' JV
 
 THE SECRET 
 OF THE TOWER 
 
 . OP CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELS*
 
 THE SECRET 
 OF THE TOWER 
 
 BY I 
 
 ANTHONY HOPE t"S ^ i 
 
 AUTHOR " " THE PRISONER OF ZBNDA." " BUPEKT OF HENTZATJ." ETC. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 1919
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
 
 ANTHONY HOPE HAWKINS 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FAGX 
 
 I. DOCTOB MABY'S PAYING GUEST 1 
 
 n. THE GENFBAL REMEMBERS 16 
 
 III. MB. SAFFBON AT HOME 38 
 
 IV. PBOFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 48 
 
 V. A FAMILJAB IMPLEMENT 65 
 
 VI. ODD STOBT OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE! ...... 81 
 
 VII. A GENTLEMANLY STBANGEB 99 
 
 VIII. CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE .... 117 
 rf 
 
 IX. DOCTOB MABY'S ULTIMATUM 134 
 
 X. THAT MAGICAL WOBD MOBOCCO! . . . . 154 
 
 XI. THE CAB BEHIND THE TBEES 173 
 
 XII. THE SECRET OF THE TOWEB 189 
 
 XIII. RIGHT OF CONQUEST 204 
 
 XIV. THE SCEPTEB IN THE GBAVE 223 
 
 XV. A NOBMAL CASE 240 
 
 XVI. DEAD MAJESTY 258 
 
 XVII. THE CHIEF MOUBNEBS 275 
 
 XVIII. THE GOLD AND THE TBEASUBE 292 
 
 2130270

 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 "JusT in time, wasn't it?" asked Mary Ark- 
 royd. 
 
 "Two days before the the ceremony 1 Merci- 
 fully it had all been kept very quiet, because it 
 was only three months since poor Gilly was 
 killed. I forget whether you ever met Gilly? 
 My half-brother, you know?" 
 
 "Only once in Collingham Gardens. He 
 had an exeat, and dashed in one Saturday morn- 
 ing when we were just finishing our work. 
 Don't you remember?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I do. But since my engage- 
 ment I'd gone into colors. Oh, of course I've 
 gone back into mourning now 1 And everything 
 
 1
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 was ready settlements and so on, you know. 
 And rooms taken at Bournemouth. And then 
 it all came out!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Well, Eustace Captain Cranster, I mean. 
 Oh, I think he really must have had shell-shock, 
 as he said, even though the doctor seemed to 
 doubt it I He gave the Colonel as a reference in 
 some shop, and and the bank wouldn't pay the 
 check. Other checks turned up, too, and in the 
 end the police went through his papers, and 
 found letters from well, from her, you know. 
 From Bogota. South America, isn't it? He'd 
 lived there ten years, you know, growing some- 
 thing beans, or coffee, or coffee-beans, or 
 something I don't know what. He tried to 
 say the marriage wasn't binding, but the Colonel 
 wasn't it providential that the Colonel was 
 home on leave? Mamma could never have grap- 
 pled with it! The Colonel was sure it was, and 
 so were the lawyers." 
 
 "What happened then?" 
 
 "The great thing was to keep it quiet. Now,
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 wasn't it? And there was the shell-shock or 
 so Eustace Captain Cranster, I mean said, 
 anyhow. So, on the Colonel's advice, Mamma 
 squared the check business and and they gave 
 him twenty-four hours to clear out. Papa I 
 call the Colonel Papa, you know, though he's 
 really my stepfather used a little influence, I 
 think. Anyhow it was managed. I never saw 
 him again, Mary." 
 
 "Poor dear! Was it very bad?" 
 
 "Yes! But suppose we had been married! 
 Mary, where should I have been?" 
 
 Mary Arkroyd left that problem alone. 
 "Were you very fond of him?" she asked. 
 
 "Awfully!" Cynthia turned up to her friend 
 pretty blue eyes suffused in tears. "It was the 
 end of the world to me. That there could be 
 such men! I went to bed. Mamma could do 
 nothing with me. Oh, well, she wrote to you 
 about all that." 
 
 "She told me you were in a pretty bad way." 
 
 "I was just desperate! Then one day in 
 bed the thought of you came. It seemed an 
 
 8
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 absolute inspiration. I remembered the card 
 you sent on my last birthday you've never for- 
 gotten my birthdays, though it's years since we 
 met with your new address here and your 
 'Doctor,' and all the letters after your name! I 
 thought it rather funny." A faint smile, the first 
 since Miss Walford's arrival at Inkston, prob- 
 ably the first since Captain Eustace Cranster's 
 shell-shock had wrought catastrophe appeared 
 on her lips. "How I waited for your answer! 
 You don't mind having me, do you, dear? 
 Mamma insisted on suggesting the P.G. ar- 
 rangement. I was afraid you'd shy at it." 
 
 "Not a bit! I should have liked to have you 
 anyhow, but I can make you much more com- 
 fortable with the P.G. money. And your maid 
 too she looks as if she was accustomed to the 
 best! By the way, need she be quite so tearful? 
 She's more tearful than you are yourself." 
 
 "Jeanne's very, very fond of me," Cynthia 
 murmured reproachfully. 
 
 "Oh, we'll get her out of that," said Mary 
 briskly. "The tears, I mean, not the fondness. 
 
 4
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 I'm very fond of you myself. Six years ago 
 you were a charming kitten, and I used to enjoy 
 being your Visiting governess' to say nothing 
 of finding the guineas very handy while I was 
 waiting to qualify. You're rather like a kitten 
 still, one of those blue-eyed ones Siamese, 
 aren't they? with close fur and a wondering 
 look. But you mustn't mew down here, and 
 you must have lots of milk and cream. Even 
 if rations go on, I can certify all the extras 
 for you. That's the good of being a doctor!" 
 She laughed cheerfully as she took a cigarette 
 from the mantelpiece and lit it. 
 
 Cynthia, on the other hand, began to sob 
 prettily and not in a noisy fashion, yet evidently 
 heading towards a bout of grief. Moreover, no 
 sooner had the first sound of lamentation es- 
 caped from her lips, than the door was opened 
 smartly and a buxom girl, in lady's maid uni- 
 form, rushed in, darted across the room, and 
 knelt by Cynthia, sobbing also and exclaiming, 
 "Oh, my poor Mees Cynthia!" 
 
 Mary smiled in a humorous contempt. 
 
 5
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 animations she had a high opinion of her own 
 common sense and her power of guiding weaker 
 mortals. 
 
 For all that Jeanne's cheek bulged with a 
 chocolate, there was open resentment on her 
 full, pouting lips, and a hint of the same feeling 
 in Cynthia's still liquid eyes, when mistress and 
 maid came downstairs again. Without heeding 
 these signs, Mary drew on her gauntlets, took 
 her walking-stick, and fiung the hall door open. 
 A rush of cold wind filled the little hall. Jeanne 
 shivered ostentatiously; Cynthia sighed and 
 muffled herself deeper in her fur collar. "A 
 good walking day!" said Mary decisively. 
 
 Up to now, Inkston had not impressed Cyn- 
 thia Walford very favorably. It was indeed a 
 mixed kind of a place. "Like many villages 
 which lie near to London and have been made, 
 by modern developments, more accessible than 
 once they were, it showed chronological strata In 
 its buildings. Down by the station all was new, 
 red, suburban. Mounting the tarred road, the 
 wayfarer bore slightly to the right along the 
 
 8
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 original village street; bating the aggressive 
 "fronts" of one or two commercial innovators, 
 this was old, calm, serene, gray in tone and 
 restful, ornamented by three or four good class 
 Georgian houses, one quite fine, with well 
 wrought iron gates (this was Dr. Irechester's) ; 
 turning to the right again, but more sharply, the 
 wayfarer found himself once more in villadom, 
 but a villadom more ornate, more costly, with 
 gardens to be measured in acres or nearly. 
 This was Hinton Avenue (Hinton because it 
 was the maiden name of the builder's wife; 
 Avenue because avenue is genteel) . Here Mary 
 dwelt, but by good luck her predecessor, Dr. 
 Christian Evans, had seized upon a surviving 
 old cottage at the end of the avenue, and, indeed, 
 of Inkston village itself. Beyond it stretched 
 meadows, while the road, turning again, ran 
 across an open heath, and .pursued its way to 
 Sprotsfield, four miles distant, a place of greater 
 size where all amenities could be found. 
 
 It was along this road that the friends now 
 walked, Mary setting a brisk pace. "When
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 once you've turned your back on the Avenue, it's 
 heaps better," she said. "Might be real country, 
 looking this way, mightn't it? Except the Nay- 
 lors' place Oh, and Tower Cottage there are 
 no houses between this and Sprotsfield." 
 
 The wind blew shrewdly, with an occasional 
 spatter of rain ; the withered bracken lay like a 
 vast carpet of dull copper-color under the cloudy 
 sky; scattered fir-trees made fantastic shapes in 
 the early gloom of a December day. A somber 
 scene, yet wanting only sunshine to make it 
 flash in a richness of color; even to-day its quiet 
 and spaciousness, its melancholy and monotony, 
 seemed to bid a sympathetic and soothing wel- 
 come to aching and fretted hearts. 
 
 "It really is rather nice out here," Cynthia 
 admitted. 
 
 "I come almost every afternoon. Oh, I've 
 plenty of time ! My round in the morning gen- 
 erally sees me through except for emergencies, 
 births and deaths, and so on. You see, my pre- 
 decessor, poor Christian Evans, never had more 
 than the leavings, and that's all I've got. I 
 
 10
 
 DOCTOE MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 believe the real doctor, the old-established one, 
 Dr. Irechester, was angry at first with Dr. 
 Evans for coming; he didn't want a rival. But 
 Christian was such a meek, mild, simple little 
 Welshman, not the least pushing or ambitious; 
 and very soon Dr. Irechester, who's quite well 
 off, was glad to leave him the dirty work, I mean 
 (she explained, smiling) the cottages, and the 
 panel work, National Insurance, you know, and 
 so on. Well, as you know, I came down as 
 locum for Christian, he was a fellow-student of 
 mine, and when the dear little man was killed 
 in France, Dr. Irechester himself suggested that 
 I should stay on. He was rather nice. He 
 said, 'We all started to laugh at you, at first, 
 but we don't laugh now, anyhow, only my wife 
 does ! So, if you stay on, I don't doubt we shall 
 work very well together, my dear colleague.' 
 Wasn't that rather nice of him, Cynthia?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," said Cynthia, in a voice that 
 sounded a good many miles away. 
 
 Mary laughed. "I'm bound to be interested 
 in you, but I suppose you're not bound to be 
 
 11
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 interested in me," she observed resignedly. "All 
 the same, I made a sensation at Inkston just at 
 first. And they were even more astonished when 
 it turned out that I could dance and play lawn 
 tennis." 
 
 "That's a funny little place," said Cynthia, 
 pointing to the left side of the road. 
 
 "Tower Cottage, that's called." 
 
 "But what a funny place!" Cynthia insisted. 
 "A round tower, like a Martello tower, only 
 smaller, of course; and what looks just like an 
 ordinary cottage or small farm-house joined on 
 to it. What could the tower have been for?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know. Origin lost in the 
 mists of antiquity! An old gentleman named 
 Saffron lives there now." 
 
 "A patient of yours, Mary?" 
 
 "Oh, no! He's well off, rich, I believe. So 
 he belongs to Dr. Irechester. But I often meet 
 him along the road. Lately there's always been 
 a younger man with him, a companion, or secre- 
 tary, or something of that sort, I hear he is." 
 
 12
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 "There are two men coming along the road 
 now." 
 
 "Yes, that's them, the old man, and his friend. 
 He's rather striking to look at." 
 
 "Which of them?" 
 
 "The old man, of course. I haven't looked at 
 the secretary. Cynthia, I believe you're begin- 
 ning to feel a little better!" 
 
 "Oh, no, I'm not! I'm afraid I'm not, 
 really I" But there had been a cheerfully roguish 
 little smile on her face. It vanished very 
 promptly when observed. 
 
 The two men approached them, on their way, 
 no doubt, to Tower Cottage. The old man was 
 not above middle height, indeed, scarcely reached 
 it; but he made the most of his inches carrying 
 himself very upright, with an air of high dignity. 
 Close-cut white hair showed under an old- 
 fashioned peaked cap; he wore a plaid shawl 
 swathed round him, his left arm being enveloped 
 in its folds; his right rested in the arm of his 
 companion, who was taller than he, lean and 
 loose-built, clad in an almost white (and very; 
 
 13
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 unseasonable looking) suit of some homespun 
 material. He wore no covering on his head, a 
 thick crop of curly hair (of a color indistinguish- 
 able in the dim light) presumably affording such 
 protection as he needed. His face was turned 
 down towards the old man, who was looking up 
 at him and apparently talking to him, though 
 in so low a tone that no sound reached Mary 
 and Cynthia as they passed by. Neither man 
 gave any sign of noticing their presence. 
 
 "Mr. Saffron, you said? Rather a queer name, 
 but he looks a nice old man; patriarchal, you 
 know. What's the name of the other one?" 
 
 "I did hear; somebody mentioned him at the 
 Naylors' somebody who had heard something 
 about him in France. What was the name? It 
 was something queer too, I think." 
 
 "They've got queer names, and they live in 
 a queer house!" Cynthia actually gave a little 
 laugh. "But are you going to walk all night, 
 Mary dear?" 
 
 "Oh, poor thing! I forgot you! You're 
 tired? We'll turn back." 
 
 14
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST 
 
 They retraced their steps, again passing 
 Tower Cottage, into which its occupants must 
 have gone, for they were no longer to be seen. 
 
 "That name's on the tip of my tongue," said 
 Mary in amused vexation. "I shall get it in a 
 moment !" 
 
 . Cynthia had relapsed into gloom. "It doesn't 
 matter in the least," she murmured. 
 
 "It's Beaumaroy!" said Mary in triumph. 
 
 "I don't wonder you couldn't remember that 1"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 AMONGST other various, and no doubt useful, 
 functions, Miss Delia Wall performed that of 
 gossip and news agent-general to the village of 
 Inkston. A hard-featured, swarthy spinster of 
 forty, with a roving, inquisitive, yet not un- 
 kindly eye, she perambulated or rather per- 
 cycled the district, taking stock of every in- 
 cident. Not a cat could kitten or a dog have 
 the mange without her privity; critics of her 
 mental activity went near to insinuating con- 
 nivance. Naturally, therefore, she was well 
 acquainted with the new development at Tower 
 Cottage, although the isolated position of that 
 dwelling made thorough observation piquantly 
 difficult. She laid her information before an 
 attentive, if not very respectful, audience gath- 
 ered round the tea-table at Old Place, the 
 
 16
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 Naylors' handsome house on the outskirts of 
 Sprotsfield and on the far side of the heath from 
 Inkston. She was enjoying herself, although 
 she was, as usual, a trifle distrustful of the quality 
 of Mr. Naylor's smile; it smacked of the satiric. 
 "He looks at you as if you were a specimen," 
 she had once been heard to complain; and, when 
 she said "specimen," it was obviously beetles that 
 she had in mind. 
 
 "Everybody knows old Mr. Saffron by sight, 
 I mean and the woman who does for him," she 
 said. "There's never been anything remarkable 
 about them. He took his walk as regular as 
 clockwork every afternoon, and she bought just 
 the same things every week ; her books must have 
 tallied almost to a penny every month, Mrs. 
 Naylor! I know it! And it was a very rare 
 thing indeed for Mr. Saffron to go to London 
 though I have known him to be away once or 
 twice. But very, very rarely I" She paused and 
 added dramatically, "Until the armistice!" 
 
 "Full of ramifications, that event, Miss Wall. 
 It affects even my business." Mr. Naylor, 
 
 17
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 though now withdrawn from an active share in 
 its conduct, was still interested in the large ship- 
 ping firm from which he had drawn his com- 
 fortable fortune. 
 
 She looked at him suspiciously, as he put the 
 ends of the slender white fingers of his two 
 hands together, and leant forward to listen with 
 that smile of his and eyes faintly twinkling. But 
 the problem was seething in her brain; she had 
 to go on. 
 
 "A week after the armistice Mr. Saffron went 
 to London by the 9.50. He traveled first, 
 Anna." 
 
 "Did he, dear?" Mrs. Naylor, a stout and 
 placid dame, was not yet stirred to excitement. 
 
 "He came down by the 4.11, and those two 
 men with him. And they've been there ever 
 since!" 
 
 "Two men, Delia! I've only seen one." 
 
 "Oh yes, there's another! Sergeant Hooper 
 they call him; a short thickset man with a black 
 mustache. He buys two bottles of rum every 
 
 18
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 week at the Green Man. And one minute, 
 please, Mr. Naylor " 
 
 "I was only going to say that it looks to me 
 as if this man Hooper were, or had been, a 
 soldier. What do you think?" 
 
 "Never mind, Papa! Go on, Miss Wall. I'm 
 interested." This encouragement came from 
 Gertie Naylor, a pretty girl of seventeen who 
 was consuming much tea, bread, and honey. 
 
 "And since then the old gentleman and this 
 Mr. Beaumaroy go to town regularly every 
 week on Wednesdays! Now who are they, how 
 did Mr. Saffron get hold of them, and what are 
 they doing here? I'm at a loss, Anna." 
 
 Apparently an impasse! And Mr. Naylor did 
 not seem to assist matters by asking whether 
 Miss Wall had kept a constant eye on the 
 Agony Column. Mrs. Naylor took up her knit- 
 ting and switched off to another topic. 
 
 "Dr. Arkroyd's friend, Delia dear! What a 
 charming girl she looks!" 
 
 "Friend, Anna? I didn't know thatl A 
 patient, I understand, anyhow. She's taking 
 
 19
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 though now withdrawn from an active share in 
 its conduct, was still interested in the large ship- 
 ping firm from which he had drawn his com- 
 fortable fortune. 
 
 She looked at him suspiciously, as he put the 
 ends of the slender white fingers of his two 
 hands together, and leant forward to listen with 
 that smile of his and eyes faintly twinkling. But 
 the problem was seething in her brain; she had 
 to go on. 
 
 "A week after the armistice Mr. Saffron went 
 to London by the 9.50. He traveled first, 
 Anna." 
 
 "Did he, dear?" Mrs. Naylor, a stout and 
 placid dame, was not yet stirred to excitement. 
 
 "He came down by the 4.11, and those two 
 men with him. And they've been there ever 
 since!" 
 
 "Two men, Delia! I've only seen one." 
 
 "Oh yes, there's another! Sergeant Hooper 
 they call him; a short thickset man with a black 
 mustache. He buys two bottles of rum every 
 
 IS
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 week at the Green Man. And one minute, 
 please, Mr. Naylor " 
 
 "I was only going to say that it looks to me 
 as if this man Hooper were, or had been, a 
 soldier. What do you think?" 
 
 "Never mind, Papa! Go on, Miss Wall. I'm 
 interested." This encouragement came from 
 Gertie Naylor, a pretty girl of seventeen who 
 was consuming much tea, bread, and honey. 
 
 "And since then the old gentleman and this 
 Mr. Beaumaroy go to town regularly every 
 week on Wednesdays! Now who are they, how 
 did Mr. Saffron get hold of them, and what are 
 they doing here? I'm at a loss, Anna." 
 
 Apparently an impasse! And Mr. Naylor did 
 not seem to assist matters by asking whether 
 Miss Wall had kept a constant eye on the 
 Agony Column. Mrs. Naylor took up her knit- 
 ting and switched off to another topic. 
 
 "Dr. Arkroyd's friend, Delia dear! What a 
 charming girl she looks!" 
 
 "Friend, Anna? I didn't know that! A 
 patient, I understand, anyhow. She's taking 
 
 19
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Valentine's beef juice. Of course they do give 
 that in drink cases, but I should be sorry to 
 think " 
 
 "Drugs, more likely," Mr. Naylor suavely 
 interposed. Then he rose from his chair and 
 began to pace slowly up and down the long 
 room, looking at his beautiful pictures, his 
 beautiful china, his beautiful chairs, all the 
 beautiful things that were his. His family took 
 no notice of this roving up and down; it was a 
 habit, and was tacitly accepted as meaning that 
 he had, for the moment, had enough of the com- 
 pany, and even of his own sallies at its expense. 
 
 "I've asked Dr. Arkroyd to bring her over, 
 Miss Walford, I mean, the first day it's fine 
 enough for tennis," Mrs. Naylor pursued. There 
 was a hard court at Old Place, so that winter 
 did not stop the game entirely. 
 
 "What a name, too!" 
 
 "Walford? It's quite a good name, Delia." 
 
 "No, no, Anna! Beaumaroy, of course." 
 Miss Wall was back at the larger problem. 
 
 "There's Alec's voice. He and the General 
 20
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 are back from their golf. Ring for another tea- 
 pot, Gertie dear!" 
 
 The door opened, not Alec, but the General 
 came in, and closed the door carefuly behind 
 him; it was obviously an act of precaution and 
 not merely a normal exercise of good manners. 
 Then he walked up to his hostess and said, "It's 
 not my fault, Anna. Alec would do it, though 
 I shook my head at him, behind the fellow's 
 back." 
 
 "What do you mean, General?" cried the 
 hostess. Mr. Naylor, for his part, stopped 
 roving. 
 
 The door again 1 "Come in, Mr. Beaumaroy 
 here's tea." 
 
 Mr. Beaumaroy obediently entered, in the 
 wake of Captain Alec Naylor, who duly pre- 
 sented him to Mrs. Naylor, adding that Beau- 
 maroy had been kind enough to make the fourth 
 in a game with the General, the Rector of 
 Sprotsfield, and himself. "And he and the 
 parson were too tough a nut for us, weren't they, 
 sir?" he added to the General.
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Besides being an excellent officer and a capital 
 fellow, Alec Naylor was also reputed to be one 
 of the handsomest men in the Service; six foot 
 three, very straight, very fair, with features as 
 regular as any romantic hero of them all, and 
 eyes as blue. The honorable limp that at present 
 marked his movements would, it was hoped, pass 
 away. Even his own family were often surprised 
 into a new admiration of his physical perfec- 
 tions, remarking, one to the other, how Alec took 
 the shine out of every other man in the room. 
 
 There was no shine, no external obvious shine, 
 to take out of Mr. Beaumaroy, Miss Wall's 
 puzzling, unaccounted-for Mr. Beaumaroy. The 
 light showed him now more clearly than when 
 Mary Arkroyd met him on the heath road, but 
 perhaps thereby did him no service. His fea- 
 tures, though irregular, were not ugly or insig- 
 nificant, but he wore a rather battered aspect; 
 there were deep lines running from the corners 
 of his mouth, and crowsfeet had started under 
 the gray eyes which, in their turn, looked more 
 skeptical than ardent, rather mocking than 
 
 22
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 eager. Yet when he smiled, his face became not 
 merely pleasant, but confidentially pleasant; he 
 seemed to smile especially to and for the person 
 to whom he was talking; and his voice was not- 
 ably agreeable, soft and clear the voice of a 
 high-bred man, but not exactly of a high-bred 
 Englishman. There was no accent definite 
 enough to be called foreign, certainly not to be 
 assigned to any particular race, but there was 
 an exotic touch about his manner of speech sug- 
 gesting that, even if not that of a foreigner, it 
 was shaped and colored by the inflexions of 
 foreign tongues. The hue of his plentiful and 
 curly hair, indistinguishable to Mary and Cyn- 
 thia, now stood revealed as neither black, nor 
 red, nor auburn, nor brown, nor golden, but just, 
 and rather surprisingly, a plain yellow, the color 
 of a cowslip or thereabouts. Altogether rather 
 a rum-looking fellow! This had been Alec 
 Naylor's first remark when the Rector of Sprots- 
 field pointed him out, as a possible fourth, at 
 the golf club, and the rough justice of the de- 
 scription could not be denied. He, like Alec, 
 
 23
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 'bore his scars; the little finger of his right hand 
 was amputated down to the knuckle. 
 
 Yet, after all this description, in particularity 
 if not otherwise worthy of a classic novelist, the 
 thing yet remains that most struck observers. 
 Mr. Hector Beaumaroy had an adorable candor 
 of manner. He answered questions with inno- 
 cent readiness and pellucid sincerity. It would 
 be impossible to think him guilty of a lie; un- 
 generous to suspect so much as a suppression 
 of the truth. Even Mr. Naylor, hardened by 
 five-and-thirty years' experience of what sailors 
 will blandly swear to in collision cases, was 
 struck with the open candor of his bearing. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "Yes, Miss Wall, that's right, 
 we go to town every Wednesday. No particu- 
 lar reason why it should be Wednesday, but old 
 gentlemen somehow do better don't you think 
 so? with method and regular habits." 
 
 "I'm sure you know what's best for Mr. 
 Saffron," said Delia. "You've known him a long 
 time, haven't you?" 
 
 Mr. Naylor drew a little nearer and listened. 
 24
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 The General had put himself into the corner, 
 a remote corner of the room, and sat there with 
 an uneasy and rather glowering aspect. 
 
 "Oh no, no!" answered Beaumaroy. "A mat- 
 ter of weeks only. But the dear old fellow 
 seemed to take to me a friend put us in touch 
 originally. I seem to be able to do just what 
 he want! ." 
 
 "I hope your friend is not really ill, not seri- 
 ously?" This time the question was Mrs. Nay- 
 lor's, not Miss Delia's. 
 
 "His health is really not so bad, but," he 
 gave a glance round the company, as though 
 inviting their understanding, "he insists that he's 
 not the man he was." 
 
 "Absurd!" smiled Naylor. "Not much older 
 than I am, is he?" 
 
 "Only just turned seventy, I believe. But 
 the idea's very persistent." 
 
 "Hypochondria!" snapped Miss Delia. 
 
 "Not altogether. I'm afraid there is a little 
 
 real heart trouble. Dr. Irechester " 
 
 25
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "Oh, with Dr. Irechester, dear Mr. Beau- 
 maroy, you're all right 1" 
 
 Again Beaumaroy's glance that glance of 
 innocent appeal ranged over the company (ex- 
 cept the General, out of its reach) . He seemed 
 troubled and embarrassed. 
 
 "A most accomplished man, evidently, and a 
 friend of yours, of course. But, well, there it is, 
 a mere fancy, of course, but unhappily my old 
 friend doesn't take to him. He, he thinks that 
 he's rather inquisitorial. A doctor's duty, I sup- 
 pose " 
 
 "Irechester's a sound man, a very sound man," 
 said Mr. Naylor. "And, after all one can ask 
 almost any question if one does it tactfully, can't 
 one, Miss Wall?" 
 
 "As a matter of fact, he's only seen Mr. 
 Saffron twice he had a little chill. But his 
 manner, unfortunately, rather, er alarmed " 
 
 Gertie Naylor, with the directness of youth, 
 propounded a solution of the difficulty. "If you 
 don't like Dr. Irechester " 
 
 "Oh, it's not I who " 
 
 26
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 "Why not have Mary?" Gertie made her 
 suggestion eagerly. She was very fond of Mary, 
 who, from the height of age, wisdom and pro- 
 fessional dignity, had stooped to offer her an 
 equal friendship. 
 
 "She means Dr. Mary Arkroyd," Mrs Naylor 
 explained. 
 
 "Yes, I know, Mrs. Naylor, I know about 
 Dr. Arkroyd. In fact, I know her by sight. 
 But " 
 
 "Perhaps you don't believe in women doc- 
 tors?" Alec suggested. 
 
 "It's not that. I've no prejudices. But the 
 responsibility is on me, and I know very little 
 of her; and, well to change one's doctor, it's 
 rather invidious " 
 
 "Oh, as to that, Irechester's a sensible man; 
 he's got as much work as he wants, and as much 
 money too. He won't resent an old man's 
 fancy." 
 
 "Well, I'd never thought of a change, but if 
 
 you all suggest it " Somehow it did seem as 
 
 if they all, and not merely youthful Gertie had 
 
 27
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 suggested it. "But I should rather like to know 
 Dr. Arkroyd first." 
 
 "Come and meet her here; that's very simple. 
 She often comes to tennis and tea. We'll let 
 you know the first time she's coming." 
 
 Beaumaroy most cordially accepted the idea 
 and the invitation. "Any afternoon I shall be 
 delighted, except Wednesdays. Wednesdays are 
 sacred, aren't they, Miss Wall? London on 
 Wednesdays for Mr. Saffron and me, and the 
 old brown bag!" He laughed in a quiet merri- 
 ment. "That old bag's been in a lot of places 
 with me and has carried some queer cargoes. 
 Now it just goes to and fro, between here and 
 town, with Mudie books. Must have books, liv- 
 ing so much alone as we do!" "He had risen as 
 he spoke, and approached Mrs. Naylor to take 
 leave. 
 
 She gave him her hand very cordially. "I 
 don't suppose Mr. Saffron cares to meet people; 
 but any spare time you have, Mr. Beaumaroy, 
 we shall be delighted to see you." 
 
 Beaumaroy bowed as he thanked her, adding, 
 28
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 "And I'm promised a chance of meeting Dr. 
 Arkroyd before long?" 
 
 The promise was renewed and the visitor took 
 his leave, declining Alec's offer to "run him 
 home" in the car. "The car might startle my 
 old friend," he pleaded. Alec saw him off, and 
 returned to find the General, who had contrived 
 to avoid more than a distant bow of farewell to 
 Beaumaroy, standing on the hearthrug ap- 
 parently in a state of some agitation. 
 
 The envious years had refused to Major- 
 General Punnit, C.B. he was a distant cousin 
 of Mrs. Naylor's the privilege of serving his 
 country in the Great War. His career had lain 
 mainly in India and was mostly behind him even 
 at the date of the South African War, in which, 
 however, he had done valuable work in one of 
 the supply services. He was short, stout, 
 honest, brave, shrewd, obstinate, and as full of 
 prejudices, religious, political and personal as 
 an egg is of meat. And all this time he had 
 been slowly and painfully recalling what his 
 young friend Colonel Merman (the Colonel was 
 
 29
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 young only relatively to the General) had told 
 him about Hector Beaumaroy. The name had 
 struck on his memory the moment the Rector 
 pronounced it, but it had taken him a long while 
 to "place it" accurately. However, now he had 
 it pat; the conversation in the club came back. 
 He retailed it now to the company at Old Place. 
 A pleasant fellow, Beaumaroy; socially a 
 very agreeable fellow. And as for courage, 
 as brave as you like. Indeed he might have 
 had letters after his name save for the fact 
 that he the Colonel would never recommend 
 a man unless his discipline was as good as his 
 leading, and his conduct at the base as praise- 
 worthy as at the front. (Alec Nay lor nodded 
 his handsome head in grave approval; his father 
 looked a little discontented, as though he were 
 swallowing unpalatable, though wholesome, 
 food) . His whole idea Beaumaroy 's, that is 
 was to shield offenders, to prevent the punish- 
 ment fitting the crime, even to console and 
 countenance the wrongdoer. No sense of disci- 
 pline, no moral sense, the Colonel had gone as 
 
 30
 
 THE GENERAL REMEMBERS 
 
 far as that. Impossible to promote or to recom- 
 mend for reward, almost impossible to keep. 
 Of course, if he had been caught young and 
 put through the mill, it might have been dif- 
 ferent. "It might" the Colonel heavily under- 
 lined the possibility, but he came from Heaven 
 knew where, after a life spent Heaven knew 
 how. "And he seemed to know it himself," the 
 Colonel had said, thoughtfully rolling his port 
 round in the glass. "Whenever I wigged him, 
 he offered to go; said he'd chuck his commission 
 and enlist; said he'd be happier in the ranks. 
 But I was weak, I couldn't bear to do it." After 
 thus quoting his friend, the General added : "He 
 was weak, damned weak, and I told him so." 
 
 "Of course he ought to have got rid of him," 
 said Alec. "Still, sir, there's nothing, er, dis- 
 graceful." 
 
 "It seems hardly to have come to that," the 
 General admitted reluctantly. 
 
 "It all rather makes me like him," Gertie 
 affirmed courageously. 
 
 "I think that, on the whole, we may venture 
 31
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 to know him in times of peace," Mr. Naylor 
 summed up. 
 
 "That's your look out," remarked the General. 
 "I've warned you. You can do as you like." 
 
 Delia Wall had sat silent through the story. 
 Now she spoke up, and got back to the real 
 point : 
 
 "There's nothing in all that to show how he 
 comes to be at Mr. Saffron's." 
 
 The General shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, 
 Saffron be hanged ! He's not the British Army," 
 he said.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 To put it plainly, Sergeant Hooper he had 
 been a Sergeant for a brief and precarious three 
 weeks, but he used the title in civil life when- 
 ever he safely could, and he could at Inkston 
 Sergeant Hooper was a villainous-looking dog. 
 Beaumaroy, fresh from the comely presences of 
 Old Place, unconscious of how the General had 
 ripped up his character and record, pleasantly 
 nursing a little project concerning Dr. Mary 
 Arkroyd, had never been more forcibly struck 
 with his protege's ill-favoredness than when he 
 arrived home on this same evening, and the Ser- 
 geant met him at the door. 
 
 "By gad, Sergeant," he observed pleasantly, 
 "I don't think anybody could be such a rascal 
 as you look. It's that faith that carries me 
 through." 
 
 33
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 The Sergeant helped him off with his coat. 
 "It's some people's stock-in-trade," he remarked, 
 "not to look a rascal like they really are, sir." 
 The "sir" stuck out of pure habit; it carried no 
 real implication of respect. 
 
 "Meaning me 1" laughed Beaumaroy. "How's 
 the old man to-night?" 
 
 "Quiet enough. He's in the Tower there 
 been there an hour or more." 
 
 The cottage door opened on to a narrow pas- 
 sage, with a staircase on one side, and on the 
 other a door leading to a small square parlor, 
 cheerfully if cheaply furnished, and well lit by 
 an oil lamp. A fire blazed on the hearth, and 
 Beaumaroy sank into a "saddle-bag" armchair 
 beside it, with a sigh of comfort. The Sergeant 
 had jerked his head towards another door, on 
 the right of the fireplace; it led to the Tower. 
 Beaumaroy's eyes settled on it. 
 
 "An hour or more, has he? Have you heard 
 anything?" 
 
 "He was making a speech a little while back, 
 that's all." 
 
 34
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 "No more complaints and palpitations, or 
 anything of that sort?" 
 
 "Not as I've heard. But he never says much 
 to me. Mrs. Wiles gets the benefit of his symp- 
 toms mostly." 
 
 "You're not sympathetic, perhaps." 
 
 During the talk Hooper had been to a cup- 
 board and mixed a glass of whisky and soda. 
 He brought it to Beaumaroy and put it on a 
 small table by him. Beaumaroy regarded his 
 squat paunchy figure, red face, small eyes (a 
 squint in one of them), and bulbous nose with 
 a patient and benign toleration. 
 
 "Since you can't expect, Sergeant, to pre- 
 possess the judge and jury in your favor, the 
 instant you make your appearance in the 
 box " 
 
 "Here, what are you on to, sir?" 
 
 "It's the more important for you to have it 
 clearly in your mind that we are laboring in the 
 cause of humanity, freedom, and justice. 
 Exactly like the Allies in the late war, you know, 
 Sergeant. Keep that in your mind, clinch it! 
 
 35
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 He hasn't wanted you to do anything particular 
 to-night, or asked for me?" 
 
 "No, sir. He's happy with with what you 
 call his playthings." 
 
 "What are they but playthings?" asked 
 Beaumaroy, tilting his glass to his lips with a 
 smile perhaps a little wry. 
 
 "Only I wish as you wouldn't talk about 
 judges and juries," the Sergeant complained. 
 
 "I really don't know whether it's a civil or a 
 criminal matter, or both, or neither," Beaumaroy 
 admitted candidly. "But what we do know, 
 Sergeant, is that it provides us with excellent 
 billets and rations. Moreover, a thing that you 
 certainly will not appreciate, it gratifies my taste 
 for the mysterious." 
 
 "I hope there's a bit more coming from it 
 than that," said the Sergeant. "That is, if we 
 stick together faithful, sir." 
 
 "Oh, we shall! One thing puzzles me about 
 you, Sergeant. I don't think I've mentioned 
 it before. Sometimes you speak almost like an 
 
 36
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 educated man; at others your speecfi is, well, 
 illiterate." 
 
 "Well, sir, it's a sort of mixture of my mother ; 
 she was class, the blighter who come after my 
 father, and the Board School " 
 
 ''Of course! What they call the educational 
 ladder! That explains it. By the way, I'm 
 thinking of changing our doctor." 
 
 "Good job, too. I 'ate that Irechester. Stares 
 at you, that chap does." 
 
 "Does he stare at your eyes?'" asked Beau- 
 maroy thoughtfully. 
 
 "I don't know that he does at my eyes par- 
 ticularly. Nothing wrong with 'em, is there?" 
 The Sergeant sounded rather truculent. 
 
 "Never mind that; but I fancied he stared at 
 Mr. Saffron's. And I've read somewhere, in 
 some book or other, that doctors can tell, or 
 guess, by the eyes. Well, that's only an idea. 
 How does a lady doctor appeal to you, Ser- 
 geant?" 
 
 "I should be shy," said the Sergeant, grinning. 
 
 "Vulgar! vulgar!" Beaumaroy murmured. 
 37
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "That Dr. Mary Arkroyd?" 
 
 "I had thought of her." 
 
 "She ought to be fair easy to kid. You 'ave 
 notions sometimes, sir." 
 
 Beaumaroy stretched out his legs, debonnair, 
 well-rounded legs, to the seducing blaze of oak 
 logs. 
 
 "I haven't really a care in the world," he said. 
 
 The Sergeant's reply, or comment, had a dis- 
 concerting ring. "And you're sure of 'Eaven? 
 That's what the bloke always says to the 'ang- 
 man." 
 
 "I've no intention of being a murderer, Ser- 
 geant." Beaumaroy's eyebrows were raised in 
 gentle protest. 
 
 "Once you're in with a job, you never know," 
 his retainer observed darkly. 
 
 Beaumaroy laughed. "OK, go to the devil! 
 and mix me another whisky." Yet a vague un- 
 easiness showed itself on his face; he looked 
 across the room at the evil-shaped man handling 
 the bottles in the cupboard. He made one 
 queer, restless movement of his arms, as though 
 
 38
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 to free himself. Then, in a moment, he sprang 
 from his chair, a glad kindly smile illuminating 
 his face; he bowed in a very courtly fashion, 
 exclaiming, "Ah! here you are, sir? And all 
 well, I hope?" 
 
 Mr. Saffron had entered from the door lead- 
 ing to the Tower, carefully closing it after himv 
 Hooper's hand went up to his forehead in the 
 ghost of a military salute, but a sneering smile 
 persisted on his lips. The only notice Mr. 
 Saffron took of him was a jerk of the head 
 towards the passage, an abrupt and ungracious 
 dismissal, which, however, the Sergeant silently 
 accepted and stumped out. The greeting re- 
 served for Beaumaroy was yastly different. 
 Beaumaroy's own cordiality was more than re- 
 ciprocated. It seemed impossible to doubt that 
 a genuine affection existed between the elder 
 and the younger man, though the latter had not 
 thought fit to mention the fact to Sergeant 
 Hooper. 
 
 "A tiring day, my dear Hector, very tiring. 
 I've transacted a lot of business. But never 
 
 39
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 mind that, it will keep. What of your doings?" 
 Having sat the old man in the big chair by 
 the fire, Beaumaroy sauntered across to the door 
 of the Tower, locked it, and put the key in his 
 pocket. Then he returned to the fire and, 
 standing in front of it, gave a lively and detailed 
 account of his visit to Old Place. 
 
 "They appear to be pleasant people, very 
 pleasant. I should like to know them, if it was 
 not desirable for me to live an entirely secluded 
 life." Mr. Saffron's speech was very distinct 
 and clean cut, rather rapid, high in tone but not 
 disagreeable. "You make pure fun of this Miss 
 Wall, as you do of so many things, Hector, 
 but " he smiled up at Beaumaroy "inquisi- 
 tiveness is not our favorite sin just now!" 
 
 "She's so indiscriminately inquisitive that it's 
 a thousand to one against her really finding out 
 anything of importance, sir." Beaumaroy 
 sometimes addressed his employer as "Mr. Saf- 
 fron," hut much more commonly he used the 
 respectful "sir." "I think I'm equal to putting 
 Miss Delia Wall off." 
 
 40
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 "Still she noticed our weekly journeys!" 
 
 "Half Inkston goes to town every day, sir, 
 and the rest three times, twice, or once a week. 
 I called her particular attention to the bag, and 
 told her it was for books from Mudie's!" 
 
 "Positive statements like that are a mistake." 
 Mr. Saffron spoke with a sudden sharpness, in 
 pointed rebuke. "If I form a right idea of that 
 woman, she's quite capable of going to Mudie's 
 to ask about us." 
 
 "By Jove, you're right, sir, and I was wrong. 
 We'd better go and take out a subscription to- 
 morrow; she'll hardly go so far as to ask the 
 date we started it." 
 
 "Yes, let that be done. And, remember, no 
 unnecessary talk." His tone grew milder, as 
 though he were mollified by Beaumaroy's ready 
 submission to his reproof. "We have some 
 places to call at to-morrow, have we?" 
 
 "They said they'd have some useful addresses 
 ready for us, sir. I'm afraid, though, that we're 
 exhausting the most obvious resources." 
 
 "Still, I hope for a few more good consign- 
 41
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 ments. I suppose you remain confident that the 
 Sergeant has no suspicions as regards that par- 
 ticular aspect of the matter ?" 
 
 "I'm sure of it, up to the present. Of course 
 there might be an accident, but with him and 
 Mrs. Wiles both off the premises at night, it's 
 hardly likely; and I never let the bag out of 
 my sight while it's in the room with them, hardly 
 out of my hand." 
 
 "I should like to trust him, but it's hardly 
 fair to put such a strain on his loyalty." 
 
 "Much safer not, sir, as long as we're not 
 driven to it. After all though, I believe the 
 fellow is out to redeem his character, his isn't 
 an unblemished record." 
 
 "But the work, the physical labor, entailed on 
 you, Hector!" 
 
 "Make yourself easy about that, sir. I'm as 
 strong as a horse. The work's good for me. 
 Remember I've had four years' service." 
 
 Mr. Saffron smiled pensively. "It would 
 have been funny if we'd met over there! You 
 and I!" 
 
 42
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 "It would, sir," laughed Beaumaroy. "But 
 that could hardly have happened without some 
 very curious accident." 
 
 The old man harked back. "Yes, a few more 
 good consignments, and we can think in earnest 
 of your start." He was warming his hands, thin 
 yellowish hands, at the fire now, and his gaze 
 was directed into it. Looking down on him, 
 Beaumaroy allowed a smile to appear on his lips, 
 a queer smile, which seemed to be compounded 
 of affection, pity, and amusement. 
 
 "The difficulties there remain considerable for 
 the present," he remarked. 
 
 "They must be overcome." Once again the 
 old man's voice became sharp and even dic- 
 tatorial. 
 
 "They shall be, sir, depend on it." Beau- 
 maroy's air was suddenly confident, almost 
 braggart. Mr. Saffron nodded approvingly. 
 "But, anyhow, I can't very well start till favor- 
 able news comes from " 
 
 "Hush!" There was a knock on the door. 
 
 "Mrs. Wiles, to lay the table, I suppose." 
 43
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "Yes 1 Come in 1" He added hastily to Beau- 
 maroy, in an undertone. "Yes, we must wait for 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. Wiles entered as he spoke. She was a 
 colorless, negative kind of a woman, fair, fat, 
 flabby, and forty or thereabouts. She had been 
 the ill-used slave of a local carpenter, now de- 
 ceased by reason of over-drinking; her nature 
 was to be the slave of the nearest male creature, 
 not from affection (her affections were anaemic) 
 but rather, as it seemed, from an instinctive de- 
 sire to shuffle off from herself any responsibility. 
 But, at all events, she was entirely free from 
 Miss Delia Wall's proclivity. 
 
 Mr. Saffron rose. "I'll go and wash my 
 hands. We'll dine just as we are, Hector." 
 Beaumaroy opened the door for him; he acknowl- 
 edged the attention with a little nod, and passed 
 out to the staircase in the narrow passage. 
 Beaumaroy appeared to consider himself ab- 
 solved from any preparation, for he returned 
 to the big chair and, sinking into it, lit another 
 cigarette. Meanwhile Mrs. Wiles laid the table, 
 
 44
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 and presently Sergeant Hooper appeared with a 
 bottle of golden-tinted wine. 
 
 "That, at least, is the real stuff," thought 
 Beaumaroy as he eyed it in pleasurable anticipa- 
 tion. "Where the dear old man got it, I don't 
 know; but in itself it's almost worth all the 
 racket." 
 
 And really, in its present stages, so far as its 
 present developments went, the "racket" pleased 
 him. It amused his active brain, besides (as he 
 had said to Mr. Saffron) exercising his active 
 body, though certainly in a rather grotesque and 
 bizarre fashion. The attraction of it went 
 deeper than that. It appealed to some of those 
 tendencies and impulses of his character which 
 had earned such heavy censure from Major- 
 General Punnit and had produced so grave an 
 expression on Captain Alec's handsome face 
 without, however, being, even in that officer's 
 exacting judgment, disgraceful. And, finally, 
 there was the lure of unexplored possibilities, 
 not only material and external, but psycholog- 
 ical* not only touching what others might do 
 
 45
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 or what might happen to them, but raising also 
 speculation as to what he might do, or what 
 might happen to him at his own hands; for 
 example, how far he would flout authority, 
 defy the usual, and deny the accepted. The love 
 of rebellion, of making foolish the wisdom of the 
 wise, of hampering the orderly and inexorable 
 treatment of people just as, according to tiie 
 best modern lights, they ought to be treated, this 
 lawless love was strong in Beaumaroy. Not as 
 a principle; it was the stronger for being an 
 instinct, a wayward instinct that might carry 
 him, he scarce knew where. 
 
 Mr. Saffron came back, greeted again by 
 Beaumaroy's courtly bow and Hooper's vaguely 
 reminiscent but slovenly military salute. The 
 pair sat down to a homely beefsteak; but the 
 golden tinted wine gurgled into their glasses. 
 But, before they fell to, there was a little in- 
 cident. A sudden, but fierce, anger seized old 
 Mr. Saffron. In his harshest tones he rapped 
 out at the Sergeant, "My knife! You careless 
 scoundrel, you haven't given me my knife!" 
 
 Beaumaroy sprang to his feet with a muttered 
 46
 
 MR. SAFFRON AT HOME 
 
 exclamation: "It's all my fault, sir. I forgot 
 to give it to Hooper. I always lock it up when 
 I go out." He went to a little oak sideboard 
 and unlocked a drawer, then came back to Mr. 
 Saffron's side. "Here it is, and I humbly 
 apologize." 
 
 "Very good! very good!" said the old man 
 testily, as he took the implement. 
 
 "Ain't anybody going to apologize to me?" 
 asked Hooper, scowling. 
 
 "Oh, get out, Sergeant!" said Beaumaroy 
 good-naturedly. "We can't bother about your 
 finer feelings." He glanced anxiously at Mr. 
 Saffron. "All right now, aren't you, sir?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 Mr. Saffron drank his glass of wine. "I am 
 perhaps too sensitive to any kind of inattention; 
 but it's not wholly unnatural in my position, 
 Hector." 
 
 "We both desire to be attentive and respect- 
 ful, sir. Don't we, Hooper?" 
 
 "Oh my, yes!" grinned the Sergeant, showing 
 his very ugly teeth. "It's only owing that we 
 'aven't quite been brought up in royal palaces." 
 
 47
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 Da. IRECHESTEE was a man of considerable 
 attainments and an active, though not very per- 
 severing, intellect. He was widely read both in 
 professional and general literature, but had 
 shrunk from the arduous path of specialization. 
 'And he shrank even more from the drudgery of 
 his calling. He had private means, inherited in 
 middle life; his wife had a respectable portion; 
 there was, then, nothing in his circumstances to 
 thwart his tastes and tendencies. He had soon 
 come to see in the late Dr. Evans a means of 
 relief rather than a threat of rivalry; even more 
 easily he slipped into the same way of regard- 
 ing Mary Arkroyd, helped thereto by a linger- 
 ing feeling that, after all and in spite of all, 
 when it came to really serious cases, a woman 
 could not, at best, play more than second fiddle. 
 
 48
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 So, as has been seen, he patronized and en- 
 couraged Mary; he told himself that, when she 
 had thoroughly proved her capacity within the 
 limits which he ascribed to it to take her into 
 partnership would not be a bad arrangement. 
 True, he could pretty; well choose his patients 
 now; but as senior partner he would be able 
 to do it completely. It was well-nigh inconceiv- 
 able that, for example, the Naylors great 
 friends should ever leave him; but he would 
 like to be quite secure of the pick of new patients, 
 some of whom might, through ignorance or 
 whim, call in Mary. There was old Saffron, for 
 instance. He was, in Irechester's private 
 opinion, or, perhaps it should be said in his 
 private suspicions, an interesting case; yet, just 
 for that reason, unreliable, and evidently ready 
 to take offense. It was because of cases of that 
 kind that he contemplated offering partnership 
 to Mary ; he would both be sure of keeping them 
 and able to devote himself to them. 
 
 But his wife laughed at Mary, or at that de- 
 velopment of the feminist movement which had 
 
 49
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 produced her and so many other more startling 
 phenomena. The Doctor was fond of his wife, 
 a sprightly, would-be fashionable, still very 
 pretty woman. But her laughter, and the 
 opinion it represented, were to him the merest 
 crackling of thorns under a pot. 
 
 The fine afternoon had come, a few days be- 
 fore Christmas, and he sat, side by side with 
 Mr. Naylor, both warmly wrapped in coats and 
 rugs, watching the lawn tennis at Old Place. 
 Doctor Mary and Beaumaroy were playing to- 
 gether, the latter accustoming himself to a 
 finger short in gripping his racquet, against 
 Cynthia and Captain Alec. The Captain could 
 not yet cover the court in his old fashion, but 
 his height and reach made him formidable at 
 the net, and Cynthia was very active. Ten days 
 of Inkston air had made a vast difference to 
 Cynthia. And something else was helping. It 
 required no common loyalty to lost causes and 
 ruined ideals it is surely not harsh to indicate 
 Captain Cranster by these terms? to resist 
 Alec Naylor. In fact he had almost taken Cyn- 
 
 50
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 thia's breath away at their first meeting; she 
 thought that she had never seen anything quite 
 so magnificent, or all round and from all points 
 of view, so romantic; his stature, handsomeness, 
 limp, renown. Who can be surprised at it? 
 Moreover, he was modest and simple, and no 
 fool within the bounds of his experience. 
 
 "She seems a nice little girl, that, and uncom- 
 mon pretty," Naylor remarked. 
 
 "Yes, but he's a queer fish, I fancy," the 
 Doctor answered, also rather absently. Their 
 minds were not running on parallel lines. 
 
 "My boy a queer fish?" Naylor expostulated 
 humorously. 
 
 Irechester smiled; his lips shut close and tight, 
 his smile was quick but narrow. "You're match- 
 making. I was diagnosing," he said. 
 
 Naylor apologized. "I've a desperate instinct 
 to fit all these young fellows up with mates as 
 soon as possible. Isn't it only fair?" 
 
 "And also extremely expedient. But it's the 
 sort of thing you can leave to them, can't you?" 
 
 "As to Beaumaroy I suppose you meant 
 51
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 him, not Alec I think you must have been talk- 
 ing to old Tom Punnit or, rather, hearing him 
 talk." 
 
 "Punnit's general view is sound enough, I 
 think, as to the man's characteristics; but he 
 doesn't appreciate his cunning." 
 
 "Cunning?" Naylor was openly astonished. 
 "He doesn't strike me as a cunning man, not in 
 the least." 
 
 "Possibly, possibly, I say not in his ends, 
 but in his means and expedients. That's my 
 view. I just put it on record, Naylor. I never 
 like talking too much about my cases." 
 
 "Beaumaroy's not your patient, is he?" 
 
 "His employer, I suppose he's his employer, 
 Saffron is. Well, I thought it advisable to see 
 Saffron alone. I tried to. Saffron was re- 
 luctant, this man here openly against it. Next 
 time I shall insist. Because I think, mind you, 
 at present I no more than think, that there's 
 more in Saffron's case than meets the eye." 
 
 Naylor glanced at him, smiling. "You fellows 
 are always starting hares," he said. 
 
 52
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 "Game and set!" cried Captain Alec, and 
 to his partner "Thank you very much for car- 
 rying a cripple." 
 
 But Irechester's attention remained fixed on 
 Beaumaroy, and consequently on Doctor Mary, 
 for the partners did not separate at the end of 
 their game, but, after putting on their coats, 
 began to walk up and down together on the other 
 side of the court, in animated conversation, 
 though Beaumaroy did most of the talking, 
 Mary listening in her usual grave and composed 
 manner. Now and then a word or two reached 
 Irechester's ears, old Naylor seemed to have 
 fallen into a reverie over his cigar, and it must 
 be confessed that he took no pains not to over- 
 hear. Once at least he plainly heard "Saffron" 
 from Beaumaroy; he thought that the same lips 
 spoke his own name, and he was sure that Doctor 
 Mary's did. Beaumaroy was speaking rather 
 urgently, and making gestures with his hands; 
 it seemed as though he were appealing to his 
 companion in some difficulty or perplexity. Ire- 
 
 53
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Chester's mouth was severely compressed and his 
 glance suspicious as he watched. 
 
 The scene was ended by Gertie Naylor calling 
 these laggards in to tea, to which meal the rest 
 of the company had already betaken itself. 
 
 At the tea table they found General Punnit 
 discoursing on war, and giving "idealists" what 
 idealists usually get. The General believed in 
 war ; he pressed the biological argument, did not 
 flinch when Mr. Naylor dubbed him the "Brit- 
 ish Bernhardi," and invoked the support of 
 "these medical gentleman" (this with a smile at 
 Doctor Mary's expense) for his point of view. 
 War tested, proved, braced, hardened; it was 
 nature's crucible; it was the antidote to softness 
 and sentimentality; it was the vindication of the 
 strong, the elimination of the weak. 
 
 "I suppose there's a lot in all that, sir," said 
 'Alec Itfaylor, "but I don't think the effect on 
 one's character is always what you say. I think 
 I've come out of this awful business a good deal 
 softer than I went in." He laughed in an 
 apologetic way. "More, more sentimental, if you 
 
 54
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 like, with more feeling, don't you know, for 
 human life, and suffering, and so on. I've seen 
 a great many men killed, but the sight hasn't 
 made me any more ready to kill men. In fact, 
 quite the reverse." He smiled again. "Really 
 sometimes, for a row of pins, I'd have turned 
 conscientious objector." 
 
 Mrs. Naylor looked apprehensively at the 
 General: would he explode? No, he took it quite 
 quietly. "You're a man who can afford to say 
 it, Alec," he remarked, with a nod that was al- 
 most approving. 
 
 Naylor looked affectionately at his son and 
 turned to Beaumaroy. "And what's the war 
 done to you?" he asked. And this question did 
 draw from the General, if not an explosion, at 
 least a rather contemptuous smile: Beaumaroy 
 had earned no right to express opinions! 
 
 But express one he did, and with his habitual 
 air of candor. "I believe it's destroyed ever^ 
 scruple I ever had!" 
 
 "Mr. Beaumaroy!" exclaimed his hostess, 
 55
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 scandalized; while the two girls, Cynthia and 
 Gertie, laughed. 
 
 "I mean it. Can you bJe human life treated 
 as dirt, absolutely as cheap as dirt, for three 
 years, and come out thinking it worth anything? 
 Can you fight for your own hand, right or 
 wrong? Oh, yes, right or wrong, in the end, and 
 it's no good blinking it. Can you do that for 
 three years in wai, and then hesitate to fight for 
 your own hand, right or wrong, in peace ? Who 
 really cares for right or wrong, anyhow?" 
 
 A pause ensued rather an uncomfortable 
 pause. There was a raw sincerity in Beau- 
 maroy's utterance that made it a challenge. 
 
 "I honestly think we did care about the rights 
 and wrongs we in England," said Naylor. 
 
 "That was certainly so at the beginning," 
 Irechester agreed. 
 
 Beaumaroy took him up smartly. "Aye, at 
 the beginning. But what about when our blood 
 got up? What then? Would we, in our hearts, 
 rather have been right and got a licking, or 
 wrong and given one?" 
 
 56
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 "A searching question!" mused old Naylor. 
 "What say you, Tom Punnit?" 
 
 "It never occurred to me to put the question," 
 the General answered brusquely. 
 
 "May I ask why not, sir?" said Beaumaroy 
 respectfully. 
 
 "Because I believed in God. I knew that we 
 were right, and I knew that we should win." 
 
 "Are we in theology now, or still in biology?" 
 asked Irechester, rather acidly. 
 
 "You're getting out of my depth anyhow," 
 smiled Mrs. Naylor. "And I'm sure the girls 
 must be bewildered." 
 
 "Mamma, I've done biology!" 
 
 "And many people think they've done the- 
 ology !" chuckled Naylor. "Done it completely !" 
 
 "I've raised a pretty argument!" said Beau- 
 maroy, smiling. "I'm sorry! I only meant to 
 answer your question about the effect the whole 
 thing has had on myself." 
 
 "Even your answer to that was pretty start- 
 ling, Mr. Beaumaroy," said Doctor Mary, smil- 
 ing too. "You gave us to understand that it 
 
 57
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 had obliterated for you all distinctions of right 
 and wrong, didn't you?" 
 
 "Did I go as far as that?" he laughed. "Then 
 I'm open to the remark that they can't have 
 been very strong at first." 
 
 "Now don't destroy the general interest of 
 your thesis," Naylor implored. "It's quite likely 
 that yours is a case as common as Alec's, or 
 even commoner. 'A brutal and licentious sol- 
 diery,' isn't that a classic phrase in our histories? 
 All the same, I fancy Mr. Beaumaroy does 
 himself less than justice." He laughed. "We 
 shall be able to judge of that when we know 
 him better." 
 
 "At all events, Miss Gertie, look out that I 
 don't fake the score at tennis!" said Beaumaroy. 
 
 "A man might be capable of murder, but not 
 capable of that," said Alec. 
 
 "A truly British sentiment!" cried his father. 
 "Tom, we have got back to the national ideals." 
 
 The discussion ended in laughter, and the talk 
 turned to lighter matters ; but, as Mary Arkroyd 
 drove Cynthia home across the heath, her 
 
 58 

 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 thoughts returned to it. The two men, the two 
 soldiers, seemed to have given an authentic ac- 
 count of what their experience had done to them. 
 Both, as she saw the case, had been moved to 
 pity, horror, and indignation that such things 
 should be done, or should have to be done, in 
 the world. After that point came the divergence. 
 The higher nature had been raised, the lower 
 debased; Alec Naylor's sympathies had been 
 sharpened and sensitized; Beaumaroy's blunted. 
 Where the one had found ideals and incentives, 
 the other found despair a despair that issued 
 in excuses and denied high standards. And the 
 finer min.d belonged to the finer soldier; that 
 she knew, for Gertie had told her General 
 Punnit's story, and, however much she might 
 discount it as the tale of an elderly martinet, 
 yet it stood for something, for something that 
 could never be attributed to Alec Naylor. 
 
 And yet, for her mind traveled back to her 
 earlier talk by the tennis court, Beaumaroy had 
 a conscience, had feelings. He was fond of old 
 Mr. Saffron; he felt a responsibility for him 
 
 59
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 felt it, indeed, keenly. Or was he, under all that 
 seeming openness, a consummate hypocrite? 
 Did he value Mr. Saffron only as a milch cow, 
 the doting giver of a large salary? Was his 
 only desire to humor him, keep him in good 
 health and temper, and use him to his own profit ? 
 A puzzling man, but, at all events, cutting a 
 poor figure beside Alec Naylor, about whom 
 there could circle no clouds of doubt. Doctor 
 Mary's learning and gravity did not prevent her 
 from drawing a very heroic and rather romantic 
 figure of Captain Alec notwithstanding that 
 she sometimes found him rather hard to talk to. 
 
 She felt Cynthia's arm steal around her waist, 
 and Cynthia said softly, "I did enjoy my after- 
 noon. Can we go again soon, Mary?" 
 
 Mary glanced at her. Cynthia laughed and 
 blushed. "Isn't he splendid?" Cynthia murmured. 
 "But I don't like Mr. Beaumaroy, do you?" 
 
 "I say yes to the first question, but I'm not 
 quite ready to answer the second," said Mary 
 
 with a laugh. 
 
 * * * m 
 
 60
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 Three days later, on Christmas Eve, one whom 
 Jeanne, who caught sight of him in the hall, 
 described as being all there was possible of 
 ugliness, delivered (with a request for an im- 
 mediate answer) the following note for Mary 
 Arkroyd: 
 
 DEAR DR. ARKROYD: 
 
 Mr. Saffron is unwell, and I have insisted that he 
 must see a doctor. So much he has yielded, after a 
 fight! But nothing will induce him to see Dr. Irechester 
 again. On this point I tried to reason with him, but in 
 vain. He is obstinate and resolved. I am afraid that I 
 am putting you in a difficult and disagreeable position, 
 but it seems to me that I have no alternative but to ask 
 you to call on him professionally. I hope that Dr. Ire- 
 chester will not be hurt by a whim which is, no doubt, 
 itself merely a symptom of disordered nerves, for Dr. 
 Irechester has been most attentive and very successful 
 hitherto in dealing with the dear old gentleman. But my 
 first duty is to Mr. Saffron. If it will ease matters at all, 
 pray hold yourself at liberty to show this note to Dr. 
 Irechester. May I beg you to be kind enough to call at 
 your earliest convenience, though it is, alas, a rough even- 
 ing to ask you to come out? 
 
 Yours very faithfully, 
 
 HECTOR BEAUMAROY. 
 
 61
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "How very awkward!" exclaimed Mary. She 
 had prided herself on a rigorous abstention from 
 "poaching"; she fancied that men were very 
 ready to accuse women of not "playing the 
 game" and had been resolved to give no color to 
 such an accusation. "Mr. Saffron has senl for 
 me professionally. He's ill, it seems," she said 
 to Cynthia. 
 
 "Why shouldn't he?" 
 
 "Because he is a patient of Dr. Irechester, not 
 a patient of mine." 
 
 "But people often change their doctors, don't 
 they? He thinks you're cleverer, I suppose, and 
 I expect you are really." 
 
 There was no use in expounding professional 
 etiquette to Cynthia. Mary had to decide the 
 point for herself, and quickly ; the old man might 
 be seriously ill. Beaumaroy had said at the 
 Naylors' that his attacks were sometimes alarm- 
 ing. 
 
 Suddenly she recollected that he had also 
 seemed to hint that they were more alarming 
 than Irechester appeared to appreciate; she had 
 
 62
 
 PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE 
 
 not taken much notice of that hint at the time, 
 but now it recurred to her very distinctly. There 
 was no suggestion of the sort in Beaumaroy's 
 letter. Beaumaroy had written a letter that 
 could be shown to Irechester! Was that dis- 
 honesty, or only a pardonable diplomacy? 
 
 "I suppose I must go, and explain to Dr. 
 Irechester afterwards." She rang the bell, to 
 recall the maid, and gave her answer. "Say I 
 will be round as soon as possible. Is the mes- 
 senger walking?" 
 
 "He's got a bicycle, Miss." 
 
 "All right. I shall be there almost as soon 
 as he is." 
 
 She seemed to have no alternative, just as 
 Beaumaroy had none. Yet while she put on 
 her mackintosh, it was very wet and misty, got 
 out her car, and lit her lamps, her face was still 
 fretful and her mind disturbed. For now, as 
 she looked back on it, Beaumaroy's conversation 
 with her at Old Place seemed just a prelude to 
 this summons, and meant to prepare her for it. 
 Perhaps that too was pardonable diplomacy, 
 
 63
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 and no reference to it could be expected in a 
 letter which she was at liberty to show to Dr. 
 Irechester. She wondered, uncomfortably, how 
 Irechester would take it.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 As Mary brought her car to a stand at the 
 gate of the little front garden of Tower Cottage, 
 she saw, through the mist, Beaumaroy's corru- 
 gated face ; he was standing in the doorway, and 
 the light in the passage revealed it. It seemed 
 to her to wear a triumphant impish look, but 
 this vanished as he advanced to meet her, relieved 
 her of the neat black handbag which she always 
 carried with her on her visits, and suggested 
 gravely that she should at once go upstairs and 
 see her patient. 
 
 "He's quieter now," he said. "The mere news 
 that you were coming had a soothing effect. Let 
 me show you the way." He led her upstairs and 
 into a small room on the first floor, nakedly fur- 
 nished with necessities, but with a cheery fire 
 blazing in the grate. 
 
 65
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Old Mr. Saffron lay in bed, propped up by 
 pillows. His silver hair strayed from under a 
 nightcap; he wore a light blue bedroom jacket; 
 its color matched that of his restless eyes; his 
 arms were under the clothes from the elbows 
 down. He was rather flushed, but did not look 
 seriously ill, and greeted Doctor Mary with dig- 
 nified composure. 
 
 "I'll see Dr. Arkroyd alone, Hector." Beau- 
 maroy gave the slightest little jerk of his head, 
 and the old man added quickly, "I am sure of 
 myself, quite sure." 
 
 The phrase sounded rather an odd one to 
 Mary, but Beaumaroy accepted the assurance 
 with a nod: "All right, I'll wait downstairs, sir. 
 I hope you'll bring me a good account of him, 
 Doctor." So he left Mary to make her examina- 
 tion; going downstairs, he shook his head once, 
 pursed up his lips, and then smiled doubtfully, 
 as a man may do when he has made up his mind 
 to take a chance. 
 
 When Mary rejoined him, she asked for pen 
 and paper, wrote a prescription, and requested 
 
 66
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 that Beaumaroy's man should take *t to the 
 chemist's. He went out, to give it to the Ser- 
 geant, and, when he came back, found her seated 
 in the big chair by the fire. 
 
 "The present little attack is nothing, Mr. 
 Beaumaroy," she said. "Stomachic with a little 
 fever; if he takes what I've prescribed, he ought 
 to be all right in the morning. But I suppose 
 you know that there is valvular disease quite 
 definite? Didn't Dr. Irechester tell you?" 
 
 "Yes; but he said there was no particular no 
 immediate danger." 
 
 "If he's kept quiet and free from worry. 
 Didn't he advise that?" 
 
 "Yes," Beaumaroy admitted, "he did. That's 
 the only thing you find wrong with him, Doctor?" 
 
 Beaumaroy was standing on the far side of the 
 table, his finger-tips resting lightly on it. He 
 looked across at Mary with eyes candidly in- 
 quiring. 
 
 "I've found nothing else so far. I suppose 
 he's got nothing to worry him?" 
 
 "Not really, I think. He fusses a bit about 
 67
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 his affairs." He smiled. "We go to London 
 every week to fuss about his affairs; he's always 
 changing his investments, taking his money out 
 of one thing and putting it in another, you know. 
 Old people get like that sometimes, don't they'* 
 I'm a novice at that kind of thing, never having 
 had any money to play with; but I'm bound to 
 say that he seems to know very well what he's 
 about." 
 
 "Do you know anything of his history or his 
 people? Has he any relations?" 
 
 "I know very little. I don't think he has any, 
 any real relations, so to speak. There are, I 
 believe, some cousins, distant cousins, whom he 
 hates. In fact, a lonely old bachelor, Dr. 
 Arkroyd." 
 
 Mary gave a little laugh and became less pro- 
 fessional. "He's rather an old dear! He uses 
 funny stately phrases. He said I might speak 
 quite openly to you, ae you were closely attached 
 to his person!" 
 
 "Sounds rather like a newspaper, doesn't it? 
 He does talk like that sometimes." Beaumaroy 
 
 68
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 moved round the table, came close to the fire, 
 and stood there, smiling down at Mary. 
 
 "He's very fond of you, I think," she went on. 
 
 "He reposes entire confidence in me," said 
 Beaumaroy, with a touch of assumed pompous- 
 ness. 
 
 "Those were his very words!" cried Mary, 
 laughing again. "And he said it just in that 
 way! How clever of you to guess!" 
 
 "Not so very. He says it to me six times a 
 week." 
 
 Mary had risen, about to take her leave, but 
 to her surprise Beaumaroy went on quickly, with 
 one of his confidential smiles, "And now I'm 
 going to show you that I have the utmost con- 
 fidence in you. Please sit down again, Dr. 
 Arkroyd. The matter concerns your patient 
 just as much as myself, or I wouldn't trouble 
 you with it, at any rate I shouldn't venture to 
 so early in our acquaintance. I want you to 
 consider yourself as Mr. Saffron's medical ad- 
 viser, and, also, to try to imagine yourself my 
 friend."
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "I've every inclination to be your friend, but 
 I hardly know you, Mr. Beaumaroy." 
 
 "And feel a few doubts about me? From 
 what you've heard from myself, and perhaps 
 from others?" 
 
 The wind swished outside; save for that, the 
 little room seemed very still. The professional 
 character of the interview did not save it, for 
 Mary Arkroyd, from a sudden and rather un- 
 welcome sense of intimacy, of an intimacy 
 thrust upon her, though not so much by her 
 companion as by circumstances. She answered 
 rather stiffly, "Perhaps I have some doubts." 
 
 "You detect, very acutely, that I have a great 
 influence over Mr. Saffron. You ask, very 
 properly, whether he has relations. I think you 
 threw out a feeler about his money affairs, 
 whether he had anything to worry about was 
 your phrase, wasn't it? Am I misinterpreting 
 what was in your mind?" 
 
 As he spoke, he offered her a cigarette from 
 a box on the mantelpiece. She took one and lit 
 it at the top of the lamp-chimney; then she sat 
 
 70
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 down again in the big chair; she had not accepted 
 his earlier invitation to resume her seat. 
 
 "It was proper for me to put those questions, 
 Mr. Beaumaroy. Mr. Saffron is not a sound 
 man, and he's old. In normal conditions his 
 relations should at least be warned of the posi- 
 tion." 
 
 "Exactly," Beaumaroy assented with an ap- 
 pearance of eagerness. "But he hates them. Any 
 suggestion that they have any sort of claim on 
 him raises strong resentment in him. I've known 
 old men, old moneyed men, like that before, 
 and no doubt you have. Well now, you'll begin 
 to see the difficulty of my position. I'll put the 
 case to you quite bluntly. Suppose Mr. Saffron, 
 having this liking for me, this confidence in me, 
 living here with me alone, except for servants; 
 being, as one might say, exposed to my in- 
 fluence ; suppose he took it into his head to make 
 a will in my favor, to leave me all his money. 
 It's quite a considerable sum, so far as our 
 Wednesday doings enable me to judge. Sup- 
 j>ose that happened, how should I stand in your 
 
 71
 
 opinion, Dr. Arkroyd? But wait a moment still. 
 Suppose that my career has not been very, well, 
 resplendent; that my army record is only so-so; 
 that I've devoted myself to him with remarkable 
 assiduity, as in fact I have; that I might be 
 called, quite plausibly, an adventurer. Well, 
 propounding that will, how should I stand be- 
 fore the world and, if necessary (he shrugged 
 his shoulders), the Court?" 
 
 Mary sat silent for a moment or two. Beau- 
 maroy knelt down by the fire, rearranged the 
 logs of wood which were smouldering there, and 
 put on a couple more. From that position, 
 looking into the grate, he added, "And the 
 change of doctors? It was he, of course, who 
 insisted on it, but I can see a clever lawyer using 
 that against me too. Can't you, Dr. Arkroyd?" 
 
 "I'm sure I wish you hadn't had to make the 
 change!" exclaimed Mary. 
 
 "So do I; though, mind you, I'm not pretend- 
 ing that Irechester is a favorite of mine, any 
 more than he is of my old friend's. Still, there 
 it is. I've no right, perhaps, to press my ques- 
 
 72
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 tion, but your opinion would be of real yalue to 
 me." 
 
 "I see no reason to think that he's not quite 
 competent to make a will," said Doctor Mary. 
 "And no real reason why he shouldn't prefer 
 you to distant relations whom he dislikes." 
 
 "Ah, no real reason ; that's what you say ! You 
 mean that people would impute- " 
 
 Mary Arkroyd had her limitations of expe- 
 rience, of knowledge, of intuition. But she did 
 not lack courage. 
 
 "I have given you my professional opinion. 
 It is that, so far as I see, Mr. Saffron is of per- 
 fectly sound understanding, and capable of 
 making a valid will. You did me the honor " 
 
 "No, no!" he interrupted in a low but rather 
 strangely vehement protest. "I begged the 
 favor " 
 
 "As you like! The favor then, of asking me 
 to give you my opinion as your friend, as well 
 as my view as Mr. Saffron's doctor." 
 
 Beaumaroy did not rise from his knees, but 
 turned his face towards her; the logs had blazed 
 
 73
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 up, and his eyes looked curiously bright in the 
 glare, themselves, as it were, afire. 
 
 "In my opinion a man of sensitive honor would 
 prefer that that will should not be made, Mr. 
 Beaumaroy," said Mary steadily. 
 
 Beaumaroy appeared to consider. "I'm a bit 
 posed by that point of view, Dr. Arkroyd," he 
 said at last. "Either the old man's sane com- 
 pos mentis, don't you call it? or he isn't. If 
 he is " 
 
 "I know. But I feel that way about it." 
 
 "You'd have to give evidence for me!" He 
 raised his brows and smiled at her. 
 
 "There can be undue influence without actual 
 want of mental competence, I think." 
 
 "I don't know whether my influence is undue. 
 I believe I'm the only creature alive who cares 
 twopence for the poor old gentleman." 
 
 "I know! I know! Mr. Beaumaroy, your 
 position is very difficult. I see that. It really 
 is. But, would you take the money for yourself? 
 Aren't you well, rather in the position of a 
 trustee?" 
 
 74
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 "Who for? The hated cousins? What's the 
 reason in that?" 
 
 "They may be very good people really. Old 
 men take fancies, as you said yourself. And they 
 may have built on " 
 
 "Stepping into a dead man's shoes? I dare 
 say. Why mayn't I build on it too? Why not 
 my hand against the other fellow's?" 
 
 "That's what you learnt from the war! You 
 said so at Old Place. Captain Naylor said 
 something different." 
 
 "Suppose Alec Naylor and I, a hero and a 
 damaged article," he smiled at Mary, and she 
 smiled back with a sudden enjoyment of the 
 humorous yet bitter tang in his voice, "loved 
 the same woman, and I had a chance of her. 
 Am I to give it up?" 
 
 "Really we're getting a long way from medi- 
 cine, Mr. Beaumaroyl" 
 
 "Oh, you're a general practitioner! Wise on 
 all subjects under heaven! Conceive yourself 
 hesitating between him and me " 
 
 Mary laughed frankly. "How absurd you 
 75
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 are ! If you must go on talking, talk seriously." 
 
 "But why am I absurd?" 
 
 "Because, if I were a marrying woman, which 
 I'm not, I shouldn't hesitate between you and 
 Captain Naylor, not for a minute." 
 
 "You'd jump at me?" 
 
 Laughing again, his eyes had now a schoolboy 
 merriment in them, Mary rose from the big chair. 
 "At him, if I'm not being impolite, Mr. Beau- 
 maroy." 
 
 They stood face to face. For the first time 
 for several years Mary's girlhood had not been 
 altogether empty of sentimental episodes she 
 blushed under a man's glance, because it was a 
 man's. At this event, of which she was acutely 
 conscious and at which she was intensely irri- 
 tated, she drew herself up, with an attempt to 
 return to her strictly professional manner. 
 
 "I don't find you the least impolite, Dr. Ark- 
 royd," said Beaumaroy. 
 
 It was impudent, yet gay, dexterous, and 
 elusive enough to avoid reproof. With no more 
 than a little shake of her head and a light yet 
 
 76
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 embarrassed laugh, Mary moved toward the 
 door, her way lying between the table and an old 
 oak sideboard, which stood against the wall. 
 Some plates, knives, and other articles of the 
 table lay strewn, none too tidily, about it. Beau- 
 maroy followed her, smiling complacently, his 
 hands in his pockets. 
 
 Suddenly Mary came to a stop and pointed 
 with her finger at the sideboard, turning her face 
 towards her companion. At the same instant 
 Beaumaroy's right hand shot out from his pocket 
 towards the sideboard, as though to snatch up 
 something from it. Then he drew the hand as 
 swiftly back again; but his eyes watched Mary's 
 with an alert and suspicious gaze. That was 
 for a second only; then his face resumed its 
 amused and nonchalant expression. But the 
 movement of the hand and the look of the eyes 
 had not escaped Mary's attention; her voice be- 
 trayed some surprise as she said: 
 
 "It's only that I just happened to notice that 
 combination knife-and-fork lying there, and I 
 
 wondered who " 
 
 77
 
 THE SECRE1 OF THE TOWER 
 
 The article in question lay among some half- 
 dozen ordinary knives and forks. It was of a 
 kind quite familiar to Doctor Mary from her 
 hospital experience, a fork on one side, a knife- 
 blade on the other; an implement made for 
 people who could command the use of only one 
 hand. 
 
 "Surely you've noticed my hand?" He drew 
 his right hand again from the pocket to which 
 he had so quickly returned it. "I used to use 
 that in hospital, when I was bandaged up. But 
 that's a long while ago now, and I can't think 
 why Hooper's left it lying there." 
 
 The account was plausible, and entirely the 
 same might now be said of his face and manner. 
 But Mary had seen the dart of his hand and the 
 sudden alertness in his eyes. Her own rested 
 on him for a moment with inquiry, for the first 
 time with a hint of distrust. "I see!" she mur- 
 mured vaguely, and, turning away from him, 
 pursued her way to the door. Beaumaroy fol- 
 lowed her with a queer smile on Ms lips; he 
 shrugged his shoulders once, very slightly. 
 
 A constraint had fallen on Mary. She allowed 
 78
 
 A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT 
 
 herself to be escorted to the car and helped into 
 it in silence. Beaumaroy made no effort to force 
 the talk, possibly by reason of the presence of 
 Sergeant Hooper, who had arrived back from 
 the chemist's with the medicine for Mr. Saffron 
 just as Mary and Beaumaroy came out of the 
 hall door. He stood by his bicycle, drawing just 
 a little aside to let them pass, but not far enough 
 to prevent the light from the passage showing 
 up his ill-favored countenance. 
 
 "Well, good-bye, Dr. Arkroyd. I'll see how 
 he is to-morrow, and ask you to be kind enough 
 to call again, if it seems advisable. And a thou- 
 sand thanks." 
 
 "Good-night, Mr. Beaumaroy." 
 
 She started the car. Beaumaroy walked back 
 to the hall door. Mary glanced behind her once, 
 and saw him standing by it, again framed by 
 the light behind him, as she had seen him on her 
 arrival. But, this time, within the four corners 
 of the same frame was included the forbidding 
 visage of Sergeant Hooper. 
 
 Beaumaroy returned to the fire in the parlor; 
 Hooper, leaving his bicycle in the passage, fol- 
 
 79
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 lowed him into the room and put the medicine 
 bottle on the table. Smiling at him, Beaumaroy 
 pointed at the combination knife-and-fork. 
 
 "Is it your fault or mine that that damned 
 thing's lying there?" he asked. 
 
 "Yours," answered the Sergeant without hesi- 
 tation and with his habitual surliness. "I cleaned 
 it and put it out for you to lock away, as usual. 
 Suppose you went and forgot it, sirl" 
 
 Beaumaroy shook his head in self-condemna- 
 tion and a humorous dismay. "That's it I I 
 went and forgot it, Sergeant. And I think, I 
 rather think, that Doctor Mary smells a rat, 
 though she is, at present, far from guessing the 
 color of the animal!" 
 
 The words sounded scornful; they were spoken 
 for the Sergeant as well as for himself. He was 
 looking amused and kindly, even rather tenderly 
 amused; as though liking and pity were the 
 emotions which most actively survived his first 
 private conversation with Doctor Mary, in spite 
 of that mishap of the combination knife-and- 
 fork. 
 
 80
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY of 1918 was a merry feast, 
 and nowhere merrier than at Old Place. There 
 was a house-party and, for dinner on the day 
 itself, a local contingent as well: Miss Wall, the 
 Irechesters, Mr. Penrose, and Doctor Mary. 
 Mr. Beaumaroy also had been invited by Mrs. 
 'Naylor; she considered him an interesting man 
 and felt pity for the obvious ennui of his situa- 
 tion; but he had not felt able to leave his old 
 friend. Doctor Mary's Paying Guest was of 
 the house-party, not merely a dinner guest. She 
 was asked over to spend three days and went, 
 accompanied by Jeanne, who by this time was 
 crying much less ; crying was no longer the cue ; 
 her mistress, and not merely stern Doctor Mary, 
 had plainly shown her that. Gertie Naylor had 
 invited Cynthia to help her in entertaining the 
 
 81
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 subalterns, though Gertie was really quite equal 
 to that task herself; there were only three of 
 them, and if a pretty girl is not equal to three 
 subalterns, well, what are we coming to in Eng- 
 land? And, as it turned out, Miss Gertie had 
 to deal with them all, sometimes collectively, 
 sometimes one by one, practically unassisted. 
 Cynthia was otherwise engaged. Gertie com- 
 plained neither of the cause nor of its conse- 
 quence. 
 
 The drink, or drugs, hypothesis was exploded, 
 and Miss Wall's speculations set at rest, with 
 a quite comforting solatium of romantic and 
 unhappy interest, "a nice tit-bit for the old cat," 
 as Mr. Naylor unkindly put it. Cynthia had 
 told her story; she wanted a richer sympathy 
 than Doctor Mary's common-sense afforded ; out 
 of this need the revelation came to Gertie in 
 innocent confidence, and, with the narrator's 
 tacit approval, ran through the family and its 
 intimate friends. If Cynthia had been as cal- 
 culating as she was guileless, she could not have 
 done better for herself. Mrs. Naylor's mother- 
 
 82
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 liness, old Naylor's courtliness, Gertie's breath- 
 less concern and avid appetite for the fullest 
 detail, everybody's desire to console and cheer, 
 all these were at her service, all enlisted in the 
 effort to make her forget, and live and laugh 
 again. Her heart responded; she found herself 
 becoming happy at a rate which made her posi- 
 tively ashamed. No wonder tactful Jeanne dis- 
 covered that the cue was changed! 
 
 Fastidious old Naylor regarded his wife with 
 the affection of habit and with a little disdain 
 for the ordinariness of her virtues not to say 
 of the mind which they adorned. His daughter 
 was to him a precious toy, on which he tried 
 jokes, played tricks, and lavished gifts, for the 
 joy of seeing the prettiness of her reactions to 
 his treatment. It never occurred to him to think 
 that his toy might be broken; fond as he was, 
 his feeling for her lacked the apprehensiveness 
 of the deepest love. But he idolized his son, 
 and in this case neither without fear nor without 
 understanding. Foi four years now he had 
 feared for him bitterly: for his body, for his life. 
 
 83
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 At every waking hour his inner cry had been 
 even as David's, "Would God I had died for 
 thee, my son, my son!" For at every moment 
 of those four years it might be that his son was 
 even then dead. That terror, endured under a 
 cool and almost off-hand demeanor, was past; 
 but he feared for his son still. Of all who went 
 to the war as Crusaders, none had the tempera- 
 ment more ardently than Alec. As he went, so, 
 obviously, he had come back, not disillusioned, 
 nay, with all his illusions, or delusions, about 
 this wicked world and its possibilities, about the 
 people who dwell in it and their lamentable 
 limitations, stronger in his mind than ever. How 
 could he get through life without being too sorely 
 hurt and wounded, without being cut to the very 
 quick by his inevitable discoveries? Old Naylor 
 did not see how it was to be done, or even hoped 
 for; but the right kind of wife was unquestion- 
 ably the best chance. 
 
 He had cast a speculative eye on Cynthia 
 Walford, Irechester had caught him at it, but, 
 as he observed her more, she did not altogether 
 
 84
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 satisfy him. Alec needed someone more stable, 
 stronger, someone in a sense protective; some- 
 body more like Mary Arkroyd; that idea passed 
 through his thoughts; if only Mary would take 
 the trouble to dress herself, remember that she 
 was, or might be made, an attractive young 
 woman; and, yes, throw her mortar and pestle 
 out of the window without, however, discarding 
 with them the sturdy, sane, balanced qualities 
 of mind which enabled her to handle them with 
 such admirable competence. But he soon had to 
 put this idea from him. His son's own impulse 
 was to give, not to seek, protection and support. 
 
 Of Cynthia's woeful experience Alec had 
 spoken to his father once only: "It makes me 
 mad to think the fellow who did that wore a 
 British uniform!" 
 
 How unreasonable! Since by all the laws of 
 average, when millions of men are wearing a 
 uniform, there must be some rogues in it. But 
 it was Alec's way to hold himself responsible 
 for the whole of His Majesty's Forces. Their 
 honor was his; for their misdeeds he must in his 
 
 85
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 own person make reparation. "That fellow 
 Beaumaroy may have lost his conscience, but my 
 boy seems to have acquired five million," the 
 old man grumbled to himself a grumble full 
 of pride. 
 
 The father might analyze; with Alec it was 
 all impulse, the impulse to soothe, to obliterate, 
 to atone. The girl had been sorely hurt ; with the 
 acuteness of sympathy he divined that she felt 
 herself in a way soiled and stained by contact 
 with unworthiness and by a too easy acceptance 
 of it. All that must be swept out of her heart, 
 out of her memory, if it could be. 
 
 Doctor Mary saw what was happening, and 
 with a little pang to which she would not have 
 liked to own. She had set love affairs, and all 
 the notions connected therewith, behind her; but 
 she had idealized Alec Naylor a little; and she 
 thought Cynthia, in homely phrase, "hardly 
 good enough." Was it not rather perverse that 
 the very fact of having been a little goose should 
 help her to win so rare a swan? 
 
 "You're taking my patient out of my hands, 
 86
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 Captain Alec!" she said to him jokingly. "And 
 you're devoting great attention to the case." 
 
 He flushed. "She seems to like to talk to me," 
 he answered simply. "She seems to me to have 
 rather a remarkable mind, Doctor Mary." 
 (She was "Doctor Mary" to all the Old Place 
 party now, in affection, with a touch of chaff.) 
 
 O sancta simplicitas! Mary longed to say 
 that Cynthia was a very ordinary child. Like 
 to talk to him, indeed! Of course she did; and 
 to use her girl's weapons on him ; and to wonder, 
 in an almost awestruck delight, at their effect 
 on this dazzling hero. Well, the guilelessness 
 of heroes! 
 
 So mused Mary, on the unprofessional side 
 of her mind, as she watched, that Christmastide, 
 Captain Alec's delicate, sensitively indirect, 
 and delayed approach toward the ripe fruit that 
 hung so ready to his hand. "Part of his chiv- 
 alry to assume she can't think of him yet!" 
 Mary was half-impatient, half-reluctantly ad- 
 miring; not an uncommon mixture of feeling for 
 the extreme forms of virtue to produce. In the 
 
 87
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 net result, however, her marked image of Alec 
 lost something of its heroic proportions. 
 
 But professionally (the distinction must not 
 be pushed too far, she was not built in water- 
 tight compartments) Tower Cottage remained 
 obstinately in the center of her thoughts; and, 
 connected with it, there arose a puzzle over Dr. 
 Irechester's demeanor. She had taken advan- 
 tage of Beaumaroy's permission, though rather 
 doubtful whether she was doing right, for she 
 was still inexperienced in niceties of etiquette, 
 and sent on the letter, with a frank note explain- 
 ing her own feelings and the reason which had 
 caused her to pay her visit to Mr. Saffron. 
 But though Irechester was quite friendly when 
 they met at Old Place before dinner, and talked 
 freely to her during a rather prolonged period 
 of waiting (Captain Alec and Cynthia, Gertie 
 and two subalterns were very late, having ap- 
 parently forgotten dinner in more refined de- 
 lights), he made no reference to the letters, nor 
 to Tower Cottage or its inmates. Mary herself 
 was too shy to break the ice, but wondered at 
 
 88
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 his silence, and the more because the matter 
 evidently had not gone out of his mind. For 
 after dinner, when the port had gone round once 
 and the proper healths been honored, he said 
 across the table to Mr. Penrose: 
 
 "We were talking the other day of the Tower, 
 on the heath, you know, by old Saffron's cot- 
 tage, and none of us knew its history. You 
 know all about Inkston from time out o' mind. 
 Have you got any story about it?" 
 
 Mr. Penrose practiced as a solicitor in London, 
 but lived in a little old house near the Ire- 
 chesters' in the village street, and devoted his 
 leisure to the antiquities and topography of the 
 neighborhood; his lore was plentiful and curi- 
 ous, if not important. He was a small, neat old 
 fellow, with white whiskers of the antique cut, 
 a thin voice, and a dry cackling laugh. 
 
 "There was a story about it, and one quite 
 fit for Christmas evening, if you're in the mood 
 to hear it." 
 
 The thin voice was penetrating. At the 
 promise of a story silence fell on the company,
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 and Mr. Penrose told his tale, vouching as his 
 authority an erstwhile "oldest inhabitant," now 
 gathered to his fathers; for the tale dated back 
 some eighty years, to the date of the ancient's 
 early manhood. 
 
 A seafaring man had suddenly appeared, out 
 of space, as it were, at Inkston, and taken the 
 cottage. He carried with him a strong smell of 
 rum and tobacco, and gave it to be understood 
 that his name was Captain Duggle. He was 
 no beauty, and his behavior was worse than his 
 looks. To that quiet village, in those quiet 
 strait-laced times, he was a horror and a por- 
 tent. He not only drank prodigiously that, 
 being in character and also a source of local 
 profit, might have passed with mild censure 
 but he swore and blasphemed horribly, spurning 
 the parson, mocking at Revelation, even at the 
 Deity Himself. The Devil was his friend, he 
 said. A most terrible fellow, this Captain 
 Duggle. Inkston's hair stood on end, and no 
 wonder ! 
 
 90
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 "No doubt they shivered with delight over it 
 all," commented Mr. Naylor. 
 
 Captain Duggle lived all by himself well, 
 what God-fearing Christian, male or female, 
 would be found to live with him came and went 
 mysteriously and capriciously, always full of 
 money, and at least equally full of drink ! What 
 he did with himself nobody knew, but evil 
 legends gathered about him. Terrified way- 
 farers, passing the cottage by night, took oath 
 that they had heard more than one voice! 
 
 "This is proper Christmas!" a subaltern in- 
 terjected into Gertie's ear. 
 
 Mr. Penrose, with an air of gratification, con- 
 tinued his narrative. 
 
 "The story goes on to tell," lie said, "of a 
 final interview with the village clergyman, in 
 which that reverend man, as in duty bound, 
 solemnly told Captain Duggle that however 
 much he might curse, and blaspheme, and drink, 
 and, er, do all the other things that the Captain 
 did (obviously here Mr. Penrose felt hampered 
 by the presence of ladies), yet Death, Judg- 
 
 91
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 ment, and Churchyard wait for him at last. 
 Whereupon the Captain, emitting an inconceiv- 
 ably terrific imprecation, which no one ever 
 dared to repeat and which consequently is lost 
 to tradition, declared that the first he'd never 
 feared, the second was parson's gabble, and as to 
 the third, never should his dead toes be nearer 
 any church than for the last forty years his living 
 feet had been! If so be as he wasn't drowned at 
 sea, he'd make a grave for himself!" 
 
 Mr. Penrose paused, sipped port wine, and 
 resumed. 
 
 "And so, no doubt, he did, building the Tower 
 for that purpose. By bribes and threats he got 
 two men to work for him. One was the uncle 
 of my informant. But though he built that 
 Tower, and inside it dug his grave, he never 
 lay there, being, as things turned out, carried 
 off by the Devil. Oh, yes, there was no doubt! 
 He went home one night, a Saturday, very drunk, 
 as usual. On the Sunday night a belated way- 
 farer, possibly also drunk, heard wild shrieks 
 and saw a strange red glow through the window 
 
 92
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 of the Tower, now, by the way, boarded up. 
 And no doubt he'd have smelt brimstone if the 
 wind hadn't set the wrong way! Anyhow Cap- 
 tain Duggle was never seen again by morta] 
 eyes, at Inkston, at all events. Alter a time the 
 landlord of the cottage screwed up his courage 
 to resume possession; the Captain had only a 
 lease of it, though he built the Tower at his own 
 charges, and, I believe, without any permission, 
 the landlord being much too frightened to inter- 
 fere with him. He found everything in a sad 
 mess in the house, while in the Tower itself every 
 blessed stick had been burnt up. So the story 
 looks pretty plausible." 
 
 "And the grave?" This question came eagerly 
 from at least three of the company. 
 
 "In front of the fireplace there was a big 
 oblong hole six feet by three, by four planks 
 at the bottom, the sides roughly lined with brick. 
 Captain Duggle's grave; but he wasn't in it!" 
 
 "But what really became of him, Mr. Pen- 
 rose?" cried Cynthia. 
 
 "The Rising Generation is very skeptical," 
 93
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 said old Baylor. "You, of course, Penrose, be- 
 lieve the story?" 
 
 "I do," said Mr. Penrose composedly. "I be- 
 lieve that a devil carried him off, and that its 
 name was delirium tremens. We can guess, 
 can't we, Irechester, why he smashed or burnt 
 everything, and fled in mad terror into the dark- 
 ness? Where to? Was he drowned at sea, or 
 did he take his life, or did he rot to death in 
 some filthy hole? Nobody knows. But the 
 grave he dug is there in the Tower, unless it's 
 been filled up since old Saffron has lived there." 
 
 "Why in the world wasn't it filled up before?" 
 asked Alec Naylor with a laugh. "People lived 
 in the cottage, didn't they?" 
 
 "I've visited the cottage often," Irechester 
 interposed, "when various people had it, but I 
 never saw any signs of the Tower being used." 
 
 "It never was, I'm sure; and as for the grave, 
 well, Alec, in country parts, to this day, you'd 
 be thought a bold man if you filled up a grave 
 that your neighbor had dug for himself, and such 
 a neighbor as Captain Duggle ! He might take 
 
 94
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 it into his head some night to visit it, and if he 
 found it filled up there'd be trouble, nasty 
 trouble!" His laugh cackled out rather uncom- 
 fortably. Gertie shivered, and one of the subal- 
 terns gulped down his port. 
 
 "Old Saffron's a man of education, I believe. 
 No doubt he pays no heed to such nonsense, 
 and has had the thing covered up," said Naylor. 
 
 "As to that I don't know. Perhaps you do, 
 Irechester? He's your patient, isn't he?" 
 
 Dr. Irechester sat four places from Mary. 
 Before he replied to the question he cast a glance 
 at her, smiling rather mockingly. "I've attended 
 him on one or two occasions, but I've never seen 
 the inside of the Tower. So I don't know 
 either." 
 
 "Oh, but I'm curious! I shall ask Mr. Beau- 
 maroy," cried Cynthia. 
 
 The ironical character of Irechester's smile 
 grew more pronounced, and his voice was at its 
 driest: "Certainly you can ask Beaumaroy, 
 Miss Walford. As far as asking goes, there's 
 no difficulty." 
 
 95
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 A pause followed this pointed remark, on 
 which nobody seemed disposed to comment. 
 Mrs. Naylor ended the session by rising from her 
 chair. 
 
 But Mary Arkroyd was disquieted, worried 
 as to how she stood with Irechester, vaguely but 
 insistently worried over the whole Tower Cottage 
 business. Well, the first point she could soon 
 settle, or try to settle, anyhow. 
 
 With the directness which marked her action 
 when once her mind was made up, she waylaid 
 Irechester as he came into the drawing-room; 
 her resolute approach sufficed to detach Naylor 
 from him; he found himself for the moment 
 isolated from everybody except Mary. 
 
 "You got my letter, Dr. Irechester? I I 
 rather expected an answer." 
 
 "Your conduct was so obviously and punctili- 
 ously correct," he replied suavely, "that I 
 thought my answer could wait till I met you 
 here to-day, as I knew that I was to have the 
 pleasure of doing." He looked her full in 
 the eyes. "You were placed, my dear col- 
 
 96
 
 ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE 
 
 league, in a position in which you had no 
 alternative." 
 
 "I thought so, Dr. Irechester, but " 
 
 "Oh yes, clearly I I'm far from making any 
 complaint." He gave her a courteous little bow, 
 but it was one which plainly closed the subject. 
 Indeed he passed by her and joined a group that 
 had gathered on the hearthrug, leaving her 
 alone. 
 
 So she stood for a minute, oppressed by a 
 growing uneasiness. Irechester said nothing, but 
 surely meant something of import? He mocked 
 her, but not idly or out of wantonness. He 
 seemed almost to warn her. What could there 
 be to warn her about I He had laid an odd 
 emphasis on the word "placed" ; he had repeated 
 it. Who had "placed" her there? Mr. Saffron? 
 Or 
 
 Alec Naylor broke in on her uneasy medita- 
 tion. "It's a clinking night, Doctor Mary," he 
 observed. "Do you mind if I walk Miss Wai- 
 ford home, instead of her going with you in your 
 
 97
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 car, you know? It's only a couple of miles 
 
 and- -" 
 
 "D. y think your leg can stand it?" 
 
 He laughed. "I'll cut the thing off, if it dares 
 
 to make any objection!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 ON this same Christmas Day Sergeant 
 Hooper was feeling morose and discontented; 
 not because he was alone in the world (a situa- 
 tion comprising many advantages), nor on the 
 score of his wages, which were extremely liberal; 
 nor on account of the "old blighter's" that is, 
 Mr. Saffron's occasional outbursts of temper, 
 these being in the nature of the case and within 
 the terms of the contract; nor, finally, by reason 
 of Beaumaroy's airy insolence, since from his 
 youth up the Sergeant was hardened to unfavor- 
 able comments on his personal appearance, 
 trifling vulgarities which a man of sense could 
 afford to ignore. 
 
 No; the winter of his discontent a bitter 
 winter was due to the conviction, which had 
 been growing in his mind for some time, that he 
 
 99
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 was only in half the secret, and that not the 
 more profitable half. He knew that the old 
 blighter had to be humored in certain small ways, 
 as, for example, in regard to the combination 
 knife-and-fork and the reason for it. But, first, 
 he did not know what happened inside the 
 Tower; he had never seen the inside of it; the 
 door was always locked; he was never invited 
 to accompany his masters when they repaired 
 thither by day, and he was not on the premises 
 by night. And, secondly, he did not understand 
 the Wednesday journeys to London, and he had 
 never seen the inside of Beaumaroy's brown bag 
 that, like the Tower door, was always locked. 
 He had handled it once, just before the pair 
 set out for London one Wednesday. Beau- 
 maroy, a careless man sometimes, in spite of the 
 cunning which Dr. Irechester attributed to him, 
 had left it on the parlor table while he helped 
 Mr. Saffron on with his coat in the passage, 
 and the Sergeant had swiftly and surreptitiously 
 lifted it up. It was very light, obviously empty, 
 or, at all events, holding only featherweight 
 
 100
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 contents. He had never got near it when it 
 came back from town; then it always wenli 
 straight into the Tower and had the key turned 
 on it forthwith. 
 
 But the Sergeant, although slow-witted as well 
 as ugly, had had his experiences; he had carried 
 weights both in the army and in other institu- 
 tions which are officially described as His Ma- 
 jesty's, and had seen other men carry them too. 
 From the set of Beaumaroy's figure as he ar- 
 rived home on at least two occasions with the 
 brown bag, and from the way in which he 
 handled it, the Sergeant confidently drew the 
 conclusion that it was of a considerable, almost 
 a grievous, weight. What was the heavy thing 
 in it? What became of that thing after it was 
 taken into the Tower? To whose use or profit 
 did it, or was it, to inure? Certainly it was plain, 
 even to the meanest capacity, that the contents 
 of the bag had a value in the eyes of the two 
 men who went to London for them and who 
 shepherded them from London to the custody 
 of the Tower. 
 
 101
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 These thoughts filled and racked his brain as 
 he sat drinking rum and water in the bar of the 
 Green Man on Christmas evening; a solitary 
 man, mixing little with the people of the village, 
 he sat apart at a small table in the corner, 
 musing within himself, yet idly watching the 
 company villagers, a few friends from London 
 and elsewhere, some soldiers and their ladies. 
 Besides these, a tall slim man stood leaning 
 against the bar, at the far end of it, talking to 
 Bill Smithers, the landlord, and sipping whisky- 
 and-soda between pulls at his cigar. He wore 
 a neat dark overcoat, brown shoes, and a bowler 
 hat rather on one side; his appearance was, in 
 fact, genteel, though his air was a trifle raffish. 
 In age he seemed about forty. The Sergeant 
 had never seen him before, and therefore favored 
 him with a glance of special attention. 
 
 Oddly enough, the gentlemanly stranger 
 seemed to reciprocate the Sergeant's interest; 
 he gave him quite a long glance. Then he fin- 
 ished his whisky-and-soda, spoke a word to Bill 
 
 102
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 Smithers, and lounged across the room to where 
 the Sergeant sat. 
 
 "It's poor work drinking alone on Christmas 
 night," he observed. "May I join you? I've 
 ordered a little something, and, well, we needn't 
 bother about offering a gentleman a glass to^ 
 night." 
 
 The Sergeant eyed him with apparent dis- 
 favor as, indeed, he did everybody who ap- 
 proached him but a nod of his head accorded 
 the desired permission. Smithers came across 
 with a bottle of brandy and glasses. "Good 
 stuff!" said the stranger, as he sat down, filled 
 the glasses, and drank his off. "The best thing 
 to top up with, believe me!" 
 
 The Sergeant, in turn, drained his glass, 
 maintaining, however, his aloofness of demeanor. 
 "What's up?" he growled. 
 
 "What's in the brown bag?" asked the stranger 
 lightly and urbanely. 
 
 The Sergeant did not start; he was too old 
 a hand for that; but his small gimlet eyes 
 
 103
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 searched his new acquaintance's face very keenly. 
 "You know a lot!" 
 
 "More than you do in some directions, less in 
 others, perhaps. Shall I begin? Because we've 
 got to confide in one another, Sergeant. A little 
 story of what two gentlemen do in London on 
 Wednesdays, and of what they carry home in a 
 brown leather bag? Would that interest you? 
 Oh, that stuff in the brown leather bag! Hard 
 to come by now, isn't it? But they know where 
 there's still some, and so do I, to remark it in- 
 cidentally. There were actually some people, 
 Sergeant Hooper, who distrusted the righteous- 
 ness of the British Cause, which is to say (the 
 stranger smiled cynically) the certainty of our 
 licking the Germans, and they hoarded it, the 
 villains!" 
 
 Sergeant Hooper stretched out his hand to- 
 wards the bottle. "Allow me!" said the stranger 
 politely. "I observe that your hand trembles a 
 little." 
 
 It did. The Sergeant was excited. The 
 stranger seemed to be touching on a subject 
 
 104
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 which always excited the Sergeant to the point; 
 of hands trembling, twitching, and itching. 
 
 "Have to pay for it, too ! Thirty bob in curl- 
 twisters for every ruddy disc; that's the figure 
 now, or thereabouts. What do they want to do 
 it for? What's your governor's game? Who, 
 in short, is going to get off with it?" 
 
 "What is it they does, the old blighter and 
 Boomery (thus he pronounced the name Beau- 
 maroy) , in London?" 
 
 "First to the stockbroker's, then to a bank or 
 two, I've known it three even; then a taxi down 
 East, and a call at certain addresses. The bag's 
 with 'em, Sergeant, and at each call it gets 
 heavier. I've seen it swell, so to speak." 
 
 "Who in hell are you?" the Sergeant grunted 
 huskily. 
 
 "Names later after the usual guarantees of 
 good faith." 
 
 The whole conversation, carried on in low 
 tones, had passed under cover of noisy mirth, 
 snatches of song, banter, and gigglings; nobody 
 paid heed to the two men talking in a corner. 
 
 105
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Yet the stranger lowered his voice to a whisper, 
 as he added: 
 
 "From me to you fifty quid on account ; from 
 you to me just a sight of the place where they 
 put it." 
 
 , Sergeant Hooper drank, smoked, and pon- 
 dered. The stranger showed the edge of a roll 
 of notes, protruding it from his breast-pocket. 
 The Sergeant nodded, he understood that part. 
 But there was much that he did not understand. 
 "It fair beats me what the blazes they're doing 
 it for" he broke out. 
 K "Whose money would it be?" 
 
 "The old blighter's, o' course. Boomery's 
 stony, except for his screw." He looked hard 
 at the gentlemanly stranger, and a slow smile 
 came on his lips, "That's your idea, is it, 
 mister?" 
 
 "Gentleman's oia, looks frail, might go off 
 suddenly. What then ? Friends turn up, always 
 do when you're dead, you know. Well, what of 
 it? Less money in the funds than was reckoned ; 
 dear old gentleman doesn't cut up as well as they; 
 
 106
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 hoped! And meanwhile our friend B ! 
 
 Does it dawn on you at all, from our friend 
 
 B 's point of view, Sergeant? I may be 
 
 wrong, but that's my provisional conjecture. 
 The question remains how he's got the old gent 
 into the game, doesn't it?" 
 
 Precisely the point to which the Sergeant's 
 mind also had turned ! The knowledge which he 
 possessed that half of the secret and which 
 his companion did not, might be very material 
 to a solution of the problem; the Sergeant did 
 not mean to share it prematurely, without neces- 
 sity, or for nothing. But surely it had a bearing 
 on the case? Dull-witted as he was, the Sergeant 
 seemed to catch a glimmer of light, and mentally 
 groped towards it. 
 
 "Well, we can't sit here all night," said the 
 stranger in good-humored impatience. "I've a 
 train to catch." 
 
 "There's no train up from here to-night." 
 
 "There is from Sprotsfield. I shaU walk 
 over." 
 
 The Sergeant smiled. "Oh, if you're walk- 
 107
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 ing to Sprotsfield, I'll put you on your way. 
 If anybody was to see us, Boomery, for instance, 
 he couldn't complain of my seeing an old pal 
 on his way on Christmas night. No 'arm in 
 that; no look of prowling, or spying, or such 
 like! And you are an old pal, ain't you?" 
 
 "Certainly; your old pal let me see your 
 old pal Percy Bennett." 
 
 "As it might be, or as it might not. What 
 about the " He pointed to Percy Ben- 
 nett's breast-pocket. 
 
 "I'll give it you outside. You don't want me 
 to be seen handing it over in here, do you?" 
 
 The Sergeant had one more question to ask. 
 "About 'ow much d'ye reckon there might be 
 by now?" 
 
 "How often have they been to London? Be- 
 cause they don't come to see my friends every 
 time, I fancy." 
 
 "Must 'ave been six or seven times by now. 
 The game began soon after Boomery and I came 
 'ere." 
 
 "Then, quite roughly, quite a shot, from what 
 108
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 I know of the deals we my friends, I mean 
 did with them, and reasoning from that, there 
 might be a matter of seven or eight thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 The Sergeant whistled softly, rose, and led the 
 way to the door. The gentlemanly stranger 
 paused at the bar to pay for the brandy, and 
 after bidding the landlord a civil good-evening, 
 with the compliments of the season, followed the 
 Sergeant into the village street. 
 
 Fifteen minutes' brisk walk brought them to 
 Hinton Avenue. At the end of it they passed 
 Doctor Mary's house ; the drawing-room curtains 
 were not drawn; on the blind they saw reflected 
 the shadows of a man and a girl, standing side 
 by side. "Mistletoe, eh?" remarked the stranger. 
 The Sergeant spat on the road; they resumed 
 their way, pursuing the road across the heath. 
 
 It was fine, but overclouded and decidedly 
 dark. Every now and then Bennett, to call the 
 stranger by what was almost confessedly a nom- 
 de-guerre, flashed a powerful electric torch on 
 
 109
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 the roadway. "Don't want to walk into a gorse- 
 bush," he explained with a laugh. 
 
 "Put it away, you darned fool ! We're nearly 
 there." 
 
 The stranger obeyed. In another seven or 
 eight minutes there loomed up, on the left hand, 
 the dim outline of Mr. Saffron's abode the 
 square cottage with the odd round tower an- 
 nexed. 
 
 "There you are!" The Sergeant's voice in- 
 stinctively kept to a whisper. "That's what you 
 want to see." 
 
 "But I can't see it not so as to get any clear 
 idea." 
 
 No lights showed from the cottage, nor, of 
 course, from the Tower; its only window had 
 been, as Mr. *Penrose said, boarded up. The 
 wind there was generally a wind on the heath 
 stirred the fir-trees and the bushes into a soft 
 movement and a faint murmur of sound. A very 
 acute and alert ear might perhaps have caught 
 another sound footfalls on the road, a good 
 long way behind them. The two spies, or scouts, 
 
 110
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 did not hear them; their attention was elsewhere. 
 
 "Probably they're both in bed; it's quite safe 
 to make our examination," said the stranger. 
 
 "Yes, I s'pose it is. But look to be ready 
 to douse your glim. Boomery's a nailer at turn- 
 ing up unexpected." The Sergeant seemed 
 rather nervous. 
 
 Mr. Bennett was not. He took out his torch, 
 and guided by its light (which, however, he took 
 care not to throw towards the cottage windows) 
 he advanced to the garden gate, the Sergeant 
 following, and took a survey of the premises. 
 It was remarkable that, as the light of the torch 
 beamed out, the faint sound of footfalls on the 
 road behind died away. 
 
 "Keep an eye on the windows, and touch my 
 elbow if any light shows. Don't speak." The 
 stranger was at business his .business now, 
 and his voice became correspondingly business- 
 like. "We won't risk going inside the gate. I 
 can see from here." Indeed he very well could; 
 Tower Cottage stood back no more than twelve 
 
 111
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 or fifteen feet from the road, and the torch was 
 powerful. 
 
 For four or five minutes the stranger made 
 his examination. Then he turned off his torch. 
 "Looks easy," he remarked, "but of course 
 there's the garrison." Once more he turned on 
 his light, to look at his watch. "Can't stop now, 
 or I shall miss the train, and I don't want to 
 have to get a bed at Sprotsfield. A stiayed 
 reveler on Christmas night might be too well 
 remembered. Got an address?" 
 
 "Care of Mrs. Willnough, Laundress, Ink- 
 ston." 
 
 "Right. Good-night." With a quick turn he 
 was off along the road to Sprotsfield. The Ser- 
 geant saw the gleam of his torch once or twice, 
 receding at quite a surprising pace into the 
 distance. Feeling the wad of notes in his pocket 
 perhaps to make sure that the whole episode 
 had not been a dream the Sergeant turned back 
 towards Inkston. 
 
 After a couple of minutes, a tall figure 
 emerged from the shelter of a high and thick 
 
 112
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 gorse bush just opposite Tower Cottage, on the 
 other side of the road. Captain Alec Naylor 
 had seen the light of the stranger's torch, and, 
 after four years in France, he was well skilled 
 in the art of noiseless approach. But he felt 
 that, for the moment at least, his brain was less 
 agile than his feet. He had been suddenly 
 wrenched out of one set of thoughts into another 
 profoundly different. It was his shadow, to- 
 gether with Cynthia Walford's, that the Ser- 
 geant and the stranger had seen on Doctor 
 Mary's blind. After "walking her home," he 
 had well, just not proposed to Cynthia, re- 
 strained more by those scruples of his than by 
 any ungraciousness on the part of the lady. 
 Even his modesty could not blind him to this 
 fact. He was full of pity, of love, of a man's 
 joyous sense of triumph, half wishing that he 
 had made his proposal, half glad that he had not, 
 just because it, and its radiant promise, could 
 still be dangled in the bright vision of the 
 future. He was in the seventh heaven of ro- 
 mance, and his heaven was higher than that 
 
 113
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 which most men reach; it was built on loftier 
 foundations. 
 
 Then came the flash of the torch; the high 
 spirits born of one experience sought an outlet 
 in another. "By Jove, I'll track 'em like old 
 times!" he murmured, with a low light laugh. 
 And, just for fun, he did it, taking to the heath 
 beside the road, twisting his long body in and 
 out amongst gorse, heather, and bracken, very 
 noiselessly, with wonderful dexterity. The light 
 of the lamp was continuous now; the stranger 
 was making his examination. By it Captain 
 Alec guided his steps ; and he arrived behind the 
 tall gorse bush opposite Tower Cottage just in 
 time to hear the Sergeant say "Mrs. Willnough, 
 Laundress, Inkston," and to witness the parting 
 of the two companions. 
 
 There was very little to go upon there. Why 
 should not one friend give another an address? 
 But the examination? Beaumaroy should surely 
 know of that? It might be nothing, but, on the 
 other hand, it might have a meaning. But the 
 men had gone, had obviously parted for the 
 
 114
 
 A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER 
 
 night. Beaumaroy could be told to-morrow; now 
 he himself could go back to his visions and so 
 homeward, in happiness, to his bed. 
 
 Having reached this sensible conclusion, he 
 was about to turn away from the garden gate 
 which he now stood facing, when he heard the 
 house door softly open and as softly shut. The 
 practice of his profession had given him keen 
 eyes in the dark; he discovered Beaumaroy's tall 
 figure stealing very cautiously down the narrow, 
 flagged path. The next instant the light of 
 another torch flashed out, and this time not in 
 the distance, but full in his own face. 
 
 "By God, you, Naylor!" Beaumaroy ex- 
 claimed in a voice which was low but full of sur- 
 prise. "I I well, it's rather late " 
 
 Alec Naylor was suddenly struck with the 
 element of humor in the situation. He had been 
 playing detective; apparently he was now the 
 suspected! 
 
 "Give me time and I'll explain all," He said, 
 smiling under the dazzling rays of the torch. 
 
 Beaumaroy glanced round at the house for 
 115
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 a second, pursed up his lips into one of the odd 
 little contortions which he sometimes allowed 
 himself, and said: "Well, then, old chap, come 
 in and have a drink, and do it. For I'm hanged 
 if I see why you should stand staring into this 
 garden in the middle of the night! With your 
 opportunities I should be better employed on 
 Christmas evening." 
 
 "You really want me to come in?" It was now 
 Captain Alec's voice which expressed surprise. 
 
 "Why the devil not?" asked Beaumaroy in a 
 tone of frank but friendly impatience. 
 
 He turned and led the way into Tower Cot- 
 tage. Somehow this invitation to enter was the 
 last thing that Captain Alec had expected.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 BEAITMAEOY led the way into the parlor, Cap- 
 tain Alec following. "Well, I thought your old 
 friend didn't care to see strangers," he said, 
 continuing the conversation. 
 
 "He was tired and fretful to-night, so I got 
 him to bed, and gave him a soothing draught 
 one that our friend Dr. Arkroyd sent him. He 
 went off like a lamb, poor old boy. If we don't 
 talk too loud we sha'n't disturb him." 
 
 "I can tell you what I have to tell in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 "Don't hurry." Beaumaroy was bringing the 
 refreshment he had offered from the sideboard. 
 "I'm feeling lonely to-night, so I " he smiled 
 "yielded to the impulse to ask you to come in, 
 Naylor. However, let's have the story by all 
 
 means." 
 
 117
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 The surprise it might almost have been taken 
 for alarm which he had shown at the first sight 
 of Alec seemed to have given place to a gentle 
 and amiable weariness, which persisted through 
 the recital of the Captain's experiences how 
 his errand of courtesy, or gallantry, had led to 
 his being on the road across the heath so late 
 at night, and of what he had seen there. 
 
 "You copped them properly!" Beaumaroy 
 remarked at the end, with a lazy smile. "One 
 does learn a trick or two in France. You 
 couldn't see their faces, I suppose?" 
 
 "No; too dark. I didn't dare show a light, 
 though I had one. Besides, their backs were 
 towards me. One looked tall and thin, the other 
 short and stumpy. But I should never be able 
 to swear to either." 
 
 "And they went off in different directions, you 
 say?" 
 
 "Yes, the tall one towards Sprotsfield, the 
 short one back towards Inkston." 
 
 "Oh, the short stumpy one it was who turned 
 back to Inkston?" Beaumaroy had seated him- 
 
 118
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 self on a low three-legged stool, opposite to the 
 big chair where Alec sat, and was smoking his 
 pipe, his hands clasped round his knees. "It 
 doesn't seem to me to come to much, though I'm 
 much obliged to you all the same. The short 
 one's probably a local, the other a stranger, and 
 the local was probably seeing his friend part of 
 the way home, and incidentally showing him one 
 of the sights of the neighborhood. There are 
 stories about this old den, you know ancient 
 traditions. It's said to be haunted, and what 
 not." 
 
 "Funnily enough, we had the story to-night 
 at dinner, at our house." 
 
 "Had you now?" Beaumaroy looked up 
 quickly. "What, all about " 
 
 "Captain Duggle, and the Devil, and the 
 grave, and all that." 
 
 "Who told you the story?" 
 
 "Old Mr. Penrose. Do you know him? Lives 
 in High Street, near the Irechesters." 
 
 "I think I know him by sight. So he enter- 
 tained you with that old yarn, did he? 'And that 
 
 119
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 same old yarn probably accounts for the noc- 
 turnal examination which you saw going on. It 
 was a little excitement for you, to reward you 
 for your politeness to Miss Walford!" 
 
 Alec flushed, but answered frankly : "I needed 
 no reward for that." His feelings got the better 
 of him; he was very full of feelings that night, 
 and wanted to be sympathized with. "Beau- 
 maroy, do you know that girl's story?" Beau- 
 maroy shook his head, and listened to it. Captain 
 Alec ended on his old note: "To think of the 
 scoundrel using the King's uniform like that!" 
 
 "Rotten! But, er, don't raise your voice." 
 He pointed to the ceiling, smiling, and went on 
 without further comment on Cynthia's ill-usage. 
 "I suppose you intend to stick to the army, 
 Naylor?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly I do." 
 
 "I'm discharged. After I came out of hos- 
 pital they gave me sick leave, and constantly 
 renewed it; and when the armistice came they 
 gave me my discharge. They put it down to 
 my wound, of course, but well, I gathered the 
 
 120
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 impression that I was considered no great loss." 
 He had finished his pipe, and was now smiling 
 reflectively. 
 
 Captain Alec did not smile. Indeed he looked 
 rather pained; he was remembering General 
 Punnit's story: military inefficiency, even mili- 
 tary imperfection, was for him no smiling matter. 
 Beaumaroy did not appear to notice his disap- 
 proving gravity. 
 
 "So I was at a loose end. I had sold up 
 my business in Spain; I was there six or seven 
 years, just as Captain Captain ? Oh, Crans- 
 ter, yes! was in Bogota when I joined up, 
 and had no particular reason for going back 
 there and, incidentally, no money to go back 
 with. So I took on this job, which came to me 
 quite accidentally. I went into a Piccadilly bar 
 one evening, and found my old man there, rather 
 excited and declaiming a good deal of rot; 
 seemed to have the war a bit on his brain. They 
 started in to guy him, and I think one or two 
 meant to hustle him, and perhaps take his money 
 off him. I took his part, and there was a bit
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 of a shindy. In the end I saw him home to his 
 lodgings he had a room in London for the 
 night and, to cut a long story short, we palled 
 up, and he asked me to come and live with him. 
 So here I am, and with me my Sancho Panza, 
 the worthy ex-Sergeant Hooper. Perhaps I 
 may be forgiven for impliedly comparing myself 
 to Don Quixote, since that gentleman, besides 
 his other characteristics, is generally agreed to 
 have been mad." 
 
 "Your Sancho Panza's no beauty," remarked 
 the Captain drily. 
 
 "And no saint either. Kicked out of the Ser- 
 vice, and done time. That between ourselves." 
 
 "Then why the devil do you have the fellow 
 about?" 
 
 "Beggars mustn't be choosers. Besides, I've 
 a penchant for failures." 
 
 That was what General Punnit had said! 
 Alec Naylor grew impatient. "That's the very 
 spirit we have to fight against!" he exclaimed, 
 rather hotly. 
 
 122
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 "Forgive me, but, please, don't raise your 
 voice." 
 
 Alec lowered his voice, for a moment anyhow, 
 but the central article of his creed was assailed, 
 and he grew vehement. "It's fatal; it's at the 
 root of all our troubles. Allow for failures in 
 individuals, and you produce failure all round. 
 It's tenderness to defaulters that wrecks disci- 
 pline. I would have strict justice, but no 
 mercy, not a shadow of it!" 
 
 "But you said that day at your place that the 
 war had made you tender-hearted." 
 
 "Yes, I did, and it's true. Is it hard-hearted 
 to refuse to let a slacker cost good men their 
 lives? Much better take his, if it's got to be one 
 or the other." 
 
 "A cogent argument. But, my dear Naylor, 
 I wish you wouldn't raise your voice." 
 
 "Damn my voice!" said Alec, most vexa- 
 tiously interrupted just as he had got into his 
 stride. "You say things that I can't and won't 
 
 let pass, and " 
 
 123
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "I really wouldn't have asked you in, if I'd 
 thought you'd raise your voice." 
 
 Alec recollected himself. "My dear fellow, 
 a thousand pardons ! I forgot I The old gentle- 
 man !" 
 
 "Exactly. But I'm afraid the mischief's done. 
 Listen!" Again he pointed to the ceiling, but 
 his eyes set on Captain Alec with a queer, rue- 
 ful, humorous expression. "1 was an ass to 
 ask you in. But I'm no good at it, that's the 
 fact. I'm always giving the show away!" he 
 grumbled, half to himself, but not inaudibly. 
 
 Alec stared at him for a moment in puzzle, 
 but the next instant his attention was diverted. 
 Another voice besides his was raised ; the sound of 
 it came through the ceiling from the room above; 
 the words were not audible; the volubility of the 
 utterance in itself went far to prevent them from 
 being distinguishable; but the high, vibrant, 
 metallic tones rang through the house. It was 
 a rush of noise, sharp grating noise, without a 
 meaning. The effect was weird, very uncom- 
 fortable. Alec Naylor knit his brows, and once 
 
 124
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 gave a little shiver, as he listened. Beaumaroy 
 sat quite still, the expression in his eyes unal- 
 tered, or, if altered at all, it grew softer, as 
 though with pity or affection. 
 
 "Good God, Beaumaroy, are you keeping a 
 lunatic in this house?" He might raise his voice 
 as loud as he pleased now, it was drowned by 
 that other. 
 
 "I'm not keeping him, he's keeping me. And, 
 anyhow, his medical adviser tells me there is no 
 reason to suppose that my old friend is not 
 compos mentis" 
 
 "Irechester says that?" 
 
 "Mr. Saffron's medical attendant is Dr. Ark- 
 royd." 
 
 As he spoke the noise from above suddenly 
 ceased. Since neither of the men in the parlor 
 spoke, there ensued a minute of what seemed 
 intense silence; it was such a change. 
 
 Then came a still small sound, a creaking of 
 wood from overhead. 
 
 "I think you'd better go, Naylor, if you don't 
 mind. After a performance of that kind he 
 
 125
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 generally comes and tells me about it. And he 
 may be, I don't know at all for certain, annoyed 
 to find you here." 
 
 Alec Naylor got up from the big chair, but 
 it was not to take his departure. 
 
 "I want to see him, Beaumaroy," he said 
 brusquely and rather authoritatively. 
 
 Beaumaroy raised his brows. "I won't take 
 you to his room, or let you go there if I can help 
 it. But if he comes down, well, you can stay 
 and see him. It may get me into a scrape, but 
 that doesn't matter much." 
 
 "My point of view is " 
 
 "My dear fellow, I know your point of view 
 perfectly. It is that you are personally responsi- 
 ble for the universe, apparently just because you 
 wear a uniform." 
 
 No other sound had come from above or from 
 the stairs, but the door now opened suddenly, 
 and Mr. Saffron stood on the threshold. He 
 wore slippers, a pair of checked trousers, and 
 his bedroom jacket of pale blue; in addition, the 
 gray shawl, which he wore on his walks, was 
 
 126
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 again swathed closely round him. Only his right 
 arm was free from it; in his hand was a silver 
 bedroom candlestick. From his pale face and 
 under his snowy hair his blue eyes gleamed 
 brightly. As Alec first caught sight of him, he 
 was smiling happily, and he called out tri- 
 umphantly: "That was a good one! That went 
 well, Hector!" 
 
 Then he saw Alec's tall figure by the fire. He 
 grew grave, closed the door carefully, and ad- 
 vanced to the table, on which he set down the 
 candlestick. After a momentary look at Alec, 
 he turned his gaze inquiringly towards Beau- 
 maroy. 
 
 "I'm afraid we're keeping it up rather late, 
 sir," said the latter in a tone of respectful yet 
 easy apology, "but I took an airing in the road 
 after you went to bed, and there I found my 
 friend here on his way home; and since it was 
 Christmas " 
 
 Mr. Saffron bowed his head in acquiescence; 
 he showed no sign of anger. "Present your 
 
 127
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 friend to me, Hector," he requested, or ordered, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Captain Naylor, sir, Distinguished Service 
 Order; Duffshire Fusiliers." 
 
 The Captain was in uniform and, during his 
 talk with Beaumaroy, had not thought of tak- 
 ing off his cap. Thus he came to the salute 
 instinctively. The old man bowed with reserved 
 dignity; in spite of his queer get-up he bore 
 himself well; the tall handsome Captain did not 
 seem to efface or outclass him. 
 
 "Captain Naylor has distinguished himself 
 highly in the war, sir," Beaumaroy continued. 
 
 "I am very glad to make the acquaintance of 
 any officer who has distinguished himself in the 
 service of his country." Then his tone became 
 easier and more familiar. "Don't let me disturb 
 you, gentlemen. My business with you, Hector, 
 will wait. I have finished my work, and can rest 
 with a clear conscience." 
 
 "Couldn't we persuade you to stay a few 
 minutes with us, and join us in a whisky-and- 
 soda?" 
 
 128
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 "Yes, by all means, Hector. But no whisky. 
 Give me a glass of my own wine; I see a bottle 
 on the sideboard." 
 
 He came round the table and sat down in the 
 big chair. "Pray seat yourself, Captain," he 
 said, waving his hand towards the stool which 
 Beaumaroy had lately occupied. 
 
 The Captain obeyed the gesture, but his huge 
 frame looked awkward on the low seat; he felt 
 aware of it, then aware of the cap on his head; 
 he snatched it off hastily, and twiddled it be- 
 tween his fingers. Mr. Saffron, high up in the 
 great chair, sitting erect, seemed now actually 
 to dominate the scene Beaumaroy standing by, 
 with an arm on the back of the chair, holding 
 a tall glass full of the golden wine ready to 
 Mr. Saffron's command; the old man reached up 
 his thin right hand, took it, and sipped with 
 evident pleasure. 
 
 Alec Naylor was embarrassed; he sat in 
 silence. But Beaumaroy seemed quite at his 
 ease. He began with a statement which was, 
 in its literal form, no falsehood; but that was 
 
 129
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 about all that could be said for it on the score 
 of veracity. "Before you came in, sir, we were 
 just speaking of uniforms. Do you remember 
 seeing our blue Air Force uniform when we 
 were in town last week? I remember that you 
 expressed approval of it." 
 
 In any case the topic was very successful. 
 Mr. Saffron embraced it with eagerness; with 
 much animation he discussed the merits, whether 
 practical or decorative, of various uniforms 
 field-gray, khaki, horizon blue, Air Force blue, 
 and a dozen others worn by various armies, 
 corps, and services. Alec was something of an 
 enthusiast in this line too; he soon forgot his 
 embarrassment, and joined in the conversation 
 freely, though with a due respect to the obvious 
 thoroughness of Mr. Saffron's information. 
 Watching the pair with an amused smile, Beau- 
 maroy contented himself with putting in, here 
 and there, what may be called a conjunctive ob- 
 servation just enough to give the topic a new 
 start. 
 
 After a quarter of an hour of this pleasant 
 130
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 conversation, for such all three seemed to find 
 it, Mr. Saffron finished his wine, handed the 
 glass to Beaumaroy, and took a cordial leave 
 of Alec Naylor. "It's time for me to be in 
 bed, but don't hurry away, Captain. You won't 
 disturb me, I'm a good sleeper. Good-bye. I 
 sha'n't want you any more to-night, Hector." 
 
 Beaumaroy handed him his candle again, and 
 held the door open for him as he went out. 
 
 Alec Naylor clapped his cap back on his head. 
 "I'm off too," he said abruptly. 
 
 "Well, you insisted on seeing him, and you've 
 seen him. What about it now?" asked Beau- 
 maroy. t 
 
 Alec eyed him with a puzzled baffled suspi- 
 cion. "You switched him on to that subject on 
 purpose, and by means of something uncommon 
 like a lie." 
 
 "A little artifice! I knew it would interest 
 you, and it's quite one of his hobbies. I don't 
 know much about his past life, but I think he 
 must have had something to do with military 
 tailoring. A designer at the War Office, per- 
 
 131
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 haps." Beaumaroy gave a low laugh, rather 
 mocking and malicious. "Still, that doesn't 
 prove a man mad, does it? Perhaps it ought to, 
 but in general opinion it doesn't, any more than 
 reciting poetry in bed does." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that he was reciimg 
 poetry when " 
 
 "Well, it couldn't have sounded worse if he 
 had been, could it?" 
 
 Now he was openly laughing at the Captain's 
 angry bewilderment. He knew that Alec Nay- 
 lor did not believe a word of what he was saying 
 or suggesting; but yet Alec could not pass his 
 guard, nor wing a shaft between the joints of 
 his harness. If he got into difficulties through 
 heedlessness, at least he made a good shot at 
 getting out of them again by his dexterity. 
 Only, of course, suspicion remains suspicion, 
 even though it be, for the moment, baffled. And 
 it could not be denied that suspicions were piling 
 up Captain Alec, Irechester, even, on one little 
 point, Doctor Mary! And possibly those two 
 fellows outside one of them short and stumpy 
 
 132
 
 CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE 
 
 had their suspicions too, though these might 
 be directed to another point. He gave one of 
 his little shrugs as he followed the silent Captain 
 to the garden gate. 
 
 "Good-night. Thanks again. And I hope we 
 shall meet soon," he said cheerily. 
 
 Alec gave him a brief "Good-night" and a 
 particularly formal military salute.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 EVEN Captain Alec was not superior to the 
 foibles which beset humanity. If it had been 
 his conception of duty which impelled him to 
 take a high line with Beaumaroy, there was now 
 in his feelings, although he did not realize the 
 fact, an alloy of less precious metal. He had 
 demanded an ordeal, a test that he should see 
 Mr. Saffron and judge for himself. The test 
 had been accepted; he had been worsted in it. 
 His suspicions were not laid to rest far from 
 it; but they were left unjustified and uncon- 
 firmed. He had nothing to go upon, nothing to 
 show. He had been baffled, and, moreover, 
 bantered and almost openly ridiculed. In fact, 
 Beaumaroy had been too many for him, the 
 subtle rogue! 
 
 This conception of the case colored his looks 
 134
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 and pointed his words when Tower Cottage and 
 its occupants were referred to, and most mark- 
 edly when he spoke of them to Cynthia Wai- 
 ford; for in talking to her he naturally allowed 
 himself greater freedom than he did with 
 others; talking to her had become like talking 
 to himself, so completely did she give him back 
 what he bestowed on her, and re-echc to his mind 
 its own voice. Such perfect sympathy induces 
 a free outpouring of inner thoughts, and rein- 
 forces the opinions of which it so unreservedly 
 approves. 
 
 Cynthia did more than elicit and reinforce 
 Captain Alec's opinion; she also disseminated it 
 at Old Place, at the Irechesters', at Doctor 
 Mary's, through all the little circle in which she 
 was now a constant and a favorite figure. In 
 the light of her experience of men, so limited 
 and so sharply contrasted, she made a simple 
 classification of them; they were Cransters or 
 Alecs; and each class acted after its kind. 
 Plainly Beaumaroy was not an Alec; therefore 
 he was a Cranster, and Cranster-like actions 
 
 135
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 were to be expected from him, of such special 
 description as his circumstances and temptations 
 might dictate. 
 
 She poured this simple philosophy into Doc- 
 tor Mary's ears, vouching Alec's authority for 
 its application to Beaumaroy. The theory was 
 too simple for Mary, whose profession had 
 shown her at all events something of the com- 
 plexity of human nature; and she was no in- 
 fallibilist; she would bow unquestioningly to no 
 man's authority, not even to Alec's, much as she 
 liked and admired him. There was even a 
 streak of contrariness in her; what she might 
 have said to herself she was prone to criticize or 
 contradict, if it were too confidently or urgently 
 pressed on her by another; perhaps, too, Cyn- 
 thia's claim to be the Captain's mouthpiece 
 stirred up in her a latent resentment; it was not 
 to be called a jealousy; it was rather an amused 
 irritation at both the divinity and his worshiper. 
 His worshipers can sometimes make a divinity 
 look foolish. 
 
 Her own interview with Beaumaroy at the 
 136
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 Cottage had left her puzzled, distrustful and 
 attracted. She suspected him vaguely of want- 
 ing to use her for some purpose of his own; in 
 spite of the swift plausibility of his explanation, 
 she was nearly certain that he had lied to her 
 about the combination knife-and-fork. Yet his 
 account of his own position in regard to Mr. 
 Saffron had sounded remarkably candid, and 
 the more so because he made no pretensions to 
 an exalted attitude. It had been left to her to 
 define the standard of sensitive honor; his had 
 been rather that of safety or, at the best, that 
 of what the world would think, or even of what 
 the hated cousins might attempt to prove. But 
 there again she was distrustful, both of him and 
 of her own judgment. He might be it seemed 
 likely one of those men who conceal the good 
 as well as the bad in themselves, one of the 
 morally shy men. Or again, perhaps, one of the 
 morally diffident, who shrink from arrogating 
 to themselves high standards because they fear 
 for their own virtue if it be put to the test, and 
 cling to the power of saying, later on, "Well, 
 
 137
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 I told you not to expect too much from me!" 
 Such various types of men exist, and they do 
 not fall readily into either of Cynthia's two 
 classes; they are neither Cransters nor Alecs; 
 certainly not in thought, probably not in con- 
 duct. He had said at Old Place, the first time 
 that she met him, that the war had destroyed 
 all his scruples. That might be true; but it was 
 hardly the remark of a man naturally un- 
 scrupulous. 
 
 She met him one day at Old Place about a 
 week after Christmas. The Captain was not 
 there; he was at her own house, with Cynthia. 
 With the rest of the family Beaumaroy was at 
 his best; gaily respectful to Mrs. Naylor, merry 
 with Gertie, exchanging cut and thrust with old 
 Mr. Naylor, easy and cordial towards herself. 
 Certainly an attractive human being and a 
 charming companion, pre-eminently natural. 
 "One talks of taking people as one finds them," 
 old Naylor said to her when they were left 
 alone together for a few minutes by the fire, 
 while the others chatted by the window. "That 
 
 138
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 fellow takes himself as he finds himself! Not 
 as a pattern, a failure, or a problem, but just 
 as a fact a psychological fact." 
 
 "That rather shuts out effort, doesn't it? 
 Well, I mean " 
 
 "Strivings?" Mr. Naylor smiled. "Yes, it 
 does. On the other hand, it gives such free play. 
 That's what makes him interesting, makes you 
 think about him." He laughed. "Oh, I dare 
 say the surroundings help too we're all rather 
 children old Saffron, and the Devil, and Cap- 
 tain Duggle, and the rest of it! The brain isn't 
 overworked down here; we like to find an out- 
 let." 
 
 "That means you think there's nothing in it 
 really?" 
 
 "In what?" retorted old Naylor briskly. 
 
 But Mary was equal to him. "My lips are 
 sealed professionally," she smiled. "But hasn't 
 your son said anything?" 
 
 "Admirable woman! Yes, Alec has said a 
 few things; and the young lady gives it us, too. 
 For my part, I think Beaumaroy's just drifting. 
 
 139
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 He'll take the gifts of fortune if they come, but 
 I don't think there's much deliberate design 
 about it. Ah, now you're smiling in a superior 
 way, Doctor Mary! I charge you with secret 
 knowledge. Or are you puffed up by having 
 superseded Irechester?" 
 
 "I was never so distressed and well, embar- 
 rassed at anything in my life." 
 
 "Well, that, if you ask me, does look a bit 
 queer. Sort of fits in with Alec's theory." 
 
 Mary's discretion gave way a little. "Or with 
 Mr. Beaumaroy's? Which is that I'm a fool, 
 I think." 
 
 "And that Irechester isn't?" His eyes 
 twinkled in good-humored malice. "Talking of 
 what this and that person thinks of himself and 
 of others, Irechester thinks himself something of 
 an alienist." 
 
 Her eyes grew suddenly alert. "He's never 
 talked to me on that subject." 
 
 "Perhaps he doesn't think it's one of yours. 
 Perhaps your studies haven't lain that way? 
 
 140
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 After all, no medical man can study every- 
 thing!" 
 
 "Don't be naughty, Mr. Naylor!" said Doctor 
 Mary. 
 
 "He tells me that, in cases where the condi- 
 tion the condition I think he called it is in 
 doubt, he fixes his attention on the eyes and the 
 voice. He couldn't give me any very clear de- 
 scription of what he found in the eyes. I couldn't 
 quite make out, anyhow, what he meant, unless 
 it was a sort of meaninglessness, a want of what 
 you might call intellectual focus. Do you fol- 
 low me?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I know what you mean." 
 
 "But with regard to the voice I distinctly; 
 remember that he used the word 'metallic.' ' 
 
 "Why, that's the word Cynthia used " 
 
 "I dare say it is. It's the word Alec used in 
 describing the voice in which old Mr. Saffron 
 recited his poem, or whatever it was, in bed." 
 
 "But I've talked to Mr. Saffron; his voice 
 isn't like that; it's a little high, but full and 
 rather melodious." 
 
 141
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "Oh, well then " He spread out his hands, 
 
 as though acknowledging a check. "Still, the 
 voice described as metallic seems to have been 
 Mr. Saffron's; at a certain moment at least. 
 As a merely medical question of some interest, 
 I wonder if such a symptom or sign of er 
 irritability could be intermittent, coming and go- 
 ing with the er fits! Irechester didn't say 
 anything on that point. Have you any opinion?" 
 
 "None. I don't know. I should like to ask 
 Dr. Irechester." Then, with a sudden smile, she 
 amended, "No, I shouldn't!" 
 
 "And why not, pray? Professional eti- 
 quette?" 
 
 "No, pride. Dr. Irechester laughed at me. 
 I think I see why now; and perhaps why Mr. 
 
 Beaumaroy " She broke off abruptly, the 
 
 slightest gesture of her hand warning Naylor 
 also to be silent. 
 
 Having said good-bye to his friends by the 
 window, Beaumaroy was sauntering across the 
 room to pay the like courtesy to herself and 
 Naylor. Mary rose to her feet; there was an 
 
 142
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 air of decision about her, and she addressed 
 Beaumaroy almost before he was within speaking 
 distance as it is generally reckoned in society. 
 
 "If you're going home, Mr. Beaumaroy, shall 
 we walk together? It's time I was off, too." 
 
 Beaumaroy looked a little surprised, but un- 
 doubtedly pleased. "Well, now, what a delight- 
 ful way of prolonging a delightful visit. I'm 
 truly grateful, Dr. Arkroyd." 
 
 "Oh, you needn't be!" said Mary with a little 
 toss of her head. 
 
 Naylor watched them with amusement. "He'll 
 catch it on that walk!" he was thinking. "She's 
 going to let him have it! I wish I could be 
 there to hear." He spoke to them openly: "I'm 
 sorry you must both go, but, since you must, 
 go together. Your walk will be much pleas- 
 anter." 
 
 Mary understood him well enough, and gave 
 him a flash from her eyes. But Beaumaroy 's 
 face betrayed nothing, as he murmured politely: 
 "To me, at all events, Mr. Naylor." 
 
 Naylor was not wrong as to Mary's mood 
 143
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 and purpose. But she did not find it easy to 
 begin. Pretty quick at a retort herself, she 
 could often foresee the retorts open to her in- 
 terlocutor. Beaumaroy had provided himself 
 with plenty: the old man's whim; the access to 
 the old man so willingly allowed, not only to 
 her but to Captain Alec; his own candor car- 
 ried to the verge of self -betrayal. Oh, he would 
 be full of retorts, supple and dexterous ones! 
 [Ajs this hostile accusation passed through her 
 mind, she awoke to the fact that she was, at the 
 same moment, regarding his profile (he, too, was 
 silent, no doubt lying in wait to trip up her 
 opening!) with interest, even with some ap- 
 proval. He seemed to feel her glance, for he 
 turned towards her quickly so quickly that she 
 had no time to turn her eyes away. 
 
 "Doctor Mary" the familiar mode of ad- 
 dress habitually used at the house which they 
 had just left seemed to slip out without his con- 
 sciousness of it "You've got something against 
 me; I know you have! I'm sensitive that way, 
 
 144
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 though not, perhaps, in another. Now, out 
 with it!" 
 
 "You'd silence me with a clever answer. I 
 think that you sometimes make the mistake of 
 supposing that to be silenced is the same thing 
 as being convinced. You silenced Captain Nay- 
 lor oh, I don't mean you've prevented him 
 from talking! I mean you confuted him, you 
 put him in the wrong, but you certainly didn't 
 convince him." 
 
 "Of what?" he asked in a tone of surprise. 
 
 "You know that. Let us suppose his idea 
 was all nonsense; yet your immediate object was 
 to put it out of his head." She suddenly added, 
 "I think your last question was a diplomatic 
 blunder, Mr. Beaumaroy. You must have 
 known what I meant. What was the good of 
 pretending not to?" 
 
 Beaumaroy stopped still in the road for a 
 moment, looking at her with a rueful amusement. 
 "You're not so easily silenced, after all!" he 
 said, starting to walk on again. 
 
 "You encourage me." To tell the truth, 
 145
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Mary was not only encouraged, she was pleased 
 by the hit she had scored, and flattered by his 
 acknowledgment of it. "Well, then, I'll put 
 another point. You needn't answer if you don't 
 like." 
 
 "I shall answer if I can, depend on it!" He 
 laughed, and Mary, for a brief instant, joined 
 in his laugh. His sudden lapses into candor 
 seemed somehow to put the serious hostile ques- 
 tioner ridiculously in the wrong. Could a man 
 like that really have anything to conceal? 
 
 But she held to her purpose. "You're a 
 friendly sort of man, you offer and accept at- 
 tentions and kindnesses, you're not stand-offish, 
 or haughty, or sulky; you make friends easily, 
 especially, perhaps, with women; they like you, 
 and like to be pleasant and kind to you. There are 
 men patients, I mean very hard to deal with; 
 men who resent being ill, resent having to have 
 things done to them and for them, who especially 
 resent the services of women, even of nurses 
 I mean in quite indifferent things, not merely in 
 things where a man may naturally shrink from 
 
 146
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 their help. Well, you don't seem that sort of 
 man in the least." She looked at him, as she 
 ended this appreciation of him, as though she 
 expected an answer or a comment. Beaumaroy 
 made neither; he walked on, not eyen looking 
 at her. 
 
 "And you can't have been troubled long with 
 that wound. It evidently healed up quickly and 
 sweetly." 
 
 Beaumaroy looked for an instant at his 
 maimed hand with a critical air; but he was still 
 silent. 
 
 "So that I wonder you didn't do as most 
 patients do let the nurse, or, if you were still 
 disabled after you came out, a friend or some- 
 body, cut up your food for you without provid- 
 ing yourself with that implement." He turned 
 his head quickly towards her. "And if you ask 
 me what implement I mean, I shall answer the 
 one you tried to snatch from the sideboard at 
 Tower Cottage before I could see it." 
 
 It was a direct challenge; she charged him 
 with a lie. Beaumaroy's face assumed a really 
 
 147
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 troubled expression, a thing rare for it to do. 
 Yet it was not an ashamed or abashed expres- 
 sion; it just seemed to recognize that a trouble- 
 some difficulty had arisen. He set a slower pace 
 and prodded the road with his stick. Mary 
 pushed her advantage. "Your your improviza- 
 tion didn't satisfy me at the time, and the more 
 I've thought over it, the less have I found it 
 convincing." 
 
 He stopped again, turning round to her. He 
 slapped his left hand against the side of his leg. 
 "Well, there it is, Doctor Mary! You must 
 make what you can of it." 
 
 It was complete surrender as to the combina- 
 tion knife-and-fork. He was beaten, on that 
 point at least, and owned it. His lie was found 
 out. "It's dashed difficult always to remember 
 that you're a doctor," he broke out the next 
 minute. 
 
 Mary could not help laughing; but her eyes 
 were still keen and challenging as she said, 
 "Perhaps you'd better change your doctor again, 
 
 148
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 Mr. Beaumaroy. You haven't found one stupid 
 enough!" 
 
 Again Beaumaroy had no defense; his non- 
 plussed air confessed that maneuver, too. Mary 
 dropped her rallying tone and went on gravely: 
 "Unless I'm treated with confidence and sin- 
 cerity, I can't continue to attend Mr. Saffron." 
 
 "That's your ultimatum, is it, Doctor Mary?" 
 
 She nodded sharply and decisively. Beau- 
 maroy meditated for a few seconds. Then he 
 shook his head regretfully. "It's no use. I 
 daren't trust you," he said. 
 
 Mary laughed again, this time in amazed re- 
 sentment of his impudence. "You can't trust 
 me ! I think it's the other way round. It seems 
 to me that the boot's on the other leg." 
 
 "Not as I see it." Then he smiled slowly, as 
 it were tentatively. "Or would you I wonder 
 if you could possibly well, stand in with me?" 
 
 "Are you offering me a a partnership?" she 
 asked indignantly. 
 
 He raised his hand in a seeming protest, and 
 spoke now hastily and in some confusion. "Not 
 
 149
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 as you understand it. I mean, as you probably 
 understand it, from what I said to you that night 
 at the Cottage. There are features in the well, 
 there are things that I admit have have passed 
 through my mind, without being what you'd call 
 settled. Oh, yes, without being in the least 
 settled. Well, for the sake of your help and 
 er cooperation, those those features could be 
 dropped. And then perhaps if only your 
 
 your rules and etiquette " 
 
 Mary scornfully cut short his embarrassed 
 pleadings. "There's a good deal more than rules 
 and etiquette involved. It seems to me that it's 
 a matter of common honesty rather than of rules 
 
 and etiquette " 
 
 "Yes, but you don't understand " 
 
 She cut him short again. "Mr. Beaumaroy, 
 after this, after your suggestion and all the rest 
 of it, there must be an end of all relations be- 
 tween us professionally and, so far as possible, 
 socially too, please. I don't want to be self- 
 righteous, but I feel bound to say that you have 
 misunderstood my character." 
 
 150
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 Her voice quivered at the end, and almost 
 broke. She was full of a grieved indignation. 
 
 They had come opposite the cottage now. 
 Beaumaroy stopped, and stood facing her. 
 Though dusk had fallen, it was a clear evening; 
 she could see his face plainly; obviously he was 
 in deep distress. "I wouldn't have offended you 
 for the world. I I like you far too much, 
 Doctor Mary." 
 
 "You imputed your own standards to me. 
 That's all there is about it, I suppose," she said 
 in a scornful sadness. He looked very miser- 
 able. Compassion, and the old odd attraction 
 which he had for her, stirred in her mind. Her 
 voice grew soft, and she held out her hand. "I'm 
 sorry too, very sorry, that it should have to be 
 good-bye between us." 
 
 Beaumaroy did not take her proffered hand, 
 or even seem to notice it. He stood quite still. 
 
 "I'm damned if I know what I'm to do now!" 
 
 Close on the heels of his despairing confes- 
 sion of helplessness for such it undoubtedly 
 seemed to me came the noise of an opening 
 
 151
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 door, a light from the inside of the Cottage, a 
 patter of quick-moving feet on the flagged path 
 that led to the garden gate. The next moment 
 Mary saw the figure of Mr. Saffron, in his old 
 gray shawl, standing at the gate. He was wav- 
 ing his right arm in an excited way, and his 
 hand held a large sheet of paper. 
 
 "Hector! Hector, my dear, dear boy! The 
 news has come at last. You can be off to- 
 morrow !" 
 
 Beaumaroy started violently, glanced at his 
 old friend's strange figure, glanced once, too, at 
 Mary; the expression of utter despair which his 
 face had worn seemed modified into one of 
 humorous bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes, yes, you can start to-morrow for 
 Morocco, my dear boy!" cried old Mr. Saffron. 
 
 Beaumaroy lifted his hat to her, cried, "I'm 
 coming, sir!" turned on his heel, and strode 
 quickly up to Mr. Saffron. She watched him 
 open the gate and take the old gentleman by 
 the arm; she heard the murmur of his voice 
 speaking soft accents as the pair walked up the 
 
 152
 
 DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM 
 
 path together. They passed into the house, and 
 the door was shut. 
 
 Mary stood where she was for a moment, then 
 moved slowly, hesitatingly, yet as though under 
 a lure which she could not resist. Just outside 
 the gate lay something that gleamed white 
 through the darkness. It was the sheet of paper. 
 Mr. Saffron had dropped it in his excitement, 
 and Beaumaroy had not noticed. 
 
 Mary stole forward and picked it up stealthily; 
 she was incapable of resisting her curiosity or 
 even of stopping to think about her action. She 
 held it up to what light there was, and strained 
 her eyes to examine it. So far as she could see, 
 it was covered with dots, dashes, lines, queerly 
 drawn geometrical figures a mass of meaning- 
 less hieroglyphics. She dropped it again where 
 she had found it, and made off home with guilty 
 swiftness. 
 
 Yes, there had been, this time, a distinctly 
 metallic ring in old Mr. Saffron's voice. 
 
 158
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 WHEN Mary arrived home, she found Cyn- 
 thia and Captain Alec still in possession of the 
 drawing-room; their manner accused her legiti- 
 mate entry into the room of being an outrageous 
 intrusion. She took no heed of that, and indeed 
 little heed of them. To tell the truth, she was 
 ashamed to confess, but it was the truth, she 
 felt rather tired of them that evening. Their 
 affair deserved every laudatory epithet, except 
 that of interesting; so she declared peevishly 
 within herself as she tried to join in conversa- 
 tion with them. It was no use. They talked on, 
 and in justice to them it may be urged that they 
 were fully as bored with Mary as she was with 
 them; so naturally their talents did not shine 
 their brightest. But they had plenty to say to 
 one another, and dutifully threw in a question 
 
 154
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 or a reference to Mary every now and then. Sit- 
 ting apart at the other end of the long low room 
 it ran through the whole depth of her old- 
 fashioned dwelling she barely heeded and 
 barely answered. They smiled at one another 
 and were glad. 
 
 She was very tired; her feelings were wounded, 
 her nerves on edge; she could not even attempt 
 any cool train of reasoning. The outcome of 
 her talk with Beaumaroy filled her mind rather 
 than the matter of it; and, more even than that, 
 the figure of the man seemed to be with her, 
 almost to stand before her, with his queer alterna- 
 tions of despair and mirth, of defiance and 
 pleading, of derision and alarm. One moment 
 she was intensely irritated with him; in the next 
 she half forgave the plaintive image which the 
 fancy of her mind conjured up before her eyes. 
 
 Her eyes closed she was so very tired, the 
 fight had taken it out of her! To have to do 
 things like that was an odious necessity, which 
 had never befallen her before. That man had 
 done well, Captain Alec was quite right about 
 
 155
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 him! Yet still the shadowy image, though thus 
 reproached, did not depart; it was smiling at 
 her now with its old mockery the kindly mock- 
 ery which his face wore before they quarrelled, 
 and before its light was quenched in that for- 
 lorn bewilderment. And it seemed as though the 
 image began to say some words to her, discon- 
 nected words, not making a sentence, but yet 
 having for the image a pregnant meaning, and 
 seeming to her though vaguely and very dimly 
 to be the kev to what she had to understand. 
 
 m 
 
 She was stupid not to understand words so full 
 of meaning just as stupid as Beaumaroy had 
 thought. 
 
 Then Doctor Mary fell asleep, sound asleep; 
 she had been very near it for the last ten minutes. 
 
 Captain Alec and Cynthia were in two chairs, 
 close side by side, in front of the fire. Once 
 Cynthia glanced over her shoulder; the Captain 
 had glanced over his in the same direction al- 
 ready. One of his hands held one of Cynthia's. 
 It was well to be sure that Mary was asleep, 
 really asleep. 
 
 156
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 She had gone to sleep on the name of Beau- 
 inaroy; on it she awoke. It came from Captain 
 Alec's lips. He was standing on the hearthrug 
 with his arm round Cynthia's waist, and his other 
 hand raising one of hers to his lips. He looked 
 admirably handsome strong, protecting, de- 
 voted. And Cynthia, in her fragile appealing 
 prettiness, was a delicious foil, a perfect com- 
 plement to the picture. But now, under stress 
 of emotion small blame to a man who was 
 making a vow of eternal fidelity! under stress 
 of emotion, as, on a previous occasion, under that 
 of indignation, the Captain had raised his voice! 
 
 "Yes, against all the scoundrels in the world, 
 whether they're called Cranster or Beaumaroy !" 
 he said. 
 
 Mary's eyes opened. She sat up. "Cranster 
 and Beaumaroy?" They were the words which 
 her ears had caught. "What in the world has 
 
 Mr. Beaumaroy to do with " But she broke 
 
 off, as she saw the couple by the fire. "But 
 what are you two doing?" 
 
 157
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Cynthia broke away from her lover, and ran 
 to her friend with joyous avowals. 
 
 "I must have been sound asleep," cried Mary, 
 kissing her. Alec had followed across the room 
 and now stood close by her. She looked up at 
 him. "Oh, I see! She's to be safe now from 
 such people?" On this particular occasion 
 Mary's look at the Captain was not admiring; 
 it was a little scornful. 
 
 "That's the idea," agreed the happy Alec. 
 "Another idea is that I trot you both over in 
 the car to Old Place to break the news and have 
 dinner." 
 
 "Splendid!" cried Cynthia. "Do come, 
 Mary!" 
 
 Mary shook her head. "No; you go, you two," 
 she said. "I'm tired, and I want to think." She 
 passed her hand across her eyes. She seemed to 
 wipe away the mists of sleep. Her face sud- 
 denly grew animated and exultant. "No, I don't 
 want to think! I know!" she exclaimed em- 
 phatically. 
 
 158
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 "Mary dear, are you still asleep? Are you 
 talking in your sleep?'* 
 
 "The keyword! It came to me, somehow, in 
 my sleep. The keyword Morocco 1" 
 
 "What the deuce has Morocco " Captain 
 
 Alec began, with justifiable impatience. 
 
 "Ah, you never heard that, and, dear Captain 
 Alec, you wouldn't have understood it if you 
 had. You thought he was reciting poems. 
 What he was really doing " 
 
 "Look here, Doctor Mary, I've just been ac- 
 cepted by Cynthia, and I'm going to take her 
 to my mother and father. Can you get your 
 mind on to that?" He looked at her curiously, 
 not at all understanding her excitement, perhaps 
 resenting the obvious fact that his Cynthia's hap- 
 piness was not foremost in her friend's mind. 
 
 With a great effort Mary brought herself 
 down to the earth to the earth of romantic love 
 from the heaven of professional triumph. True, 
 the latter was hers, the former somebody else's. 
 "I do beg your pardon. I do indeed. And do let 
 me kiss you again, Cynthia darling and you, 
 
 159
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 dear Captain Alec, just once! And then you 
 shall go off to dinner." She laughed excitedly. 
 "Yes, I'm going to push you out." 
 
 "Let's go, Alec," said Cynthia, not unkindly, 
 yet just a little pettishly. The great moment 
 of her lif e surely as great a moment as there had 
 ever been in anybody's life had hardly earned 
 adequate recognition from Mary. As usual, her 
 feelings and Alec's were at one. Before they 
 passed to other and more important matters, 
 when they drove off in the car she said to Alec, 
 "It seems to me that Mary's strangely interested 
 in that Mr. Beaumaroy. Had she been dream- 
 ing of him, Alec?" 
 
 "Looks like it! And why the devil Morocco?" 
 His intellect baffled, Captain Alec took refuge 
 in his affections. 
 
 Left alone, and so thankful for it, Doctor 
 Mary did not attempt to sit still. She walked 
 up and down, she roved here and there, smoking 
 any quantity of cigarettes; she would certainly 
 have forbidden such excess to a patient. The 
 keyword; its significance had seemed to come to 
 
 160
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO; 
 
 her in her sleep. Something in that subcon- 
 sciousness theory? The word explained, linked 
 up, gave significance that magical word 
 Morocco ! 
 
 Yes, they fell into place now, the things that 
 had been so puzzling, and that looked now so 
 obviously suggestive. Even one thing which she 
 had thought nothing about, which had not struck 
 her as having any significance, now took on its 
 meaning the gray shawl which the old gentle- 
 man so constantly wore swathed round his body, 
 enveloping the whole of it except his right arm. 
 Did he wear the shawl while he took his meals? 
 Doctoi Mary could not tell as to that. Perhaps 
 he did not; at his meals only Beaumaroy, and 
 perhaps their servant, would be present. But 
 he seemed to wear it whenever he went abroad, 
 whenever he was exposed to the scrutiny of 
 strangers. That indicated secretiveness, perhaps 
 fear, the apprehension of something. The cau- 
 tion bred by that might give way under the in- 
 fluence of great cerebral excitement. Unques- 
 tionably Mr. Saffron had been very excited when 
 
 161
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 he waved the sheet of hieroglyphics and shouted 
 to Beaumaroy about Morocco. But whether he 
 wore the shawl or not in the safe privacy of 
 Tower Cottage, whatever might be the truth 
 about that perhaps he varied his practice ac- 
 cording to his condition on one thing Doctor 
 Mary would stake her life; he used the combina- 
 tion knife-and-fork! 
 
 For it was over that implement that Beau- 
 marojr had tripped up. It ought to have been 
 hidden before she was admitted to the cottage. 
 Somebody had been careless, somebody had 
 blundered whether Beaumaroy himself or his 
 servant was immaterial. Beaumaroy had lied, 
 readily and ingeniously, but not quite readily 
 enough. The dart of his hand had betrayed him; 
 that, and a look in his eyes, a tell-tale mirth 
 which had seemed to mock both her and himself, 
 and had made his ingenious lie even at the mo- 
 ment unconvincing. Yes, whether Mr. Saffron 
 wore the shawl or not, he certainly used the com- 
 bination table implement! 
 
 And the "poems?" The poems which Mr. 
 162
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 Saffron recited to himself in bed, and which he 
 had said, in Captain Alec's hearing, were good 
 and "went well." It was Beaumaroy, of course, 
 who had called them poems; the Captain had 
 merely repeated the description. But with her 
 newly found insight Doctor Mary knew better. 
 What Mr. Saffron declaimed in that vibrating, 
 metallic voice, were not poems, but speeches ! 
 
 And "Morocco" itself! To anybody who re- 
 membered history for a few years back, even 
 with the general memory of the man in the 
 street, to anybody who had read the controver- 
 sies about the war, Morocco brought not puzzle, 
 but enlightenment. For had not Morocco been 
 really the starting point of the Years of Crisis 
 those years intermittent in excitement, but con- 
 stant in anxiety? Beaumaroy was to start to- 
 morrow for Morocco on the strength of the 
 hieroglyphics! Perhaps he was to go on from 
 Morocco to Libya; perhaps he was to raise the 
 Senussi (Mary had followed the history of the 
 war), to make his appearance at Cairo, Jeru- 
 salem, Bagdad! He was to be a forerunner, 
 
 163
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 was Mr. Beaumaroy. Mr. Saffron, his august 
 master, would follow in due course! With a 
 sardonic smile she wondered how the ingenious 
 man would get out of starting for Morocco ; per- 
 haps he would not succeed in obtaining a pass- 
 port, or, that excuse failing, in eluding the 
 vigilance of the British authorities. Or some 
 more hieroglyphics might come, carrying another 
 message, postponing his start, saying that the 
 propitious moment had not yet arrived after all. 
 There were several devices open to ingenuity; 
 many ways in which Beaumaroy might protract 
 a situation not so bad for him even as it stood, 
 and quite rich in possibilities. Her acid smile 
 was turned against herself when she remembered 
 that she had been fool enough to talk to Beau- 
 maroy about sensitive honor! 
 
 Well, never mind Mr. Beaumaroy! The case 
 as to Mr. Saffron stood pretty plain. It was 
 queer and pitiful, but by no means unprece- 
 dented. She might be not much of an alienist, 
 as Dr. Irechester had been kind enough to sug- 
 gest to Mr. Naylor, but she had seen such cases 
 
 164
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 herself even stranger ones, where even higher 
 Powers suffered impersonation, with effects still 
 more tragically absurd to onlookers. And she 
 remembered reading somewhere was it in 
 Maudslay that in the days of Napoleon, when 
 princes and kings were as ninepins to be set 
 up and knocked down at the tyrant's pleasure, 
 the asylums of France were full of such great 
 folk? Potentates there galore! If she had Mr. 
 Saffron's "record" before her, she would expect 
 to read of a vain ostentatious man, ambitious in 
 his own small way; the little plant of these 
 qualities would, given a morbid physical condi- 
 tion, develop into the fantastic growth of delu- 
 sion which she had now diagnosed in the case 
 of Mr. Saffron diagnosed with the assistance 
 of some lucky accidents! 
 
 But what was her duty now the duty of Dr. 
 Mary Arkroyd, a duly qualified, accredited, re- 
 sponsible medical practitioner? With a slight 
 shock to her self-esteem she was obliged to con- 
 fess that she had only the haziest idea. Had 
 not people who kept a lunatic to be licensed or 
 
 165
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 something? Or did that apply only to lunatics 
 in the plural? And did Beaumaroy keep Mr. 
 Saffron within the meaning of whatever the law 
 might be? But at any rate she must do some- 
 thing; the state of things at Tower Cottage 
 could not go on as it was. The law of the land 
 whatever it was must be observed, Beau- 
 maroy must be foiled, and poor old Mr. Saffron 
 taken proper care of. The course of her medi- 
 tations was hardly interrupted by the episode of 
 her light evening meal ; she was back in her draw- 
 ing-room by half past eight, her mind engrossed 
 with the matter still. 
 
 It was a little after nine when there was a 
 ring at the hall door. Not the lovers back so 
 early? She heard a man's voice in the hall. The 
 next moment Beaumaroy was shown in, and the 
 door shut behind him. He stood still by it, 
 making no motion to advance towards her. He 
 was breathing quickly, and she noticed beads of 
 perspiration on his forehead. She had sprung 
 to her feet at the sight of him, and faced him 
 with indignation, 
 
 166
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 "You have no right to come here, Mr. Beau- 
 maroy, after what passed between us this after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Besides being, as you saw yourself, very ex- 
 cited, my poor old friend isn't at all well to- 
 night." 
 
 "I'm very sorry; but I'm no longer Mr. 
 Saffron's medical attendant. If I declined to 
 be this afternoon, I decline ten times more to- 
 night." 
 
 "For all I know, he's very ill indeed, Dr. 
 Arkroyd." Beaumaroy's manner was very quiet, 
 restrained, and formal. 
 
 "I have come to a clear conclusion about Mr. 
 Saffron's case since I left you." 
 
 "I thought you might. I suppose 'Morocco' 
 put you on the scent? And I suppose, too, that 
 you looked at that wretched bit of paper?" 
 
 "I I thought of it " Here Mary was 
 
 slightly embarrassed. 
 
 "You'd have been more than human if you 
 hadn't. I was out again after it in five minutes 
 as soon as I missed it; you'd gone, but I con- 
 
 167
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 eluded you'd seen it. He scribbles dozens like 
 that." 
 
 "You seem to admit my conclusion about his 
 mental condition," she observed stiffly. 
 
 "I always admit when I cease to be able to 
 deny. But don't let's stand here talking. 
 Really, for all I know, he may be dying. His 
 heart seems to me very bad." 
 
 "Go and ask Dr. Irechester." 
 
 "He dreads Irechester. I believe the sight of 
 Irechester might finish him. You must come." 
 
 "I can't for the reasons I've told you." 
 
 "Why? My misdeeds? Or your rules and 
 regulations? My God, how I hate rules and 
 regulations ! Which of them is it that is perhaps 
 to cost the old man his life?" 
 
 Mary could not resist the appeal; that could 
 hardly be her duty, and certainly was not her 
 inclination. Her grievance was not against poor 
 old Mr. Saffron, with his pitiful delusion of 
 greatness, of a greatness, too, which now had 
 suffered an eclipse almost as tragical as that 
 
 168
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 which had befallen his own reason. What an 
 irony in his mad aping of it now! 
 
 "I will come, Mr. Beaumaroy, on condition 
 that you give me candidly and truthfully all the 
 information which, as Mr. Saffron's medical at- 
 tendant, I am entitled to ask." 
 
 "I'll tell you all I know about him, and about 
 myself, too." 
 
 "Your affairs and er position matter to me 
 only so far as they bear on Mr. Saffron." 
 
 "So be it. Only come quickly; and bring some 
 of your things that may help a man with a bad 
 heart." 
 
 Mary left him, went to her surgery, and was 
 quickly back with her bag. "I'll get out the 
 
 car." 
 
 "It'll take a little longer, I know, but do you 
 mind if we walk? Cars always alarm him. He 
 thinks that they come to take him away. Every 
 car that passes vexes him; he looks to see if it 
 
 will stop. And when yours does " He 
 
 ended with a shrug. 
 
 For the first time Mary's feelings took on a 
 169
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 keen edge of pity. Poor old gentleman ! Fancy 
 his living like that ! And cars, military cars, too, 
 had been so common on the road across the heath. 
 
 "I understand. Let us go at once. You 
 walked yourself, I suppose?" 
 
 "Ran," said Beaumaroy, and, with the first 
 sign of a smile, wiped the sweat from his brow 
 with the back of his hand. 
 
 "I'm ready, Mr. Beaumaroy," said Doctor 
 Mary. 
 
 They walked along together in silence for fully 
 half the way. Then Beaumaroy spoke. "He 
 was extremely excited at his worst when he 
 and I went into the cottage. I had to humor 
 him in every way; it was the only thing to do. 
 That was followed by great fatigue, a sort of 
 collapse. I persuaded him to go to bed. I hope 
 we shall find him there, but I don't know. He 
 would let me go only on condition that I left 
 the door of the Tower unlocked, so that he could 
 go in there if he wanted to. If he has, I'm afraid 
 that you may see something well, something 
 rather bizarre, Dr. Arkroyd." 
 
 170
 
 THE MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO! 
 
 "That's all in the course of my profession." 
 
 Silence fell on them again, till the outline of 
 cottage and Tower came into view through the 
 darkness. Beaumaroy spoke only once again 
 before they reached the garden gate. 
 
 "If he should happen to be calmer now, I hope 
 you will not consider it necessary to tell him that 
 you suspect anything unusual." 
 
 "He is secretive?" 
 
 "He lives in terror." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 "Of being shut up. May I lead the way in, 
 Dr. Arkroyd?" 
 
 They entered the cottage, and Beaumaroy 
 shut the door. A lamp was burning dimly in 
 the passage. He turned it up. "Would you 
 kindly wait here one minute?" Receiving her 
 nod of acquiescence, he stepped softly up the 
 stairs, and she heard him open a door above; 
 she knew it was that of Mr. Saffron's bedroom, 
 where she had visited the old man. She waited, 
 now with a sudden sense of suspense. It was 
 very quiet in the cottage. 
 
 171
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Beaumaroy was down again in a minute. 
 
 "It is as I feared," he said quietly. "He ha 
 got up again, and gone into the Tower. Sha] 
 I try and get him out, or will you 
 
 "I will go in with you, of course, Mr. Beau 
 maroy." 
 
 His old mirthful, yet rueful, smile came on hi 
 lips just for a moment. Then he was grav 
 and formal again. "This way, then, if yoi 
 please, Dr. Arkroyd," he said deferentially.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 MR. PERCY BENNETT, that gentlemanly 
 stranger, was an enemy to delay; both constitu- 
 tionally and owing to experience, averse from 
 dallying with fortune; to him a bird in his hand 
 was worth a whole aviary on his neighbor's un- 
 rifled premises. He thought that Beaumaroy 
 might levant with the treasure; at any moment 
 that unwelcome, though not unfamiliar, tap on 
 the shoulder, with the words (gratifying under 
 quite other circumstances and from quite differ- 
 ent lips) "I want you," might incapacitate him 
 from prosecuting his enterprise (he expressed 
 this idea in more homely idiom less Latinized 
 was his language, metaphorical indeed, yet 
 terse) ; finally he had that healthy distrust of his 
 accomplices which is essential to success in a 
 career of crime; he thought that Sergeant 
 Hooper might not deliver the goods! 
 
 173
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Sergeant Hooper demurred ; he deprecated in- 
 considerate haste; let the opportunity be chosen. 
 He had served under Mr. Beaumaroy in France, 
 and (whatever faults Major-General Punnit 
 might find with that officer) preferred that he 
 should be off the premises at the moment when 
 Mr. Bennett and he himself made unauthorized 
 entry thereon. "He's a hot 'un in a scrap," said 
 the Sergeant, sitting in a public house at Sprots- 
 field on Boxing Day evening, Mr. Bennett and 
 sundry other excursionists from London being 
 present. 
 
 "My chauffeur will settle him," said Mr. Ben- 
 nett. It may seem odd that Mr. Bennett should 
 have a chauffeur; but he had or proposed to 
 have pro hac vice or ad hoc; for this particu- 
 lar job, in fact. Without a car that stuff at 
 Tower Cottage somewhere at Tower Cottage 
 would be difficult to shift. 
 
 The Sergeant demurred still, by no means for 
 the sake of saving Beaumaroy's skin, but still 
 purely for the reason already given; yet he ad- 
 mitted that he could not name any date on which 
 
 174
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 he could guarantee Beaumaroy's absence from 
 Tower Cottage. "He never leaves the old 
 blighter alone later than eleven o'clock or so, 
 and rarely as late as that." 
 
 "Then any night's about the same," said 
 gentleman Bennett; "and now for the scheme, 
 dear N.C.O.!" 
 
 Sergeant Hooper despaired of the doors. The 
 house-door might possibly be negotiated, though 
 at the probable cost of arousing the notice of 
 Beaumaroy and of the old blighter himself. 
 But the door from the parlor into the Tower 
 offered insuperable difficulties. It was always 
 locked; the lock was intricate; he had never so 
 much as seen the key at close quarters and, even 
 had opportunity offered, was quite unpractised 
 in the art of taking impressions of locks a thing 
 not done with accuracy quite so easily as seems 
 sometimes to be assumed. 
 
 "For my own part," said Mr. Bennett with 
 a nod, "I've always inclined to the window. We 
 can negotiate that without any noise to speak 
 of, and it oughtn't to take us more than a few 
 
 175
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 minutes. Just deal boards, I expect! Perhaps 
 the old gentleman and your pal Beaumaroy the 
 Sergeant spat will sleep right through it!" 
 
 "If they ain't in the Tower itself," suggested 
 the Sergeant gloomily. 
 
 "Wherever they may be," said gentleman 
 Bennett, with a touch of irritability he was 
 himself a sanguine man and disliked a mind 
 fertile in objections "I suppose the stuff's in 
 the Tower, isn't it?" 
 
 "It goes in there, and I've never seen it come 
 out, Mr. Bennett." Here at least a tone of con- 
 fidence rang in the Sergeant's voice. 
 
 "But where in the Tower, Sergeant?" 
 
 " 'Ow should I know? I've never been in the 
 blooming place." 
 
 "It's really rather a queer business," observed 
 Mr. Bennett, allowing himself for a moment, an 
 outside and critical consideration of the matter. 
 
 "Damned," said the Sergeant briefly. 
 
 "But, once inside, we're bound to find it! 
 Then with the car it's in London in forty 
 minutes, and in ten more it's where it's going 
 
 176
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 to be; where that is needn't worry you, my dear 
 Sergeant." 
 
 "What if we're seen from the road?" urged the 
 pessimistic Sergeant. 
 
 "There's never a job about which you can't 
 put those questions. What if Ludendorff had 
 known just what Foch was going to do, Ser- 
 geant? At any rate anybody who sees us is 
 two miles either way from a police station and 
 may be a lot farther if he tries to interfere with 
 us ! It's a hundred to one against anybody being 
 on the road at that time of night; we'll pray for 
 a dark night and dirty weather which, so far 
 as I've observed, you generally get in this 
 beastly neighborhood." He leant forward and 
 tapped the Sergeant on the shoulder. "Barring 
 accidents, let's say this day week; meanwhile, 
 Neddy" he smiled as he interjected. "Neddy 
 is our chauffeur Neddy and I will make our 
 little plan of attack." 
 
 "Don't be too generous! Don't leave all the 
 V.C. chances to me," the Sergeant implored. 
 
 "Neddy's fair glutton for 'em! Difficulty is 
 177
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 to keep him from murder! And he stands six 
 foot four, and weighs seventeen stone." 
 
 "I'll back him up from be'ind company in 
 support," grinned the Sergeant, considerably 
 comforted by this description of his coadjutor. 
 
 "You'll occupy the station assigned to you, my 
 man," said Mr. Bennett, with an admirable bur- 
 lesque of the military manner. "The front is 
 wherever a soldier is ordered to be a fine saying 
 of Lord Kitchener's! Remember it, Sergeant!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the Sergeant, grinning still. 
 
 He found Mr. Bennett on the whole amusing 
 company, though occasionally rather alarming; 
 for instance, there seemed to him to be no par- 
 ticular reason for dragging in Neddy's predilec- 
 tion for murder; though, of course, a man of 
 his inches and weight might commit murder 
 through some trifling and pardonable miscal- 
 culation of force. "Same as if that Captain 
 Naylor hit you!" the Sergeant reflected, as he 
 finished the ample portion of rum with which 
 the conversation had been lightened. He felt 
 pleasantly muzzy, and saw Mr. Bennett's clean- 
 
 178
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 cut features rather blurred in outline. How- 
 ever, the sandy wig and red mustache which that 
 gentleman wore in his character as a Boxing 
 Day excursionist were still salient features even 
 to his eyes. Anybody in the room would have 
 been able to swear to them. 
 
 Thus the date of the attack was settled and, 
 if only it had been adhered to, things might have 
 fallen out differently between Doctor Mary and 
 Mr. Beaumaroy. Events would probably have 
 relieved Mary from the necessity of presenting 
 her ultimatum, and she might never have heard 
 that illuminating word "Morocco." But big 
 Neddy the Shover as his intimate friends were 
 wont to call him was a man of pleasure as well 
 as of business; he was not a bloke in an office; 
 he liked an ample Christmas vacation and was 
 now taking one with a party of friends at 
 Brighton all tip-toppers who did the thing in 
 style and spent their money (which was not their 
 money ) lavishly. From the attraction of this com- 
 pany not composed of gentlemen only Neddy 
 refused to be separated. Mr. Bennett, who 
 
 179
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 was on thorns at the delay, could take it or leave 
 it at that; in any case the job was, in Neddy's 
 opinion (which he expressed with that massive 
 but good-humored scorn which is an appanage 
 of very large men), a leap in the dark, a pig 
 in a poke, blind hookey; for who really knew 
 how much of the stuff the old blighter and his 
 pal had contrived to shift down to the Cottage 
 in the old brown bag. Sometimes it looked light, 
 sometimes it looked heavy; sometimes perhaps 
 it was full of bricks! 
 
 In this mood Neddy had to be humored, even 
 though gentlemanly Mr. Bennett sat on thorns. 
 The Sergeant repined less at the delay; he liked 
 the pickings which the job brought him much 
 better than the job itself, standing in whole- 
 some dread of Beaumaroy. It was rather with 
 resignation than with joy that he received from 
 Mr. Bennett the news that Neddy had at last 
 named the day that would suit his High Mighti- 
 ness Tuesday the 7th of January it was, and, 
 as it chanced, the very day before Beaumaroy 
 was to start for Morocco! More accurately, the 
 
 180
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 attack would be delivered on the actual day of 
 his departure if he went. For it was timed for 
 one o'clock in the morning, an hour at which 
 the road across the heath might reasonably be 
 expected to be clear of traffic. This was an 
 especially important point, in view of the fact 
 that the window of the Tower faced towards 
 the road and was but four or five yards distant 
 from it. 
 
 After a jovial dinner rather too jovial in 
 Mr. Bennett's opinion, but that was Neddy's 
 only fault, he would mix pleasure with business 
 the two set out in an Overland car. Mr. 
 Bennett whom, by the way, his big friend 
 Neddy called "Mike," and not "Percy," as might 
 have been expected assumed his sandy wig and 
 red mustache as soon as they were well started; 
 Neddy scorned disguise for the moment, but he 
 had a mask in his pocket. He also had a very 
 nasty little club in the same pocket, whereas 
 Mr. Bennett, carried no weapon of offense 
 merely the tools of his trade, at which he was 
 singularly expert. The friends had worked to- 
 
 181
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 gather before; though Neddy reviled Mike for 
 a coward, and Mike averred with curses, that 
 Neddy would bring them both to the gallows 
 some day, yet they worked well together and 
 had a respect for one another, each allowing for 
 the other's idiosyncrasies. The true spirit of 
 partnership! On it alone can lasting and hon- 
 orable success be built. 
 
 "Just match-boarding, the Sergeant says it is, 
 does he?" asked Neddy, breaking a long silence, 
 which indeed had lasted until they were across 
 Putney Bridge and climbing the Hill. 
 
 "Yes, and rotten at that. It oughtn't to take 
 two minutes; then there'll be only the window. 
 Of course we must have a look round first. 
 Then, if the coast's clear, I'll nip in and shove 
 something up against the door of the place while 
 you're following. The Sergeant's to stay on 
 guard at the door of the house, so that we can't 
 be taken in the rear. See?" 
 
 "Righto!" 
 
 "Then well, we've got to find the stuff, and 
 when we've found it, you've got to carry it, 
 
 182
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 Neddy. Don't mind if it's a bit heavy, do you?" 
 
 "I don't want to overstrain myself," said 
 Neddy jocularly, "but I'll do my best with it, 
 only hope it's there!" 
 
 "It must be there. Hasn't got wings, has it? 
 At any rate not till you put it in your pocket, 
 and go out for an evening with the ladies 1" 
 
 Neddy paid this pleasantry the tribute of a 
 laugh, but he had one more business question 
 to ask: 
 
 "Where are we to stow the car? How far 
 off?" 
 
 "The Sergeant has picked out a big clump 
 of trees, a hundred yards from the cottage on 
 the Sprotsfield side, and about thirty yards from 
 the road. Pretty clear going to it, bar the 
 bracken she'll do it easily. There she'll lie, 
 snug as you like. As we go by Sprotsfield, the 
 car won't have to pass the Cottage at all that's 
 an advantage and yet it's not over far to carry 
 the stun 3 ." 
 
 "Sounds all right," said Neddy placidly, and 
 with a yawn. "Have a drop?" 
 
 183
 
 "No, I won't and I wish you wouldn't, 
 Neddy. It makes you bad-tempered, and a man 
 doesn't want to be bad-tempered on these jobs." 
 
 "Take the wheel a second while I have a 
 drop," said Neddy, just for all the world as if 
 his friend had not spoken. He unscrewed the 
 top of a large flask and took a very considerable 
 "drop." It was only after he had done this 
 with great deliberation that ht observed good- 
 naturedly, "And you go to hell, Mike! It's dark, 
 ain't it? That's a bit of all right." 
 
 He did not speak again till they were near 
 Sprotsfield. "This Beaumaroy queer name, 
 ain't it? he's a big chap, ain't he, Mike?" 
 
 "Pretty fair, but, Lord love you, a baby be- 
 side yourself." 
 
 "Well, now, you told me something the Ser- 
 geant said about a man as was (Neddy, unlike 
 his friend, occasionally tripped in his English) 
 really big." 
 
 "Oh, that's Naylor Captain Naylor. But 
 he's not at the cottage; we're not likely to meet 
 him, praise be!" 
 
 184
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 "Rather wish we were! I want a little bit of 
 exercise," said Neddy. 
 
 "Well, I don't know but what Beaumaroy 
 might give you that. The Sergeant's got tales 
 about him at the war." 
 
 "Oh, blast these soldiers they ain't no good." 
 In what he himself regarded as his spare hours, 
 that is to say, the daytime hours wherein the 
 ordinary man labors, Neddy was a highly 
 skilled craftsman, whose only failing was a 
 tendency to be late in the morning and to fall 
 ill about the festive seasons of the year. He 
 made lenses, and, in spite of the failing, his 
 work had been deemed to be of national impor- 
 tance, as indeed it was. But that did not excuse 
 his prejudice against soldiers. 
 
 They passed through the outskirts of Sprots- 
 field ; Mike to use his more familiar name had 
 made a thorough exploration of the place, and 
 his directions enabled his chauffeur to avoid the 
 central and populous parts of the town. Then 
 they came out on to the open heath, passed Old 
 Place, and presently about half a mile from 
 
 185
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Tower Cottage found Sergeant Hooper wait- 
 ing for them by the roadsidt. It was then hard 
 on midnight a dark cloudy night, very apt for 
 their purpose. With a nod, but without a word, 
 the Sergeant got into the car, and in cautious 
 whispers directed its course to the shelter of the 
 clump of trees; they reached it after a few hun- 
 dred yards of smooth road and some thirty of 
 bumping over the heath. It afforded a perfect 
 screen from the road, and on the other side 
 there was only untrodden heath, no path or track 
 being visible near it. 
 
 Neddy got out of the car, but he did not 
 forget his faithful flask. He offered it to the 
 Sergeant in token of approval. "Good place, 
 Sergeant," he said; "does credit to you, as a be- 
 ginner. Here, mate, hold on, though. It's 
 evident you ain't accustomed to liquor glasses!'* 
 
 "When I sits up so late, I gets a kind of a 
 sinking," the Sergeant explained apologetically. 
 
 Mike flashed a torch on him for a minute; 
 there was a very uncomfortable look in his little 
 squinty eyes. "Sergeant," he said suavely but 
 
 186
 
 THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES 
 
 gravely, "my friend here relies on you. He's 
 not a safe man to disappoint." He shifted the 
 light suddenly on to Neddy, whose proportions 
 seemed to loom out prodigious from the sur- 
 rounding darkness. "Are you, Neddy?" 
 
 "No, I'm a sensitive chap, I am," said Neddy, 
 smiling. "Don't you go and hurt my pride in 
 you by any sign of weakness, Sergeant." 
 
 The Sergeant shivered a little. "I'm game. 
 I'll stick it," he protested valorously. 
 
 "You'd better!" Neddy advised. 
 
 "AH quiet at the Cottage as you came by?" 
 asked Mike. 
 
 "Quiet as the grave, for what I see," the Ser- 
 geant answered. 
 
 "All right. Mike, where are them sand- 
 wiches? I feel like a bite. One for the Sergeant 
 too! But no more flask no, you don't Ser- 
 geant! When'll we start, Mike!" 
 
 "In about half-an-hour." 
 
 "Just nice time for a snack oysters and stout 
 for you, my darling?" said jovial Neddy. Then 
 
 187
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 with a change of voice "Just as well that 
 didn't pass us!" 
 
 For the sound of a car came from the road 
 they had just left. It was going in the direction 
 of the Cottage and of Inkston. Captain Alec 
 was taking his betrothed home after a joyful 
 evening of congratulation and welcome.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 THE scene presented by the interior of the 
 Tower, when Beaumaroy softly opened the door 
 and signed to Doctor Mary to step forward and 
 look, was indeed a strange one, a ridiculous yet 
 pathetic mockery of grandeur. 
 
 The building was a circular one, rising to a 
 height of some thirty-five feet and having a 
 diameter of about ten. Up to about twelve feet 
 from the floor its walls were draped with red 
 and purple stuffs of coarse material ; above them 
 the bare bricks and the rafters of the roof 
 showed naked. In the middle of the floor, with 
 their backs to the door at which Mary and her 
 companion stood, were set two small armchairs 
 of plain and cheap make. Facing them, on a 
 rough dais about three feet high and with two 
 steps leading up to it, stood a large and deep 
 
 189
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 carved oaken armchair. It too was upholstered 
 in purple, and above and around it were a canopy 
 and curtains of the same color. This strange 
 erection was set with its back to the one window 
 that which Mr. Saffron had caused to be 
 boarded up soon after he entered into occupa- 
 tion. The place was lighted by candles two 
 tall standards of an ecclesiastical pattern, one 
 on either side of the great chair or throne, and 
 each holding six large candles, all of which were 
 now alight and about half -consumed. On the 
 throne, his spare wasted figure set far back in 
 the recesses of its deep cushioned seat and his 
 feet resting on a high hassock, sat old Mr. Saf- 
 fron; in his right hand he grasped a scepter, 
 obviously a theatrical "property," but a hand- 
 some one, of black wood with gilt ornamenta- 
 tion; his left arm he held close against his side. 
 His eyes were turned up towards the room; his 
 lips were moving as though he were talking, but 
 no sound came. 
 
 Such was Doctor Mary's first impression of 
 the scene; but the next moment she took in 
 
 190
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 another feature of it, not less remarkable. To 
 the left of the throne, to her right as she stood 
 in the doorway facing it, there was a fireplace; 
 an empty grate, though the night was cold. Im- 
 mediately in front of it was, unmistakably, the 
 excavation in the floor which Mr. Penrose had 
 described at the Christmas dinner-party at Old 
 Place six feet in length by three in breadth, 
 and about four feet deep. Against the wall, 
 close by, stood a sheet of cast iron, which evi- 
 dently served to cover and conceal the aperture; 
 by it was thrown down, in careless disorder, a 
 strip of the same dull red baize as covered the 
 rest of the floor of the Tower. By the side of 
 the sheet and the piece of carpet there was an 
 old brown leather bag. 
 
 Tradition, and Mr. Penrose, had told the 
 truth. Here without doubt was Captain Dug- 
 gle's grave, the grave he had caused to be dug 
 for himself, but which be the reason what it 
 might his body had never occupied. Yet the 
 tomb was not entirely empty. The floor of it 
 was strewn with gold, to what depth Mary could 
 
 191
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 not tell, but it was covered with golden sov- 
 ereigns; there must be thousands of them. They 
 gleamed under the light of the candles. 
 
 Mary turned, startled, inquiring, apprehen- 
 sive eyes on Beaumaroy. He pressed her arm 
 gently, and whispered: 
 
 "I'll tell you presently. Come in. He'll 
 notice us, I expect, in a minute. Mind you 
 curtsey when he sees you!" He led her in, pull- 
 ing the door to after him, and placed her and him- 
 self in front of the two small armchairs opposite 
 Mr. Saffron's throne. 
 
 Beaumaroy removed his hand from her arm, 
 but she caught his wrist in one of hers and stood 
 there, holding on to him, breathing quickly, her 
 eyes now set on the figure on the throne. 
 
 The old man's lips had ceased to move; his 
 eyes had closed; he lay back in the deep seat, 
 inert, looking half -dead, very pale and waxen in 
 the face. For what seemed a long time he sat 
 thus, motionless and almost without signs of 
 life, while the two stood side by side before him. 
 Mary glanced once at Beaumaroy; his lips were 
 
 192
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 apart in that half humorous, half compassionate 
 smile; there was no hint of impatience in his 
 bearing. 
 
 At last Mr. Saffron opened his eyes, and saw 
 them; there was intelligence in his look, though 
 his body did not move. Mary was conscious of 
 a low bow from Beaumaroy; she remembered 
 the caution he had given her, and herself made 
 a deep curtsey; the old man made a slight in- 
 clination of his handsome white head. Then, 
 after another long pause, a movement passed 
 over his body excepting his left arm. She saw 
 that he was trying to rise from his seat, but that 
 he had barely the strength to achieve his pur- 
 pose. But he persisted in his effort, and in the 
 end rose slowly and tremulously to his feet. 
 
 Then, utterly without warning, in a sudden 
 and shocking burst of that high, voluble, metallic 
 speech which Captain Alec had heard through 
 the ceiling of the parlor, he began to address 
 them, if indeed it were they whom he addressed, 
 and not some phantom audience of Princes, 
 Marshals, Admirals, or trembling sheep-like re- 
 
 193
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 emits. It was difficult to hear the words, hope- 
 less to make out the sense. It was a farrago 
 of nonsense, part of his own inventing, part (as 
 it seemed) wild and confused reminiscences of 
 the published speeches of the man he aped, all 
 strung together on some invisible thread of in- 
 sane reasoning, delivered with a mad vehemence 
 and intensity that shook and seemed to rend his 
 feeble frame. 
 
 "We must stop him, we must stop him," Mary 
 suddenly whispered. "He'll kill himself if he 
 goes on like this!" 
 
 "I've never been able to stop him," Beaumaroy 
 whispered back. "Hush! If he hears us speak- 
 ing he'll be furious, and carry on worse." 
 
 The old man's blue eyes fixed themselves on 
 Beaumaroy of Mary he took no heed. He 
 pointed at Beaumaroy with his scepter, and from 
 him to the gleaming gold in Captain Duggle's 
 grave. A streak of coherency, a strand of mad 
 logic, now ran through his hurtling words; the 
 money was there, Beaumaroy was to take it 
 to-day, to-day! to take it to Morocco, to raise 
 
 194
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 the tribes, to set Africa aflame. He was to 
 scatter it broadcast, broadcast! There was no 
 end to it don't spare it! "There's millions, 
 millions of it!" he shouted, and achieved a weird 
 wild majesty in a final cry, "God with us!" 
 
 Then he fell tumbled back in utter collapse 
 into the recesses of the great chair. His scepter 
 fell from his nerveless hand and rolled down the 
 steps of the dais ; the impetus it gathered carried 
 it, rolling still, across the floor to the edge of the 
 open pit; for an instant it lay poised on the 
 edge, and then fell with a jangle of sound on the 
 carpet of golden coins that lined Captain Dug- 
 gle's grave. 
 
 "Quick! Get my Hag I left it in the pas- 
 sage," whispered Mary, as she started forward, 
 up the dais, to the old man's side. "And brandy, 
 if you've got it," she called after Beaumaroy, 
 as he turned to the door to do her bidding. 
 
 Beaumaroy was gone no more than a minute. 
 When he came back, with the bag hitched under 
 his arm, a decanter of brandy in one hand and 
 a glass in the other, Mary was leaning over the 
 
 195
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 throne, with her arm round the old man. His 
 eyes were open, but he was inert and motionless. 
 Beaumaroy poured out some brandy, and gave 
 it into Mary's free hand. But when Mr. Saffron 
 saw Beaumaroy by his side, he gave a sudden 
 twist of his body, wrenched himself away from 
 Mary's arm, and flung himself on his trusted 
 friend. "Hector, I'm in danger! They're after 
 me! They'll shut me up!" 
 
 Beaumaroy put his strong arms about the frail 
 old body. "Oh no, sir, oh, no!" he said in low, 
 comforting, half-bantering tones. "That's the 
 old foolishness, sir, if I may so say. You're 
 perfectly safe with me. You ought to trust me 
 by now, sir, really you ought." 
 
 "You swear, you swear it's all right, Hector?" 
 
 "Right as rain, sir," Beaumaroy assured him 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Very feebly the old man moved his right hand 
 towards the open grave. "Plenty plenty! All 
 yours, Hector! For for the Cause God's 
 with us !" His head fell forward on Beaumaroy 's 
 breast; for an instant again he raised it, and 
 
 196
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 looked in the face of his friend. A smile came 
 on his lips. "I know I can trust you. I'm safe 
 with you, Hector." His head fell forward 
 again; his whole body was relaxed; he gave a 
 sigh of peace. Beaumaroy lifted him in his 
 arms and very gently set him back in his great 
 chair, placing his feet again on the high foot- 
 stool. 
 
 "I think it's all over," he said, and Mary saw 
 tears in his eyes. 
 
 Then Mary herself collapsed; she sank down 
 on the dais and broke into weeping. It had all 
 been so pitiful, and somehow so terrible. Her 
 quick tumultuous sobbing sounded through the 
 place which the vibrations of the old man's yoice 
 had lately filled. 
 
 She felt Beaumaroy's hand on her shoulder. 
 "You must make sure," he said, in a low voice. 
 "You must make your examination." 
 
 With trembling hands she did it she forced 
 herself to it, Beaumaroy aiding her. There was 
 no doubt. Life had left the body which reason 
 had left long before. His weakened heart had 
 
 197
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 not endured the last strain of mad excitement. 
 The old man was dead. 
 
 Her face showed Beaumaroy the result of her 
 examination, if he had ever doubted of it. She 
 looked at him, then made a motion of her hand 
 
 towards the body. "We must we must " 
 
 she stammered, the tears still rolling down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Presently," he said. "There's plenty of time. 
 You're not fit to do that now and no more 
 am I, to tell the truth. We'll rest for half an 
 hour, and then get him upstairs, and and do 
 the rest. Come with me!" He put his hand 
 lightly within her arm. "He will rest quietly 
 on his throne for a little while. He's not afraid 
 any more. He's at rest." 
 
 Still with his arm in Mary's, he bent forward 
 and kissed the old man on the forehead. "I shall 
 miss you, old friend," he said. Then, with gentle 
 insistence, he led Mary away. They left the 
 old man, propped up by the high stool on which 
 his feet rested, seated far back in the great chair, 
 hard by Captain Duggle's grave, where the 
 
 198
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 scepter lay on a carpet of gold. The tall candles 
 burnt on either side of his throne, imparting a 
 far-off semblance of ceremonial state. 
 
 Thus died, unmarried, in the seventy-first year 
 of his age, Aloysius William Saffron, formerly 
 of Exeter, Surveyor and Auctioneer. He had 
 run, on the whole, a creditable course; starting 
 from small beginnings, and belonging to a 
 family more remarkable for eccentricity than for 
 any solid merit, he had built up a good prac- 
 tice; he had made money and put it by; he 
 enjoyed a good name for financial probity. But 
 he was held to be a vain, fussy, self-important, 
 peacocky fellow; very self -centered also and (as 
 Beaumaroy had indicated) impatient of the 
 family and social obligations which most men 
 recognize, even though often unwillingly. As 
 the years gathered upon his head, these char- 
 acteristics were intensified. On the occasion of 
 some trifling set-back in business a rival cut 
 him out in a certain negotiation he threw up 
 everything and disappeared from his native 
 town. Thenceforward nothing was heard of him
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 there, save that he wrote occasionally to his 
 cousin, Sophia Jladbolt, and her husband, both 
 of whom he most cordially hated, whose claims 
 to his notice, regard, or assistance he had, of late 
 years at least, hotly resented. Yet he wrote to 
 them wrote them vaunting and magniloquent 
 letters, hinting darkly of great doings and great 
 richeB. In spite of their opinion of him, the 
 Radbolts came to believe perhaps half of what 
 he said; he was old and without other ties; their 
 thirst for his money was greedy. Undoubtedly 
 the Radbolts would dearly have loved to get hold 
 of him and somehow hold him fast. 
 
 When he came to Tower Cottage it was in 
 the first year of the war he was precariously 
 sane ; it was only gradually that his fundamental 
 and constitutional vices and foibles turned to 
 a morbid growth. First came intensified hatred 
 and suspicion of the Radbolts they were after 
 him and his money! Then, through hidden 
 processes of mental distortion, there grew the 
 conviction that he was of high importance, a great 
 man, the object of great conspiracies, in which 
 
 200
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 the odious Radbolts were but instruments. It 
 was, no doubt, the course of public events, cul- 
 minating in the Great War, which gave to his 
 mania its special turn, to his delusion its mon- 
 strous (but, as Doctor Mary was aware, by no 
 means unprecedented) character. By the time 
 of his meeting with Beaumaroy the delusion was 
 complete; through all the second half of 1918 
 he followed so far as his mind could now fol- 
 low anything rationally in his own person and 
 fortunes the fate of the man whom he believed 
 himself to be, appropriating the hopes, the fears, 
 the imagined ambitions, the physical infirmity, 
 of that self -created other self. 
 
 But he wrapped it all in deep secrecy, for, as 
 the conviction of his true identity grew com- 
 plete, his fears were multiplied. Radbolts in- 
 deed! The whole of Christendom Principali- 
 ties and Powers were on his track. They would 
 shut him up, kill him perhaps! Cunningly he 
 hid his secret save what could not be entirely 
 hidden, the physical deformity. But he hid it 
 with his shawl ; he never ate out of his own house ; 
 
 201
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 the combination knife-and-fork was kept sedu- 
 lously hidden. Only to Beaumaroy did he 
 reveal the hidden thing; and, later, on Beau- 
 maroy's persuasion, he let into the portentous 
 secret one faithful servant Beaumaroy's un- 
 savory retainer, Sergeant Hooper. 
 
 He never accepted Hooper as more than a 
 distasteful necessity somebody must wait on 
 him and do him menial service ; he was not feared, 
 indeed, for surely such a dog would not dare 
 to be false, but cordially disliked. Beaumaroy 
 won him from the beginning. Whom he con- 
 ceived him to be Beaumaroy himself never knew, 
 but he opened his heart to him unreservedly. 
 Of him he had no suspicion; to him he looked 
 for safety and for the realization of his cher- 
 ished dreams. Beaumaroy soothed his terrors 
 and humored him in all things what was the 
 good of doing anything else, asked Beaumaroy's 
 philosophy. He loved Beaumaroy far more than 
 he had loved anybody except himself in all his 
 life. At the end, through the wild tangle of 
 mad imaginings, there ran this golden thread of 
 
 202
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 human affection; it gave the old man hours of 
 peace, sometimes almost of sanity. 
 
 So he came to his death, directly indeed of a 
 long-standing organic disease, yet veritably self- 
 destroyed. And so he sat now, dead amidst his 
 shabby parody of splendor. He had done with 
 thrones; he had even done with Tower Cottage 
 unless indeed his pale shade were to hold 
 nocturnal converse with the robust and flam- 
 boyant ghost of Captain Duggle ; the one vaunt- 
 ing his unreal vanished greatness, mouthing 
 orations and mimicking pomp ; the other telling, 
 in language garnished with strange and horrible 
 oaths, of those dark and lurid terrors which once 
 had driven him from this very place, leaving it 
 ablaze behind. A strange couple they would 
 make, and strange would be their conversation! 
 
 Yet the tenement which had housed the old 
 man's deranged spirit, empty as now it was 
 aye, emptier than Duggle's tomb was still to 
 be witness of one more earthly scene and unwit- 
 tingly bear part in it. 
 
 203
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 WHAT has been related of Mr. Saffron's life 
 before he ascended the throne on which he still 
 sat in the Tower represented all that Beaumaroy 
 knew of his old friend before they met indeed 
 he knew scarcely as much. He told the brief 
 story to Doctor Mary in the parlor. She heard 
 him listlessly ; all that was not much to the point 
 on which her thoughts were set, and did not 
 answer the riddle which the scene in the Tower 
 put to her. She was calm now and ashamed 
 that she had ever lost her calmness. 
 
 "Well, there was the situation as I under- 
 stood it when I took on the job or quite soon 
 afterwards. He thought that he was being pur- 
 sued; in a sense he was. If these Radbolts found 
 out the truth, they certainly would pursue him, 
 try to shut him up, and prevent him from mak- 
 
 204
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 ing away with his money or leaving it to anybody 
 else. I didn't at all know at first what a tidy 
 lot he had. He hated the Radbolts; even after 
 he ceased to know them as cousins, he remained 
 very conscious of them always; they were ene- 
 mies, spies, secret service people on his track 
 poor old boy! Well, why should they have him 
 and his money? I didn't see it. I don't see it 
 to this day." 
 
 Mary was in Mr. Saffron's armchair. Beau- 
 maroy stood before the fire. She looked up at 
 him. 
 
 "They seem to have more right than anybody 
 else. And you know you knew that he was 
 mad." 
 
 "His being mad gives them no right! Oh, 
 well, it's no use arguing. In the end I suppose 
 they had rights of a kind; a right by law, I 
 suppose though I never knew the law and don't 
 want to to shut the old man up, and make him 
 damned miserable, and get the money for them- 
 selves. That sounds just the sort of right the 
 law does give people over other people because 
 
 205
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 Aunt Betsy married Uncle John fifty years ago, 
 and was probably infernally sorry for it!" 
 
 Mary smiled. "A matter of principle with 
 you, was it, Mr. Beaumaroy?" 
 
 "No instinct, I think. It's my instinct to be 
 against the proper thing, the regular thing, the 
 thing that deals hardly with an individual in the 
 name of some highly nebulous general principle." 
 
 "Like discipline?" she put in, with a reminis- 
 cence of Major-General Punnit. 
 
 He nodded. "Yes, that's one case of it. And 
 then, the situation amused me. I think that had 
 more to do with it than anything else at first. 
 It amused me to play up to his delusions. I 
 suggested the shawl as useful on our walks and 
 thereby got him to take wholesome exercise ; that 
 ought to appeal to you, Doctor! I got him the 
 combination knife-and-fork; that made him en- 
 joy his *neals also good for him, Doctor! But 
 I didn't do these things because they were good 
 for him, but because they imused me. They 
 never amused Hooper, he's a dull, surly, and > 
 I'm inclined to believe treacherous dog." 
 
 206
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "Sacked from the Army sent to quod. Just 
 a jail-bird whom I've kept loose. But the things 
 did amuse me, and it was that at first. But 
 then " he paused. 
 
 Looking at him again, Mary saw a whimsical 
 tenderness expressed in his eyes and smile. 
 "The poor chap was so overwhelmingly grateful. 
 He thought me the one indubitably faithful ad- 
 herent that he had. And so I was too though 
 not in the way he thought. And he trusted me 
 absolutely. Well, was I to give him up to the 
 law, and the Radbolts, and the jailers of an 
 asylum a man who trusted me like that?" 
 
 "But he was mad," objected Doctor Mary 
 obstinately. 
 
 "A man has his feelings, or may have, even 
 when he's mad. He trusted me and he loved 
 me, Doctor Mary. Won't you allow that I've 
 my case so far?" She made no sign of assent. 
 "Well then, I loved him does that go any better 
 with you? If it doesn't, I'm in a bad way; be- 
 
 207
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 cause what I'm giving you now is the strong 
 part of my case." 
 
 "I don't see why you should put what you call 
 your case to me at all, Mr. Beaumaroy." 
 
 He looked at her in a reproachful astonish- 
 ment. "But you seemed touched by by what 
 we saw in the Tower. I thought the old man's 
 death and faith had appealed to you. It seems 
 to me that people can't go through a thing like 
 that together without feeling well, some sort 
 of comradeship. But if youVe no sort of feeling 
 of that kind well, I don't want to put my 
 case." 
 
 "Go on with your case," said Doctor Mary, 
 after a moment's silence. 
 
 "Though it isn't really that I want to put a 
 case for myself at all. But I don't mind owning 
 that I'd like you to understand about it before 
 I clear out." 
 
 She looked at him questioningly, but put no 
 spoken question. Beaumaroy sat down on the 
 stool opposite to her, and poked the fire. 
 
 "I can't get away from it, can I? There was 
 208
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 something else you saw in the Tower, wasn't 
 there, and I dare say that you connect it with 
 a conversation that we had together a little while 
 ago? Well, I'll tell you about that. Oh, well, 
 of course I must, mustn't I?" 
 
 "I should like to hear." Her bitterness was 
 gone; he had come now to the riddle. 
 
 "He was a King to himself," Beaumaroy re- 
 sumed thoughtfully, "but in fact I was king 
 over him. I could do anything I liked with him 
 I had him. I possessed him by right of con- 
 quest. The right of conquest seemed a big thing 
 to me; it was about the only sort of right that 
 I'd seen anything of for three years and more. 
 ,Yes, it was and is a big thing, a real thing the 
 one right in the whole world that there's no doubt 
 about. Other rights are theories, views, preach- 
 ments ! Right of conquest is a fact. I had it. I 
 could make him do what I liked, say what I liked, 
 sign what I liked. Do you begin to see where I 
 found myself? I say found myself, because 
 really it was a surprise to me. At first I thought 
 he was in a pretty small way he only gave me 
 
 209
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 a hundred a year besides my keep. True, he al- 
 ways talked of his money, but I set that down 
 mainly to his delusion. But it was true that he 
 had a lot really a lot. A good bit besides what 
 you saw in there; he must have speculated 
 cleverly, I think, he couldn't have made it all in 
 his business. Doctor Mary, how much gold do 
 you think there is in the grave in there?" 
 
 "I haven't the least idea. Thousands? Where 
 did you get it?" 
 
 "Oh yes, thousands and thousands. We got 
 it mostly from the aliens in the East End ; they'd 
 hoarded it, you know; but they were willing to 
 sell at a premium. The premium rose up to 
 last month; then it dropped a little not much, 
 though, because we'd exhausted some ef the most 
 obvious sources. I carried every sovereign of 
 that money in the grave down from London in 
 my brown bag." He smiled reflectively. "Do 
 you know how much a thousand sovereigns weigh, 
 Doctor Mary?" 
 
 "I haven't the least idea," said Mary again. 
 She was leaning forward now, listening intently, 
 
 210
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 and watching Beaumaroy's face with absorbed 
 interest. 
 
 "Seventeen and three-quarter pounds avoirdu- 
 pois that's the correct weight. The first time 
 or two we didn't get much they were still shy 
 of us. But after that we made some heavy 
 hauls. Twice we brought down close on two 
 thousand. Once there was three thousand, al- 
 most to a sovereign. Even men trained to the 
 work bullion porters, as they call them at the 
 Bank of England reckon five bags of a thou- 
 sand, canvas bags not much short of a foot long 
 and six inches across, you know they reckon 
 five of them a full load and wouldn't care to 
 go far with them either. The equivalent of 
 three of them was quite enough for me to carry 
 from Inkston station up to the Cottage trying 
 to look as if I were carrying nothing of any 
 account! One hasn't got tc pretend to be carry- 
 ing nothing in full marching kit nor to carry 
 it all in one hand. And he'd never trust himself 
 in a cab might be kidnapped, you see ! I don't 
 know exactly, but from what he said I reckon 
 
 211
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 we've brought down, on our Wednesday trips, 
 about two-thirds of all he had. Now you've 
 probably gathered what his idea was. He knew 
 he was disguised as Saffron and very proud of 
 the way he lived up to the character. As Saf- 
 fron, he realized the money by driblets turned 
 his securities into notes, his notes into gold. But 
 he'd lost all knowledge that the money was his 
 own made by himself himself Saffron. He 
 thought it was saved out of the wreck of his 
 Imperial fortune. It was to be dedicated to 
 restoring the Imperial cause. He himself could 
 not attempt, at present, to get out of England, 
 least of all carrying pots of gold coin. But he 
 believed that I could. I was to go to Morocco 
 and so on, and raise the country for him, taking 
 as much as I could, and coming back for more! 
 He had no doubt at all of my coming back ! In 
 fact it wouldn't have been much easier for me 
 to get out of the country with the money than 
 it would have been for the authentic Kaiser him- 
 self. But, Doctor Mary, what would have been 
 possible was for me to go somewhere else, or 
 
 212
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 even back to the places we knew of, for no 
 questions were asked there put that money back 
 into notes, or securities in my own name, and 
 tell him I had carried out the Morocco pro- 
 gramme. He had no sense of time, he would 
 have suspected nothing." 
 
 "That would have been mere and sheer rob- 
 bery," said Mary. 
 
 "Oh yes, it would," Beaumaroy agreed. 
 "And, if I'd done it, and deserted him, I should 
 have deserved to be hanged. That was hardly 
 my question. As long as he lived, I meant 
 to stick by him; but he was turned seventy, 
 frail, with heart-disease, and, as I understand, 
 quite likely to sink into general paralysis. Well, 
 if I was to exercise my right of conquest and 
 get the fruits of conquest, two ways seemed open. 
 There could be a will ; you'll remember my con- 
 sulting you on that point and your reply?" 
 
 "Did he make a will?" asked Mary quickly. 
 
 "No. A will was open to serious objections. 
 Even supposing your evidence which, of course, 
 I wanted in case of need had been satisfactory, 
 
 213
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 a fight with the Radbolts would have been un- 
 pleasant. Worse than that as long as I lived 
 I should have been blackmailed by Sergeant 
 Hooper, who knew Mr. Saffron's condition, 
 though he didn't know about the money here. 
 Even before you found out about my poor old 
 friend, I had decided against a will though, 
 perhaps, I might have squared the Radbolts by 
 just taking this little place and its contents 
 and letting them take the rest. That too be- 
 came impossible after your discovery. There 
 remained then, the money in the Tower. I could 
 make quite sure of that, wait for his death, and 
 then enjoy it. And, upon my word, why shouldn't 
 I ? He'd have been much gratified by my going 
 to Morocco; and he'd certainly much sooner that 
 I had the money if it couldn't go to Morocco 
 than that the Radbolts should get it. That was 
 the way the question presented itself to me; and 
 I'm a poor man, with no obvious career before 
 me. The right of conquest appealed to .me 
 strongly, Doctor Mary." 
 
 "I can see that you may have been greatly 
 214
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 tempted," said Mary in a grave and troubled 
 voice. "And the circumstances did enable you 
 to make excuses for what you thought of doing." 
 
 "Excuses? You won't even go so far as to 
 call it a doubtful case? One that a casuist could 
 argue either way?" Beaumaroy was smiling 
 again now. 
 
 "Even if I did, men of " 
 
 "Yes, Doctor Mary of sensitive honor!" 
 
 "Decide doubtful cases against themselves in 
 money matters." 
 
 "Oh, I say, is that doctrine current in busi- 
 ness circles? I've been in business myself, and 
 I doubt it." 
 
 "They do men of real honor," Mary per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "So that's how great fortunes are made? 
 That's how individuals to say nothing of na- 
 tions rise to wealth and power! And I never 
 knew it," Beaumaroy reflected in a gentle voice. 
 His eye caught Mary's, and she gave a little 
 laugh. "By deciding doubtful cases against 
 themselves! Dear me, yes!" 
 
 215
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "I didn't say they rose to greatness and 
 power." 
 
 "Then the people who do rise to greatness and 
 power and the nations don't they go by right 
 of conquest, Doctor Mary? Don't they decide 
 cases in their own favor?" 
 
 "Did you really mean to to take the money?" 
 
 "I'll tell you as near as I can. I meant to do 
 my best for my old man. I meant him to live 
 as long as he could, and to live free, unperse- 
 cuted, as> happy as he could be made. I meant 
 that, because I loved him, and he loved me. 
 Well, I've lost him; I'm alone in the world." 
 The last words were no appeal to Mary; for 
 the moment he seemed to have forgotten her; 
 he was speaking out of his own heart to himself. 
 Yet the words thereby touched her to a livelier 
 pity; you are very lonely when there is nobody 
 to whom you have affection's right to complain 
 oi loneliness. 
 
 "But after that, if I savv him to his end in 
 peace, if I brought that off, well, then I rather 
 
 216
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 think that I should have stuck to the money. 
 Yes, I rather think so." 
 
 "You've managed to mix things up so !" Mary 
 complained. "Your devotion to Mr. Saffron 
 for that I could forgive you keeping his secret, 
 and fooling me, and all of us. But then you 
 mix that up with the money!" 
 
 "It was mixed up with it. I didn't do the 
 mixing." 
 
 "What are you going to do now?" she asked 
 with a sudden curiosity. 
 
 "Oh, now? Now the thing's all different. 
 You've seen, you know, and even I can't offer 
 you a partnership in the cash, can I? If I 
 weren't an infernally poor conspirator, I should 
 have covered up the Captain's grave, and made 
 everything neat and tidy before I came to fetch 
 you, because I knew he might go back to the 
 Tower. On his bad nights he always made me 
 open the grave, and spread out the money, make 
 a show of it, you know. Then it had to be put 
 back in bags the money bags lived in the brown 
 leather bag and the grave had to be fastened 
 
 217
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 down. Altogether it was a good bit of work. 
 I'd just got it open, and the money spread out, 
 when he turned bad a sort of collapse like the 
 one you saw; and I was so busy getting him to 
 bed that I forgot the cursed grave and the money 
 just as I forgot to put away the knife-and- 
 fork before you called the first time, and you 
 saw through me!" 
 
 "If you're not a good conspirator, it's another 
 reason for not conspiring, Mr. Beaumaroy. I 
 know you conspired for him first of all, but " 
 
 "Well, he's safe, he's at peace. It can all 
 come out now, and it must. You know, and 
 you must tell the truth. I don't know whether 
 they can put me in prison. I should hardly 
 think they'd bother, if they get the mone^ all 
 right. In any case I don't care much. Lord, 
 what a lot of people'll say 'I told you so bad 
 egg, that Beaumaroy!' No, I don't care. My 
 old man's safe; I've won my big game after all, 
 Doctor Mary!" 
 
 "1 don't believe you cared about the money 
 really!" she cried. "That really was a game 
 
 218
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 to you, I think, a trick you liked to play on 
 us respectables!" 
 
 He smiled at her confidentially. "I do like 
 beating the respectables," he admitted. Then 
 he looked at his watch. "I must do what has 
 to be done for the old man. But it's late hard 
 on one o'clock. You must be tired and it's a 
 sad job." 
 
 "No, I'll help you. I I've been in hospitals, 
 you know. Only do go first, and cover up that 
 horrible place, and hide that wretched money 
 before I go into the Tower. Will you?" She 
 gave a shiver, as her imagination renewed the 
 scene which the Tower held. 
 
 "You needn't come into the Tower at all. 
 He's as light as a feather I've lifted him into 
 bed often. I can lift him now. If you really 
 wish to help, will you go up to his room, and 
 get things ready?" As he spoke, he crossed 
 to the sideboard, took up a bedroom candlestick, 
 and lighted it from one that stood on the table. 
 "And you'll see about the body being taken to 
 the mortuary, won't you? I shall communicate 
 
 219
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 with the Radbolts fully; they'll take charge of 
 the funeral, I suppose. Well, he won't know 
 anything about that now, thank God!" There 
 was the slightest tremor in his voice as he spoke. 
 
 Mary did not take the candle. "I've said some 
 hard things to you, Mr. Beaumaroy. I dare 
 say I've sounded very self-righteous." He raised 
 his hand in protest, but she went on: "So I 
 should like to say one different thing to you, 
 since we're to part after to-night. You've shown 
 yourself a good friend, good and true as a man 
 could have." 
 
 "I loved my old man," said Beaumaroy. 
 
 It was his only plea. To Mary it seemed a 
 good one. He had loved his poor old madman; 
 and he had served him faithfully. "Yes, the old 
 man found a good friend in you; I hope you 
 will find good friends too. Oh, I do hope it! 
 Because that's what you want." 
 
 "I should 5e very glad if I could think that, 
 in spite of everything, I had found one here in 
 this place even although she can be a friend 
 only in memory." 
 
 220
 
 RIGHT OF CONQUEST 
 
 Mary paused for a moment, then gave him 
 her hand. "I know you much better after to- 
 night. My memory of you will be a kind one. 
 Now to our work !" 
 
 "Yes and thank you. I thank you more 
 deeply than you imagine." 
 
 He gave her the candle and followed her to 
 the passage. 
 
 "You know where the room is. I shall put 
 the the place straight, and then bring him up. 
 'I sha'n't be many minutes ten, perhaps. The 
 cover's rather hard to fit." 
 
 Mary nodded from the top of the stairs. 
 Strained by the events of the night, and by the 
 talk to Beaumaroy, she was again near tears; 
 her eyes were bright in the light of the candle, 
 and told of nervous excitement. Beaumaroy 
 went back into the parlor, on his way to the 
 Tower. Suddenly he stopped and stood dead 
 still, listening intently. 
 
 Mary busied herself upstairs, making her 
 preparations with practiced skill and readiness. 
 Her agitation did not interfere with her work 
 
 221
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 there her training told but of her inner mind 
 it had full possession. She was afraid to be 
 alone there in that cottage. She longed for 
 another clasp of that friendly hand. Well, he 
 would come soon; but he must bring his burden 
 with him. When she had finished what she had 
 to do, she sat down, and waited. 
 
 Beaumaroy waited too, outside the door lead- 
 ing to the Tower.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 SERGEANT HOOPER took up his appointed posi- 
 tion on the flagged path that led up to the 
 cottage door. His primary task was to give 
 warning if anybody should come out of the door ; 
 a secondary one was to give the alarm in case 
 of interruption hy passers-by on the road an 
 unlikely peril this latter, in view of the hour, 
 the darkness of the night, and the practiced 
 noiselessness with which Mike might be relied 
 upon to do his work. Here then the Sergeant 
 was left, after being accorded another nip from 
 the flask which, however, Neddy kept in his own 
 hands this time and a whispered but vigorously 
 worded exhortation to keep up his courage. 
 
 Neddy, the Shover, and gentlemanly Mike 
 tiptoed off to the window, on the right hand 
 side of the door as one approached the house 
 
 223
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 from the road. The bottom of the window 
 was about seven feet from the ground. Neddy 
 bent down and offered his broad back as a 
 platform to his companion. Mike mounted 
 thereon and began his work. That, in itself, 
 was child's play to him; the matchboarding was 
 but lightly nailed on; the fastenings came away 
 in a moment under the skillful application of 
 his instrument; the window sash behind was not 
 even bolted, for the bolt had perished with time 
 and had not been replaced. So far, very good! 
 But at this early point Mike received his first 
 surprise. He could not see much of the in- 
 terior; a tall curtain stretched across the entire 
 breadth of the window, distant about two feet 
 from it; but he could see that the room was 
 lighted up. 
 
 Very cautiously he completed his work on the 
 matchboarding, handing down each plank to 
 Neddy when he had detached it. Then he cut 
 out a pane of glass it was all A.B.C. to him 
 put his hand in and raised the sash a little; then 
 it was simple to push it up from below. But 
 
 224
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 the sash had not been raised for years; it stuck; 
 when it yielded to his efforts, it gave a loud 
 creak. He flung one leg over the window-sill 
 and sat poised there, listening. The room was 
 lighted up; but if there were anyone in it, he 
 must be asleep, or very hard of hearing, or that 
 creak would have aroused his attention. 
 
 Released from his office as a support, Neddy 
 rose, and hauled himself up by his arms till he 
 could see in the window. "Lights!" he whis- 
 pered. Mike nodded and got in on the dais, 
 behind the curtain. Neddy scrambled up after 
 him, finding some help from a stunted but sturdy 
 old apple tree that grew against the wall. Now 
 they were both inside, behind the tall curtain. 
 
 "Come on," Mike whispered. "We must see 
 if there's anybody here, and, if there isn't, put 
 out the light." For on either side of the curtain 
 there was room for a streak of light which might 
 by chance be seen from the road. 
 
 Mike advanced round the left-side edge of 
 the curtain; he had perceived by now that it 
 formed the back of some structure, though he 
 
 225
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 could not yet see of what nature the structure 
 was; nor was he now examining. For as he 
 stepped out on the dais at the side of the canopy, 
 his eyes were engrossed by another feature of 
 this strange apartment. He stretched back his 
 hand and caught hold of Neddy's brawny arm, 
 pulling him forward. "See that that hole, 
 Neddy?" 
 
 For the moment they forgot the lights; they 
 forgot the possibility of an occupant of the room 
 which indeed was, save for their own whispers, 
 absolutely still ; they stood looking at the strange 
 hole, and then into one another's faces, for a 
 few seconds. Then they stole softly nearer to 
 it. "That's a blasted funny 'ole!" breathed 
 Neddy. "Look's like a bloke's " 
 
 Mike's fingers squeezed his arm tighter, evi- 
 dently again claiming his attention. "My hat, 
 we needn't look far for the stuff!" he whispered. 
 An uneasy whisper it was; the whole place 
 looked queer, and that hole was uncanny it had 
 its contents. 
 
 Yet they approached nearer; they came to the 
 
 226
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 edge and stood looking in. As though he could 
 not believe the mere sight of his eyes, big Neddy 
 crouched down, reached out his hand, and took 
 up Mr. Saffron's scepter. With a look of half- 
 scared amazement he held it up for his com- 
 panion's inspection. Mike eyed it uneasily, but 
 his thoughts were getting back to business. He 
 stole softly off to the door, with intent to see 
 whether it was locked; he stooped down to ex- 
 amine it and perceived that it was not. It would 
 be well, then, to barricade it, and he turned 
 round to look for some heavy bit of furniture 
 suitable for his purpose, something that would 
 delay the entrance of an intruder and give them 
 notice of the interruption. 
 
 As he turned, his body suddenly stiffened; 
 only his trained instinct prevented him from 
 crying out. There was an occupant of the room 
 there, in the great chair between the tall 
 candlesticks on the dais. An old man sat half 
 lay there; asleep, it seemed; his eyes were shut. 
 The color of his face struck Gentleman Mike as 
 being peculiar. But everything in that place was 
 
 227
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 peculiar; like a great tomb & blooming mauso- 
 leum the whole place was. Though he had the 
 reputation of being an esprit fort, Mike felt 
 uncomfortable. Cold and clammy too, the 
 beastly place was! 
 
 Still business is business. Letting the mat- 
 ter of the unlocked door wait for the moment, 
 he began to steal catlike across the floor towards 
 the dais. He had to investigate; also he really 
 ought to put out those candles; it was utterly 
 unprofessional to leave them alight. But he 
 could not conquer a feeling that the place would 
 seem still more peculiar when they were put out. 
 
 Big Neddy's eyes had not followed his com- 
 rade to the door; they had been held by the 
 queer hole and its queer contents by the gleam- 
 ing gold that strewed its floor, by the mock sym- 
 bol of majesty which he had lifted from it and 
 still held in his hand, by the oddly suggestive 
 shape and dimensions of the hole itself. But 
 now he raised his eyes from these things and 
 looked across at Mike, mutely asking what he 
 thought of matters. He saw Mike stealing 
 
 228
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 across the floor, looking very, very hard at 
 something. 
 
 Mute as Neddy's inquiry was, Mike seemed 
 somehow aware of it. He raised his hand, as 
 though to enjoin silence, and then pointed it in 
 front of him, raised to the level of his head. 
 Neddy turned round to look in the direction in- 
 dicated. He saw the throne and its silent oc- 
 cupant the waxen-faced old man who sat there, 
 seeming to preside over the scene, whose head 
 was turned towards him, whose closed eyes 
 would open directly on his face if their lids were 
 lifted. 
 
 Neddy feared no living man; so he was accus- 
 tomed to boast, and with good warrant. But 
 was that man living? How came he up there? 
 And what had he to do with the queer-shaped 
 hole that had all that gold in it? And the thing 
 he held in his own hand? Did that belong to 
 the old man up there? Had he flung it into the 
 hole? Or (odd fancies began to assail big 
 Neddy) had he left it behind him when he got 
 
 229
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 out? And would he, by chance, come down to 
 look for it? 
 
 Mike's hand, stretched out from his body to- 
 wards his friend, now again enjoined silence. 
 He was at the foot of the dais; he was going 
 up its steps. He was no good in a scrap, but 
 he had a nerve in some things! He was up the 
 steps now, and leaning forward; he was looking 
 hard in the old man's face; his own was close 
 to it. He laid hold of one of the old man's arms, 
 it happened to be that left arm of Mr. Saffron's, 
 lifted it, and let it fall again; it fell back just 
 in the position from which he had lifted it. Then 
 he straightened himself up, looking a trifle green 
 perhaps, but reassured, and called out to Mike, 
 in a penetrating whisper, "He's a stiff un all 
 right!" 
 
 Yes! But then, what of the grave? Because 
 it was a grave and nothing else; there was no 
 getting away from it. What of the grave, and 
 what about the scepter? 
 
 And what was Mike going to do now? He 
 was tiptoeing to the edge of the dais. He was 
 
 230
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 moving towards one of the high candlesticks, the 
 top of which was a little below the level of his 
 head, as he stood raised on the dais beside the 
 throne. He leant forward towards the candles; 
 his intent was obvious. 
 
 But big Neddy was not minded that he should 
 carry it out, could not suffer him to do it. With 
 the light of the candles well, at all events you 
 could see what was happening; you could see 
 where you were, and where anybody else was. 
 But in the dark left to torches which illumi- 
 nated only bits of the place, and which perhaps 
 you mightn't switch on in time or turn in the 
 right direction; if you were left like that, any- 
 body might be anywhere, and on to you before 
 you knew it ! 
 
 "Let them lights alone, Mike!" he whispered 
 hoarsely. "I'll smash your 'ead in if you put 
 them lights out!" 
 
 Mike had conquered his own fit of nerves, not 
 without some exercise of will, and had not given 
 any notice to his companion's, which was con- 
 siderably more acute; perhaps the constant use 
 
 231
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 of that roomy flask had contributed to that, 
 though lack of a liberal education (such as Mike 
 had enjoyed and misused) must also bear its share 
 of responsibility. He was amazed at this violent 
 and threatening interruption. He gave a funny 
 little skip backwards on the dais; his heel came 
 thereby in contact with the high hassock on 
 which Mr. Saffron's feet rested. The hassock 
 was shifted; one foot fell from it on to the dais, 
 and Mr. Saffron's body fell a little forward 
 from out of the deep recess of his great chair. 
 To big Neddy's perturbed imagination it looked 
 as if Mr. Saffron had set one foot upon the 
 floor of the dais and was going to rise from his 
 seat, perhaps to come down from the dais, to 
 come nearer to his grave to ask for his scepter. 
 
 It was too much for Neddy. He shuddered, 
 he could not help it; and the scepter dropped 
 from his hand. It fell from his hand back into 
 the grave again; under its impact the gold coins 
 in the grave again jangled. 
 
 Beaumaroy had, by this time, been standing 
 close outside the door for about two minutes; 
 
 232
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 he had lighted a cigarette from the candle on 
 the parlor table. The sounds that he thought 
 he heard were not conclusive; creaks and cracks 
 did sometimes come from the boarded-up win- 
 dow and the rafters of the roof. But the sound 
 of the jangling gold was conclusive; it must be 
 due in some way to human agency; and in the 
 circumstances human agency must mean a thief. 
 
 Beaumaroy's mind leapt to the Sergeant. Ten 
 to one it was the Sergeant! He had long been 
 after the secret; he had at last sniffed it out, 
 and was helping himself! It seemed to Beau- 
 maroy a disgusting thing to do, with the dead 
 man sitting there. But that was sentiment. 
 Sentiment was not to be expected of the Ser- 
 geant, and disgusting things were. 
 
 Then he suddenly recalled Alec Naylor's story 
 of the two men, one tall and slight, one short 
 and stumpy, who had reconnoitered Tower 
 Cottage. The Sergeant had an accomplice, no 
 doubt. He listened again. He heard the scrape 
 of metal on metal, as when a man gathers up 
 coins in his hand out of a heap. ,Yet he stood 
 
 233
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 where he was, smoking still. Thoughts were 
 passing rapidly through his brain, and they 
 brought a smile to his lips. 
 
 Let them take it ! Why not ? It was no care 
 to him now! Doctor Mary had to tell the truth 
 about it, and so, consequently, had he himself. 
 It belonged to the Radbolts. Oh, damn the 
 Radbolts! He would have risked his life for 
 it if the old man had lived, but he wasn't going 
 to risk his life for the Radbolts. Let the rascals 
 get off with the stuff, or as much as they could 
 carry! He was all right. Doctor Mary could 
 testify that he hadn't taken it. Let them carry off 
 the infernal stuff ! Incidentally he would be well 
 rid of the Sergeant, and free from any of his 
 importunities, from whines and threats alike; it 
 was not an unimportant, if a minor, considera- 
 tion. 
 
 Yet it was a disgusting thing to do it cer- 
 tainly was; and the Sergeant would think that 
 he had scored a triumph. Over his benefactor 
 too, his protector, Beaumaroy reflected with a 
 satiric smile. The Sergeant certainly deserved 
 
 234
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 a fright and, if possible, a licking. These ad- 
 ministered, he could be kicked out; perhaps 
 oh, yes, poor brute ! with a handful of the Rad- 
 bolts' money. They would never miss it, as they 
 did not know how much there was, and such a 
 diversion of their legal property in no way 
 troubled Beaumaroy's conscience. 
 
 And the accomplice? He shrugged his shoul- 
 ders. The Sergeant was, as he well knew from 
 his military experience of that worthy man, an 
 arrant coward. He would show no fight. If the 
 accomplice did, Beaumaroy was quite in the 
 mood to oblige him. But while he tackled one 
 fellow, the other might get off with the money 
 with as much as he could carry. For all that 
 it was merely Radbolt money now; in the end 
 Beaumaroy could not stomach the idea of that 
 the idea that either of the dirty rogues in there 
 should get off with the money. And it was fool- 
 ish to attack them on the front on which they 
 expected to be attacked. Quickly his mind 
 formed another plan. He turned, stole softly 
 
 235
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 out of the parlor, and along the passage towards 
 the front door of the cottage. 
 
 After Neddy had dropped Mr. Saffron's 
 scepter into Captain Duggle's grave (had he 
 known that it was Captain Duggle's, and not 
 been a prey to the ridiculous but haunting fancy 
 that it had been destined for, or even oh, 
 these errant fancies already occupied by, Mr. 
 Saffron himself, Neddy would have been less 
 agitated) Mike dealt with him roundly. In 
 bitter hissing whispers, and in language suited 
 thereto, he pointed out the folly of vain super- 
 stitions, of childish fears and sick imaginings 
 which interfered with business and threatened its 
 success. His eloquent reasoning, combined with 
 a lively desire to get out of the place as soon 
 as possible, so far wrought on Neddy that he 
 produced the sack which he had brought with 
 him, and held its mouth open, though with 
 trembling hands, while Mike scraped up handful 
 after handful of gold coins and poured them 
 into it. They were busily engaged on their joint 
 task as Beaumaroy stole along the passage and, 
 
 236
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 reaching the front door, again stood listening. 
 
 The Sergeant was still keeping his vigil be- 
 fore the door. He had no doubt that it was 
 locked; did not Beaumaroy see Mrs. Wiles and 
 himself out of it every evening the back door 
 to the little house led only on to the heath be- 
 hind and gave no direct access to the road 
 and lock it after them with a squeaking key? 
 He would have warning enough if anyone 
 turned the key now. He was looking towards 
 the road; a surprise was more possible from that 
 quarter; his back was towards the door and only 
 a very little way from it. 
 
 But when Beaumaroy had entered with 
 Doctor Mary, he had not re-locked the door; 
 he opened it now very gently and cautiously, and 
 saw the Sergeant's back there was no mistak- 
 ing it. Without letting his surprise for he had 
 confidently supposed the Sergeant to be in the 
 Tower interfere with the instant action called 
 for by the circumstances, he flung out his long 
 right arm, caught the Sergeant round the neck 
 with a throttling grip, and dragged him back- 
 
 237
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 wards into the house. The man was incapable 
 of crying out; no sound escaped from him which 
 could reach the Tower. Beaumaroy set him 
 softly on the floor of the passage. "If you stir 
 or speak, I'll strangle you!" he whispered. 
 There was enough light from the passage lamp 
 to enable the Sergeant to judge, by the expres- 
 sion of his face, that he spoke sincerely. The 
 Sergeant did not dare even to rub his throat, 
 though it was feeling very sore and uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 There was a row of pegs on the passage wall, 
 just inside the door. On them, among hats, caps, 
 and coats and also Mr. Saffron's gray shawl 
 hung two long neck-scarves, comforters that the 
 keen heath winds made very acceptable on a 
 walk. Beaumaroy took them, and tied his pris- 
 oner hand and foot. He had just completed this 
 operation, in the workmanlike fashion which he 
 had learnt on service, when he heard a footstep 
 on the stairs. Looking up, he saw Doctor Mary 
 standing there. 
 
 Her waiting in the room above had seemed 
 238
 
 THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE 
 
 long to her. Her ears had been expecting the 
 sound of Beaumaroy's tread as he mounted the 
 stairs, laden with his burden. That sound had 
 not come; instead, there had been the soft, just 
 audible, plop of the Sergeant's body as it 
 dropped on the floor of the passage. It occurred 
 to her that Beaumaroy had perhaps had some 
 mishap with his burden, or found difficulty with 
 it. She was coming downstairs to offer her help. 
 Seeing what she saw now, she stood still in 
 surprise. 
 
 Beaumaroy looked up at her and smiled. "No 
 cause for alarm," he said, "but I've got to go 
 out for a minute. Keep an eye on this rascal, 
 will you? Oh, and, Doctor Mary, if he tries to 
 move or untie himself, just take the parlor poker 
 and hit him over the headi Thanks. You don't 
 mind, dc you? And you, Sergeant, remember 
 what I said!" 
 
 With these words Beaumaroy slipped out of 
 the door, and softly closed it behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 WHEN Captain Alec brought his fiancee home 
 after the dinner of welcome and congratulation 
 at Old Place, it was nearly twelve o'clock. 
 Jeanne, however in these days a radiant 
 Jeanne, very different from the mournful crea- 
 ture who had accompanied Captain Cranster's 
 victim to Inkston a few weeks before was 
 sitting up for her mistress and, since she had to 
 perform this duty which was sweetened by 
 the hope of receiving exciting confidences, for 
 surely that affair was "marching?" it had been 
 agreed between her and the other maids that 
 she should sit up for the Doctor also. She told 
 the lovers that Doctor Mary had been called for 
 by Mr. Beaumaroy, and had gone out with him, 
 presumably to visit his friend Mr. Saffron. It 
 did not occur to either of them to ask when Mary 
 
 240
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 had set out; they contented themselves with ex- 
 changing a glance of disapproval. What a pity 
 that Mary should have anything more to do with 
 this Mr. Saffron and his Beaumaroy! 
 
 However there was a bright side to it this 
 time. It would be kind of Cynthia to sit up for 
 Mary, and minister to her a cup of tea which 
 Jeanne should prepare ; and it would be pleasant 
 and quite permissible for Captain Alec to 
 bear her company. Mary could not be long, 
 surely; it grew late. 
 
 So for a while they thought no more of Mary 
 as was natural enough. They had so much 
 to talk about, the whole of a new and very won- 
 derful life to speculate about and to plan, the 
 whole of their past acquaintance to review; old 
 doubts had to be confessed and laughed at; the 
 inevitability of the whole thing from the first be- 
 ginnings had to be recognized, proved, and ex- 
 hibited. In this sweet discourse the minutes flew 
 by unmarked, and would have gone on flying, 
 had not Jeanne reappeared of her own accord, 
 to remark that it really was very late now; did 
 
 41
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 mademoiselle think that possibly anything could 
 have happened to Doctor Arkroyd? 
 
 "By Jove, it is late I" cried the Captain, look- 
 ing at his watch. "It's past one!" 
 
 Cynthia was amazed to hear that. 
 
 "He must be very ill, that old gentleman," 
 Jeanne opined. "And poor Doctor Arkroyd 
 will be very tired. She will find the walk across 
 the heath very fatiguing." 
 
 "Walk, Jeanne? Didn't she take the car?" 
 cried Cynthia, surprised. 
 
 No, the Doctor had not taken the car; she 
 had started to walk with Mr. Beaumaroy; the 
 parlormaid had certainly told Jeanne that. 
 
 "I tell you what," said the Captain. "I'll just 
 tool along to Tower Cottage. I'll look out for 
 Doctor Mary on the road, and give her a lift 
 back if I meet her. If I don't, I can stop at 
 the cottage and get Beaumaroy to tell her that 
 I'm there, and can wait to bring her home as 
 soon as she's ready. You'd better go to bed, 
 Cynthia." 
 
 Jeanne tactfully disappeared, and the lovers 
 242
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 said good-night. After Alec's departure, Jeanne 
 received the anticipated confidence. 
 
 That departure almost synchronized with two 
 events at Tower Cottage. The first was Beau- 
 maroy's exit from the front door, leaving Mary 
 in charge of his prisoner who, consequently, was 
 unable to keep any watch on the road or to warn 
 his principals of approaching danger. The sec- 
 ond was big Neddy's declaration that, in his 
 opinion, the sack now held about as much as 
 he could carry. He raised it from the floor in 
 his two hands. "Must weight a 'undred pound 
 or more!" he reckoned. That meant a lot of 
 money, a fat lot of money. His terrors had be- 
 gun to wear off, since nothing of a supernatural 
 or even creepy order had actually happened. 
 He had, at last, even agreed to the candles being 
 put out. Still he would be glad to be off. 
 "Enough's as good as a feast, as the sayin' goes, 
 Mike," he chuckled. 
 
 Mike had fitted a new battery into his torch. 
 It shone brightly on Neddy and on the sack, 
 whose mouth Neddy was now tying up. "I 
 
 243
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 might fill my pockets too," he suggested, eyeing 
 the very respectable amount of sovereigns which 
 still remained in Captain Duggle's tomb. 
 
 "Don't do it, old lad," Neddy advised. "If 
 we 'ave to get out, or anything of that kind, you 
 don't want to jingle as if you was a glass 
 chandelier, do you?" 
 
 Mike admitted the cogency of the objection, 
 and they agreed to be off. Mike started for the 
 window. "I'll just pick up the Sergeant," he 
 said, "and signal you 'All clear.' Then you fol- 
 low out." 
 
 "No, Mike," said Neddy slowly, but very de- 
 cisively. "If you don't mind, it's going to be 
 me as gets out of that window first. I ain't a 
 man of your eddication, and well, blast me if 
 I'm going to be left in this place alone with 
 that there!" He motioned with his head, back 
 over his shoulder, towards where silent Mr. 
 Saffron sat. 
 
 "You're a blooming ass, Neddy, but have it 
 your own way. Only let me see the coast's clear 
 first." 
 
 244
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 He stole to the window and looked around. 
 He assumed that the Sergeant was at his post, 
 but all the same he wanted to have a look at the 
 road himself. So he had, and the result was 
 satisfactory. It was hardly to be expected that 
 he should scrutinize the ground immediately 
 under the window; at any rate he did not think 
 of that. It was, as Beaumaroy had conjectured, 
 from another direction, from the parlor, that he 
 anticipated a possible attack. There all was 
 quiet. He came back and reported to Neddy 
 that the moment was favorable. "I'll switch off 
 the torch, though, just in case. You can feel 
 your way; keep to the edge of the steps; don't 
 knock up against " 
 
 "I'll take damned good care not to 1" muttered 
 Neddy, with a little shiver. 
 
 He made his way to the window, through the 
 darkness, having slung his sack over his shoul- 
 der and holding it with his right hand, while with 
 the left he guided himself up the dais and along 
 its outside edge, giving as wide a berth as pos- 
 sible to the great chair and its encircling canopy. 
 
 245
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 With a sigh of relief he found the window, 
 moved the sack from his shoulder, and set it on 
 the ledge for a moment. But it was awkward 
 to get down from the window, holding that 
 heavy sack. He lowered it towards the ground, 
 so that it might land gently, and, just as he 
 let it go, he turned his head back and whispered 
 to Mike, "All serene. Get a move on !" 
 
 "Half a minute!" answered Mike, as he in 
 his turn set out to grope his way to the window. 
 
 But he was not so cautious as his friend had 
 been. In his progress he kicked the tall foot- 
 stool sharply with one of his feet. Neddy leant 
 back from the window, asking quickly, and 
 again very nervously, "What the devil's that?" 
 
 Beaumaroy could not resist the opportunity 
 thus offered to him. -He was crouching on the 
 ground, not exactly under the window, but just 
 to the right of it. Neddy's face was turned 
 away; he threw himself on to the bag, rose to 
 his feet, raised it cautiously, and holding it in 
 front of him with both his hands its weight was 
 fully as much as he could manage was round 
 
 246
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 the curve of the Tower and out of sight with it 
 in an instant. 
 
 At the back of the house there was a space 
 of ground where Mrs. Wiles grew a few vege- 
 tables for the household's use. It was a clearing 
 made from the heath, but it was not enclosed. 
 Beaumaroy was able to reach the back entrance, 
 by which this patch of ground could be entered 
 from the kitchen. Just by the kitchen door 
 stood that useful thing, a butt for rainwater. It 
 stood some three, or three-and-a-half, feet high; 
 and it was full to the brim almost. With a 
 fresh effort Beaumaroy raised the sack to the 
 level of his breast. Then he lowered it into the 
 water, not dropping it, for fear of a splash, but 
 immersing both his arms above the elbow. Only 
 when he felt the weight off them, as the sack 
 touched bottom, did he release his hold. Then 
 with cautious steps he continued his progress 
 round the house and, coming to the other side, 
 crouched close by the wall again and waited. 
 Where he was now, he could see the fence that 
 separated the front garden from the road, and 
 
 247
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 he was not more than ten or twelve feet from 
 the front door on his left. As he huddled down 
 there, he could not repress a smile of amuse- 
 ment, even of self-congratulation. However, he 
 turned to the practical job of squeezing the 
 water out of his sleeves. 
 
 In thus congratulating himself, he was pre- 
 mature. His action had been based on a mis- 
 calculation. He had heard only Neddy's last 
 exclamation, not the cautious whispers previously 
 exchanged between him and Mike; he thought 
 that the man astride the window-sill himself had 
 kicked something and instinctively exclaimed, 
 "What the devil's that?" He thought that the 
 sack was lowered from the window in order to 
 be committed to the temporary guardianship of 
 the Sergeant, who was doubtless looking out for 
 it and, if he had his ears open, would hear its 
 gentle thud. Perhaps the man in the Tower was 
 collecting a second instalment of booty; heavy 
 as the sack was, it did not contain all that he 
 knew to be in Captain Duggle's grave. Be that 
 as it might, the man would climb out of the 
 
 248
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 window soon; and he would fail to find his sack. 
 
 What would he do then? He would signal 
 or call to the Sergeant; or, if they had a pre- 
 concerted rendezvous, he would betake himselt 
 there, expecting to find his accomplice. He 
 would neither get an answer from him nor find 
 him, of course. Equally, of course, he would 
 look for him. But the last place where he would 
 expect to find him the last place he would 
 search would be where the Sergeant in fact 
 was, the house itself. If, in his search for 
 Hooper, he found Beaumaroy, it would be man 
 to man, and, now again, Beaumaroy had no ob- 
 jection. 
 
 But, in fact, there were two men in the Tower 
 one of them big Neddy; and the function, 
 which Beaumaroy supposed to have been in- 
 trusted to the Sergeant, had never been assigned 
 to him at all; to guard the door and the road 
 had been his only tasks. When they found the 
 bag gone, and the Sergeant too, they might well 
 think that the Sergeant had betrayed them; that 
 he had gone off on his own account, or that he 
 
 249
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 had, at the last moment, under an impulse of 
 fear or a calculation of interest, changed sides 
 and joined the garrison in the house. If he had 
 gone off with the sack, he could not have gone 
 fast or far with it. Failing to overtake him, 
 they might turn back to the cottage; for they 
 knew themselves to be in superior force. Beau- 
 maroy was in greater danger than he knew and 
 so was Doctor Mary in the house. 
 
 Big Neddy let himself down from the window, 
 and put down his hand to lift up the sack; he 
 groped about for it for some seconds, during 
 which time Mike also climbed over the window- 
 sill and dropped on to the ground below. Neddy 
 emitted a low but strenuous oath. 
 
 "The sack's gone, Mike!" he added in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Gone? Rot! Can't be I What do you mean, 
 Neddy?" 
 
 "I dropped it straight 'ere. It's gone," Neddy 
 persisted. "The Sergeant must 'ave took it." 
 
 "No business of his! Where is the fool?" 
 Mike's voice was already uneasy; thieves them- 
 
 250
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 selves seldom believe in there being honor among 
 them. "You stay here. I'll go to the door and 
 see if he's there." 
 
 He was just about to put this purpose into 
 execution in which event it was quite likely 
 that Beaumaroy, hearing his approach or his call 
 to the Sergeant, would have sprung out upon 
 him, only to find himself assailed the next instant 
 by another and far more formidable antagonist 
 in the person of big Neddy, and thus in sore 
 peril of his life when the hum of Captain Alec's 
 engine became audible in the distance. The next 
 moment, the lights of his car became visible to 
 all the men in the little front garden of the 
 cottage. 
 
 "Hist! Wait till that's gone by!" whispered 
 Neddy. 
 
 "Yes, and get round to the back. Get out of 
 sight round here." He drew Neddy round the 
 curve of the Tower wall till his big frame was 
 hidden by it; then he himself crouched down 
 under the wall, with his head cautiously pro- 
 truded. The night had grown clearer; it was 
 
 251
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 possible to see figures at a distance of some yards 
 now. 
 
 Beaumaroy also perceived the car. Whose it 
 was and the explanation of its appearance even 
 occurred to his mind. But he kept still. He did 
 not want visitors; he conceived his hand to be 
 a better one than it really was, and preferred to 
 play it by himself. If the car passed by, well 
 and good. Only if it stopped at the gate would 
 he have to take action. 
 
 It did stop at the gate. Mike saw it stop. 
 Then its engine was shut off, and a man got out 
 of it, and came up to the garden gate. Though 
 the watching Mike had never seen him before, 
 he had little difficulty in guessing who he was, 
 and he remembered something that the Sergeant 
 had said about him. Of a certainty it was the 
 redoubtable Captain Naylor. Through the 
 darkness he loomed enormous, as tall as big 
 Neddy himself and no whit less broad. A pow- 
 erful reinforcement for the garrison 1 
 
 And what would the Sergeant do, if he were 
 252
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 still at his post by the door with or without that 
 missing, that all-important, sack? 
 
 Another tall figure came into Mike's view 
 from where he could not distinctly see ; it hardly 
 seemed to be from the door of the cottage, for 
 no light showed, and there was no sound of an 
 opening door. But it appeared from somewhere 
 near there; it was on the path, and it moved 
 along to the gate in a leisurely unhurried ap- 
 proach. A man with his hands in his pockets 
 that was what it looked like. This must be the 
 garrison; this must be the Sergeant's friend, 
 master, protector, and bete noire f his "Boomery." 
 
 But the Sergeant himself? Where was he? 
 He could hardly be at his post; or Beaumaroy 
 and he must have seen one another, must have 
 taken some heed of one another; something must 
 have passed between them, either friendly or 
 hostile. Mike turned round and whispered 
 hastily, close into Neddy's ear. Neddy crawled 
 a little forward, and put his own bullet head far 
 enough round the curve of the wall to see the 
 
 253
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 meeting between the garrison and its unexpected 
 reinforcement. 
 
 Beaumaroy, hands in pockets, lounged non- 
 chalantly down to the gate. He opened it; the 
 Captain entered. The two shook hands and 
 stood there, apparently in conversation. The 
 words did not reach the ears of the listeners, but 
 the sound of voices did voices hushed in tone. 
 Once Beaumaroy pointed to the house; both 
 Mike and Neddy marked the outstretched hand. 
 Was Beaumaroy telling his companion about 
 something that had been happening at the house? 
 Were they concocting a plan of defense or of 
 attack? With the disappearance, perhaps the 
 treachery, of the Sergeant, and the appearance 
 of this new ally for the garrison, the prospects 
 of a fight took on a very different look. Neddy 
 might tackle the big stranger with an equal 
 chance. How would Mike fare in an encounter 
 with Beaumaroy? He did not relish the idea 
 of it. 
 
 And, while they fought, the traitor Sergeant 
 might be on their backs! Or on the other 
 
 254
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 hypothesis he might he getting off with the 
 swag! Neither alternative was satisfactory. 
 
 "PYaps he's gone off to the car with the sack 
 in a fright, like, thinking we'll guess that!" 
 whispered Neddy. 
 
 Mike did not much think so, though he would 
 much have liked to. But he received the suggestion 
 kindly. "We might as well have a look; we can 
 come back afterwards if if we like. Perhaps 
 that big brute'll have gone." 
 
 "The thing as I want to do most is to wring 
 that Sergeant's neck I" 
 
 Their whispers were checked by a new devel- 
 opment. The cottage door opened for a moment 
 and then closed again; they could tell that, both 
 by the sound and by the momentary ray of light. 
 Yet a light persisted after the door was shut. 
 It came from a candle, which burnt steadily in 
 the stillness of the night. It was carried by a 
 woman, who came down the path towards where 
 Beaumaroy and the Captain stood in conversa- 
 tion. Both turned towards her with eager atten- 
 tion. 
 
 255
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "Now's our time, then! They aren't looking 
 our way now. We can get across the heath to 
 where the car is." 
 
 They moved off very softly, keeping the 
 Tower between them and the group on the path. 
 They gained the back of the house, and so the 
 open heath, and made off to their destination. 
 They moved so softly that they escaped unheard 
 unless Beaumaroy were right in the notion that 
 his ear caught a little rustle of the bracken. He 
 took no heed of it, unless a passing smile might 
 be reckoned as such. 
 
 Doctor Mary joined him and the Captain on 
 the path. Beaumaroy's smile gave way to a look 
 of expectant interest. He wondered what she 
 was going to say to Captain Alec. There was so 
 much that she might say, or just conceivably 
 leave unsaid. 
 
 She spoke calmly and quietly. "It's you, Cap- 
 tain Alec I I thought sol Cynthia got anxious? 
 I'm all right. I suppose Mr. Beaumaroy has 
 told you? Poor Mr. Saffron is dead." 
 
 "I've told him," said Beaumaroy. 
 256
 
 A NORMAL CASE 
 
 "Of heart disease," Mary added. "Quite pain- 
 lessly, I think and quite a normal case, though, 
 of course, it's distressing." 
 
 "I I'm sorry," stammered Captain Alec. 
 
 Beatunaroy's eyes met Mary's in the candle's 
 light with a swift glance of surprise and inquiry.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 MABY did not appear to answer Beaumaroy's 
 glance; she continued to look at, and to address 
 herself to, Captain Alec. "I am tired, and I 
 should love a ride home. But I've still a little 
 to do, and I know it's awfully late, but would 
 you mind waiting just a little while? I'm afraid 
 I might be as much as half-an-hour." 
 
 "Right you are, Doctor Mary as long as you 
 like. I'll walk up and down, and smoke a 
 cigar; I want one badly." Mary made an ex- 
 tremely faint motion of her hand towards the 
 house. "Oh, thanks, but really I well, I shall 
 feel more comfortable here, I think." 
 
 Mary smiled; it was always safe to rely on 
 Captain Alec's fine feelings; under the circum- 
 stances he would she had felt pretty sure 
 prefer to smoke his cigar outside the house. "I'll 
 be as quick as I can. Come, Mr. Beaumaroy!" 
 
 258
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 Beaumaroy followed her up the path and into 
 the house. The Sergeant was still on the floor 
 of the passage; he rolled apprehensive resentful 
 eyes at them; Mary took no heed of him, but pre- 
 ceded Beaumaroy into the parlor and shut the 
 door. 
 
 "I don't know what your game is," remarked 
 Beaumaroy in a low voice, "but you couldn't 
 have played mine better. I don't want him in- 
 side the house; but I'm mighty glad to have him 
 extremely visible outside it." 
 
 "It was very quiet inside there" she pointed 
 to the door of the Tower "just before I came 
 out. Before that, I'd heard odd sounds. Was 
 there somebody there and the Sergeant in 
 league with him?" 
 
 "Exactly," smiled Beaumaroy. "It is all 
 quiet. I think I'll have a look." 
 
 The candle on the table had burnt out. He 
 took another from the sideboard and lit it from 
 the one which Mary still held. 
 
 "Like the poker?" she asked, with a flicker 
 of a smile on her face. 
 
 259
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "No you come and help, if I cry outl" He 
 could not repress a chuckle; Doctor Mary was 
 interesting him extremely. 
 
 Lighted by his candle, he went into the Tower. 
 She heard him moving about there, as she stood 
 thoughtfully by the extinct fire, still with her 
 candle in her hand. 
 
 Beaumaroy returned. "He's gone or they've 
 gone." He exhibited to her gaze two objects 
 a checked pocket-handkerchief and a tobacco 
 pouch. "Number one found on the edge of the 
 grave Number two on the floor of the dais, just 
 behind the canopy. If the same man had drawn 
 them both out of the same pocket at the same 
 time wanting tc blow the same nose, Doctor 
 Mary they'd have fallen at the same place, 
 wouldn't they?" 
 
 "Wonderful, Holmes!" said Mary. "And 
 now, shall we attend to Mr. Saffron?" 
 
 They carried out that office, the course of 
 which they had originally prepared. Beaumaroy 
 passed with his burden hard by the Sergeant, 
 and Mary followed. In a quarter of an hour 
 
 260
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 they came downstairs again, and Mary again led 
 the way into the parlor. She went to the window, 
 and drew the curtains aside a little way. The 
 lights of the car were burning; the Captain's tall 
 figure fell within their rays and was plainly 
 visible, strolling up and down; the ambit of the 
 rays did not, however, embrace the Tower win- 
 dow. The Captain paced and smoked, patient, 
 content, gone back to his own happy memories 
 and anticipations. Mary returned to the table 
 and set her candle down on it. 
 
 "All right. I think we can keep him a little 
 longer." 
 
 "I vote we do," said Beaumaroy. "I reckon 
 he's scared the fellows away, and they won't 
 come back so long as they see his lights." 
 
 Rash at conclusions sometimes as has been 
 seen Beaumaroy was right in his opinion of 
 the Captain's value as a sentry, or a scarecrow 
 to keep away hungry birds. The confederates 
 had stolen back to their base of operations to 
 where their car lay behind the trees. There, too, 
 no Sergeant and no sack! Neddy reached for 
 
 261
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 his roomy flask, drank of it, and with hoarse 
 curses consigned the entire course of events, his 
 accomplices, even himself, to nethermost perdi- 
 tion. "That place ain't natural!" he ended in 
 a gloomy conviction. " 'Oo pinched that sack? 
 The Sergeant? Well maybe it was, and maybe 
 it wasn't." He finished the flask to cure a re- 
 currence of the shudders. 
 
 Mike prevailed with him so far that he con- 
 sented reluctantly to be left alone on the 
 blasted heath, while his friend went back to re- 
 connoiter. Mike went, and presently returned; 
 the car was still there, the tall figure was still 
 pacing up and down. 
 
 "And perhaps the other one's gone for the 
 police!" Mike suggested uneasily. "Guess we've 
 lost the hand, Neddy! Best be moving, eh? It's 
 no go for to-night." 
 
 "Catch me trying the bloomin' place any other 
 night!" grumbled Neddy. "It's given me the 
 'errors, and no mistake." 
 
 Mike Mr. Percy Bennett, that erstwhile 
 gentlemanly stranger recognized one of his 
 
 262
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 failures. Such things are incidental to all pro- 
 fessions. "Our best game is to go back; if the 
 Sergeant's on the square, we'll hear from him." 
 But he spoke without much hope; rationalist as 
 he professed himself, still he was affected by the 
 atmosphere of the Tower. With what difficulty 
 do we entirely throw off atavistic notions I They 
 both of them had, at the bottom ol their minds, 
 the idea that the dead man on the high seat had 
 defeated them, and that no luck lay in meddling 
 with his treasure. 
 
 "I 'ave my doubts whether that ugly Ser- 
 geant's 'uman himself," growled Neddy, as he 
 hoisted his bulk into the car. 
 
 So they went back to whence they came; and 
 the impression that the night's adventure left 
 upon them was heightened as the days went by. 
 For, strange to say, though they watched all the 
 usual channels of information, as Ministers say 
 in Parliament, and also tried to open up some 
 unusual ones, they never heard anything again 
 of the Sergeant, of the sack of gold, of the yawn- 
 ing tomb with its golden lining, of its silent 
 
 263
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 waxen-faced enthroned guardian who had de- 
 feated them. It all the whole bizarre scene 
 vanished from their ken, as though it had been 
 one of those alluring, thwarting dreams which 
 afflict men in sleep. It was an experience to 
 which they were shy of alluding among their 
 confidential friends, even of talking about be- 
 tween themselves. In a word uncomfortable! 
 
 Meanwhile the Sergeant's association with 
 Tower Cottage had also drawn to its close. 
 After his search and his discovery in the Tower, 
 Beaumaroy came out into the passage where the 
 prisoner lay, and proceeded to unfasten his 
 bonds. 
 
 "Stand up and listen to me, Sergeant," he 
 said. "Your pals have run away; they can't help 
 you, and they wouldn't if they could, because, 
 owing to you, they haven't got away with any 
 plunder, and so they'll be in a very bad temper 
 with you. In the road, in front of the house, 
 is Captain Naylor you know that officer and 
 his dimensions ? He's in a very temper with you 
 too. (Here Beaumaroy was embroidering the
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 situation; the Sergeant was not really in Cap- 
 tain Alec's thoughts.) Finally, I'm in a very 
 bad temper with you myself. If I see your ugly 
 phiz much longer, I may break out. Don't you 
 think you'd better depart by the back door 
 and go home? And if you're not out of Inkston 
 for good and all by ten o'clock in the morning, 
 and if you ever show yourself there again, look 
 out for squalls. What you've got out of this 
 business I don't know. You can keep it and 
 I'll give you a parting present myself as well." 
 
 "I knows a thing or two " the Sergeant 
 
 began, but he saw a look that he had seen only 
 once or twice before on Beaumaroy's face; on 
 each occasion it had been followed by the death 
 of the enemy whose act had elicited it. 
 
 "Oh, try that game, just try it!" Beaumaroy 
 muttered. "Just give me that excuse!" He ad- 
 vanced to the Sergeant, who fell suddenly on 
 his knees. "Don't make a noise, you hound, or 
 I'll silence you for good and all I'd do it for 
 twopence!" He took hold of the Sergeant's 
 coat-collar, jerked him on to his legs, and pro- 
 
 265
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 pelled him to the kitchen and through it to the 
 back door. Opening it, he dispatched the Ser- 
 geant through the doorway with an accurate and 
 vigorous kick. He fell, and lay sprawling on 
 the ground for a second, then gathered himself 
 up and ran hastily over the heath, soon disap- 
 pearing in the darkness. The memory of Beau- 
 maroy's look was even keener than the sensation 
 caused by Beaumaroy's boot. It sent him in 
 flight back to Inkston, thence to London, thence 
 into the unknown, to some spot chosen for its 
 remoteness from Beaumaroy, from Captain Nay- 
 lor, from Mike and from Neddy. He recognized 
 his unpopularity, thereby achieving a triumph in 
 a difficult little branch of wisdom. 
 
 Beaumaroy returned to the parlor hastily ; not 
 so much to avoid keeping Captain Alec waiting 
 '. it was quite a useful precaution to have that 
 sentry on duty a little longer as because his 
 curiosity and interest had been excited by the 
 description which Doctor Mary had given of 
 Mr. Saffron's death. It was true, probably the 
 precise truth, but it seemed to have been volun-
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 teered in a rather remarkable way and worded 
 with careful purpose. Also it was the bare 
 truth, the truth denuded of all its attendant cir- 
 cumstances which had not been normal. 
 
 When he rejoined her, Mary was sitting in the 
 armchair by the fire; she heard his account of 
 the state of affairs up-to-date with a thought- 
 ful smile, smoking a cigarette; her smile broad- 
 ened over the tale of the water-butt. She had 
 put on the fur cloak in which she had walked to 
 the cottage the fire was out and the room cold; 
 framed in the furs, the outline of her face looked 
 softer. 
 
 "So we stand more or less as we did before the 
 burglars appeared on the scene," she commented. 
 
 "Except that our personal exertions have 
 saved that money." 
 
 "I suppose you would prefer that all the cir- 
 cumstances shouldn't come out? There have 
 been irregularities." 
 
 "I should prefer tfiat, not so much on my own 
 account I don't know and don't care what they 
 could do to me as for the old man's sake." 
 
 267
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "If I know you, I think you would rather 
 enjoy being able to keep your secret. You like 
 having the laugh of people. I know that myself, 
 Mr. Beaumaroy." She exchanged a smile with 
 him. "You want a death certificate from me/' 
 she added. 
 
 "I suppose I do," Beaumaroy agreed. 
 
 "In the sort of terms in which I described 
 Mr. Saffron's death to Captain Alec? If I gave 
 such a certificate, there would remain nothing 
 well, nothing peculiar except the the appear- 
 ance of things in the Tower." 
 
 Her eyes were now fixed on his face; he 
 nodded his head with a smile of understanding. 
 There was something new in the tone of Doctor 
 Mary's voice; not only friendliness, though that 
 was there, but a note of excitement, of enjoy- 
 ment, as though she also were not superior to 
 the pleasure of having the laugh of people. 
 "But it's rather straining a point to say that 
 and nothing more. I could do it only if you made 
 me feel that I could trust you absolutely." 
 
 268
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 Beaumaroy made a little grimace, and waited 
 for her to develop her subject. 
 
 "Your morality is different from most 
 people's, and from mine. Mine is conventional." 
 
 "Conventual!" Beaumaroy murmured. 
 
 "Yours isn't. It's all personal with you. You 
 recognize no rights in people whom you don't 
 like, or who you think aren't deserving, or 
 haven't earned rights. And you don't judge 
 your own rights hy what the law gives you, 
 either. The right of conquest you called it; you 
 hold yourself free to exercise that against every- 
 body, except your friends, and against everybody 
 in the interest of your friends like poor Mr. 
 Saffron. I believe you'd do the same for me 
 if I asked you to." 
 
 "I'm glad you believe that, Doctor Mary." 
 
 "But I can't deal with you on that basis. It's 
 even difficult to be friends on that basis and 
 certainly impossible to be partners." 
 
 "I never suggested that we should be partners 
 over the money," Beaumaroy put in quickly. 
 
 "No. But I'm suggesting now as you did 
 269
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 before that we should be partners in a secret, 
 in Mr. Saffron's secret." She smiled again as 
 she added, "You can manage it all, I know, 
 if you like. I've unlimited confidence in your 
 ingenuity quite unlimited." 
 
 "But none at all in my honesty?" 
 
 "You've got an honesty; but I don't call it a 
 really honest honesty." 
 
 "All this leads up to the Radbolts!" declared 
 Beaumaroy with a gesture of disgust. 
 
 "It does. I want your word of honor given 
 to a friend that all that money all of it 
 goes to the Radbolts, if it legally belongs to 
 them. I want that in exchange for the certi- 
 ficate." 
 
 "A hard bargain I It isn't so much that I want 
 the money though I must remark that in my 
 judgment I have a strong claim to it; I would 
 say a moral claim but for my deference to your 
 views, Doctor Mary. But it isn't mainly that. 
 I hate the Radbolts getting it, just as much as 
 the old man would have hated it." 
 
 "I have given you my my terms," said Mary. 
 270
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 Beaumaroy stood looking down at her, his 
 hands in his pockets. His face was twisted in 
 a humorous disgust. Mary laughed gently. "It 
 is possible to to keep the rules without being 
 a prig, you know, though I believe you think it 
 isn't." 
 
 "Including the sack in the water-butt? My 
 sack, the sack I rescued?" 
 
 "Including the sack in the water-butt. Yes, 
 every single sovereign!" Though Mary was pur- 
 suing the high moral line, there was now more 
 mischief than gravity in her demeanor. 
 
 "Well, I'll do it!" He evidently spoke with 
 a great effort. "I'll do it! But, look here, 
 Doctor Mary, you'll live to be sorry you made 
 me do it. Oh, I don't mean that that conscience 
 of yours will be sorry. That'll approve, no 
 doubt, being the extremely conventionalized 
 thing it is. But you yourself, you'll be sorry, or 
 I'm much mistaken in the Radbolts." 
 
 "It isn't a question of the Radbolts," she in- 
 sisted, laughing. 
 
 271
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 .3 
 
 "Oh yes, it is, and you'll come to feel it so." 
 Beaumaroy was equally obstinate. 
 
 Mary rose. "Then that's settled, and we 
 needn't keep Captain Alec waiting any longer." 
 
 "How do you know that I sha'n't cheat you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I don't know how I know that," Mary ad- 
 mitted. "But I do know it. And I want to 
 tell you " 
 
 She suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze ; 
 her cheeks flushed, but she went on resolutely: 
 
 "To tell you how glad, how happy, I am that 
 it all ends like this; that the poor old man is 
 free of his fancies and his fears, beyond both 
 our pity and our laughter." 
 
 "Aye, he's earned rest, if there is to be rest 
 for any of us!" 
 
 "And you can rest, too. And you can laugh 
 with us, and not at us. Isn't that, after all, a 
 more human sort of laughter?" 
 
 She was smiling still as she gave him her hand, 
 but he saw that tears stood in her eyes. The 
 next instant she gave a little sob. 
 
 272
 
 DEAD MAJESTY 
 
 "Doctor Mary!" he exclaimed in rueful ex- 
 postulation. 
 
 "No, no, how stupid you are!" She laughed 
 through her sob. "It's not unhappiness !" She 
 pressed his hand tightly for an instant and then 
 walked quickly out of the house, calling back to 
 him, "Don't come, please don't come. I'd rather 
 go to Captain Alec by myself." 
 
 Left alone in the cottage, now so quiet and 
 so peaceful, Beaumaroy mused a while as he 
 smoked his pipe. Then he turned to his labors 
 his final night of work in the Tower. There 
 was much to do, very much to do; he achieved 
 his task towards morning. When day dawned, 
 there was nothing but water in the water-butt, 
 and in the Tower no furnishings were visible 
 save three chairs a high carved one by the fire- 
 place, and two much smaller on the little plat- 
 form under the window. The faded old red 
 carpet on the floor was the only attempt at 
 decoration. And in still one thing more the 
 Tower was different from what it had been. 
 Beaumaroy contented himself with pasting 
 
 273
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 brown paper over the pane on which Mike had 
 operated. He did not replace the matchboard- 
 ing over the window, but stowed it away in the 
 coal-shed. The place was horribly in need of 
 sunshine and fresh air and the old gentleman 
 was no longer alive to fear the draught ! 
 
 When the undertaker came up to the cottage 
 that afternoon, he glanced from the parlor, 
 through the open door, into the Tower. 
 
 "Driving past on business, sir," he remarked 
 to Beaumaroy, "I've often wondered what the 
 old gentleman did with that there Tower. But 
 it looks as if he didn't make no use of it." 
 
 "We sometimes stored things in it," said Beau- 
 maroy. "But, as you see, there's nothing much 
 there now." 
 
 But then the undertaker, worthy man, could 
 not see through the carpet, or through the lid 
 of Captain Duggle's grave. That was full 
 fuller than it had been at any period of its his- 
 tory. In it lay the wealth, the scepter, and the 
 trappings of dead Majesty. For wherein did 
 Mr. Saffron's dead Majesty differ from the dead 
 Majesty of other Kings? 
 
 274
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 THE attendance was small at Mr. Saffron's 
 funeral. Besides meek and depressed Mrs. 
 Wiles, and Beaumaroy himself, Doctor Mary 
 found herself, rather to her surprise, in company 
 with old Mr. Naylor. On comparing notes she 
 discovered that, like herself, he had come on 
 Beaumaroy's urgent invitation and, moreover, 
 that he was engaged also to come on afterwards 
 to Tower Cottage, where Beaumaroy was to 
 entertain the chief mourners at a mid-day repast. 
 "Glad enough to show my respect to a neigh- 
 bor," said old Naylor. "And I always liked 
 the old man's looks. But really I don't see 
 why I should go to lunch. However, Beau- 
 maroy " 
 
 Mary did not see why he should go to lunch 
 nor, for that matter, why she should either, 
 
 275
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 but curiosity about the chief mourners made her 
 glad that she was going. The chief mourners 
 did not look, at first sight, attractive. Mr. Rad- 
 bolt was a short plump man, with a weaselly face 
 and cunning eyes; his wife's eyes, of a greeny 
 color, stared stolidly out from her broad red 
 face ; she was taller than her mate, and her figure 
 contrived to be at once stout and angular. All 
 through the service, Beaumaroy's gaze was set 
 on the pair as they sat or stood in front of him, 
 wandering from the one to the other in an ap- 
 parently fascinated study. 
 
 At the Cottage he entertained his party in the 
 parlor with a generous hospitality, and treated 
 the Radbolts with most courteous deference. 
 The man responded with the best manners that 
 he had who can do more? The woman was 
 much less cordial; she was curt, and treated 
 Beaumaroy rather as the servant than the friend 
 of her dead cousin; there was a clear suggestion 
 of suspicion in her bearing towards him. After 
 a broad stare of astonishment on her introduc- 
 tion to "Dr. Arkroyd," she took very little notice 
 
 276
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 of Mary; only to Mr. Nay lor was she clumsily 
 civil and even rather cringing; it was clear that 
 in him she acknowledged the gentleman. He 
 sat by her, and she tried to insinuate herself into 
 a private conversation with him, apart from the 
 others, probing him as to his knowledge of the 
 dead man and his mode of living. Her questions 
 hovered persistently round the point of Mr. 
 Saffron's expenditure. 
 
 "Mr. Saffron was not a friend of mine," Nay- 
 lor found it necessary to explain. "I had few 
 opportunities of observing his way of life, even 
 if I had felt any wish to do so." 
 
 "I suppose Beaumaroy knew all about his 
 affairs," she suggested. 
 
 "As to that, I think you must ask Mr. Beau- 
 maroy himself." 
 
 "From what the lawyers say, the old man 
 seems to have been getting rid of his money, 
 somehow or to somebody," she grumbled, in a 
 positive whisper. 
 
 To Mr. Naylor's intense relief, Beaumaroy 
 interrupted this conversation. "Well, how do 
 
 277
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 you like this little place, Mrs. Radbolt?" he asked 
 cheerfully. "Not a bad little crib, is it? Don't 
 you think so too, Dr. Arkroyd?" Throughout 
 this gathering Beaumaroy was very punctilious 
 with his "Dr. Arkroyd." One would have 
 thought that Mary and he were almost strangers. 
 
 "Yes, I like it," said Mary. "The Tower 
 makes it rather unusual and picturesque." This 
 was not really her sincere opinion; she was play- 
 ing up to Beaumaroy, convinced that he had 
 opened some conversational maneuver. 
 
 "Don't like it at all," answered Mrs. Radbolt. 
 "We'll get rid of it as soon as we can, won't we, 
 Radbolt?" She always addressed her husband 
 as "Radbolt." 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry, don't throw it away," 
 Beaumaroy advised. "It's not everybody's 
 choice, of course, but there are quarters yes, 
 more than one quarter in which you might get 
 a very good offer for this place." His eye 
 caught Mary's for a moment. "Indeed I wish 
 I was in a position to make you one myself. I 
 should like to take it as it stands lock, stock and 
 
 278
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 barrel. But I've sunk all I had in another 
 venture hope it turns out a satisfactory one I 
 So I'm not in a position to do it. If Mrs. Rad- 
 bolt wants to sell, what would you think of it, 
 Dr. Arkroyd, as a speculation?" 
 
 Mary shook her head, smiling, glad to be able 
 to smile with plausible reason. "I'm not as fond 
 of rash speculations as you are, Mr. Beaumaroy." 
 
 "It may be worth more than it looks," he pur- 
 sued. "Good neighborhood, healthy air, fruitful 
 soil, very rich soil hereabouts." 
 
 "My dear Beaumaroy, the land about here is 
 abominable," Naylor expostulated. 
 
 "Perhaps generally, but some rich pockets 
 one may call pockets," corrected Beaumaroy. 
 
 "I'm not an agriculturist," remarked weaselly 
 Mr. Radbolt, in his oily tones. 
 
 "And then there's a picturesque old yarn told 
 about it oh, whether it's true or not, of course 
 I don't know. It's about a certain Captain 
 Duggle not the Army the Mercantile Marine, 
 Mrs. Radbolt. You know the story Dr. Ark- 
 royd? And you too, Mr. Naylor? .You're the 
 
 279
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 oldest inhabitant of Inkston present, sir. Sup- 
 pose you tell it to Mr. and Mrs. Radbolt? I'm 
 sure it will make them attach a new value to 
 this really very attractive cottage with, as Dr. 
 Arkroyd says, the additional feature of the 
 Tower." 
 
 "I know the story only as a friend of mine 
 Mr. Penrose who takes great interest in local 
 records and traditions, told it to me. If our host 
 desires, I shall be happy to tell it to Mrs. Rad- 
 bolt." Mr. Naylor accompanied his words with 
 a courtly little bow to that lady, and launched 
 upon the legend of Captain Duggle. 
 
 Mr. Radbolt was a religious man. At the end 
 of the story he observed gravely, "The belief in 
 diabolical personalities is not to be lightly dis- 
 missed, Mr. Beaumaroy." 
 
 "I'm entirely of your opinion, Mr. Radbolt." 
 This time Mary felt that her smile was not so 
 plausible. 
 
 "There seems to have been nothing in the 
 grave," mused Mrs. Radbolt. 
 
 "Apparently not when Captain Duggle left it 
 280
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 if he was ever in it at all events not when he 
 left the house, in whatever way and by whatever 
 agency." 
 
 "As to the latter point, I myself incline to 
 Penrose's theory," said Mr. Naylor. "Delirium 
 tremens, you know!" 
 
 Beaumaroy puffed at his cigar. "Still, I've 
 often thought that, though it was empty then, 
 it would have made supposing it really exists 
 an excellent hiding-place for anybody who 
 wanted such a thing. Say, for a miser, or a 
 man who had his reasons for concealing what he 
 was worth! I once suggested the idea to Mr. 
 Saffron, and he was a good deal amused. He 
 patted me on the shoulder and laughed heartily. 
 He wasn't often so much amused as that." 
 
 A new look came into Mrs. Radbolt's green 
 eyes. Up to now, distrust of Beaumaroy had 
 predominated. His frank bearing, his obvious 
 candor and simplicity, had weakened her suspi- 
 cions. But his words suggested something else; 
 he might be a fool, not a knave; Mr. Saffron had 
 been amused, had laughed beyond his wont. 
 
 281
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 That might have seemed the best way of putting 
 Beaumaroy off the scent. The green eyes were 
 now alert, eager, immensely acquisitive. 
 
 "The grave's in the Tower, if it's anywhere. 
 Would you like to see the Tower, Mrs. Rad- 
 bolt?" 
 
 "Yes, I should," she answered tartly. "Being 
 part of our property as it is." 
 
 Mary exchanged a glance with Mr. Naylor, 
 as they followed the others into the Tower. 
 "What an abominable woman!" her glance said. 
 Naylor smiled a despairing acquiescence. 
 
 The strangers chief mourners, heirs-at-law, 
 owners now of the place wherein they stood 
 looked round the bare brick walls of the little 
 rotunda. Naylor examined it with interest too 
 the old story was a quaint one. Mary stood 
 at the back of the group, smiling triumphantly. 
 How had he disposed of everything? She had 
 not been wrong in her unlimited confidence in 
 his ingenuity. She did not falter in her faith in 
 his word pledged to her. 
 
 "Safe from burglars, that grave of the Cap- 
 282
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 tain's, if you kept it properly concealed !" Beau- 
 maroy pursued in a sort of humorous meditation. 
 "And in these days some people like to have their 
 money in their own hands. Confiscatory legis- 
 lation possible, isn't it, Mr. Nay lor? You know 
 about those things better than I do. And then 
 the taxes shocking, Mr. Radbolt! By Jove, I 
 knew a chap the other day who came in for what 
 sounded like a pretty little inheritance. But by 
 the time he'd paid all the duties and so on, most 
 of the gilt was off the gingerbread! It's there 
 in front of the hearth that the story says the 
 grave is. Doesn't it, Mr. Naylor?" A sudden 
 thought seemed to strike him "I say, Mrs. Rad- 
 bolt, would you like us to have a look whether 
 we can find any indications of it?" His eyes 
 traveled beyond the lady whom he addressed. 
 They met Mary's. She knew their message; he 
 was taking her into his confidence about his ex- 
 periment with the chief mourners. 
 
 The stout angular woman had leapt to her 
 conclusion. Much less money than had been ex- 
 pected no signs of money having been spent
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 and here, not the cunning knave whom she had 
 expected, but a garrulous open fool, giving away 
 what was perhaps a golden secret ! Mammon, the 
 greed of acquisitiveness, the voracious appetite 
 for getting more, gleamed in her green eyes. 
 
 "There? Do you say it's it's supposed to be 
 there?" she asked eagerly, with a shake in her 
 voice. 
 
 Her husband interposed in a suave and sancti- 
 monious voice: "My dear, if Mr. Beaumaroy 
 and the other gentleman won't mind my saying 
 so, I've been feeling that these are rather light 
 and frivolous topics for the day, and the occa- 
 sion which brings us here. The whole thing is 
 probably an unfounded story, although there is 
 a sound moral to it. Later on, just as a matter 
 of curiosity, if you like, my dear. But to-day, 
 Cousin Aloysius's day of burial, is it quite 
 seemly?" 
 
 The big woman looked at her smaller mate for 
 just a moment, a scrutinizing look. Then she 
 said with most unexpected meekness, "I was 
 
 284
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 wrong. You always have the proper feelings, 
 Radbolt." 
 
 "The fault was mine, entirely mine," Beau- 
 maroy hastily interposed. "I dragged in the old 
 yarn, I led Mr. Naylor into telling it, I told you 
 about what I said to Mr. Saffron and how he took 
 it. All my fault! I acknowledge the justice of 
 your rebuke. I apologize, Mr. Radbolt! And 
 I think that we've exhausted the interest of the 
 Tower." He looked at his watch. "Er, how do 
 you stand for time? Shall Mrs. Wiles make us 
 a cup of tea, or have you a train to catch?" 
 
 "That's the woman in charge of the house, 
 isn't it?" asked Mrs. Radbolt. 
 
 "Comes in for the day. She doesn't sleep 
 here." He smiled pleasantly on Mrs. Radbolt. 
 "To tell you the truth, I don't think that she 
 would consent to sleep here by herself. Silly! 
 But the old story, you know !" 
 
 "Don't you sleep here?" the woman persisted, 
 though her husband was looking at her rather 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Up to now I have," said Beaumaroy. "But 
 285
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 there's nothing to keep me here now, and Mr. 
 Naylor has kindly offered to put me up as long 
 as I stay at Inkston." 
 
 "Going to leave the place with nobody in it?" 
 
 Beaumaroy's manner indicated surprise. "Oh, 
 yes! There's nothing to tempt thieves, is there? 
 Just lock the door and put the key in my 
 pocket!" 
 
 The woman looked very surly, but flummoxed. 
 Her husband, with his suave oiliness, came to her 
 rescue. "My wife is always nervous, perhaps 
 foolishly nervous, about fire, Mr. Beaumaroy. 
 Well, with an old house like this, there is always 
 the risk." 
 
 "Upon my soul, I hadn't thought of it! And 
 I've packed up all my things, and your car's come 
 and fetched them, Mr. Naylor. Still, of course 
 I could " 
 
 "Oh, we've no right, no claim, to trouble you, 
 Mr. Beaumaroy. Only my wife is " 
 
 "Fire's an obsession with me, I'm afraid," said 
 the stout woman, with a rumbling giggle. The 
 
 286
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 sound of her mirth was intolerably disagreeable 
 to Mary. 
 
 "I really think, my dear, that you'll feel easier 
 if I stay myself, won't you? You can send me 
 what I want to-morrow, and rejoin me when 
 we arrange because we shall have to settle 
 what's to be done with the place." 
 
 "As you please, Mr. Radbolt." Beaumaroy's 
 tone was, for the first time, a little curt. It 
 hinted some slight offense as though he felt 
 himself charged with carelessness, and considered 
 Mrs. Radbolt's obsession mere fussiness. "No 
 doubt, if you stay, Mrs. Wiles will agree to 
 stay too, and do her best to make you com- 
 fortable." 
 
 "I shall feel easier that way, Radbolt," Mrs. 
 Radbolt admitted, with another rumble of 
 apologetic mirth. 
 
 Beaumaroy motioned his guests Back to the 
 parlor. His manner retained its shade of dis- 
 tance and offense. "Then it really only remains 
 for me to wish you good-bye and all happiness 
 in your new property. Any information in 
 
 287
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 possession as to Mr. Saffron's affairs I shall, of 
 course, be happy to give you. Is the car coming 
 for you, Mr. Naylor?" 
 
 "I thought it would be pleasant to walk back; 
 and I hope Doctor Mary will come with us and 
 have some tea. I'll send you home afterwards, 
 Doctor Mary." 
 
 Farewells were exchanged, but now without 
 even a show of cordiality. Naylor and Doctor 
 Mary felt too much distaste for the chief mourners 
 to attain more than a cold civility. Beaumaroy 
 did not relax into his earlier friendliness. His 
 apparent dislike to her husband's plan of stay- 
 ing at the Cottage roused Mrs. Radbolt's suspi- 
 cions again; was he a rogue after all, but a very 
 plausible, a very deep one? Only Mr. Radbolt's 
 unctuousness surely it would have smoothed 
 the stormiest waves saved the social situation. 
 
 "Intelligent people, I thought," Beaumaroy 
 observed, as the three friends pursued their way 
 across the heath towards Old Place. "Didn't 
 you, Mr. Naylor?" 
 
 Old Naylor grunted. With a twinkle in his 
 288
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 eyes, Beaumaroy tried Doctor Mary. "What 
 was your impression of them?" 
 
 "Oh!" moaned Mary, with a deep and ex- 
 pressive note. "But how did you know they'd 
 be like that?" 
 
 "Letters, and the old man's description , he had 
 a considerable command of language, and very 
 violent likes and dislikes. I made a picture of 
 them and it's turned out pretty accurate." 
 
 "And those were the nearest kith and kin your 
 poor old man had?" Naylor shook his head 
 sadly. "The woman obviously cared not a straw 
 about anything but handling his money and 
 couldn't even hide it! A gross and horrible 
 female, Beaumaroy!" 
 
 "Were you really hurt about their insisting on 
 staying?" asked Mary. 
 
 "Oh, come, you're sharper than that, Doctor 
 Mary! Still, I think I did it pretty well. I set 
 the old girl thinking again, didn't I?" He broke 
 into laughter, and Mary joined in heartily. Old 
 Naylor glanced from one to the other with an 
 air of curiosity. 
 
 289
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "You two people look to me somehow as 
 if you'd got a secret between you." 
 
 "Perhaps we have! Mr. Naylor's a man of 
 honor, Doctor Mary; a man who appreciates a 
 situation, a man you can trust." Beaumaroy 
 seemeu very gay and happy now, disembarrassed 
 oi a load, and buoyant alike in walk and in spirit. 
 "What do you say to letting Mr. Naylor just 
 him nobody else into our secret?" 
 
 Mary put her arms through old Mr. Naylor's. 
 "I don't mind, if you don't. But nobody else!" 
 
 "Then you shall tell him the entire story 
 at your leisure. Meanwhile I'll begin at the 
 wrong end. I told you I'd made a picture of 
 the hated cousins, of the heirs-at-law, those sor- 
 rowing chief mourners. Well, having made a 
 picture of them that's proved true, I'll make a 
 prophecy about them, and I'll bet you it proves 
 just as true." 
 
 "Go on," said Mary. "Listen, Mr. Naylor," 
 she added with a squeeze of the old man's arm. 
 
 "You're like a couple of naughty children!" he 
 said, with an affectionate look and laugh. 
 
 290
 
 THE CHIEF MOURNERS 
 
 "Well, my prophecy is that they'll swear the 
 poor dear old man's estate at under five thou- 
 sand." 
 
 "Well, why shouldn't " old Naylor began; 
 
 but he stopped as he saw Mary's eyes meet 
 Beaumaroy's in a rapture of quick and delighted 
 understanding. 
 
 "And then perhaps you'll own to being sorry, 
 Doctor Mary!" 
 
 "So that's what you were up to, was it?" said 
 Marjr.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 OLD Mr. Naylor called on Mary two or three 
 days later at an hour when, as he well knew, 
 Cynthia was at his own house in order to hear 
 the story, ^here were parts of it which she 
 could not describe fully for lack of knowledge 
 the enterprise of Mike and Big Neddy, for 
 example; but all that she knew she told frankly, 
 and did not scruple to invoke her imagination 
 to paint Beaumaroy's position, with its difficul- 
 ties, demands, obligations and temptations. 
 He heard her with close attention, evidently 
 amused, and watching her animated face with a 
 keen and watchful pleasure. 
 
 "Surprising!" he said at the end, rubbing his 
 hands together. "That's to say, not in itself 
 particularly surprising. Just a queer little hap- 
 pening; one would think nothing of it if one 
 read it in the newspaper! Things are always so 
 
 292
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 much more surprising when they happen down 
 one's own street, or within a few minutes' walk 
 of one's garden wall and when one actually 
 knows the people involved in them. Still I was 
 always inclined to agree with Dr. Irechester that 
 there was something out of the common about 
 old Saffron and our friend Beaumaroy." 
 
 "Dr. Irechester never found out what it was, 
 though!" exclaimed Mary triumphantly. 
 
 "No, he didn't; for reasons pretty clearly in- 
 dicated in your narrative." He sat back in his 
 chair, his elbows on the arms and his hands 
 clasped before him. "If I may say so, the really 
 curious thing is to find you in the thick of it, 
 Doctor Mary." 
 
 "That wasn't my fault. I couldn't refuse to 
 attend Mr. Saffron. Dr. Irechester himself 
 said so." 
 
 He paid no heed to her protest. "In the thick 
 of it and enjoying it so tremendously!" 
 
 Mary looked thoughtful. "I didn't at first. 
 I was angry, indignant, suspicious. I thought 
 I was being made a fool of." 
 
 293
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 "So you were a fool and a tool, my dear!" 
 
 "But that night because it all really hap- 
 pened in just one night the chief mourners, as 
 Mr. Beaumaroy always calls them, were more 
 than " 
 
 "Just a rather amusing epilogue yes, that's 
 all." 
 
 "That night, it did get hold of me." She 
 laughed a little nervously, a little uneasily. 
 
 "And now you tell it to me I must say that 
 your telling made it twice the story that it really 
 is now you tell it as if it were the greatest 
 thing that ever happened to you!" 
 
 For a moment Mary fenced. "Well, nothing 
 interesting ever has happened in my humdrum 
 life before." But old Naylor pursed up his lips 
 in contempt of her fencing. "It did seem to 
 me a great a great experience. Not the bur- 
 glars and all that though some of the things, like 
 the water-butt, did amuse me very much but 
 our being apart from all Ihe world, there by our- 
 selves, against the whole world in a way, Mr. 
 Naylor." 
 
 294
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 "The law on one side, the robbers on the other, 
 and you two alone together!" 
 
 "Yes, you understand. That was the way I 
 felt it. But we weren't together, not in every 
 way. I mean, we were fighting between our- 
 selves too, right up to the very end." She gave 
 another low laugh. "I suppose we're fighting 
 still; he means to face me with some Radbolt 
 villainy, and make me sorry for what he calls my 
 legalism with an epithet!" 
 
 "That's his idea, and my own too, I confess. 
 Those chief mourners will find the money and 
 some other things that'll make 'em stare. But 
 they'll lie low; they'll sit on the cash till the time 
 comes when it's safe to dispose of it ; and they'll 
 bilk the Inland Revenue out of the duties. The 
 remarkable thing is that Beaumaroy seems to 
 want them to do it." 
 
 "That's to make me sorry; that's to prove me 
 wrong, Mr. Naylor." 
 
 "It may make you sorry, it makes me sorry, 
 for that matter; but it doesn't prove you wrong. 
 You were right. My boy Alec would have taken 
 
 295
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 the same line as you did. Now you needn't 
 laugh at me, Mary. I own up at once ; that's my 
 highest praise." 
 
 "I know it is; and it implies a contrast?" 
 
 Old Naylor unclasped his hands and spread 
 them in a deprecatory gesture. "It must do 
 that," he acknowledged. 
 
 Mary gave a rebellious little toss of her head. 
 "I don't care if it does, Mr. Naylor! Mr. Beau- 
 maroy is my friend now." 
 
 "And mine. Moreover I have such confidence 
 in his honor and fidelity that I have offered him 
 a rather important and confidential position in 
 my business to represent us at one of the 
 foreign ports where we have considerable inter- 
 ests." He smiled. "It's the sort of place where 
 he will perhaps find himself less trammelled by 
 er legalism, and with more opportunities for 
 his undoubted gift of initiative." 
 
 "Will he accept your offer? Will he go?" she 
 asked rather excitedly. 
 
 "Without doubt, I think. It's really quite a 
 296
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 good offer. And what prospects has he now, or 
 here?" 
 
 Mary stretched her hands towards the fire and 
 gazed into it in silence. 
 
 "I think you'll have an offer soon too, and 
 a good one, Doctor Mary. Irechester was over 
 at our place yesterday. He's still of opinion 
 that there was something queer at Tower Cot- 
 tage. Indeed he thinks that Mr. Saffron was 
 queer himself, in his head, and that a clever 
 doctor would have found it out." 
 
 "That he himself would, if he'd gone on at- 
 tending " 
 
 "Precisely. But he's not surprised that you 
 didn't ; you lacked the experience. Still he thinks 
 none the worse of you for that, and he told me 
 that he has made up his mind to offer you part- 
 nership. Irechester's a bit stiff, but a very 
 straight fellow. You could rely on being fairly 
 treated, and it's a good practice. Besides he's 
 well off, and quite likely to retire as soon as he 
 sees you fairly in the saddle." 
 
 "It's a great compliment." Here Mary's voice 
 297
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 sounded quite straightforward and sincere. An 
 odd little note of contempt crept into it as she 
 added, "And it sounds ideal!" 
 
 "Yes, it does," old Naylor agreed, with a 
 private smile all to himself, whilst Mary still 
 gazed into the fire. "Quite ideal. You're a 
 lucky young woman, Mary." He rose to take 
 his leave. "So, with our young folk happily 
 married, and you installed, and friend Beau- 
 maroy suited to his liking why, upon my word, 
 we may ring the curtain down on a happy end- 
 ing of Act I, at all events!" 
 
 She seemed to pay no heed to his words. He 
 stood for a moment, admiring her; not as a 
 beauty, but a healthy comely young woman, 
 stout-hearted, and with humanity and a sense of 
 fun in her. And, as he looked, his true feeling 
 about the situation suddenly burst through all 
 restraint and leapt from his lips. "Though, for 
 my part, under the circumstances, if I were you, 
 I'd see old Irechester damned before I accepted 
 the partnership!" 
 
 She turned to him startled, yet suddenly 
 298
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 smiling. He took her hand and raised it to his 
 lips. 
 
 "Hush! Not another word! Good-bye, my 
 dear Mary!'* 
 
 The next day, as Mary, her morning round 
 finished, sat at lunch with Cynthia, listening, or 
 not listening, to her friend's excusably, eager 
 chatter about her approaching wedding, a note 
 was delivered into her hands: 
 
 The C, M.'s are in a hurry! She's back! The window 
 is boarded up again ! Come and see ! About 4 o'clock this 
 afternoon. B. 
 
 Mary kept the appointment. She found 
 Beaumaroy strolling up and down on the road 
 in front of the cottage. The Tower window 
 was boarded up again, but with new strong 
 planks, in a much more solid and workmanlike 
 fashion. If he were to try again, Mike would 
 not find it o easy to negotiate, without making 
 a dangerous noise over the job. 
 
 "Such impatience such undisguised rapacity 
 is indecent and revolting," Beaumaroy re- 
 
 299
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 marked. He seemed to be in the highest spirits. 
 "I wonder if they've opened it yet!" 
 
 "They'll see you prowling about outside, won't 
 they?" 
 
 "I hope so. Indeed I've no doubt of it. Mrs. 
 Greeneyes is probably peering through the 
 parlor window at this minute, and cursing me. 
 I like it! To those people I represent law and 
 order. If they can rise to the conception of 
 such a thing at all, I probably embody con- 
 science. When you come to think of it, it's a 
 pleasant turn of events that I should come to 
 represent law and order and conscience to any- 
 body, even to the Radbolts." 
 
 "It is rather a change," she agreed. "But let's 
 walk on. I don't really much want to think of 
 them." 
 
 "That's because you feel that you're losing the 
 bet. I can't stop them getting the money in the 
 end, that's your doing ! I can't stop them cheat- 
 ing the Revenue, which is what thej certainly 
 mean to do, without exposing myself to more 
 inconvenience than I am disposed to undergo 
 
 300
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 in the cause of the Revenue. Whereas if I had 
 left the bag in the water-butt all your doing! 
 Aren't you a little sorry?" 
 
 "Of course there is an aspect of the case " 
 
 she admitted smiling. 
 
 "That's enough for me! You've lost the bet. 
 Let's see what were the stakes, Mary?" 
 
 "Come, let's walk on." She put her arm 
 through his. "What about this berth that Mr. 
 Naylor's offering you? At Bogota, isn't it?" 
 
 He looked puzzled for a moment; then his 
 mind worked quickly back to Cynthia's almost 
 forgotten tragedy. He laughed in enjoyment 
 of her thrust. "My place isn't Bogota though 
 I fancy that it's rather in the same moral lati- 
 tude. You're confusing me with Captain 
 Cranster!" 
 
 "So I was for a moment," said Doctor Mary 
 demurely. "But what about the appointment, 
 anyhow?" 
 
 "What about your partnership with Dr. Ire- 
 chester, if you come to that?" 
 
 Mary pressed his arm gently, and they walked 
 301
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 on in silence for a little while. They were clear 
 of the neighborhood of Tower Cottage now, but 
 still a considerable distance from Old Place ; very- 
 much alone together on the heath, as they had 
 seemed to be that night that night of nights 
 at the cottage. 
 
 "I haven't so much as received the offer yet; 
 only Mr. Naylor has mentioned it to me." 
 
 "Still, you'd like to be ready with your answer 
 when the offer is made, wouldn't you?" He 
 drew suddenly away from her, and stood still 
 on the road, opposite to her. His face lost its 
 playfulness ; as it set into gravity, the lines upon 
 it deepened, and his eyes looked rather sad. 
 "This is wrong of me, perhaps, but I can't help 
 it. I'm not going to talk to you about myself. 
 Confessions and apologies and excuses, and so 
 on, aren't in my line. I should probably tell 
 lies if I attempted anything of the sort. You 
 must take me or leave me on your own judg- 
 ment, on your own feelings about me, as you've 
 seen and known me not long, but pretty in- 
 timately, Mary." He suddenly reached his 
 
 302
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 hand into his pocket and pulled out the combina- 
 tion knife-and-fork. "That's all I've brought 
 away of his from Tower Cottage. And I 
 brought it away as much for your sake as for 
 his. It was during our encounter over this in- 
 strument that I first thought of you as a woman, 
 Mary. And, by Jove, I believe you knew it!" 
 
 "Yes, I believe I did," she answered, her eyes 
 set very steadily on his. 
 
 He slipped the thing back into his pocket. 
 "And now I love you, and I want you, Mary." 
 
 She fell into a sudden agitation. "Oh, but 
 this doesn't seem for me ! I'd put all that behind 
 
 me ! I " She could scarcely find words. "I, 
 
 I'm just Doctor Mary!" 
 
 "Lots of people to practice on bodies and 
 souls too, in the moral latitude I'm going to!" 
 
 Her body seemed to shiver a little, as though 
 before a plunge into deep water. "I'm very; 
 safe here," she whispered. 
 
 "Yes, you're safe here," he acknowledged 
 gravely, and stood silent, waiting for her choice. 
 
 "What a decision to have to make!" she cried 
 303
 
 THE SECRET OF THE TOWER 
 
 suddenly. "It's all my life in a moment! Be- 
 cause I don't want you to go away from me!" 
 She drew near to him, and put her hands on 
 his shoulders. "I'm not a child, like Cynthia. 
 I can't dream dreams and make idols any more. 
 I think I see you as you are, and I don't know 
 whether your love is a good thing." She paused, 
 searching his eyes with hers very earnestly. Then 
 she went on, "But if it isn't, I think there's no 
 good thing left for me at all." 
 
 "Mary, isn't that your answer to me?" 
 "Yes." Her arms fell from his shoulders, and 
 she stood opposite to him, in silence again for 
 a moment. Then her troubled face cleared to 
 a calm serenity. "And now I set doubts and 
 fears behind me. I come to you in faith, and 
 loyalty, and love. I'm not a missionary to you, 
 or a reformer, God forbid! I'm just the woman 
 who loves you, Hector." 
 
 "I should have mocked at the missionary, and 
 tricked the reformer." He bared his head be- 
 fore her. "But by the woman who loves me and 
 
 304
 
 THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE 
 
 whom I love, I will deal faithfully." He bent 
 and kissed her forehead. 
 
 "And now, let's walk on. No, not to old 
 Place back home, past Tower Cottage." 
 
 She put her arm through his again, and they 
 set out through the soft dusk that had begun 
 to hover about them. So they came to the cot- 
 tage, and here, for a while, instinctively stayed 
 their steps. A light shone in the parlor window; 
 the Tower was dark and still. Mary turned her 
 face to Beaumaroy's with a sudden smile of 
 scornful gladness. 
 
 "Aye, aye, you're right!" His smile answered 
 hers. "Poor devils! I'm sorry; for them, upon 
 my soul I am!" 
 
 "That really is just like you!" she exclaimed 
 in mirthful exasperation. "Sorry for the Rad- 
 bolts now, are you?" 
 
 "Well, after all, they've only got the gold. 
 We've got the treasure, Mary!" 
 
 (2) 
 THE END.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 .APR 18 1971 
 
 Form L9 Series 444
 
 THIS BOOK CARD 
 
 University Research Library