CHAPTER XX A GREAT SURPRISE

Beatrice kept her word in spite of all Durban's protestation that her visit to Lady Watson would lead to trouble. Frank as the old servant had apparently been, Beatrice could not rid herself of the idea than even now he had not told everything. There was some mystery concerning Lady Watson which had a bearing on the other mysteries, and this she was determined to find out. Only by knowing everything would her mind be set at rest.

The girl was sufficiently unhappy in these days. The discovery of the evil by which she was surrounded made her recoil from everyone in terror. All people seemed to have skeletons in their various cupboards, and Beatrice dreaded the chance of becoming friendly with any one else who had a secret. Also, it was pain and anguish to her to stand aside, and know that Maud Orchard possessed Vivian. Of course Maud had returned to London, and Vivian--so he said--had heard nothing about her from the time she had fled with the Obi necklace. All the same this woman, wicked and lawless, was his wife, and, while she lived, Beatrice knew that Vivian could never be anything to her but a friend. Loving him as she did, and in spite of his manifold weaknesses, her heart ached as she thought of the long, dreary, desolate life that necessarily was before her when deprived, by a prior claim, of his society. But recent events had hardened the girl's character, and she grasped her nettle firmly. In other words, she made all arrangements to go to London and see Lady Watson, on the chance of obtaining work. So long as she could earn her living, nothing else seemed to matter. Beatrice felt very unhappy and lonely.

What she greatly desired was a confidant. Dinah, being a scatter-brain, and wrapped up in Jerry, was useless, while, owing to the changed circumstances, she could not feel easy in the company of Vivian. Durban, after the short interview she had with him in The Camp, had vanished; for when Beatrice went again to question him still further, she found the place deserted and locked up. Where Durban had gone she did not know, and, needing him as she did, her state of mind was one of wretchedness and foreboding. However, as she greatly desired advice and comfort, she induced Vivian to come to the lonely Camp, and there told him all that Durban had told her.

Vivian heard her in silence, and wondered at the queer story. Durban, he thought, was deeper implicated in the doings of the Black Patch Gang than he chose to acknowledge, and he said this to Beatrice after some thought. The girl vigorously refused to believe in the guilt of the man.

"Durban has always been my best friend, Vivian," she said, with a look of pain. "How can you accuse him, without evidence?"

"It seems to me that there is a great deal of evidence upon which to accuse him," said Paslow grimly. "He had the necklace, and the crime was committed for the sake of the necklace."

"No. It was a case of revenge. Alpenny evidently betrayed the Gang in some way, or took more than his fair share of the plunder, therefore he was sentenced to death; and you were used by Durban as the unconscious instrument to give him warning. You saw how terrified old Alpenny was, and how he muttered about the third time. Also, the note he wrote to me was a trick, to give him time to get away. He would have fled, but that he was killed."

"Had he fled," said Vivian judiciously, "or had he intended to fly, he would have taken his jewels with him. According to Major Ruck, he had a great many jewels."

"I saw some," replied Beatrice. "Well, perhaps he did make up a parcel of jewels, and these were stolen by the thief who killed him."

"No," insisted Vivian. "The necklace was left behind, or would have been. Had Alpenny intended to fly to the Continent with his plunder in order to escape death he certainly would have packed up the Obi necklace at once. As it was, he left it in its hiding-place, and Durban--as he says--found it there."

"How do you mean--as he says?" questioned Beatrice, struck by the peculiar tone in which Paslow uttered the words.

"I mean that Durban may be telling a lie. Alpenny may have got the necklace ready to go away. Durban, coming back, as he confessed to you he did, probably killed him, and stole the necklace."

"Nonsense!" said Beatrice quickly. "For what reason should he steal the necklace, and then hang it on the neck of a sheep?"

"Ah, that is Orchard's story. You told it to Durban, and he seized the idea. Orchard's daughter is connected with the Gang--my wife, that is," added Vivian, with a grimace, "so it is probable that Orchard also is a member. Probably Durban, after killing Alpenny, went up the Downs and gave the necklace to Orchard for safe keeping. No one would expect to find it in the possession of the old man. I think that Orchard was to have returned it to Durban, so that money could be made; only his daughter--my wife--saw it and wheedled it out of him for herself. But I don't think she'll keep it long if Major Ruck sees it."

"I don't agree with you at all," said Beatrice, defending Durban. "As Durban was supposed to be in town, he could have come back."

"Which he did, remember."

"Yes, but only to find Alpenny dead. Had he killed Alpenny for the sake of the necklace, he could have slipped it into his pocket and have gone away in safety. No, Vivian, I believe that Durban really believes that there is some spell attached to the necklace, and placed it on the neck of the sheep to prevent its doing further harm to anyone, especially to me. Had I found it, I certainly should have claimed it."

"Lady Watson would have claimed it."

"I know that, since she inherits all under the will. And that is one of the reasons why I go up to town to see her. I'll tell her all that we know, and she will get the necklace from your wife."

"That is if Major Ruck doesn't get it in the meantime," said Vivian coolly. "Maud is a clever woman, but she won't be able to get the better of Major Ruck. Let us have a look at the secret passage."

"We cannot open the door," objected Beatrice.

"Durban opened it with a beam when the body was found dead," said the young man, "and here is the beam left near the carriage all the time." He picked up the heavy log of wood, and poised it against the door. The lock, mended but lightly, gave way at once, and the two had little difficulty in entering.

"Here is the spring," explained Beatrice, and walked to the end of the carriage, followed closely by Vivian. In another minute the galvanised tin upon which the stove stood, slipped aside, and disclosed the damp steps. "Isn't it ingenious?" said she, admiringly.

"Very," assented Vivian. "Let us go down. Come on!"

"But a light. Oh"--she caught sight of a candle on the table--"here is one. You lead, Vivian."

With the lighted candle the pair went down into the unwholesome passage. It descended by means of the steps for some distance, and then there was a trend to the right. The passage was perfectly straight, and had been dug out of the soft earth. Part of it was roofed with brick, but the whole was much dilapidated, and showed signs of collapse. Vivian, seeing this, and fearing a fall of earth, wished the girl to return, but this she refused to do. "I want to see where it leads to," she said. "Go on, Vivian."

Thus urged, he cautiously felt his way by the feeble glimmer of the candle. In a shorter time than either expected, they came to a second flight of steps, and scrambled upward. The steps ended at a kind of trap-door. Vivian placed his shoulder beneath this, and with a vigorous push, forced it outward and upward. The next moment he had leaped lightly on to the surface of the earth, and found himself in the wood, just outside the walls of The Camp.

"Oh," said Beatrice, when she was assisted out of the bole, and began to recognise her surroundings, "Durban said that the exit was within The Camp."

"Ah," replied Vivian, with much significance, "Durban has told another lie. He is not to be trusted, Beatrice."

"I am certain he is, although appearances are against him," declared the girl impetuously. "He is cautious in speaking even to me, as he fears the vengeance of the Gang. Close the trap-door, Vivian. See!" she added, when he did this, "the surface is masked with moss."

And so it was. The wood was ingeniously covered with ragged moss; and when the trap was down and a few leaves fell on the moss, no one could have told that a passage lay underneath. It was a most clever arrangement, and doubtless had been often used by the scoundrelly gang of which Alpenny, undoubtedly, had been a prominent member. The respectable clients, however, who had come to borrow money and be swindled by the old rascal, had always entered by the great gates, or, if they wished for especial privacy, by the smaller one.

"What a dangerous lot of people I have lived amongst," said Beatrice, who was rather pale when they reclosed the door of the counting-house and left The Camp.

"Undoubtedly," assented Vivian rather grimly; "it is a mercy that the police never came down here. You might have been implicated."

"I can see that, and for the same reason I refuse to believe that Durban is mixed up with these rascalities. He served Mr. Alpenny for my sake, and for my sake he held his tongue about the roguery which he must have known went on. But I do not believe that he took any part in the same, Vivian."

"Well," said Paslow, after a pause, "you may learn more when you see Lady Watson."

"But she can have nothing to do with these things. She is a lady of rank and fashion."

"She was a friend of Alpenny's, or he would not have left her his money," said Vivian, "and is the friend of Major Ruck. I don't know a bigger blackguard in London."

Beatrice said nothing more. She quite agreed with her lover, and began to be afraid as to what she might discover when she was in the presence of Lady Watson. All the same, as she was determined to learn everything, and if possible, to so get to know the doings of the Gang that Vivian would be safe from their threats, she left early the next morning for town. Vivian accompanied her to the local station, and took a formal farewell of her. It had to be formal, because of the publicity of the platform, and also because their relations with one another, since the appearance of the supposed dead wife, were so very difficult. So Vivian coldly shook hands, although his face belied the formal action, and Beatrice watched him through tearful eyes as the train steamed towards Brighton.

Dinah had given her a couple of pounds, or rather Beatrice had borrowed these from her, with the intention of repaying her out of the first instalment of a possible salary. This was all the money she had in the world, and she prayed on the way to London, that Heaven would see fit to make Lady Watson well-disposed towards her. At Victoria Station the girl sent a wire to the address which she had procured from Dinah, who got it from Mrs. Snow. This telegram intimated that Miss Hedge,--she thought it best to keep to the name,--was coming to see Lady Watson on business. It was rather a strange thing to do; but Beatrice was new to social ways, and, moreover, could not, by reason of her scanty purse, run the risk of having to wait long in town without seeing her probable patroness.

Lady Watson lived in Kensington, and there Beatrice, not knowing the intricacies of the underground railway, drove all the way in a four-wheeler. But first, she went to a small and quiet hotel which was kept by a sister of Mrs. Lilly's. Here, thanks to the housekeeper's letter, Beatrice was received by the counterpart of Mrs. Lilly, and felt quite at home.

"You can stay here as long as you like, miss," said the landlady, when Beatrice asked for cheap apartments. "My sister has told me all about you, miss. A bedroom and sitting-room are waiting for you, miss; and we'll talk of payment on some future occasion."

Beatrice, worn out and feeling intensely lonely, could have wept because of the kindness of this reception. But she restrained her tears, as she had no desire to make her eyes red for the meeting with Lady Watson. She had some luncheon, and then dressed herself in her best mourning and took her way to the great lady's house, which was not very far away in a quiet square. Mrs. Quail, the landlady, sent a small servant to show Beatrice where the square was, and once there, the girl soon found the house by its number. But when she rang the bell, and stood alone on the doorstep, she felt very nervous. All the same her courage did not give way. The interview meant much to her, and she was determined to carry it through, cost what it might.

The footman who opened the door said that his mistress was within, and conducted Beatrice up a well-carpeted flight of wide, shallow stairs into the drawing-room. The house was well furnished, and in a rather frivolous way, which reflected the spirit of its mistress. On all hands in the drawing-room Beatrice saw evidence of waste of money in little things. Lady Watson apparently liked comfort, and spent with a lavish hand. In the midst of this modern splendour the girl felt lost, accustomed as she was to the plainest of houses. (And, indeed, as a carping critic might have said, she was not accustomed even to houses, seeing that she lived in a disused railway carriage!) However, Beatrice had little time for thought. Hardly had she cast a glance round the apartment when Lady Watson entered with a rush. She looked as young and wrinkled as ever, and was dressed in a soft tea-gown exquisitely made. At the distance she looked twenty, but when near, and in spite of the blinds being down, she looked nearly forty. However her eyes, brown and bright, twinkled as merrily as ever, and, to Beatrice's surprise, she flung her arms round her visitor's neck.

"My dear child," she rattled on, "I am glad to see you. I received your telegram, and stopped in, on purpose to see you. Of course you have come to be my companion? Your room is ready, and we will be such friends. Ah, you don't know how I love you!"

"Why should you?" asked Beatrice, rather surprised by this gushing reception, and mistrusting its truth.

"Oh, there are a thousand reasons. I'll tell you them later. Come, my dearest child, take off your jacket and hat, and----"

"No, Lady Watson. I have only come for a short visit I want you to get me a situation as a governess, and----"

"A governess with your beauty!" cried the little woman; "what nonsense! Let me look at you, dearest"; and she pulled up the near blind to let in the sunlight on the girl. It made Beatrice look like an angel, and Lady Watson aged in the golden splendour at least a dozen years.

"Oh, you are lovely, lovely! Why, what are you looking at? Oh, at my necklace! Beautiful diamonds are they not?"

"Yes." Beatrice, with white lips, recognised the necklace at once as that stolen by Maud Paslow. "But where did you get it?"

"Why do you ask that?" questioned Lady Watson sharply.

"It is the Obi necklace. You got it from Maud Orchard--from Vivian's wife."

"I--that is--what do you mean?" stammered Lady Watson, growing pale under her rouge. "It is mine--mine. Mr. Alpenny gave it to me."

"No. You are in this plot too. You know about the murder. I shall tell the police, I shall----" Beatrice, hardly knowing what she did, was about to rush from the room when Lady Watson stopped her.

"Wait," she said in a cracked scream; "if you denounce me, you ruin--your mother!"