The Crimson Blind

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It was after ten that Bell and Steel managed to convey Van Sneck to the
conservatory. The place was filled with brightness and scent and colour
and the afterglow of the sunshine. The artistic eye of the Dutchman
lighted up with genuine pleasure.

"They say you islanders are crude and cold, and have no sense of the
beautiful," he said. "But there are no houses anywhere to compare with
those of the better-class Englishman. Look at those colours blending--"

"Hang those colours," said Bell, vigorously. "Steel, there is nothing
like moisture to bring out the full fragrance of flowers. Turn on your
hose and give your plants a good watering."

"It's the proper time," David laughed. "Turn on the tap for me."

A cooling stream played on the flowers; plants dropped their heads filled
with the diamond moisture; the whole atmosphere was filled with the odour
of moist earth. Then the air seemed laden with the mingled scent.

"I can smell the soil," Van Sneck cried. "How good it is to smell
anything again! And I can just catch a suggestion of the perfume of
something familiar. What's that red bloom?"

He pointed to a creeper growing up the wall. David broke off a spray.

"That's a kind of Japanese passion flower," he said. "It has a lovely
full-flavoured scent like a mixture of violets and almonds. Smell it."

Van Sneck placed the wet dripping spray to his nose. Just for an instant
it conveyed nothing to him. Then he half rose with a triumphant cry.

"Steady there," said Bell. "You mustn't get up, you know. I see you are
excited. Has it come back to you again?"

"That's the scent," Van Sneck cried. "The air was full of that as I fell
backwards. And Henson stood over me exactly by that cracked tile where
Mr. Steel is now. Give me a moment and I shall be able to tell you
everything ... Oh, yes, the first time I slipped on purpose. I told you I
stumbled. But that was a ruse. And as I fell I took the ring from my
waistcoat-pocket ... Let me have another sniff of that bloom. Yes, I've
got it now quite clear."

"You know where the ring is?" David asked, eagerly.

"Well, not quite that. I took it from my pocket and pitched it away from
me ... I saw it fall on to a pot covered with moss, but I can't say which
pot or in which corner. I only know that I threw it over my shoulder, and
that it dropped into the thick moss that lies on the top of all the pots.
I laughed to myself as it fell, and I rejoiced to see that Henson knew
nothing of it."

"And it is still here?" Bell demanded.

Van Sneck nodded solemnly.

"I swear it," he said. "Prince Rupert's ring is in this conservatory."

CHAPTER LV

KICKED OUT

Reginald Henson had had more than one unpleasant surprise lately,
but none so painful as the sight of Lord Littimer seated in the
Longdean Grange drawing-room with the air of a man who is very much
at home indeed.

The place was strangely changed, too. There was an air of neatness and
order about the room that Henson had never seen before. The dust and dirt
had absolutely vanished; it might have been the home of any ordinary
wealthy and refined people. And all Lady Littimer's rags and patches had
disappeared. She was dressed in somewhat old-fashioned style, but
handsomely and well. She sat beside Littimer with a smile on her face.
But the cloud seemed to have rolled from her mind; her eyes were clear,
if a little frightened. From the glance that passed between Littimer and
herself it was easy to see that the misunderstanding was no more.

"You are surprised to see me here?" said Littimer.

Henson stammered out something and shrank towards, the door. Littimer
ordered him back again. He came with a slinking, dogged air; he avoided
the smiling contempt in Enid's eyes.

"My presence appears to be superfluous," he said, bitterly.

"And mine appears to be a surprise," Littimer replied. "Come, are you not
glad to see me, my heir and successor? What has become of the old
fawning, cringing smile? Why, if some of your future constituents could
see you now they might be justified in imagining that you had done
something wrong. Look at yourself."

Littimer indicated a long gilt mirror on the opposite wall. Henson
glanced at it involuntarily and dropped his eyes. Could that abject,
white-faced sneak be himself? Was that the man whose fine presence and
tender smile had charmed thousands? It seemed impossible.

"What have I done?" he asked.

"What have you not done?" Littimer thundered. "In the first place you did
your best to ruin Hatherly Bell's life. You robbed me of a picture to do
so, and your friend Merritt tried to rob me again. But I have both those
pictures now. You did that because you were afraid of Bell--afraid lest
he should see through your base motives. And you succeeded for a time,
for the coast was clear. And then you proceeded to rob me of my son by
one of the most contemptible tricks ever played by one man on another. It
was you who stole the money and the ring; you who brought about all that
sorrow and trouble by means of a forgery. But there are other people on
your track as well as myself. You were at your last gasp. You were coming
to see me to sell that ring for a large sum to take you out of the
country, and then you discovered that you hadn't really got the ring."

"What--what are you talking about?" Henson asked, feebly.

"Scoundrel!" Littimer cried. "Innocent and pure to the last. I know all
about Van Sneck and those forgeries of Prince Rupert's ring. And I know
how Van Sneck was nearly done to death in Mr. Steel's house; and I know
why--good heavens! It seems impossible that I could have been deceived
all these years by such a slimy, treacherous scoundrel. And I might have
gone on still but for a woman--"

"A lady detective," Henson sneered. "Miss Lee."

Littimer smiled. It was good, after all, to defeat and hoodwink
the rascal.

"Miss Chris Henson," he said. "It never occurred to you that Miss Chris
and Miss Lee were one and the same person. You never guessed. And she
played with you as if you had been a child. How beautifully she exposed
you over those pictures. Ah, you should have seen your face when you saw
the stolen Rembrandt back again in its place. And after that you were mad
enough to think that I trusted you. My dear, what shall we do with this
pretty fellow?"

Lady Littimer shook her head doubtfully. It was plain that the presence
of Henson disturbed her. There was just a suggestion of the old madness
in her eyes.

"Send him away," she said. "Let him go."

"Send him away by all means," Littimer went on. "But letting him go is
another matter. If we do the police will pick him up on other charges.
There is a certain consolation in knowing that his evil career is likely
to be shortened by some years. But I shall have no mercy. Scotland Yard
shall know everything."

There was a cold ring in Littimer's voice that told Henson of his
determination to carry out his threat. The other troubles he might
wriggle out of, but this one was terribly real. It was time to try
conciliation.

"It will be a terrible scandal for the family, my lord," he whined.

Littimer rose to his feet. A sudden anger flared into his eyes. He was a
smaller man than Henson, but the latter cowed before him.

"You dog!" he cried. "What greater scandal than that of the past few
years? Does not all the world know that there is, or has been, some heavy
cloud over the family honour? Lord and Lady Littimer have parted, and her
ladyship has gone away. That is only part of what the gossips have said.
And in these domestic differences it is always the woman who suffers.
Everybody always says that the woman has done something wrong. For years
my wife has been under this stigma. If she had chosen to keep before the
world after she left me most people would have ignored her. And you talk
to me of a family scandal!"

"You will only make bad worse, my lord."

"No," Littimer cried. "I am going to make bad infinitely better. We come
together again, but we say nothing of the past. And the world sneers and
says the past is ignored for politic considerations. And so the public
is going to know the truth, you dog. The whole facts of the case have
gone to my solicitor, and by this time to-morrow a warrant will be
issued against you. And I shall stand in open court and tell the whole
world my story."

"In fairness to Lady Littimer," said Enid, speaking for the first time,
"you could do no less."

"You were always against me," Henson snarled

"Because I always knew you," said Enid. "And the more I knew of you the
greater was my contempt. And you came here ever on the same
errand--money, money, money. From first to last you have robbed my aunt
of something like L70,000. And always by threats or the promise that you
would some day restore the ring to the family."

"As to the ring," Henson protested, "I swear--"

"I suppose a lie more or less makes no difference to an expert like
yourself," Enid went on, with cold contempt. "You took advantage of my
aunt's misfortunes. Ah, she is a different woman since Lord Littimer came
here. But her sorrow has crushed her down, and that forgery of the ring
you dangled before her eyes deceived her."

"I never showed her the ring," Henson said, brazenly.

"And you can look me in the face and say that? One night Lady Littimer
snatched it from you and ran into the garden. You followed and struggled
for the ring. And Mr. David Steel, who stood close by, felled you to the
earth with a blow on the side of your head. I wonder he didn't kill you.
I should have done so in his place. And yet it would be a pity to hang
anyone for your death. See here!"

Enid produced the ring from her pocket. Lord Littimer looked at it
intently.

"Have you seen this before, my dear?" he asked his wife.

"Many a time," Lady Littimer said, sadly. "Take it away, it reminds me of
too many bitter memories. Take it out of my sight."

"An excellent forgery," Littimer murmured. "A forgery calculated
to deceive many experts even. I will compare it with the original
by and by."

Henson listened with a sinking feeling at his heart. Was it possible, he
wondered, that Lord Littimer had really recovered the original? He had
had hopes of getting it back even now, and making it the basis of terms
of surrender. Lady Littimer snatched the ring from Littimer's grasp and
threw it through the open window into the garden.

She stood up facing Henson, her head thrown back, her eyes flaming with a
new resolution. It seemed hardly possible to believe that this fine,
handsome woman with the white hair could be the poor demented creature
that the others once had known.

"Reginald Henson, listen to me," she cried. "For your own purpose you
cruelly and deliberately set out to wreck the happiness of several lives.
For mere money you did this; for sheer love of dissipation you committed
this crime. You nearly deprived me of my reason. I say nothing about the
money, because that is nothing by comparison. But the years that are lost
can never come back to me again. When I think of the past and the past of
my poor, unhappy boy I feel that I have no forgiveness for you. If
you--Oh, go away; don't stay here--go. If I had known you were coming I
should have forbidden you the house. Your mere presence unnerves me.
Littimer, send him away."

Littimer rose to his feet and rang the bell.

"You will be good enough to rid me of your hateful presence," he said,
"at once; now go."

But Henson still stood irresolute. He fidgeted from one foot to the
other. He seemed to have some trouble that he could find no
expression for.

"I want to go away," he murmured. "I want to leave the country. But at
the present moment I am practically penniless. If you would advance me--"

Littimer laughed aloud.

"Upon my word," he said, "your coolness is colossal. I am going to
prosecute you, I am doing my best to bring you into the dock. And you ask
me--_me_, of all men--to find you money so that you can evade justice!
Have you not had enough--are you never satisfied? Williams, will you see
Mr. Henson off the premises?"

The smiling Williams bowed low.

"With the greatest possible pleasure, my lord," he said. "Any further
orders, my lord?"

"And he is not to come here again, you understand." Williams seemed to
understand perfectly. With one backward sullen glance Henson quitted the
room and passed into the night with his companion. Williams was whistling
cheerfully, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

"Is that how you treat a gentleman?" Henson demanded.

"I ain't a gentleman," Williams said. "Never set up to be. And I ain't a
dirty rascal who has just been kicked out of a nobleman's house. Here,
stop that. Try that game on again and I'll call the dogs. And don't show
me any of your airs, please. I'm only a servant, but I am an honest man."

Henson stifled his anger as best he could. He was too miserable and
downcast to think of much besides himself at present. Once the
lodge-gates were open, Williams stood aside for him to pass. The
temptation was irresistible. And Henson's back was turned. With a kick of
concentrated contempt and fury Williams shot Henson into the road, where
he landed full on his face. His cup of humiliation was complete.

CHAPTER LVI

WHITE FANGS

Henson took his weary way in the direction of Brighton. He had but a few
pounds he could call his own, and not nearly enough to get away from the
country, and at any moment he might be arrested. He was afraid to go back
to his lodgings for fear of Merritt. That Merritt would kill him if he
got the chance he felt certain. And Merritt was one of those dogged,
patient types who can wait any time for the gratification of their
vengeance.

Merritt was pretty certain to be hanging about for his opportunity. On
the whole the best thing would be to walk straight to the Central
Brighton Station and take the first train in the morning to town. There
he could see Gates--who as yet knew nothing--and from him it would be
possible to borrow a hundred or two, and then get away. And there were
others besides Gates.

Henson trudged away for a mile or so over the downs. Then he came down
from the summit of the castle he was building with a rude shock to earth
again. A shadow seemed to rise from the ground, a heavy clutch was on his
shoulder, and a hoarse voice was in his ear.

"Got you!" the voice said. "I knew they'd kick you out yonder, and I
guessed you'd sneak home across the downs. And I've fairly copped you!"

Henson's knees knocked together. Physically he was a far stronger and
bigger man than Merritt, but he was taken unawares, and his nerves had
been sadly shaken of late.

Merritt forced him backwards until he lay on the turf with his antagonist
kneeling on his chest. He dared not struggle, he dared not exert himself.
Presently he might get a chance, and if he did it would go hard with
James Merritt.

"What are you going to do?" he gasped.

Merritt drew a big, jagged stone towards him with one foot.

"I'm going to bash your brains out with this," he said, hoarsely. His
eyes were gleaming, and in the dim light his mouth was set like a steel
trap. "I'm going to have a little chat with you first, and then down this
comes on the top of your skull, and it'll smash you like a bloomin'
eggshell. Your time's come, Henson. Say your prayers."

"I can't," Henson whined. "And what have I done?"

Merritt rocked heavily on the other's breastbone, almost stifling him.
"Wot?" he said, scoffingly. The pleasing mixture of gin and fog in his
throat rendered him more hideously hoarse than usual. "Not make up a
prayer! And you a regular dab at all that game! Why, I've seen the women
snivellin' like babies when you've been ladlin' it out. Heavens, what a
chap you would be on the patter! How you would kid the chaplain!"

"Merritt, you're crushing the life out of me."

Merritt ceased his rocking for a moment, and the laughter died out of his
gleaming eyes.

"I don't want to be prematoor," he said. "Yes, you'd make a lovely
chaplain's pet, but I can't spare you. I'm going to smash that 'ere wily
brain of yours, so as it won't be useful any more. I'll teach you to put
the narks on to a poor chap like myself."

"Merritt, I swear to you that I never--"

"You can swear till you're black in the face, and you can keep on
swearing till you're lily-white again, and then it won't be any good. You
gave me away to Taylor because you were afraid I should do you harm at
Littimer Castle. That Daisy Bell of a girl there told me so."

Henson groaned. It was not the least part of his humiliation that a mere
girl got the better of him in this way. And what on earth had she known
of Reuben Taylor? But the fact remained that she had known, and that she
had warned Merritt of his danger. It was the one unpardonable crime in
Henson's decalogue, the one thing Merritt could not forgive.

Henson's time was come. He did not need anyone to tell him that. Unless
something in the nature of a miracle happened, he was a dead man in a few
moments; and life had never seemed quite so sweet as it tasted at the
present time.

"You gave me away for no reason at all," Merritt went on. "I'm a pretty
bad lot, but I never rounded on a pal yet, and never shall. More than one
of them have served me bad, but I always let them go their own way, and
I've been a good and faithful servant to you--"

"It was not you," Henson gurgled, "that I wrote that letter about, but--"

"Chuck it," Merritt said, furiously. "Tell me any more of your lies and
I'll smash your jaw in for you. It _was_ me. I spotted Scotter in Moreton
Wells within a day or two. And Mr. Scotter had come for me. And I got
past Bronson in Brighton by the skin of my teeth. I turned into your
lodgings under his very eyes almost. Before this time to-morrow I shall
be arrested. But I'm going to have my vengeance first."

The last words came with intense deliberation. There was no mistaking
their significance. Henson deemed it wise to try another tack.

"I was wrong," he said, humbly. "I am very, very sorry; I lost my nerve
and got frightened, Merritt. But there is time yet. You always make more
money with me than with anybody else. And I'm going abroad presently."

"Oh, you're going abroad, are you?" Merritt said, slowly. "Going to
travel in a Pullman car and put up at all the Courts of Europe. And I'm
coming as chief secretary to the Grand Panjandrum himself. Sound an
alluring kind of programme."

"I'll give you a hundred pounds to get away with if you will--"

"Got a hundred pounds of my own in my pocket at the present moment," was
the unexpected reply. "As you gave me away, consequently I gave you away
to his lordship, and he planked down a hundred canaries like the swell
that he is. So I don't want your company or your money. And I'm going to
finish you right away."

The big stone was poised over Henson's head. He could see the jagged
part, and in imagination feel it go smashing into his brain. The time for
action had come. He snatched at Merritt's right arm and drew the knotted
fingers down. The next instant and he had bitten Merritt's thumb to the
bone. With a cry of rage and pain the stone was dropped. Henson snatched
it up and fairly lifted Merritt off his chest with a blow under the chin.

Merritt rolled over on the grass, and Henson was on his feet in an
instant. The great stone went down perilously near to Merritt's head.
Still snarling and frothing from the pain Merritt stumbled to his feet
and dashed a blow blindly at the other.

In point of size and strength there was only one in it. Had Henson stood
up to his opponent on equal terms there could only have been one issue.
But his nerves were shattered, he was nothing like the man he had been
two months ago. At the first onslaught he turned and fled towards the
town, leaving Merritt standing there in blank amazement.

"Frightened of me," he muttered. "But this ain't the way it's going
to finish."

He darted off in hot pursuit; he raced across a rising shoulder of the
hill and cut off Henson's retreat. The latter turned and scurried back in
the direction of Long-dean Grange, with Merritt hot on his heels. He
could not shake the latter off.

Merritt was plodding doggedly on, pretty sure of his game. He was hard as
nails, whereas good living and a deal of drinking, quite in a gentlemanly
way, had told heavily on Henson. Unless help came unexpectedly Henson was
still in dire peril. There was just a chance that a villager might be
about; but Longdean was more or less a primitive place, and most of the
houses there had been in darkness for hours.

His foot slipped, he stumbled, and Merritt, with a whoop of triumph, was
nearly upon him. But it was only a stagger, and he was soon going again.
Still, Merritt was close behind him; Henson could almost feel his hot
breath on his neck. And he was breathing heavily and distressfully
himself, whilst he could hear how steadily Merritt's lungs were working.
He could see the lights of Longdean Grange below him; but they seemed a
long way off, whilst that steady pursuit behind had something relentless
and nerve-destroying about it.

They were pounding through the village now. Henson gave vent to one cry
of distress, but nothing came of it but the mocking echo of his own voice
from a distant belt of trees. Merritt shot out a short, sneering laugh.
He had not expected flagrant cowardice like this. He made a sudden spurt
forward and caught Henson by the tail of his coat.

With a howl of fear the latter tore himself away, and Merritt reeled
backwards. He came down heavily over a big stone, and at the same moment
Henson trod on a hedge-stake. He grabbed it up and half turned upon his
foe. But the sight of Merritt's grim face was too much for him, and he
turned and resumed his flight once more.

He yelled again as he reached the lodge-gates, but the only response was
the barking and howling of the dogs in the thick underwood beyond. There
was no help for it. Doubtless the deaf old lodge-keeper had been in bed
hours ago. Even the dogs were preferable to Merritt. Henson scrambled
headlong over the wall and crashed through the thickets beyond.

Merritt pulled up, panting with his exertion.

"Gone to cover," he muttered. "I don't fancy I'll follow. The dogs there
might have a weakness for tearing my throat out and Henson will keep,
I'll just hang about here till daylight and wait for my gentleman. And
I'll follow him to the end of the earth."

Meanwhile Henson blundered on blindly, fully under the impression that
Merritt was still upon his trail. One of the hounds, a puppy three parts
grown, rose and playfully pulled at his coat. It was sheer play, but at
the same time it was a terrible handicap, and in his fear Henson lost all
his horror of the dogs.

"Loose, you brute," he panted. "Let go, I say. Very well, take that!"

He paused and brought the heavy stake down full on the dog's muzzle.
There was a snarling scream of pain, and the big pup sprang for his
assailant. An old, grey hound came up and seemed to take in the situation
at a glance. With a deep growl he bounded at Henson and caught him by the
throat. Before the ponderous impact of that fine free spring Henson went
down heavily to the ground.

"Help!" he gurgled. "Help! help! help!"

The worrying teeth had been firmly fixed, the ponderous weight pressed
all the breath from Henson's distressed lungs. He gurgled once again,
gave a little shuddering sigh, and the world dwindled to a thick sheet of
blinding darkness.

CHAPTER LVII

HIDE-AND-SEEK

Bell's professional enthusiasm got the better of his curiosity for the
moment. It was a nice psychological problem. Already Steel was
impulsively busy in the conservatory pulling the pots down. It was a
regretful thing to have to do, but everything had to be sacrificed, David
shut his teeth grimly and proceeded with his task.

"What on earth are you doing?" Bell asked, with a smile.

"Pulling the place to pieces," David responded. "I daresay I shall feel
pretty sick about it later on, but the thing has to be done. Cut those
wires for me, and let those creepers down as tenderly as possible. We
can't get to the little pots until we have moved the big ones."

Bell coolly declined to do anything of the kind. He surveyed the two
graceful banks of flowers there, the carefully trained creepers trailing
so naturally and yet so artistically from the roof to the ground, and the
sight pleased him.

"My dear chap," he said, "I am not going to sit here and allow you to
destroy the work of so many hours. There is not the slightest reason to
disturb anything. Unless I am greatly mistaken, Van Sneck will lay his
had upon the ring for us without so much as the sacrifice of a blossom."

"I don't fancy so," Van Sneck replied. "I can't remember."

"Well, you are going to," Bell said, cheerfully. "Did you ever hear of
artificial memory?"

"The sort of thing you get in law courts and political speeches?" David
suggested. "All the same, if you have some patent way of getting at the
facts I shall be only too glad to spare my poor flowers. Their training
has been a labour of love with me."

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