The Mandarin's Fan

However, he kept these thoughts to himself and merely detailed what he had learned from Miss Pewsey and set forth the accusation she brought against him. Ainsleigh heard the detective quietly enough, and smiled wearily when the explanation was concluded. "Miss Pewsey doesn't love me," he said quietly, "and would like to see me out of the way, so that Miss Rayner could marry her nephew."

"I see," nodded Rodgers, "Miss Rayner will have the dead lady's money, and the nephew is poor."

"I really don't know," replied Rupert coldly, "Mr. Burgh is a mystery to me. He comes from nowhere, though I believe he has been in China."

"And knows what about the fan?"

"I think so. At all events, young Walker declares that Burgh was talking to a Chinaman near the Mansion House. Burgh admits this, and also admits that the Chinaman was Hwei, who put in that advertisement.

"I'm inclined to suspect Hwei himself," said Rodgers looking keenly at the worn face of the young man, "but this silk tie——"

"It is mine, Mr. Rodgers. Miss Rayner gave it to me last night."

"So Miss Pewsey says—on the balcony."

"Quite so. Miss Pewsey was spying and saw the tie given. As the colours are rather pronounced, she could easily identify it. I took it to the cloak-room and placed it in the pocket of my overcoat."

"And took it out again?"

"No." Rupert rose and grew crimson, "surely you are not so unjust as to believe Miss Pewsey's malignant tale."

"You may be sure, Mr. Ainsleigh, that I'll act fairly towards you," said the detective dryly, "but the tie having been used to strangle—"

"I don't know how it came round her throat," interrupted Ainsleigh imperiously, "I placed the tie in my overcoat pocket—that was the last I saw of it, until I noticed it on Miss Wharf's dead body."

"Did anyone else see the tie?"

"Yes, Major Tidman."

"Who is he?"

"A retired Army man—South American Army—who stops at Bristol Hotel. He is much respected here. I went to the cloak-room, and found him talking to Tung-yu. Both saw me place the tie in my coat."

Rodgers sat up. "Oh," said he opening his eyes widely, "then Tung-yu saw you place the tie in the coat."

"He did, but if you suspect he took it out again, I think you are wrong. He left the room and I exchanged a few words with Major Tidman."

"What about?"

"About this fan. Major Tidman told me to leave it alone. But of course I never intended to meddle with it. Miss Wharf had it, and she hated me too much to let me handle it, though she did give me the chance of making the money," said Rupert, with an after thought.

"Eh, how was that?"

"She offered to let me have the fan if I gave up my claim to Miss Rayner, whom she desired should marry Mr. Burgh, I refused."

"Humph," said Rodgers again, "and how does Major Tidman come to know about the fan?"

"I refer you to him for an answer."

"And how did he come to know Tung-yu?"

"I believe he met him in Canton," replied Rupert restlessly, "he had some adventure there—?"

"Connected with this ubiquitous fan?" asked Rodgers sharply.

"Yes. He promised to tell me the adventure to-day, but I had not seen him yet."

"Humph. He may come after all. I'll call on this gentleman. At the Bristol you say. Quite so," Rodgers took a note. "Now then Mr. Ainsleigh, tell me how you came to go up about the advertisement?"

Rupert related his father's dealings with Lo-Keong, and referred to the secret said to be connected with the fan. The detective heard him in silence, and appeared to be struck by his frankness. "I think it's one of the most complicated cases I ever had to do with, Mr. Ainsleigh, and will take a lot of searching into."

"I hope you don't suspect me?"

"Humph, the tie is, strangely enough, the rope used to strangle this woman, and you admit that it is yours. But Tung-yu saw you put it in your overcoat pocket, and he wanted the fan—"

"For five thousand pounds remember. Hwei was the one who threatened to gain the fan, by killing."

"Don't defend Tung-yu too much," said the detective dryly, "your position is not a pleasant one and—"

"Do you mean to arrest me?" asked Rupert rising angrily.

"Not at present. But no doubt at the inquest you can prove an alibi."

Rupert turned away, "I can't," he said in a low voice, "I was walking outside smoking between eleven and twelve—on the beach."

"That's a pity, Mr. Ainsleigh, I may have to arrest you after all. But who is this gentleman. Major Tidman!—quite so, Good-day Major."

CHAPTER XI

Rupert looked at him suddenly and the Major's small eyes fell before that direct gaze. "Let us go, into the library," said Ainsleigh tranquilly, "we may as well have a long talk before I am arrested."

Tidman jumped. "Arrested," he cried staring.

Something in his looks, made Rodgers take the cue thus offered, "I may have to arrest Mr. Ainsleigh for the murder," he said significantly.

"But that's rubbish, why should he murder Miss Wharf?"

"On account of the fan," put in Rupert grimly.

"I'll never believe that—never," said Tidman vigorously.

Rodgers looked at him sideways. "Well you see," said he in a cheerful voice. "Miss Wharf was strangled with a red and yellow silk tie, belonging to Mr. Ainsleigh."

"I know, and I saw him place that tie in his overcoat pocket."

"You say that. Quite so. Mr. Ainsleigh might have taken it out again."

"No. He couldn't have done that. The attendant came back, and remained in the room all the rest of the evening."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I returned to the cloak-room to see if Mr. Ainsleigh was there. I learned from the attendant," said the Major volubly, "that Mr. Ainsleigh and Mr Burgh had been fighting—"

"Oh," said the detective, "so Mr. Burgh knew of the tie also?"

"He did not," put in young Ainsleigh rapidly, "he came in, after I put the tie away. He insulted me, about—about a lady," said Rupert hesitating, "and I knocked him down twice."

"Didn't the attendant interfere?"

"No. Burgh threw him a shilling and told him to cut. I ordered the man to stay, but he obeyed Burgh. Then we had a row, and I went away."

"Leaving Mr. Burgh in the cloak-room?" asked Rodgers shrewdly.

"Yes. But he knew nothing about the tie. He could not have taken it. I am sure he didn't."

The detective smiled in a puzzled manner. "Upon my word Mr. Ainsleigh, you defend everyone. First Tung-yu, now Mr. Burgh, who is your enemy."

"I have so many enemies," said Rupert with a shrug, "Tung-yu told me that Burgh and Forge and Major Tidman were my enemies."

"That's a lie on Tung-yu's part," chimed in the Major angrily. "I am not your enemy."

Rupert turned on him quickly. "Prove it then," he said, sharply, "by stating that I was with you on the beach last night after eleven."

"Oh, oh," cried Rodgers smiling, "so you can prove an alibi after all, Mr. Ainsleigh."

"Yes," said Rupert shortly. "But I did not wish to speak, until I heard what Major Tidman had to say."

Rodgers shook his head. "You have too nice a sense of honour," was his remark, "or else you are very deep."

Rupert did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the Major's face, which changed to various colours. "You knew my father well Tidman?"

"Yes. We were old friends—good friends," faltered the other.

"Do you know how he died?"

"No I do not." The Major wiped his face, "I can safely say I do not."

"But you know he was murdered."

The Major started. "Who told you that?"

"Tung-yu, and you know Tung-yu, who might have explained the circumstances of my father's death to you."

"He did not," said Tidman earnestly, "but I heard that Mr. Ainsleigh did die by violence. I don't know under what circumstances."

"This is all very well gentlemen," said the detective, "but it does not help me."

"It may help you, Mr. Rodgers. The murder of Miss Wharf is connected with this fan, and the Major can tell you about his Canton adventure which has to do with it also."

Major Tidman turned grey and his face looked fearful, "I came to tell you, Rupert," he said trying to be calm, "but it won't help this man," he nodded towards Rodgers, "to find the assassin."

"We'll see about that," replied Rodgers briskly, "let us go in and sit down. The fan is at the bottom of this business, and when I learn all about it, I may know how to act."

The Major shrugged his plump shoulders and walked towards the open French window. When he passed through to the library, the detective and Ainsleigh followed. In a few minutes, they were comfortably seated. Rupert asked the two if they would have some refreshments, and receiving a reply in the affirmative, rang the bell. "Though mind you, Mr. Ainsleigh," said Rodgers, "this drinking a glass of wine doesn't stop me from arresting you, if I see fit."

"You can set your mind at rest," said Rupert coldly, "I have no wish to tie you down to a bread and salt treaty. Some wine, Mrs. Petley."

The housekeeper, who had entered, was as plump as ever, but her face looked yellow, and old, and haggard, and there was a terrified look in her eyes. In strange contrast to her usual volubility, she did not speak a word, but dropping a curtsey, went out.

"That woman looks scared," said the detective.

"She is scared," assented Rupert, "we have a ghost here, Mr. Rodgers—the ghost of a monk, and Mrs. Petley thought she saw it last night."

"Really," said the detective with good-humoured contempt, "she thought she saw a ghost. What nonsense."

"No, sir. It ain't nonsense."

It was the housekeeper who spoke. Having seen the Major coming up the avenue, she knew that he would require his usual glass of port, and therefore had prepared the tray, while the conversation was taking place on the terrace. This accounted for her quick return, and she set down the tray with the jingling glasses and decanter as she spoke. "It was a ghost, sure enough," said Mrs. Petley, when the small table was placed before the three gentlemen, "the ghost of Abbot Raoul. I've seen him times and again, but never so plainly as last night. It was between eleven and twelve," added Mrs. Petley without waiting for permission to speak, "and I sat up for Master Rupert here. I took a walk outside, it being fine and dry, and like a fool, I went in to the abbey."

"Why shouldn't you go there?" asked Rodgers.

"Because Abbot Raoul always walks where he was burnt," replied Mrs. Petley, "and there he was sure enough. No moonlight could I see, but the stars gave a faint light, and he was near the square—the accursed square where they burnt the poor soul. I gave one screech as he swept past in his long robes and a cowl, and when I come to myself on the damp grass, he was gone. I hurried in and told Petley, who came out and searched, but bless you," went on the housekeeper with contempt, "he couldn't find a thing that had gone back to the other world—not he."

"It was a dream, Mrs. Petley," said Rupert soothingly.

"No, sir. Trouble is coming to the Ainsleighs, as always does when the Abbot walks. And this morning I went out and found this," and Mrs. Petley, fishing in her capacious pocket, produced a small stick which smelt like cinnamon. Round it was a roll of scarlet paper inscribed with queer characters. Rupert stretched out his hand to take it, but the detective anticipated him.

"It's a joss-stick," said Rodgers. "I've seen them in the Whitechapel opium dens. Humph! Why should the ghost of an old monk use a joss-stick, like the Chinese?"

Before anyone could reply, Mrs. Petley gave a cry, "I told you trouble was coming, Master Rupert, dear," she said with the tears streaming from her fat face, "and anything to do with that weary Chiner where your poor pa lost his life always do bring trouble. Oh, dear me," she put her silk apron to her eyes and walked slowly out of the room. "I must tell my John. He may be able to say what's coming, as he have a gift of prophecy, that he have."

When Mrs. Petley closed the door after her, the three men looked at one another. "Do you believe in this ghost, Mr. Ainsleigh?" asked the detective, examining the joss-stick.

Rupert did not give a direct answer. "I don't know what to believe, Mr. Rodgers. Our family traditions have always pointed to the walking of Abbot Raoul before trouble, and it might be so. I have never seen the ghost myself, though."

"Your ghost is a Chinaman," said the detective, tapping the stick.

"But what would a Chinaman be doing in the cloisters?"

"Ah. That's what we've got to find out. There was a yacht in Marport Harbour last night, which came at midday, and departed in a hurry after midnight. Burgh says he believes Tung-yu went away in her, after committing the murder."

"Even if he did," said Rupert, calmly, "that does not show how the joss-stick came here, or why a Chinaman should be masquerading as a monk, for that, I take it, is your meaning."

"It is. I believe there were other Chinamen on board that boat," was the detective's reply. "Perhaps this man Hwei came to the Abbey."

"He might have come," said Ainsleigh, carelessly.

"Or Tung-yu," went on Rodgers.

"No," said the Major who had kept silent all this time, but had observed everything, "it was not Tung-yu's day."

Rodgers turned on him. "What do you mean by that?"

The Major settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'll tell you my adventure at Canton first," he said, "and then you may understand. I can't get to the bottom of the matter myself, for why Lo-Keong should have a private god of good luck is more than I can tell."

The others looked at him, amazed at this queer speech. "What is this private god?" asked the detective.

"I don't know, save that it is called Kwang-ho."

Rupert started. "That was the god mentioned in the advertisement."

"Yes, so it was," replied the Major, quietly, "but just you wait and hear my story. It may lead to something being discovered."

"One moment, Mr. Ainsleigh. Show me the advertisement."

Rupert rose, and going to the writing-desk took therefrom the slip he had cut from the paper. Rodgers read it, quietly. "I see. Here is mentioned the doom of the god, Kwang-ho."

"Lo-Keong's private god of good luck," said the Major.

"Are there private as well as public gods in China?"

Tidman looked perplexed. "I can't say. I know nothing. Wait and hear what I can tell," he settled himself again and began to speak rapidly. "I was in Canton seven years ago," said he, "I had made my money here, and didn't intend to travel again. But Miss Wharf persuaded me to go to China, to see if I could find out why Markham Ainsleigh had been killed."

Rupert looked astonished. "Why? she hated my father."

"She loved him first and hated him later," said Tidman, quietly, "a fine woman was poor Miss Wharf. I was in love with her—"

"I never knew that Tidman."

"I was though," said the Major, "and Miss Pewsey hated me for being in love with her. I spoke badly of Miss Wharf to you Ainsleigh because I was angered with her—"

"You called her a mass of granite."

"And so she is," said the Major angrily, "she promised to marry me if I went to China and learned how your father came by his death. I did go, but I came back without learning more, than that he was murdered, so Miss Wharf refused to keep her promise. I believe it was that Pewsey cat's fault."

"Well—well—go on," said Rodgers looking at his watch, "all this business is very round-about. I want to get on with my work."

"This may have to do with it," said the Major smartly. "Well, I was in Canton, and intended to go up to the Kan-su province to make enquiries. I met Forge in Canton. He had just come from Pekin, and showed me round. He laughed at the idea that Markham had died by violence, and said it was dysentery."

"So he always said," murmured Rupert, who listened intently.

"And told a lie," retorted Tidman, "however I believed him, but all the same I intended to make enquiries at the mine of the Hwei River in the Kan-su province. But I stopped in Canton with Forge for a time, as he said he would go up with me. In some way, the fact of my trying to learn the truth about Markham's death got about."

"No doubt Forge told it to others," suggested Rupert.

"I don't know. I never got to the bottom of the business. But one day a half-starved Chinaman stopped me in the street, and told me he could explain, if I came with him. I went to a miserable house in a low part of the city. The man closed the door, and then drew a fan from his breast—"

"The fan in question?" asked Rodgers making a note.

"Yes—the very article. He told me that this fan would reveal the truth, and offered it to me."

"For money?"

"No. He refused to take a penny. He seemed anxious to get rid of the fan, and kept looking round everywhere as though he thought someone might be listening. I asked him how the fan could tell about the death, but all he said, was, that it could."

"But in what way?" asked Ainsleigh, puzzled.

"I really don't know," said the Major, with an air of fatigue. "I am telling you all I know. I took the fan and cleared, and got home safely enough. Then I hid away the fan—where it doesn't matter; but I have travelled so much that I always keep a secret place for money and valuables. I placed the fan there, though I really didn't know what to make of the matter. After a few days I came to my rooms to find that everything had been ripped open and smashed and searched—"

"And the fan was gone," said Rodgers.

"Not it. They—whosoever they were who searched, could not find my hiding place. Well, a day or two later, as I was walking along the street at night, I was seized up and gagged, and carried to some low Chinese house. There a Chinaman examined me, and asked me what I had done with the fan—"

"What sort of a man was he?" asked Rupert, "would you know him again?"

The Major looked doubtful. "Chinamen are all so alike," he said, "but this chap had only one eye, and was a villainous looking beast. He declared that he knew the first Celestial had given me the fan, and that he wanted it. I refused to give it up. He took out a knife, and said he would slice me up. Oh," broke off the Major looking grey and old, "however shall I forget that terrible moment, Ainsleigh. Do you wonder that I shudder to relate this adventure, and that I refuse to speak of it. I was in that miserable place, in the midst of a horde of Chinamen, bound and helpless, with a knife at my throat. I never did care for death," said Tidman boldly, "but to be cut slowly into slices, was more than I could stand."

"Why didn't you give up the fan then?" asked Rodgers.

"Because I made up my mind that slicing or no slicing, I wasn't going to be bullied by a lot of heathen devils. The position was awful, but I'm an Englishman, and I resolved to hold off to the last moment, I dare say I would have given up the fan after all, as the one-eyed brute began to cut me up. I lost a big toe—"

"Oh," said Rupert, while Rodgers shook his head, "did this man cut a toe off?"

"Yes—my big toe. I was about to give in, when suddenly a small Chinese boy dressed in red—queerly enough, as the Chinese don't go in much for that colour—appeared and said something. The one-eyed Chinaman scowled, and put his knife away. Then he cleared out with the boy and his other friends and I was left alone. Then with the loss of blood, and the pain of my toe I fainted."

"No wonder," said Ainsleigh, "I don't blame you. Well?"

"Well, then I came to my senses in my own room. Forge was with me and said that he had traced me to the hovel and had rescued me with the aid of the Canton police. He declared that I would have to leave Canton at once, or this one-eyed Chinaman would be after me. I agreed, and with Forge I went that very day on board a homeward-bound steamer. I thanked Forge for having helped me, and he asked if I would give him the fan as a reward. I refused, as I wanted to know how it could tell about Markham's death. Forge said that if I kept possession of the fan, the one-eyed Chinaman would track me to England and kill me. But I held out, till I got to Marport. Then I grew weary of Forge worrying me, particularly as he promised to do what he could to learn the secret of the fan, and help me to marry Miss Wharf. So he took the fan, and then, as you know, Ainsleigh, he took it out to China again, where it fell into the hands of a pirate from whom Clarence Burgh received it."

"But how did it get from Dr. Forge's hands into those of the pirate?" asked Rodgers curiously.

"I don't know; you can ask Forge. He lives here."

The detective took a note of the doctor's address. "That's all right," he said, "there's no doubt the poor lady was killed to procure this fan. Did you tell her of your adventure?"

"No," said the Major with a shudder. "I merely said that I could not learn how Markham was killed and she refused to marry me. I did not care about speaking of the adventure. You know how the fan came into Miss Wharf's possession Mr. Rodgers?"

"Yes," the detective nodded, "Mr. Burgh told me, but I'll have another talk with him. Humph. It seems to me that one of these Chinamen killed Miss Wharf, and that the tie was used to lay the blame on Mr. Ainsleigh here."

"Well," said Ainsleigh drawing a breath, "I am glad to hear that you don't suspect me, but I can't think that Tung-yu stole the tie, even though he did see me place it in the coat."

"I'll look after that cloak-room attendant," said Rodgers, making another note, "and he'll have to give an account of himself. But I don't see what this private god Kwang-ho has to do with the matter."

"I can only tell you this," said Major Tidman, "I had a cold last night and stopped in my room. But I heard that Tung-yu was down the stairs, and, as I knew him in Canton, I went to have a look for him. He was a pleasant companion in Canton."

"Did you tell him about the fan and your adventure?"

"No, Ainsleigh, and I was annoyed that you should have let slip that I had such an adventure. I don't want to be mixed up in the matter. Tung-yu is nice enough, but if he has to do with the fan he is quite capable of turning nasty and making things unpleasant for me. But I mentioned about his advertisement, and how I came to know of it through you. He confessed that Lo-Keong had lost the fan and wished it back again, as it had to do with some family business. The finding of it was referred to the god Kwang-ho, and the priest of the god, said that two men were to search for the fan."

"Hwei and Tung-yu."

"Yes. They were to search on alternate days. If Hwei found it he was to kill the person from whom he got it. If it was Tung-yu's day he was to give the fortunate person five thousand pounds."

"And whose day was it on the night of the crime?"

"Hwei's," said the Major, "that was why Tung-yu could not buy the fan when Miss Wharf offered it to him."

CHAPTER XII

"What do you think of it?" he asked, when his tale was told. The Superintendent was a tall thin man with a cold eye and a distrustful manner. He believed only half he saw, and absolutely nothing he heard. Consequently when Rodgers ended, and his opinion was asked, he sniffed disdainfully, and put on his most official expression. "It's a fairy tale," said Young in his dry voice, which was like the creaking of a rusty wheel.

"Well now, the woman was murdered."

"But not for this fan, Mr. Rodgers."

"Then what motive do you think—?"

"I don't undertake to say, sir. Let us gather all the evidence we can and submit it to an intelligent jury at the inquest. It takes place to-day at the public house near the corner of the Cliff Road and not far from Ivy Lodge. When the jury has inspected the body, it will sit with the Coroner at the Bull's Head."

"A Chinaman calling himself Tung-yu was at the ball you know," said Rodgers, unwilling to abandon the theory in spite of his doubts.

"Where is he now?"

"I can't say. Mr. Christopher Walker brought him down, and I went to see that young gentleman before he departed for business this morning. He told me that Tung-yu was a clerk in the same firm of tea merchants as he was employed with, and had not been at the office since he left to come to the ball. Mr. Walker last saw Tung-yu at the door of the hotel, looking out across the pier."

"Well," said Young drily.

"That yacht was there," went on Rodgers, "and showed a green light so it's just possible that Mr. Burgh may be right and that the Chinaman did steam away in her."

"Well then, search for the yacht."

"I intend to, and when I find her—"

"Mr. Tung-yu will have an explanation. No, Mr. Rodgers," said the Superintendent rising, "I can't believe all this business is about a trifle such as this fan. Some more serious motive is at the bottom of this murder. Now Mr. Ainsleigh's tie—"

"I can explain that," said the detective, and he did.

Young listened disbelievingly. "So he says," was his comment.

"But I don't think Mr. Ainsleigh is the sort of man to commit a brutal crime like this, and in so public a place."

"Everyone's capable of committing a crime if there's anything to be gained," was the Superintendent's philosophy, "and Mr. Ainsleigh's very agreeable manner with which you appear to be struck, may be a mask to hide an evil nature."

"Oh rubbish; begging your pardon Mr. Young. Look at this joss-stick," and Rodgers held it out, "that was found in the ruins of Royabay Abbey, so you see some Chinaman must be mixed up in the job. I am beginning to believe that the tale may be true after all."

"It's too wild—too far-fetched. I can't believe it."

"Because you haven't imagination."

"We don't want imagination in this matter, Mr. Rodgers. Facts sir."

Rodgers got up and put on his hat. "Well, we'll not be able to agree, I can see that," said he, "and as the case is in my hands, I am going away to look after evidence."

"Why not arrest Mr. Ainsleigh?"

"Because the evidence against him is not sufficiently strong," the detective sat down again. "See here Mr. Superintendent, if I so chose I could manufacture a case against three of these people at least, and give it to them pretty strong too. Supposing, for the sake of theorising mind, we say Mr. Ainsleigh killed the woman—"

"Which I am inclined to think he did, on the tie's evidence."

"Very good, I can show you how strong you can make the case against him, Mr. Young. This young man was at the ball, he hated the deceased and she hated him on account of the difficulty of the marriage with Miss Rayner. Ainsleigh wants money badly, and might have killed the old woman to get the fan and sell it for five thousand pounds. Also by marrying Miss Rayner who will inherit Miss Wharf's money, he gets rid of a mortgage that's troubling him. What was easier for him, than to pretend to put the silk scarf in his coat pocket, so as to blind those who saw him do it, and then to lure Miss Wharf out on to those steps and scrag her. Then he could pass the fan to Tung-yu who wanted it, and arrange about the money being paid. After that and when Tung-yu had gone off to the yacht, Mr. Ainsleigh could slip back into the ballroom and assist in finding the body. And remember, he says, he was strolling on the beach smoking, between the hours of eleven and twelve, and won't prove an alibi, though between ourselves I think he can through Major Tidman."

"Well," said Young dryly, "doesn't this go to prove his guilt."

"I can prove Tung-yu's in the same way," said Rodger's coolly, "he was in the cloak-room when Mr. Ainsleigh placed the scarf in the coat. He could easily have stolen it, as these Chinamen are clever thieves, and have then lured Miss Wharf on to the steps under the pretence of treating about the fan. Suddenly he slips the scarf round her throat before she can cry out, goes down the steps and on to the beach where a boat is waiting for him, and by now, may be on his way to his employer the Mandarin Lo-Keong."

"It sounds feasible I admit, but—"

"One moment," went on Rodgers eagerly, "quite as strong a case can be made out against Major Tidman. He did not come to the ball, but lurked in his room all the evening. Yet he came down to see Tung-yu—what about?—to sell the fan of course—"

"You can't prove that."

"Am I proving anything? I am simply showing you what strong cases can be built up out of nothing. Well then, Tidman sees the scarf put in the coat by a young man, whom he knows is at enmity with the deceased, and takes it out again. He gets Miss Wharf to come on to the terrace—any pretext will do, as he is her lover and her old friend. There, he strangles her on the steps and taking the fan, passes it along to the Chinaman who makes for the yacht. So you see if I chose I can build up a case against each of these three gentlemen, and each equally strong. Why if I had a mind to entangle young Mr. Burgh in the affair I could do so."

"But Tung-yu, Mr. Burgh and Major Tidman might prove alibi's."

"So they might, and Mr. Ainsleigh might do so also."

"He has not done so yet and if he was in danger, he would."

"Quite so," said Rodgers quickly, and seeing the slip, "and his very reluctance to prove an alibi—for surely someone besides Tidman must have seen him on the beach—shows me he is innocent. However this isn't business Mr. Young, so I'll go and see what evidence I can gather."

So to Dr. Forge went the detective, feeling very bewildered over the case. And small blame to him, for the matter was surely most perplexing. It is only in novels that the heaven-born detective (in the confidence of the author) displays wonderful cleverness in finding clues where none exist. But a flesh and blood worker like Rodgers had to puzzle out the matter in real life as best he could. He was not at all sanguine that he would run down the assassin of Miss Wharf. On the face of it, Rupert Ainsleigh appeared to be guilty, and Rodgers doubted his guilt for this very reason. "I believe one of these Chinaman did it," said Rodgers as he rang Forge's bell.

Dr. Forge was within, and consented at once to see the detective. When the two were in the Chinese room, Rodgers unfolded himself, and asked Forge, who knew the Chinese character, what he thought.

"My dear sir, the case is plain," said Forge calmly, "Tung-yu gave Hwei the office, and lured Miss Wharf on to the steps where Hwei strangled her with the scarf stolen by Tung-yu so as to throw suspicion on Mr. Ainsleigh."

"Humph. It looks like it," said Rodgers musingly. "So you believe this wild story of Major Tidman's."

"I know it is true," said Forge quietly. "I helped him to get free as he related. I was a partner with Mr. Markham Ainsleigh in the mine on the Hwei River. I went to Pekin about a concession, and while I was away, Mr. Ainsleigh died of dysentry. As to the fan,—I can't exactly say. I never knew of this private god business, but it's the kind of thing Lo-Keong might invent. He is a very superstitious man, and like Napoleon, he believes in his star. He was concerned in the Boxer rebellion, but afterwards he joined the Court party of the Dowager Empress who is now all powerful. I never saw the fan in his hand, but it might have to do with a secret."

"What kind of a secret?"

"I can't say unless it has to do with Lo-Keong's political fortunes. He has many enemies, who envy his rapid rise. These enemies probably stole the fan to ruin him. How this coolie, who gave it to Major Tidman, got hold of it I don't know. But he was glad to get rid of it, which makes me think the story of the alternate days and the blessing of the god Kwang-ho might be true. The Chinese do not think as we do Mr. Rodgers, and have their own way of settling these matters. The attack on Tidman, when he had the fan in Canton, shows clearer than ever, that it was wanted by Lo-Keong's enemies. He gave it to me—"

"Why did you want it?"

"For two reasons," said Forge quietly, "in the first place from what happened to Tidman I saw that while he held the fan he was in danger—"

"But then you were in the same danger," objected the detective.

"I was, and I expected trouble. But I was better able to deal with the matter than Tidman as I understand the Chinese character. I got the fan in London and locked it up in yonder cabinet. I thought it was there all the time, and when I found it gone, I was quite annoyed, as Major Tidman will tell you. Then I recollected that I had taken it back to China to give to Lo-Keong. That is my second reason Mr. Rodgers. I knew I could get a concession I wanted through Lo-Keong's influence, and I did. So the fan went back to him."

"And you forgot that you had given it."

"I did. It seems strange to you, but as I told Tidman and Miss Pewsey, my memory is impaired by opium smoking. However, that is the story of the fan, and Burgh got it from the hand of the dead pirate. How the pirate came possessed of it I can't say. Apparently Lo-Keong lost it again."

"He couldn't have valued it much, if he lost it so often."

"He valued it at five thousand pounds and more," said the Doctor dryly, "how it was lost I can't say. I may find out when I go to China again, in a few months. Lo-Keong is in Pekin, and, as we are friends, he will tell me, and show me the fan again."

"Ah. Then you believe——"

"I believe it is on its way to Lo-Keong, and that Tung-yu and Hwei came together down here to get it. When only one was on the spot this god business of alternate days made the matter difficult. With both together, the owner of the fan was bound to be killed or made rich. Unfortunately for Miss Wharf the day or night was Hwei's and he carried out the order of the god Kwang-ho by strangling her."

"Well," said Rodgers rising, "all I can say is that I'm glad I do not live in China. How much of this is to be made public."

"My advice to you is to make nothing public, or as little as you can," said Dr. Forge dryly, "you see how persistent these Chinamen are. You make trouble and you may be killed also. Your being in England won't save you any more than it saved Miss Wharf, poor soul."

"I shall do my duty in spite of all," said Rodgers coolly, "I am not going to be frightened by a couple of Chinese brutes."

"Very clever brutes," said Forge softly, but Rodgers took no notice and marched away with his head in the air. Come what may, he was determined to punish the assassin of Miss Wharf and if it was Hwei, the man would have to be caught.

"I'll go to Pekin myself for him," said Rodgers angrily, "I'm not going to be bested by these barbarians."

Little that was new came to his hand before the inquest, which was a comparatively tame affair. The jury inspected the body and then adjourned to the Bull's Head to hear the case. Rodgers set forth what evidence he had gained, but touched as lightly as possible on the Chinese business. He called Dr. Forge who deposed to having examined the body and asserted that Miss Wharf had been killed between eleven and twelve. She must have been strangled almost instantaneously as, had she cried out, she would have been over-heard by those on the terrace. This evidence caused but little sensation.

When Rupert was called however, all were excited. He deposed as to the scarf which he had received from Olivia, and said what he had done with it. He declared that he had been walking on the beach smoking, and only returned to the ballroom shortly before mid-night when the body was discovered. He stated that he had spoken to Major Tidman on the beach. And thus proved an alibi clearly enough.

The rest of the evidence was not very important. Chris Walker told how he had brought Tung-yu to the ball and handed in a slip of advertisement, and then Rupert was recalled to tell what he knew. Tidman related his interview with Tung-yu, and described how both had seen Rupert place the tie in the overcoat pocket. Then it appeared that the whole of the case turned on the fact that the scarf had been removed from the pocket. No one knew. Miss Pewsey said that Rupert took it: but her evidence was so obviously prejudiced that the jury would not believe all she said.

Lotty Dean who was at the ball, declared that she saw Miss Wharf cross the terrace about eleven and go towards the floral arch on the other side of which were the steps. She was quite alone, and seemed tranquil, "she was fanning herself at the moment," said the witness.

"Ah!" said the Coroner, "then she had the fan at that time."

"It was gone when we found the body," put in Miss Pewsey, and was rebuked for speaking out of order.

The interest of the case turned on the evidence of Dalham, the attendant in the cloak-room. He was a dissipated-looking man, and gave his evidence very unwillingly. Owing to his having left the cloak-room at Burgh's request, Rupert, as he threatened to do, had reported him to the manager and Mr. Dalham had been dismissed. This loss of his situation did not make him any the sweeter towards Ainsleigh, but all the same, he could not state on his oath, that the young man had returned to take the tie again from the pocket. Nor had the Chinaman, or Major Tidman returned. Dalham knew the Major well, and as he phrased it, "would have spotted him at once," while the gay dress of Tung-yu would have been equally conspicuous had he attempted to meddle with a coat which did not belong to him.

"You did not leave the room again?" asked the Coroner.

"I only left it once," said Dalham. "Because Mr. Burgh and Mr. Ainsleigh wanted to fight."

"We've heard about that, and it has nothing to do with the case," said the coroner. "But you were in the room the rest of the evening?"

"I've said so a dozen times sir," growled the badgered man. "Lots of people came for their things and some late arrivals left theirs but I was at my post all the time, except that once, when I left Mr. Burgh with Mr. Ainsleigh. I never saw Major Tidman nor Mr. Ainsleigh nor the Chinaman touch the cloak."

The coroner called Burgh and asked him if he was alone in the room at any time. Clarence frankly admitted that he was. "But as I never saw Ainsleigh place the tie in the coat and never knew that he possessed such a tie, I don't see how you can accuse me." Much more evidence was given, but it all led to no result. Finally the jury, having heard much more of the Chinese story than Rodgers approved of, brought in a verdict against Tung-yu. Hwei, they could say nothing about, as he had not been present. But Tung-yu wanted the fan and the fan had disappeared, while Tung-yu was also absent. "Wilful murder against Tung-yu," was the verdict, and on hearing the evidence, and on reading all that had been said in the papers, the general public agreed with the verdict. Under the circumstances no other could have been given. Only one person dissented.

"It was that Ainsleigh who killed dearest Sophia," said Miss Pewsey.

CHAPTER XIII

These many days Rupert had not seen Olivia, although he had called at Ivy Lodge. But Miss Pewsey, who took charge of everything in her usual meddlesome way, would not allow him to be admitted. Olivia did not even know of his visit. She remained in her room, and mourned the death of her aunt. Miss Wharf had certainly been a good friend to her, but she could not be said to have been a kindly aunt. All the same Olivia's conscience pricked her, for having secretly married Rupert. As she now thought, she should have told her aunt. But the marriage was decided upon in a hurry, and when the girl had been more than usually piqued by the insulting speeches of Miss Wharf. However, the old woman was dead, and Olivia, little as she loved her, wept for her tragic end.

Miss Rayner, during her mourning, read the evidence given at the inquest, and wondered why she had not been called as a witness, if only to prove that she had given the scarf to Rupert. She thought it extraordinary that Tung-yu should have used the tie to strangle Miss Wharf, and could not think how it came into his possession. After some thought she concluded, that he had taken the scarf from Rupert's pocket, so as to implicate him in the crime, and had bribed Dalham the attendant, who certainly was not above being bribed, to say nothing about the matter. If this were the case, Dalham would probably blackmail Tung-yu for the rest of his life, as he was just the kind of rascal to make money in shady ways. Then it occurred to Olivia that as Tung-yu had sailed for China, presumably in the yacht, Dalham would not be able to make a milch cow of him. However, whether Tung-yu was guilty or not, she cared little. Rupert was safe, in spite of the evidence of the scarf, and so long as he escaped being arrested, the girl felt perfectly happy.

After the funeral Olivia came down-stairs again, and found Miss Pewsey looking after things as usual. The little old maid was most polite, and it seemed as though she was now anxious to make much of Olivia, thinking she would inherit the money. Miss Pewsey had not a shilling to bless herself with, and for years had lived on the bounty of Miss Wharf. Now that Olivia was to be the mistress of Ivy Lodge, Miss Pewsey appeared desirous of making herself pleasant, so that she might remain. Olivia saw through her newly born politeness, and, although she disliked the woman, was not averse to her remaining for a time at least.

"I should be glad for you to remain altogether," explained Olivia when matters came to be discussed, "but of course now that my aunt is gone I may marry Mr. Ainsleigh."

"Oh he'll marry you quick enough for your money," snapped Miss Pewsey, "not but what he's a handsome young fellow, but—"

"Don't run down Rupert," interrupted Olivia flushing, "I love him. You have never been just to him."

Miss Pewsey coughed. "I don't think he is a very good young man."

"I hate good young men," said Olivia. "Mr. Chris Walker is one of those who never cost his mother a single pang. Why my aunt should wish me to marry such a milksop, I can't understand."

"Well then, why not marry Clarence?" asked the old maid, "he is not a milksop and has cost his mother—poor soul many a pang. And he loves you dearly, Olivia. I should think you would be able to live very nicely on five hundred a year and with this house rent free."

"If I come into possession of the property that is."

"Oh, I am sure you will," said Miss Pewsey effusively. "To whom should dear Sophia leave the money, if not to you, her nearest relative."

"She might have left it to you, for she loved you, while she only tolerated me."

Miss Pewsey threw up her mittened hands with a cry of dismay. "Oh my dear there's no chance of my being so lucky. Sophia was very close about money matters—"

"Surely not with you, Miss Pewsey. She always consulted you in everything. You had great influence over her."

"If so, I made no use of it for my own benefit," said Miss Pewsey with great dignity. "Sophia never consulted me about her wills. I know she made several, and dictated the last just a week before her death. While she was confined to her room with that cold you know, Olivia. I suppose," Miss Pewsey tittered, "I suppose she wanted to be amused."

"I shouldn't think making one's will was amusing," said Olivia dryly, "however, the lawyer will be here this afternoon to read the will, and we shall know if I inherit."

"I am sure you will get the money. And dear, you won't forget your poor Lavinia," purred Miss Pewsey. "Let me remain here with you, until you marry Mr. Ainsleigh, or until I marry Theophilus."

"Are you really going to marry Dr. Forge?" asked Miss Rayner, looking with secret amazement at the withered face and shrunken form of Miss Pewsey and wondering what the doctor could see in her to make her his wife.

"I really am," said Miss Pewsey emphatically and with a shrewd look in her eyes. "And I see that you think it is ridiculous at my age to marry. Also, I am not handsome I know. All the same, Theophilus is willing to make me Mrs. Forge, and I dare say I'll grace the position well enough. It isn't love," added Miss Pewsey, "at our age dear that would be too absurd. We are simply entering into a partnership. He has money and I have brains."

"Dr. Forge has brains also."

"Not so much brain power as I have. I am not lovely I know dear, but I am clever," and Miss Pewsey drew herself up proudly. "Why poor dear Sophia would never have died worth so much money but for me. Ah, if she had only given me that fan when I asked her, she would not have been killed and I should have got five thousand pounds and more from Tung-yu for her. But she would keep the fan," Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear, "and so met with her doom. That nasty Chinaman." Miss Pewsey shook a small fist. "I wish he could hang."

Olivia looked at her. "I heard that you disagreed with the verdict Miss Pewsey."

"Meaning that I said Mr. Ainsleigh was guilty," snapped the old maid, "well I did, dear, but I have changed my mind."

Miss Rayner did not believe this, for Miss Pewsey looked very malignant as she spoke. Her change of opinion was made, merely to adapt herself to circumstances and to retain a home until such time as her marriage with Forge, would enable her to dispense with Miss Rayner's help. However, Olivia did not argue the point. She wished to keep on good terms with the old maid, until Rupert declared the secret marriage. Then she could go to the Abbey, and leave Miss Pewsey behind with all other disagreeable things.

With Pastor, the solicitor of the deceased lady, came Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. Lady Jabe, more manly than ever, appeared with Chris Walker, who had taken a holiday on purpose to hear the will read, and Lady Jabe explained this to Miss Pewsey in a whisper. "I know that poor Sophia wished Chris to marry Olivia," she said, "so I thought the will might state that the money would be left to her on such a condition. I therefore made Chris ask for a holiday, so that he might hear of his good fortune."

"Let us hope it will come," aid Miss Pewsey, dryly, "but fortune or no fortune, Olivia will stick to young Ainsleigh."

"He is a nice young man, but poor."

"Chris is poor also. Yet you want him to marry Olivia."

"I think Chris has a better character than young Ainsleigh, who looks as though he has a will of his own. Now Chris has none. I have broken it, and Olivia as Mrs. Walker, can order him about like a slave. I hope Sophia has made the will as I wished."

"You'll hear in a minute. For my part," added Miss Pewsey in her spiteful way, "I hope Sophia has left the money to Olivia, on condition that she marries Clarence, and keeps him at home."

"And keeps him on the income," corrected Lady Jabe, who did not at all approve of this speech. "No man should live on his wife."

"You propose that Chris should do so."

"Indeed no. He earns quite a good salary at the office, and I could live with the young couple to prevent waste."

"I am quite sure you would," said Miss Pewsey, "if you get the money."

Lady Jabe would have made a sharp reply, as Miss Wharf being dead, she was under no obligation to curry favour with Miss Pewsey. But at that moment she saw Chris talking to Olivia, and as the girl seemed deeply interested, she pointed out the two with her cane. "I see Chris is losing no time," she murmured, "such a lover as he is."

But had she heard Chris talking, she would not have been so happy. The young man was simply replying to a question put by Olivia, as to the whereabouts of Tung-yu. "I really don't know where he is, Miss Rayner," said Chris, earnestly. "There was a police-officer at our place the other day inquiring. But Tung-yu has not been near Kum-gum Li's since I took him to the ball. I believe he asked me to get him an invitation so that he might kill your aunt."

"Does Kum-gum Li know anything about him," asked Olivia.

"No. He came with a letter of introduction from a mandarin——"

"Lo-Keong?"

"No. That is not the name—let me see—the Mandarin, Hop Sing——"

"Ah," said Forge, who was listening, "Lo-Keong's rival."

"I never knew that. But Kum-gum Li gave Tung-yu a place as extra clerk when he received the letter. He knows nothing more than what the letter explained."

"And what did it explain?" asked Forge with sudden interest.

"I can't tell you," replied Chris coldly, "I am not in the confidence of my employer, and if I were," he added fixing an indignant eye on the sardonic face of the doctor, "I should say nothing."

"Quite right," replied Forge not at all disconcerted, "you keep out of these Chinese affairs. There's danger in them."

"Connected with the fan?" demanded Olivia.

"Yes," said Forge slowly, "connected with the fan."

Olivia being a woman and curious, would have asked further questions, to which Dr. Forge might have hesitated to reply, but that Miss Pewsey called her dear Theophilus to her side. The will was about to be read and Miss Pewsey—so she said—wanted support. Forge crossed to the withered little shrimp he had chosen, heaven knows why, for his wife and sat down. The lawyer opened an envelope and took out a rustling parchment. Just as he cleared his throat, the door opened and the maid announced "Mr. Ainsleigh."

Miss Pewsey glared, and no one appeared glad to see him, Lady Jabe least of all, as she knew he was a powerful rival to Chris. But Rupert bowed to the company in silence, took no notice of their cold looks, and walked over to where Olivia sat, a little apart. He seated himself beside her. The girl smiled a little faintly, and then gazed straight before her. No one made any remark, as Pastor was beginning to read the will.

Miss Wharf, it appeared, died worth one thousand a year and the house and furniture and land of Ivy Lodge. Five hundred a year went to a distant relative, as Miss Wharf was unable to leave it to anyone else, by reason of only having a life interest in this amount. Then a few personal bequests were left to Lady Jabe, to Chris Walker, and to some other friends. Ivy Lodge, and the furniture, and the land it was built on, and the remaining five hundred a year was left to—Lavinia Pewsey. When the name was mentioned the little old maid quivered, and Olivia, pale and quiet, rose to her feet. In a moment Miss Pewsey, prepared for battle, was on her feet also, and the two women looked at one another.

"You knew of this will," said Olivia quietly.

"No," replied Miss Pewsey.

"You did. And all your paying court to me was a blind, so that I might not suspect Aunt Sophia had left the money to you."

"Dearest Sophia left the money to whom she chose," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp, shrill voice, "do you mean to say, that I exercised any undue influence over her?"

"I say nothing," was Olivia's reply: "but hard on me as my aunt was, I do not think she would have left me penniless, while the money which belonged to my family goes to a perfect stranger."

"A stranger," cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head, "am I a stranger, indeed? I was hand and glove with dear Sophia when we were at school together. I gave up my life to her——"

"And you have got your reward," said Olivia bitterly.

"As you say," retorted Miss Pewsey, tossing her head again, "but the will is in order, and I had nothing to do with the making of it. I appeal to Mr. Pastor."

"Why, certainly," said the lawyer, looking on Olivia with something like pity. "Miss Wharf gave me instructions to make a new will, during the week before she met with her untimely end. Miss Pewsey was not in the room——"

"But no doubt she induced my aunt to cut me out of the will."

"No," cried Miss Pewsey breathing very hard, and looking more drab than ever. "I won't stand this. Your aunt had good cause to take the money from you—oh you deceiving girl."

At this Rupert suddenly rose and took Olivia's hand. He half guessed what was coming, and looked at the spiteful face of the heiress. Olivia stared. She could not understand. Miss Pewsey was about to speak, when Mr. Pastor intervened.

"May I be permitted to remark that I have not finished reading the will of the deceased lady," said he sweetly.

"There's no more money to be disposed of," said Olivia bitterly, "my enemy has got it all."

Pastor made a gesture of silence to prevent Miss Pewsey bursting out into a volume of words. "There is no more money to be disposed of as you say, Miss Rayner, but Miss Wharf sets forth in the will why she disinherited you."

"Ah," cried Olivia a light breaking in upon her, and reading the truth in Miss Pewsey's look of triumph, "so my aunt knew——"

"She knew that you had secretly married the gentleman beside you."

Everyone was on his or her feet by this time, and every look was directed towards Olivia. "Is this true?" asked Lady Jabe.

"Yes," cried Miss Pewsey, before either Rupert or Olivia could speak, "of course it is true. Let them deny it if they can. I heard Olivia say herself, that she had been married at a registrar's."

Miss Rayner, or rather Mrs. Ainsleigh turned on the little woman, "I should like to know when I said that to you Miss Pewsey?"

"You never said it to me—oh dear no," said Miss Pewsey shrilly, "you were not straightforward enough. But I heard—oh yes I heard."

"Miss Wharf," said the lawyer folding up the will, "told me that she learned of this from Miss Pewsey, just before she called me in, to make a new will. The five hundred a year was left to you Miss——"

"Mrs. Ainsleigh," said Rupert quickly.

"Very good. To you Mrs. Ainsleigh, by a former will. But on discovering the secret marriage, my client made a new will—this," he shook it, "and Miss Pewsey benefits."

"Miss Pewsey has every right to benefit," said Mrs. Ainsleigh in a clear cold voice, "she has been well paid, for being a spy."

"Spy," shrilled Miss Pewsey glaring, "yes I was a spy in the interests of dearest Sophia. I followed you several times, when you went to meet Mr. Ainsleigh near the flag-staff, and on the last occasion——"

"Ah," said Olivia tranquilly, "so I thought. I heard something moving. It was you, concealed. Rupert said it was a rat—perhaps he was right. Well Miss Pewsey you have gained your ends and now——"

"Now you leave my house," said the old maid, "yes, my house."

Olivia made no reply but placed her hand within her husband's arm. Rupert conducted her towards the door. "Mrs. Ainsleigh's effects will be sent for," said he looking at Miss Pewsey, "we will not trouble you further."

"But the law will trouble you," cried Miss Pewsey, "you——"

Rupert turned and looked at her. The venomous words died on her lips. She dropped into her chair, while Ainsleigh and the disinherited Olivia left Ivy Lodge to the woman, who had schemed for it in so base a way.

CHAPTER XIV

Mrs. Ainsleigh received them quietly, and with a dignity which compelled all to refrain from making remarks, unpleasant or otherwise. She settled down rapidly to her new position, and after a time, everyone was quite on her side. Certainly, a few ill-disposed people agreed with Miss Pewsey, who could not say anything sufficiently bad about Mrs. Ainsleigh: but on the whole, people were anxious to welcome the new mistress of the great place of Marport. Rupert and Olivia appeared to be very happy, and after all—as someone said, "the marriage was their own business."

A month after the installation of Olivia at Royabay, her husband received a visitor in the person of Dr. Forge. That melancholy man made his appearance one afternoon, when the young couple were in the garden, and therefore, they could not refuse to see him. Olivia, had she been able, would certainly have declined the visit, as she was aware that Forge intended to marry Miss Pewsey next month. As it was, she had to be polite and she was coldly so. Rupert also, was not very genial. From what John Petley had said, and from what Tung-yu had hinted, he began to think that Forge was not the friend he pretended to be, and consequently the young man was on his guard. Dr. Forge saw this, and seized the opportunity when Olivia went within,—which she did as soon as politeness permitted,—to speak to his quondam ward.

"We don't appear to be friends," said the doctor.

"I don't see how you can expect it," replied Rupert coldly, "you marry Miss Pewsey next month, and she has been, and is, Olivia's bitter enemy."

"I am aware that my future wife is prejudiced," said he deliberately, "but I assure you Rupert, she did not scheme for that money."

Ainsleigh scoffed. "Why she spied on Olivia and told Miss Wharf, what we would rather had been kept silent."

"I don't think you acted quite fairly towards Miss Wharf."

"That is my business. I don't intend to defend myself," was the young man's reply, "did you come to discuss this matter?"

"No. I came to ask how this matter would effect your future."

"In what way?"

"In the way you stand with your creditors."

Rupert did not reply immediately. The two were walking on the lawn, but Rupert entered the door of the Abbey and strolled round the ruins with Forge by his side. He mistrusted the man intensely. "I should like to know if you are my friend?" he asked, giving utterance to this mistrust.

"Surely I am," was the quiet reply, "why should you think me to be otherwise. Because I marry Miss Pewsey?"

"No. You can marry whom you choose. I have nothing to do with that, Dr. Forge. But when you were my guardian, why did you not tell me that the property was so encumbered?"

"I wanted your boyhood to be unclouded. And also," he added, seeing Rupert make a gesture of contempt, "I thought you might get money from China."

Rupert started. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," said Forge deliberately and looking on the ground, "you know that your father and I invested in a gold mine on the Hwei River? Well we worked it for a long time until your father died of dysentery—"

"Are you sure he died of dysentery?" asked Ainsleigh sharply.

"So far as I know he did," was Forge's patient reply, "as I told you before, I was in Pekin when he died. But if you are in doubt you should go to China and ask Lo-Keong."

"What has he to do with it?"