to have his uncle's body removed into it before Christmas. In the meantime he did not neglect to go monthly and even weekly to the family sepulchre to see that all was safe. As yet nothing had been disturbed. Stephen began to think that the necessity of protecting the body of the wicked Colonel was all moonshine. But Herrick knew better. He still believed in the existence of a conspiracy, and kept his eyes and ears open. It was well in these days, that Marsh-Carr had so watchful a guardian.

Joyce arrived at the Carr Arms with Don Manuel, and the two made themselves very agreeable, Herrick did not approve of their calling at Biffstead, but he either had to quarrel openly with them, or tolerate the acquaintance, as a row would have spoilt his plans and perhaps (if his suspicions were correct) exposed Stephen to danger. Herrick held his peace and made himself agreeable. Indeed neither Robin nor Santiago had any idea that he was their enemy, so well did he play his part. Dr. Jim hated to wear a mask, but much could be done by guile, and nothing at all could be gained by force, so he consented to do violence to his usually open nature.

Meantime he devoted himself to educating Stephen out-of-doors. Horses were bought and the two rode daily. Herrick taught Stephen how to swim, to fence, to box, and to golf. Indeed the Biffs also took to golfing, for Herrick obtained permission to lay out part of the heath as a links. Then the young men and maidens of the county came to play and Saxham became quite busy. Even the Beorminster people contrived to learn the game, and the clerical society there curates, dean, and even the canons played with zest and judgment. Herrick as the original starter of the game was voted an acquisition to the county and made much of. He and Stephen were asked everywhere and as the weeks went by Marsh-Carr became a different man. He lost his air of shyness, became straighter in the back, spent less time poring over books and more in the open air. Needless to say he was warmly attached to the doctor, and it was now "Jim and Steve" between them. And the Biffs approved of the friendship.

Since he had lost the friendship of Robin, Herrick paid more attention to Ida. He never paused to analyse his feelings towards her, and foolishly believed that he loved her. She knew better and smiled at the attentions paid to her by Dr. Jim. Herrick was no wiser than his neighbours when it came to a question of sex, and because he admired Ida thought that she was the only woman in the world for him. He had never been in love before and mistook the affection he felt for a beautiful and kind-hearted girl for the genuine passion spoken of by poets. If it was, Jim did not think it was so bad as they made out. He had not himself felt the wound, so he jested at the scars of others. Ida was amused at the dear, large, stupid creature and played the r?le of Omphale to his Hercules, but she knew quite well when to pull him up. When his attentions became too pressing she did so in her own quiet way. Strange to say Stephen did not notice his friend's folly, or if he did, he made no remark.

One day the Biffs took afternoon tea in the pine-wood round the mansion. Stephen and Herrick were there, the Biffs themselves, and Don Manuel with Robin. The latter was much excited and chattered on in a merry way which amused everyone save Herrick, who looked at him rather sourly. Bess was too attentive to Joyce to please the doctor.

"Come and sit by me Mr. Joyce," she said making a place beside her when they sat on the grass for tea. "You shall feed me."

"Ah, what a privilege!" put in Santiago and Bess frowned. She did not like the Spaniard.

"I am so hungry," announced Robin. "Jim, you sit over there by Miss Endicotte, and Mr. Marsh can sit beside Miss Flo."

Santiago placed himself beside Sidney who at once got up and walked away to the other side of the circle. Sidney hated the Mexican, and openly said as much. There was a bad feeling about him, said Sidney, and he sometimes shivered and turned pale when in Don Manuel's company. The Mexican did not seem annoyed. He understood Sidney better than did the others. Or he said he did and explained his reasons to Herrick. The doctor laughed at him when these were explained and declined to argue such nonsense. At this Don Manuel smiled but did not take offence. He had his own reasons for remaining on friendly terms with Jim.

"How pleasant it is here," said Bess looking at the green boughs overhead, "so solitary! One would think we were miles away in the country."

"So we are," said Robin amidst a general laugh. "How many more miles do you want us to be Miss Bess?"

The girl laughed herself. "You know what I mean perfectly well. Of course nothing could be more absolutely rural than this, but Saxham is the same. What I meant to say is that no human habitation can be seen hereabouts."

"No. The tower has disappeared;" said Stephen gravely, "it used to be visible from here. Just over those two pines."

Santiago chimed in. "Ah, that is where my poor friend met with his death! I wonder you are not afraid to live in the house, Se?or."

"Why should he be afraid?" put in Ida rather indignantly. "Ghosts are not pleasant things," said the Mexican with a shrug.

"Do you mean to say that the wicked Colonel walks?" asked Robin.

"You are talking nonsense," said Herrick who was beginning to find the conversation disagreeable, and in the presence of Stephen, not in good taste. "There are no such things as ghosts, and the room in which Colonel Carr died has been demolished. If you talk like this the ignorant country people will be inventing some legend."

Sidney who had been listening to all this very quietly looking first at one speaker and then at the other, let his grave blue eyes fall upon the doctor. "How do you know that there are no such things as ghosts?" he demanded. "There are. I have seen them myself."

Everybody shuddered, and Santiago looked at the boy with a curious smile.

"Where have you seen a ghost?" asked Herrick quietly.

"In this wood, in the village churchyard; all kinds of shapes and forms. They do not frighten me. Only bad people are frightened. You would be," he added looking at Santiago.

"Yes," responded that gentleman, "you are quite right. I am glad I have not your gift of seeing things."

"You laugh at it I suppose?"

"Pardon me, I know too much about it to laugh."

"The tower," said Sidney suddenly turning to Stephen. "I know you can see it from here. Often and often I have sat in the darkness under yonder tree and watched the shapes in the light that streamed from the windows. All had shapes--all wicked spirits," said Sidney. "The Colonel was so wicked that nothing good would come near him."

Ida thought that this conversation had gone quite far enough, and when Herrick glanced at her interposed, "Sidney you are talking nonsense!"

The boy got up in a kind of cold rage. "Always nonsense," said he, "because you are all blind and stupid." And he walked away.

"Is he mad?" said Robin, his mouth open.

Bess was about to contradict him rather indignantly when Santiago interposed. "He is far from mad," said he, "but he has a wonderful gift, denied to us who are of common clay. Of course the doctor does not believe in this. He is a materialist."

"No, I am not," replied Herrick rather nettled, "but I do not believe in things that cannot be proved by the senses."

"I said you were a materialist," replied Santiago, and refused to speak further. It was on another occasion and when no one was present that Jim renewed the conversation.

Meanwhile the doctor was angry at the attention paid by Joyce to Bess. The little man had now known her some weeks and had taken a violent fancy to her. He haunted her like a shadow, and she did not seem to dislike it. Herrick did, but as he had no right to interfere he was obliged to look on in silence. More than ever he regretted his folly in inducing Robin to come down to Saxham. Not for all the schemes in the world would he have Bess Endicotte lose her heart to Joyce. Until this day such an idea had never entered his head: but now he saw more clearly. Bess was distinctly pleased with Robin's attentions. Should she really get to care for him (and Robin was attractive when he liked) Herrick knew that he would be forced to interfere. Even if he had to denounce Joyce to the law, he would put an end to such a possibility. He could not even see the two together without annoyance, and rose abruptly to walk away.

As he went in the direction of the heath, and by almost the same path as he and Joyce had come on that terrible night, he heard a light step behind and turned to see Ida. She looked more lovely than ever, for having followed him rapidly her face was somewhat flushed. Just as he was on the edge of the heath she laid her hand on his arm. A thrill ran through the strong frame of the doctor. He thought this was love. But indeed any man would have felt as much had Ida Endicotte touched him.

She was beautiful, and moreover had a magnetic attraction, which drew the most sullen under her charm. How much more then Herrick, who frankly acknowledged that she was--what he rather obviously called--an angel.

"Don't follow him Dr. Jim," she said breathlessly. "Believe me, he is better alone. I know his moods."

"Are you talking of Sidney?" asked Herrick in surprise.

"Yes! I thought you followed him," she cast a look across the moor where the slender figure of the boy could just be seen disappearing on the horizon. "How fast he walks. Here, there, and everywhere, like a ghost!"

"I did not follow Sidney," said Herrick gravely, "but I see that I must take the boy in hand. His brain is too excitable."

"You don't think he is mad," said Ida turning pale. "I assure you that he is very shrewd in many ways, and looks after himself thoroughly. But he was always a delicate boy with strange habits."

"He is a poet," said Herrick decisively, "that is why he 'sees things' as he puts it. His imagination and brain power are too strong for his weak body. If he went in for exercise and took pleasure in sport he would soon lose these unhealthy phantasies. They would pass away in verse."

"Do you think he ought to go to a public school?"

"Certainly not. The boy is too peculiar; too rare a spirit. The other boys would not understand him, and he would be as unhappy as Coleridge and Lamb. No! He needs looking after privately. I like Corn, but he does not understand the boy. Let me see to it, Miss Endicotte."

"Indeed," faltered Ida, "I should be very glad. We are all very fond of Sidney; but he is peculiar as you say. And you have done wonders with Stephen. I can see that."

"I have only induced him to take an interest in healthy things," said Herrick, "the rest follows as a matter of course. But I am glad you are pleased. You know that I am anxious to please you--Ida."

Miss Endicotte blushed and drew back with a look of surprise. Then she seemed to make up her mind, and instead of leaving him as seemed to be her original intention, she walked on beside him towards the moor. "You are very kind," she said simply.

"You are not angry at my calling you Ida?"

"Not at all. I call you Dr. Jim. You seem to be a kind of brother to us all. I am glad that Stephen has so good a friend."

"But I do not want to be a brother," said Jim in a deep voice, trying to take her hand. "You must understand--" She drew her hand away quietly. "I do understand," she said in low tones. "But I beg of you not to go on talking like this."

"But Ida--you must have seen. I love you."

"No! You do not love me, Dr. Jim," she laid her hand on his shoulder, and looked gravely into his flushed face. "If you had really been in love with me, I should not have waited. You saw how I turned to go and changed my mind. That was because I wish to put matters right between us."

"I do not understand Ida."

"I know you don't and that is why you speak. If you were in love with me Dr. Jim, you would know that I am in love with someone else."

"In love with someone else? Not--not Stephen?"

"Yes! Stephen, and he loves me. Oh, you look astonished. I said you did not know what love meant. Had you really felt the passion you believe you feel, you would have guessed. You like me because we get on well together; because you think I am pretty." Here she blushed and laughed. "I am talking foolishly I fear. But what I mean to say is that it is only Ida Endicotte you love, not the real woman. If you did; if your heart was filled with a true passion, you would have seen that Stephen and I understand one another.

"Has he asked you to--" stammered Herrick.

"There was no need that he should ask," replied Ida. "I am quite content to wait until he speaks, because I know. And he knows that I know. That is true love Dr. Jim. We do not need mere words."

Jim looked down rather shamefaced. Ida took him by the arm and forced him to face her. "Confess," she said with a laughing face, "you are not quite brokenhearted that I will not marry you?"

"No!" replied Jim rather astonished at the calmness of his feelings. "I can't say I feel suicidal."

Ida shrugged her queenly shoulders. "You see," was her remark, "what I said was true. You do not love the true woman. No, Dr. Jim," she put her hand into his, "I am glad we have had this talk. The moon can never be yours, so do not cry for it. When you are really and truly in love, you will feel very different to what you do now I assure you."

Jim more himself, laughed. "Where did you learn all this lore?"

"Mother Nature taught it to me," laughed Ida. "I needed no teaching. I knew years ago that Stephen and I were born for one another. Yet we have always been merely friends; nothing more. He has not even said to me as much as you have done. We understand, both of us. That is why I have refused so many good offers. Other people could not understand, not even Bess, clever as she is, but I knew, so did Stephen. It is for this reason I refuse you Dr. Jim. Not that you have asked me," she finished laughing.

Jim laughed too, for he was now once more at his ease with her. "I have been making a fool of myself," he said, "and you are a dear good woman to take me in such a spirit. I suppose it was not really love after all."

"My dear Dr. Jim, you do not even know the meaning of the word. But if I had chosen you would have learned it. Do you know," she added with another laugh, "you remind me of the cook, who was of that 'appy disposition that she could marry anyone? You had better be careful Dr. Jim, for any clever woman who let you believe she loved you could become Mrs. Herrick!"

"I do not think so," said Jim grimly.

"I do, and I am sure of it. Well, I have been a traitress to my sex and have warned you. I could say something more but I shall leave you to find it out."

"Find what out?"

"Ah that is part of the finding. You are a great big stupid wise man Dr. Jim, and I love you for your folly. But some day you will be happy. You do not understand what I mean at present. Don't try to understand. It will come upon you unexpectedly. And now," she held out her hand like a queen, "we are friends; we are brother and sister."

"Brother, and sister Ida," said Jim kissing that white hand. This time he did not feel the slightest thrill. "You are right," he cried rather vexed. "I do not know what love is."

"But you will some day, and soon. I see it coming." Thus spoke Ida, and refused to explain herself further. But Jim understood her--dimly.