The Mandarin's Fan

"He has never been brought up to do anything," said Lady Jabe.

"Then he ought to turn his hands to making money in some way. That place is mortgaged and at any time may be sold. Then he won't have a roof over his head."

"I have never met Ainsleigh," said Burgh musingly, "I guess I'd like to have a jaw along o' him. Wasn't his father murdered in China?"

Miss Wharf became suddenly pale. "It is said that he was, but I don't believe it."

"Then he's alive," said Clarence pertinaciously, and looking at her.

"No. He's dead, but he died of dysentery, according to Dr. Forge who was with him when he died—somewhere in the north I believe."

Burgh evidently stored this in his memory and looked keenly at the woman whose bosom rose and fell and whose colour came and went under his steady gaze. Miss Pewsey saw that the persistent look was annoying her patroness, and touched her nephew's arm gently. The touch recalled Burgh to his senses and he looked away. This time his eyes rested on Olivia. Her colour was high and apparently she had been listening with interest to the conversation. "Huh," thought the swashbuckler, "and it was about young Ainsleigh," and he stored this in his memory also.

To make a sensation, which he dearly loved to do, Chris Walker announced that he would bring a distinguished visitor to the ball of the Glorious Golfers. "He's a Chinaman," said he pompously, "and was mixed up in the Boxer rebellion."

None of the ladies seemed impressed, as none of them knew anything about the Boxers, or their rebellion. But Burgh looked up. "Who is he anyhow?" he demanded, compressing his lips.

"A Chinese gentleman called Tung-yu."

"What a very extraordinary name," said Miss Pewsey, and suddenly began to take a deep interest in matters Chinese. While she chatted with Chris who was willing to afford her all information, Burgh folded his arms and leaned back apparently thinking deeply. His face was not pleasant to behold. Olivia saw the evil look and shivered. Then she rose and was about to steal from the room, when her aunt called to her sharply. "Don't go Olivia I want to speak with you."

"And I want to take my usual walk," said Lady Jabe rising and settling her collar, "Chris?"

A tap on the shoulder brought the slim young man to his feet, and giving his arm to his masculine aunt the two departed. Burgh rose also. "I guess I'll make tracks also?" he said smartly. "Walker, you and I can have a yarn together, later."

Miss Pewsey followed her nephew to the door. "Do you wish to ask young Mr. Walker more about Tung-yu?" she asked.

Clarence wheeled round quickly. "What do you know of him aunt?"

"It's such a strange name," simpered Miss Pewsey, looking very innocent, "and I am interested in China. You were out there a long time Clarence."

"Amongst other places, yes. I hung round a bit."

"Then you must tell me all about the natives," said Miss Pewsey, "I want to know of their robes and their fans and—"

"Fans," said Burgh starting: but Miss Pewsey with an artificial laugh flitted back into the room, leaving him uneasy and non-plussed. He walked away frowning darkly.

Olivia would have walked away also frowning, as she was indignant at the way in which her aunt had spoken of Rupert. But Miss Wharf gave her no chance of leaving the room or the house. Olivia had never seen her aunt so pale or upset. She looked as white as chalk, and controlled her emotion with difficulty. Lavinia Pewsey glanced at the two, guessed there was about to be a row, and glided away. She always kept out of trouble.

"Now," said Miss Wharf when they were alone, "I want an explanation."

CHAPTER IV

"There," snapped the aunt, "I knew you would guess. Yes it is about young Ainsleigh, and how dare you call him Rupert?"

"Because I love him," said Olivia firmly, and looked directly into the cold blue eyes of her aunt.

"Then you must put this love out of your head. You shall never marry him—never—never—never."

"If I choose, and I do choose," said Olivia calmly, but with a fine colour. "I shall certainly marry him. I am of age—"

"Yes, and a pauper."

"Rupert would not marry me for my money."

"He is wise; for you have none."

"It is kind of you to speak to me in this way," said Olivia, "to remind me of obligations. I am aware that my parents died poor and left me a penniless orphan. I am aware that you took me in and educated me and—"

"And acted like a mother to you," said Miss Wharf vehemently.

"No. You never acted like a mother. With you, I have had a most unhappy life."

"Olivia," the elder woman started furiously from her chair, "how dare you say that. Have I grudged you clothes or food. Did I not send you to a first-class school and—"

"So far as material things are concerned you have done everything Aunt Sophia, and I thank you for what you have done—"

"A fine way you have of showing it," scoffed Miss Wharf.

"But a mother you have never been," went on Olivia calmly, "you have never given me a kind word; you speak to me before visitors as you should not do: you make me slave for you and run messages and talk of me to others as though I were a servant. What love have you ever shown me?" demanded Olivia, starting up in her turn, and also becoming excited. "I long for love. My heart yearns for it. I would like to be a daughter to you, but always you have kept me at arm's length. Aunt Sophia let me go. I can earn my bread as a governess, or as a typist. It will be better for us both."

"No," said Aunt Sophia, looking as hard as stone.

"I shall not let you go. If you have any gratitude in you, you will remain and help me to manage the house."

"You have Miss Pewsey."

"She is not a relative, you are."

"And so you treat me worse than you do her. Well, Aunt Sophia, I am not ungrateful though you seem to think I am. I shall stop with you. I only ask for a little more consideration."

"I give you every consideration. As for love, I cannot give it to you or to anyone. I gave all the love my nature was capable of feeling to Markham Ainsleigh, and he rejected my love. Yes, you may look astonished, but it was this man's father who broke my heart."

"And that is why you don't want Rupert to marry me."

"That is the reason," said Miss Wharf sitting down and growing more her calm stony self. "I was almost engaged to Markham Ainsleigh: but he saw Violet Vane and fell in love with her. He left me and made her his wife. Can you wonder that I hate the son of the woman who stole my love away from me?"

"Rupert is the son of the man you loved——"

"And of the man who cheated me. Look at my lonely life, at my starved heart. I hate the Ainsleighs—there's only one left but I hate him. And when I heard Markham was murdered in China I was glad—yes, very glad."

"What an unforgiving nature you have."

"I have every right to be unforgiving. Markham ruined my life. And do you think I'll let you marry Rupert—the son of that woman. No! Marry him, and I leave what money I have to Miss Pewsey."

"You can if you like, Aunt Sophia. I don't want your money."

"Reflect," said Miss Wharf violently. "I have a thousand a year. Half of that goes to a distant relative, and the remainder you shall have if you will give this man up. Five hundred a year is not to be thrown away."

"I cannot give Rupert up," said Olivia firmly.

"Think girl," pleaded Miss Wharf, her face becoming red and wrinkled with the violence of her passion, "there are other men who love you. Young Walker would make you a good husband, and Lady Jabe is most anxious for the match."

"I like Chris," said Olivia, "and I have known him all my life. But I can't marry him. I want a master when I marry."

"Then take Clarence Burgh," said Miss Wharf, "he will be your master."

"No. He's a brute."

"He's a man—much more of a man than Rupert Ainsleigh."

"I deny that" said Olivia fiercely.

"He is. Clarence has been all over the world. He has fought everywhere—"

"So has Major Tidman. Do you advise me to marry him?"

"He would make you a better husband than Rupert, old as he is. That young Ainsleigh is a dreamer. He is on the point of losing his estates, yet he sits at Royabay doing nothing."

"He intends to do something, and save the estates."

"Never. He is not the sort of man to work. Olivia if you will take Chris Walker, or Clarence Burgh for your husband I shall leave you five hundred a year. If you refuse I give you nothing."

"I prefer nothing—and Rupert."

"Then you shall not have him. I'll ruin him first."

Olivia started. "You can't ruin him. You talk wildly."

"Oh do I," sneered Miss Wharf, "that shows you know little of me or of my business. Listen. I bought up a mortgage on the Royabay estate. It cost me money which I could ill afford to pay away. But I bought it so as to ruin the son of that woman Vane who took Markham from me. I always intended to buy the estate, or at least to drive Rupert from the place, but if you will give him up, I shall forego my revenge. Now what do you say?"

"Nothing," faltered Olivia, who had turned very pale. "I don't know what to say."

"Will you give the man up."

"I won't see him, if that will please you."

"No. It doesn't please me. You must give him up, and engage yourself to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh."

"I cannot—I cannot—" said poor Olivia.

Miss Wharf stamped her foot and bit her lip. "You are as obstinate as your mother was before you," she said savagely. "I shall give you one month to make up your mind, and that is very generous of me. If you surrender Rupert and choose one of the other two, I will not foreclose the mortgage and will leave you five hundred a year."

"When can you foreclose?" asked Olivia anxiously.

"By the end of the year. So it rests with you, if Rupert Ainsleigh leaves his home in six months or keeps it. Now you can go."

Olivia Rayner was not a girl who would stand dictation. But for some reason or another she meekly bowed her head and went out, leaving Miss Wharf to calm down over her needle-work.

The girl went to her own room, and lay down to think over the situation. What she thought or what plan she conceived, it is difficult to say; but she came down to dinner quite composed. Her aunt looked at her sharply, and Miss Pewsey with suspicion, but neither of them made any remark bearing on the storm. On the contrary Miss Wharf chatted about the ball and talked of her dress and even advised Olivia about her costume. "You will look very well in white," said Miss Wharf.

"But not so lovely as my Sophia in pale blue," said Miss Pewsey with her usual emphasis. "I know you will be the belle of the ball darling Sophia."

"I have been the belle of several balls in my time," said Miss Wharf good-humouredly.

"And will be still," purred Miss Pewsey like the cat she was, "my dear nephew said you were a rattling fine woman."

"It sounds like one of Mr. Burgh's speeches," said Olivia with great contempt. She knew that the buccaneer loved her, and therefore disliked him the more.

"Oh Olivia how can you," cried the little old maid, throwing up her hands, "when poor, dear, darling, Clarence worships the ground you walk on. He's got money too, and wants a wife!"

"Let him marry Lotty Dean then."

"That retired grocer's daughter," cried Miss Pewsey, drawing herself up, "no indeed. I may be poor, but I am of gentle blood Olivia. The Pewsey's have been in Essex for generations. My papa was rich and could afford to send me to a fashionable school when I met my own Sophia. But poor sweet papa lost his money and then—oh, dear me." Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear. "What sad times I have had."

"You're all right now, Lavinia," said Miss Wharf stolidly, eating fruit and sipping port wine.

"Yes dearest Sophia, thanks to your large and generous heart. I have no one in the world but you and Clarence. He is the son of my only sister, and has travelled—"

"In China," said Olivia.

Miss Pewsey narrowed her eyes and looked as though about to scratch.

"In China, of course. But why do you make that remark, Olivia?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I observed that Mr. Burgh has not very pleasant recollections of China," she said deliberately, "he was not pleased to find that Mr. Walker could talk the language, and he was uncomfortable when the name Tung-yu was mentioned."

Miss Pewsey bit her lip. "Do you know anything of Tung-yu?"

"No. Why should I. All I know, is that Chris Walker says he will bring the man down here for the ball."

The little old maid looked hard at the girl, but Olivia bore her scrutiny composedly. She wondered why Miss Pewsey stared so hard, and laid such emphasis on the Chinese name, but the matter slipped from her mind when she retired to her room. She would have wondered still more had she known that Miss Pewsey came up the stairs and listened at the door of the bed-room.

Olivia had arranged to meet Rupert near the band-stand, as their meetings were secret because of Miss Wharf's dislike. Certainly the young man had come to the house, and Miss Wharf had received him with cold dignity: but when he showed a marked preference for Olivia's company, she gave him to understand that she did not approve. Henceforth Rupert stopped away from Ivy Lodge, and met Olivia at intervals near the band-stand. So Olivia, putting on a dark dress and a veil, slipped out of the house, and took her way along the brilliantly lighted front. She had often gone before and always had left her aunt and Miss Pewsey sitting in the drawing-room, Miss Wharf working and the companion reading the newspaper. Miss Wharf never by any chance looked at a newspaper herself, but left it to Miss Pewsey to cull the choice news for her delectation.

So Olivia, feeling quite safe, stepped lightly along to where the crowd gathered round the stand. It was a perfect night and very warm, therefore many people were seated in the chairs and strolling across the grass. Olivia went to a certain corner, and, as she expected, found her lover. He was not in evening-dress, but for the sake of the meeting had assumed a dark serge suit. As she advanced, he recognised her and came forward taking off his hat. Then he gave her his arm and the two strolled to the far end of the green where they sat down under the fence which was round the flag-staff. There, removed from everyone, they could talk in moderately loud tones.

"My darling," said Rupert, possessing himself of Olivia's hand. "I thought you would not come. You were late."

"I could not get away before. Miss Pewsey watches me like a cat does a mouse, and with the same disposition to pounce, I expect."

"She's a detestable woman," said Rupert angrily, "why can't she leave you alone?"

"I don't know. Rupert, she wants me to marry her nephew."

"What, that bounder who rides so furiously," cried Rupert fiercely, "you don't mean to say that he dares——"

"Not in words, but he looks—oh," Olivia shivered, "you know the sort of look a man like that, gives you."

"I'll twist his neck if he insults you."

"Then Miss Pewsey would complain to my aunt and I should get into trouble. Oh, Rupert," she said softly, "I am so afraid."

"Of that man. Nonsense."

"No—of everything. I can keep Mr. Burgh off—"

"Who is he?" asked Rupert jealously.

"Miss Pewsey's nephew. I can manage him, bold as he is. But it is you I am afraid of. Listen," and Olivia told the young man what she had learned from Miss Wharf that afternoon. "She can ruin you," said the poor girl, almost crying, "and she will if she learns the truth."

Rupert pressed the hand he held. "Why not tell her the truth," he said. "I'm willing to face poverty if you are."

"Rupert, are you mad? If Aunt Sophia learned that we were married—hark, what was that?" and Olivia rose, and nervously peered into the shadows, "I thought I heard a noise."

"It's nothing. Only some rats in the long grass within the fence. No one's about. They're all over at the band. But about our marriage, Olivia. Miss Wharf must learn sooner or later."

"Yes. But you know I asked you to keep it quiet that I might not have trouble with her. It was selfish of me, for it would have been braver of me to have faced her anger and then have told all the world that we were married at that Registry Office. But I'm glad now I didn't. She would have ruined you."

"She can't do anything till the end of the year."

"But why didn't you tell me she held this mortgage?"

"Well, I thought that before the end of the year I might manage to pay it and the other mortgages off. Then we could announce that we were married, and live at Royabay on what small income I have."

"I don't mind about the income," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, for that Olivia secretly was. "I'd live on a shilling a day with you, darling. But aunt threatens if I marry you to cut me out of her will. She would do so at once if she knew the truth, and leave the money to Miss Pewsey."

"Let her. I daresay that old maid has schemed for it. She's a wicked old woman that and worthy of her bounder of a nephew. Never mind about the money or the mortgage. Let us announce the marriage. I don't like the position you occupy. It is not fit that my wife should be exposed to the attentions of a cad like this Burgh."

"Wait till the end of the year," said Olivia feverishly, "then you may be able to get money, to put things straight. It is best to keep the matter quiet now. Oh how I wish we had money Rupert."

"I may be able to make it out of the fan?"

"What fan?" asked Olivia looking at him.

Rupert laughed. "I forgot you don't know." He took the slip of paper from his pocket-book and lighting a match he read the description of the fan. "I went up to the place," he continued dropping the lucifer, "and saw a Chinaman, Tung-yu—"

"What," said Olivia starting, "why that is the man Mr. Walker is going to bring to the ball. He's a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum-Li and Company."

"That's strange. I thought he was the keeper of the Joss house in Perry Street, Whitechapel. Humph! Does Walker know of the fan?"

"I don't know. But he knows this Tung-yu, and I think, so does Mr. Burgh. He seemed much annoyed when he heard the name."

"What about?"

"I can't say. And Rupert. Mr. Burgh speaks Chinese—"

"He must be very clever then for I hear it is a most awful language to get hold of. Was Burgh ever in China?"

"Yes. He brought the fan from that place?"

"Fan." Rupert turned round sharply, "what fan?"

"The one you talk about," said Olivia innocently.

"I recognised it at once from the description you read just now."

"Are you sure," said Rupert much excited, for he never expected to hear of the missing fan from Olivia of all people.

"Quite sure—positive. The fan is painted green on one side and the sticks on the other are overlaid with thin jade, so I suppose it gets its name from the mineral. Then it has a cord of yellow silk with four beads and half a bead, and——"

"It is the same. Where did Burgh get it?"

"I don't know. He says he brought it from China, and offered it to me. I refused it——"

"I should think so," said Ainsleigh fuming, "well?"

"Then he gave it to my aunt."

"And has Miss Wharf got it now?"

"I think so, but I have not seen it lately. I expect if she has, she will use it at the ball."

"And Tung-yu who advertises, is coming to the ball," mused Rupert, "there doesn't seem much chance for me. I expect your aunt will make the money after all."

"It won't be much. Who would give a large sum for that fan?"

"Tung-yu will. He is ready to give five thousand pounds."

"Oh," said Olivia with real regret, "and I refused it."

"I'm glad you did," cried Rupert angrily, "I would rather everything went than that you should accept presents from that bounder. Well I fear my chance is gone Olivia. I'm ruined."

"Dearest I will face the ruin with you," and in the shadows they kissed.

CHAPTER V

"But what does it matter to me," said Rupert, as he turned up the avenue. "I won't get the money, and Miss Wharf will see me hanged first before she will let me make such a sum. While I am poor, she holds me in her clutches, and thinks by means of that mortgage to prevent my marriage with Olivia. What would she say if she knew that we were already married. I was wrong to consent to keep the affair secret, even though Olivia wished it. In any case Miss Wharf can do nothing, till the end of the year, and the truth is bound to come to her ears sooner or later. Then she will strike and spare not. I believe that's the motto of the Wharfs, and it fits her spiteful temper excellently."

Then Rupert went on to reflect on what Olivia had told him of Aunt Sophia's romance with Markham Ainsleigh. The young man had never heard of it before, as he knew little of his father, who had gone to China, a few years after his heir was born. In fact Markham only waited till there was a male Ainsleigh to carry on the succession and to inherit what remained of the estates, and then steamed to the Far East to seek fortune. But fortune had proved unkind and the poor man had died—- whether of dysentery or by violence, it is difficult to say. Some people said one thing and some another, but even Rupert did not know the truth. Dr. Forge, who had worked the mine in the Kan-su province along with Markham, knew the absolute truth, and he ascribed the death to dysentery, so Rupert, for the time being at all events, was willing to accept this explanation. He had no reason to doubt the loyalty of Theophilus Forge who had been a college chum of his father's.

Thinking in this way and considering whether it would not be advisable to proclaim his marriage so as to release his wife from the odious attentions of Clarence Burgh, the young man arrived at the house. He was met in the hall by Mrs Petley, who announced that Major Tidman was waiting to see her young master. Rupert nodded in an absent-minded way and was going to the library where the Major was kicking his heels, when Mrs Petley caught him by the arm. "It's walking again," said Mrs Petley, whose fat face was pale, "and say what you like Master Rupert, trouble is coming."

She was a stout old dame with a red face suggestive of drink, a most unfair thing to be said of her as she drank nothing stronger than gin and water, one tumbler a night before retiring. But Mrs Petley had been a cook in her early days; later on she assumed the position of Rupert's nurse, and finally, having married Petley the butler, she became housekeeper of Royabay. She was a common vulgar old woman, but loyal to the core, and adored Rupert. When he had to dismiss the greater part of his servants he retained John Petley, and John Petley's wife, who continued to serve him faithfully and always hoped for better days. Mrs Petley, being intensely superstitious, was always influenced by the appearance of Abbot Raoul whose walking was supposed to predict bad luck to the Ainsleighs. If the ghost did not appear Mrs Petley was happy, but when it did she always prognosticated evil. And it must be admitted that Rupert usually had more trouble with his creditors when Abbot Raoul did visit his old haunts. He seemed to be a most malignant spirit. But Rupert as an educated man, was not going to admit occult influence.

"Nonsense Mrs. Petley," said he, shaking her off, "so far as trouble is concerned, Abbot Raoul might remain visible for ever. Am I ever out of trouble?"

"No, that you ain't, worse luck. But this walking means something extra special as I said to John."

"Where did you see the old beast, I mean Abbot Raoul of course."

Mrs. Petley started. "Hush deary," she whispered looking round in a fearful manner, "don't speak evil of speerits. It may be round, and you might anger it. I saw it in the cloisters."

"Near the place?" asked Rupert.

"Aye, standing on the black square where its mortal body was burnt poor soul. It was pointing to a tree."

"To what tree—there are plenty in the cloisters."

"To the copper beech, as you might say Master Rupert. And angry enough he looked. I nearly fainted."

"You should be used to the ghost by this time Mrs. Petley."

"Ghosts is things custom won't help you with," said Mrs. Petley mysteriously, "they freeze your blood every time. Just as I was thinking of a good scream and a faint, it vanished."

"Into thin air like the witches in Macbeth," said Rupert lightly. "Well it doesn't need Abbot Raoul to come and tell me trouble is near. I'm likely to have a good deal by the end of the year."

"Oh Master Rupert what is it?" gasped the old woman.

"Nothing I can tell you at present," said Ainsleigh carelessly, "I have a good mind to seek Abbot Raoul myself and see if he can't help me; but I'm not psychic as you are Mrs. Petley. I see nothing."

"And a good thing too," said the ex-cook solemnly, "if it spoke to you it would be to make matters worse, though worse they can't be."

"Oh yes they can," said Rupert grimly. "I may have to leave—"

"Never," cried Mrs. Petley smiting her fat hands together. "Royabay can never do without an Ainsleigh within its walls."

"It will have to content itself with Abbot Raoul, and I hope he'll jolly well frighten the creditors."

"Drat them," said Mrs. Petley vigorously, "but Master Rupert why did it pint to the copper beech."

"I can't say. Ask it when next you see it. But I must go to Major Tidman. He'll be angry if I keep him."

Mrs. Petley tossed her head and snorted. "The idear of old Farmer Tidman's son, being angry with the likes of you Master Rupert. I mind him when he was a brat of a lad and—"

"Yes—yes—but I must go," said Ainsleigh rather impatiently and left Mrs. Petley talking to the air.

Major Tidman, whose ears must have burnt at the thoughts which occupied Mrs. Petley's brain, was seated in the most comfortable arm-chair he could find, and smoked a good cigar. He had a bottle of port and a glass before him, and apparently had made himself at home while waiting.

"Hope you don't mind my making free with the wine-list," said Tidman, who looked rather uneasy, as he rose. "I've waited two hours."

"What about?" said Rupert, throwing his cap down and sinking wearily into a near chair, "anything wrong?"

"I am," said the Major, "all wrong my dear boy. You see in me a beast and a false friend."

"Indeed. How do you make that out?"

"I have been concealing things from you," said the Major ruefully, "and all to make money. I'm really getting avaricious, Ainsleigh," added the Major desperately, "and it's spoiling my character."

"Well," said Rupert filling his pipe, and wondering what this out-burst meant, "Byron says that avarice is a fine old gentlemanly vice. If you have only that fault to blame yourself for, you are very lucky."

"But I should have told you about the fan."

Rupert blew out the match he had just lighted and sat up. "What's that about the fan?" he asked sharply.

"I know something about it," said Tidman fortifying his courage with a glass of wine, "and I should have spoken the other evening after dinner when you read that advertisement. But I thought I'd get the fan myself and secure the five thousand pounds—though to be sure I didn't know what that Tung-yu would pay for it at the time."

"No," said Rupert drily, "I told you that later. Well, Major, you haven't treated me quite on the square, but I forgive you. I expect neither of us will make money out of that fan."

"No," said Tidman still more ruefully. "Forge has lost it."

Rupert looked puzzled. "Forge? What do you mean?"

"Oh, this is part of my confession of trickery," said the Major rubbing his bald head. "You see Ainsleigh, I held my tongue when you read out about the fan, but I knew where it was all the time."

"And where was it?" asked the young man staring.

"Forge has it—or rather Forge had it," said the Major, and he related his interview with the doctor when Rupert had departed. "So you see," added the Major sadly "I'm punished for my wrong-doing. I'm very sorry, as I like you, Ainsleigh, and after all I'd be glad to see you make the money, though I'm not so well off myself as people think, and five thousand pounds would help me a lot. However, I hope you will think I have made amends for my momentary lapse from squareness by thus confessing."

"Oh that's all right Tidman. But treat me openly for the future. How did you know that Forge had had the fan?"

Rupert did not tell what he had heard from Olivia for the moment. He first wished to hear all that the Major had to say. Tidman had certainly acted wrongly, as he should not have taken advantage of Rupert's confidence, but now he apparently wished to behave properly and Ainsleigh put the Major's temporary deceit out of his mind.

"I gave Forge the fan," blurted out the Major.

"The deuce you did," said Ainsleigh looking puzzled. "And where did you get it?"

"In Canton seven years ago," confessed Tidman, "I was travelling there for my health, and I had an adventure."

"What was that?"

But Tidman did not seem inclined to speak out. "I'll tell you on another occasion," he said with a shudder, "it was not a very pleasant adventure, and Forge, who was in Canton at the time, got me out of it. I stuck to the fan though."

"Oh, so the fan was the cause of the adventure?"

"Partly" admitted Tidman reluctantly. "I'll tell you later as I say," he wiped his forehead, "I can't tell you now, it's too awful. I got the fan though and Forge took a fancy to it. He asked me for it in Canton and I refused. He asked again in England and I gave it to him. He's had it all these seven years, locked up in that black japan cabinet with the gold figures—"

"I know. Its in that Chinese room of his. Well?"

"After you went away the other day I asked him to give me the fan back, as I wanted to get the money from Tung-yu. Forge refused, as he said the fan has something to do with a secret—"

"Whose secret?"

"Lo-Keong's secret. He is the real owner of the fan you know. Forge seems to hate Lo-Keong, and said the fan would get him into trouble."

"But how—how?" asked Ainsleigh impatiently.

The Major wiped his face again, "I don't know—I can't say. But Forge said there was a secret connected with the fan—"

"You said that before," cried Rupert becoming exasperated.

"I don't know what I am saying, and that's the truth," stammered Tidman becoming hotter and redder, "but Forge said if I found the secret he would give me the fan. He then opened the cabinet and found that the fan was gone."

"What did he say?"

"He turned as white as a sheet, and said that his life was at stake."

Rupert rose to pace the room. The mystery of the fan piqued him, "I wonder what he meant by that?" he asked himself.

"Something horrid if it has to do with the Chinese," said the Major, "you have no idea what brutes they are. But Forge thought that Mrs. Bressy, the old woman who looks after him, might have sneaked the fan, as she is fond of taking things and pawning them. But she swore she had never set eyes on it."

"Wasn't the cabinet locked?"

"Yes. That's the strange part, and Forge has the key on his watch-chain. The lock wasn't broken, and no other key would fit it, so how it was opened, is a mystery. But the fan's gone."

"Quite so," said Rupert, facing the Major sharply, "and Miss Wharf has the very fan you speak of."

Tidman fell back in his chair and gasped till he was purple in the face. "Wh—a—a—t," he drawled out. "Sophia Wharf?"

"Yes. Olivia told me, when I explained how I wished to find the fan and make money. It seems that young Burgh——"

"A detestable young cad," snapped Tidman.

"I agree with you. He dares to admire my—to admire Olivia," said Rupert nearly letting his secret slip out, "and, to gain her good graces, he offered her this fan. She refused, and he then presented it to Miss Wharf, who took it and who has it now."

"Oh," groaned the Major, "and it's worth five thousand. What luck some people have."

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "The luck will not come our way," he replied carelessly, "and to tell you the truth I don't much care. I expect Miss Wharf will sell the fan to Tung-yu."

"But she doesn't know about his wishing to buy it?"

"She may have seen the advertisement, and you know Tung-yu is coming to the ball at the Bristol."

Major Tidman rose like a jack-in-the-box. "Who says so?" he asked.

"Young Walker. Tung-yu is not the keeper of the Whitechapel Joss-house as I thought. He is a clerk in the firm of Kum-gum-Li."

"Chris Walker also works for them," interpolated the Major.

"Certainly, and he is bringing Tung-yu to the ball. I don't know why, and I don't much care," added Ainsleigh somewhat crossly. "I am about tired of this fan business. What will you do?"

Major Tidman buttoned his coat. "I'm going straight to Forge," he said, "and I shall tell him that young Burgh had the fan. I know how he got it."

"Do you, indeed," said Rupert yawning.

"Yes. Miss Pewsey stole it from the cabinet."

"Nonsense. Why should she do that?"

"Because she's always about Forge's house. He told me that he might marry her—ugh," the Major sneered, "fancy marrying that old cat."

"Different people have different tastes," said Ainsleigh coolly, "but if Forge is going to marry Miss Pewsey all the more reason she should not steal the fan."

"But she did," insisted the Major. "I'm sure she stole it and gave it to that scamp of a nephew so that he might gain Miss Rayner's goodwill. You see, Miss Pewsey would like to see Burgh married to Olivia, as she—Miss Pewsey I mean—could then finger the five hundred a year Miss Wharf will leave her niece."

"He had better be certain that Olivia will inherit the money first," said Rupert grimly, thinking of the secret marriage, "and Miss Pewsey hates Olivia."

"She hates everyone," said Tidman shrugging his plump shoulders, "but she hasn't a penny to bless herself with, and when Miss Wharf dies she will be cast on the world. Even five hundred a year is a consideration to her, and if her nephew can secure that by marrying Olivia, why, all the better for Miss Pewsey."

But Rupert shook his head. "If Miss Pewsey had that scheme in her head, she would be more friendly with Olivia," he said, "and she can set her mind at rest: Burgh will not marry Olivia."

"He's a dangerous rival Ainsleigh."

"Pooh. I can manage that young man and half a dozen like him. You don't think I'd give up the girl I love, to anyone, Tidman."

"No," said the Major, looking at the frank brave face of his host, "but Burgh is unscrupulous, and will make mischief. However, perhaps Forge will deal with him for this fan business. When Forge learns that Miss Pewsey has stolen his fan, he won't marry her. I'll have the satisfaction of spoiling her plans at all events."

"She seems to have a great many plans according to you," yawned Ainsleigh, "but frankly I think you have found a mare's nest. I don't believe anything will come of the matter. It's moonshine."

Tidman marched to the door. "We'll see," said he determinedly. "I believe trouble is coming to you through young Burgh," and he departed.

Rupert left alone lighted his pipe and thought of Mrs. Petley's fancy concerning the ghost. "If this is the trouble," said he to himself. "I don't mind. Burgh won't get Olivia unless over my dead body. As to this fan—pah!"

But he little knew what disasters the fan would bring to him. Abbot Raoul's ghost was not walking for nothing.

CHAPTER VI

"There's some secret connected with it," muttered the Major, while he devoured buttered eggs rapidly, "and that secret means a lot of money. Five thousand pounds is worth having. I could buy that plot of waste land near the church and build an hotel there. I believe it would pay. Then there's Forge's life, which, as he says, hangs on the fan, though in what way I can't find out. If I got the fan, I might be able to get something out of him. I would make Forge and Tung-yu bid against one another, and perhaps I'd get even more than is offered. Ainsleigh can't say anything against me now, as I am acting quite square and above board. He's got no enterprise," thought the little man with some scorn, "or he'd get Olivia to take the fan from her aunt and make the money out of it. But if he won't, I will, so I'll see Miss Wharf to-day and try what I can do. I daresay I'd get it from her for a five pound note—that is if she hasn't seen the advertisement. She's keen after money, too—as keen as I am. Humph," added Tidman, filling himself a second cup of coffee. "I wonder why Tung-yu was such a fool as to tell Ainsleigh he was willing to give five thousand. Anyone, not knowing the value of the fan, would get it cheap. There's a mystery about it, and the mystery means money. I must get to the bottom of the affair. Forge is no good, as he is holding his tongue: even when I told him that Miss Pewsey stole it, he did not seem to mind. But he'll never marry her after this, so I've spoilt her chance of marriage, the cat. Though why Forge should marry an old fiend who is eighty, if she's an hour, I can't make out. But Forge was always secretive," ended the Major in disgust, and reached for the paté-de-foi-gras.

His meal was interrupted by a smart young waiter, who intimated that a lady and gentleman wished to see the Major. Tidman was rather surprised at a call being paid at ten o'clock in the morning: but he was still more surprised, when at the heels of the waiter appeared Miss Pewsey and Dr. Forge. The latter looked much his usual self, hungry, dismal, and like a bird of prey: but Miss Pewsey had a colour in her cheeks and a fire in her black eyes, which made her look younger. It seemed that her errand was not a peaceful one.

"To what am I indebted—?" began the courtly Major, when the little old maid cut him short with vinegary politeness.

"Indebted," she said, standing very straight and stiff, and quite ignoring the chair placed for her. "Oh, indeed,—how very polite we are. Judas!" she snapped out the word with flaming eyes. "Oh, Judas!"

"Really, Miss Pewsey——"

"You'd like to see me in the dock would you?" cried Miss Pewsey tossing her head and trembling with wrath, "I'm a thief am I—oh you military fat Judas."

"Did you come here to insult me?" asked Tidman growing purple.

"If you put it in that way I did," sniffed the lady, "and also to ask plainly, what you meant by stating to my promised husband here, that I stole a fan from his cabinet?"

Tidman changed from purple to scarlet. He had not reckoned on the doctor speaking to Miss Pewsey, and he turned a look of reproach on his friend. The doctor immediately took up the challenge, "I see you think I have been too free with my tongue," said he deliberately, "it is not my custom as you know. But I told you Major that I was engaged to Miss Pewsey, and I thought it only right that she should know the aspersions you have cast on her character."

"A character," cried the lady, "which has stood the test of years and which stands deservedly high. I am a Pewsey of Essex," she added as though the whole county belonged to her, "and never before have I been accused of thieving—Judas," she shot out the name again, and the Major quailed. He saw that he was in the wrong, owing to Forge's betrayal, and had to make the best of it.

"I am extremely sorry," he said apologetically, "quite a mistake."

"Oh, indeed. A jury will give their opinion on that," sniffed the maiden.

"No! No I beg of you——"

"The damages will be laid at five thousand pounds."

"The price of the fan," said Tidman starting.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Miss Pewsey, her eyes glittering.

"I mean, just nothing."

"Oh yes, you do. Make a clean breast of it Benjamin Tidman. Oh, to think that the son of a farmer, who was almost a labourer, should dare to speak evil of a Pewsey of Essex. But the law—the law," said the irate lady shaking a thin finger, "and five thousand pounds."

"Get it out of the fan."

"Is it worth that?" asked Forge coldly.

"You heard what young Ainsleigh said," answered Tidman as coldly.

"Yes I remember; but we have not come about the price, but about your libel on this lady."

"I apologise," said Tidman, seeing nothing else was to be done.

"Apology isn't money," snapped Miss Pewsey.

"Oh, if you want money, again I refer you to the fan."

The Major was getting angry. He didn't very much care if Miss Pewsey did bring an action at the moment, though with saner thoughts he would have been horrified at the idea. "I apologise," said he again, "but I was misled by Dr. Forge."

"How were you misled by me?" demanded Forge impassively.

"You said you had the fan in your cabinet, and that it had been stolen. Mrs. Bressy swore she did not take it, and I thought—"

"That I was the thief," cried Miss Pewsey shrilly, "oh how clever of you—how very, very clever. You thought that I got the key from the watch-chain of Dr. Forge where he always carries it, to open the cabinet and steal a fan, I knew nothing about it. I never even knew of the existence of the fan—there Judas," snapped the lady once more.

"Then I was mistaken, and Dr. Forge was mistaken also."

"I confess that I did make a mistake," said the doctor with a sad face, "but that does not excuse your libelling the lady I hope to call my wife. My memory is not so good as it was, and I fear that the drugs I take to induce sleep have impaired what memory I have left. I suffer from neuralgia," added the doctor turning to Miss Pewsey, "and in China I contracted the habit of opium smoking, so—"

"Marriage will put that right," said the lady patting his hand. "I do not expect a perfect husband—"

"I never knew you expected a husband at all," said Tidman injudiciously.

"Ho," cried Miss Pewsey drawing herself up. She had been standing all the time, "another libel. I call Dr. Forge to witness it."

"I really think Tidman you'd better hold your tongue," said the doctor gently, "but I must explain, that I quite forgot that I had parted with the fan. Yes. I received it from you, seven years ago when I brought you home after that adventure in Canton. Two years later I returned to China, to see Lo-Keong on business, and I took the fan with me. He received it."

"No," said the Major shaking his bald head, "I can't believe that, Forge. You declared that you hated Lo-Keong and that the fan would harm you and him also."

"I do hate the man," cried Forge looking more like a bird of prey than ever, "but I got a concession about a gold mine, by giving back the fan. I wanted the money more than Lo-Keong's life. As to my own life, it was in danger from the enemies of the Mandarin, who want the fan to ruin him. That was why I spoke as I did. Are you satisfied?"

"Not quite," said Tidman who was puzzled, "how did the fan come to England again?"

"My nephew Mr. Burgh will tell you that," said Miss Pewsey, "when he has administered the beating I have asked him to inflict."

"Beating," shouted the Major snatching a knife from the breakfast table, "let that young whelp dare to hint such a thing, and I'll kick him round Marport."

"Clarence is not the man to be kicked."

"Nor am I the man to be beaten. I have apologised and that is quite enough. If you are not satisfied Miss Pewsey, you can bring your action and I'll defend it. Beating indeed," snorted Tidman, "I'd like to see anyone who would dare to lay a hand on me," and he looked very fierce as he spoke.

"Very good," said Miss Pewsey in a stately manner, "if you will tell me all about the fan, I shall ask Clarence to spare you the beating."

"Clarence can go to—" the Major mentioned a place which made Miss Pewsey shriek and clap her fingers to her ears. "I am not the least afraid of that cad and bounder—that—that——"

"Libel again Major Tidman."

"Pooh—Pooh," said Forge rising, "let us go Lavinia."

"Not till I hear about the fan. For the sake of my dear Sophia who has the fan, I want to hear."

"All I know, is, that the fan was advertised for——"

"I saw the advertisement," said Miss Pewsey, "but I said nothing to dear Sophia, although I recognized the fan from the description in the newspaper. She never looks at the papers, and trusts to me to tell her the news."

"So you kept from her a piece of news out of which she could make five thousand pounds."

"Really and truly," said Miss Pewsey clutching her bag convulsively and with glittering eyes, "who says so—who pays it—who—?"

"One question at a time," interrupted Tidman, now quite master of himself. "Tung-yu, the man Ainsleigh saw at the Joss House in Perry Street Whitechapel, offered five thousand pounds for the return of the fan. Ainsleigh saw the advertisement and—"

"I know how he came to inquire about the fan," said Miss Pewsey, "Dr. Forge told me, but I did not know the amount offered."

"Will you tell Miss Wharf now."

"No," said Miss Pewsey very decisively, "nor will any one else. My Sophia's health is delicate and if she had a shock like that inflicted on her, she would die."

"What the offer of five thousand pounds—"

"The chance of being killed," said Miss Pewsey, "but I will leave my nephew Mr. Burgh to explain that Major Tidman. I accept your apology for thinking me a—but no," cried the lady, "I can't bring myself to pronounce the nasty word. I am a Pewsey of Essex. All is said in that, I think. Good morning, Major. My abstinence from bringing an action lies in the fact, that you will refrain from unsettling my Sophia's mind by telling about the fan. Good-morning. My Theophilus will we not go?"

Before the Major could recover from the bewilderment into which he was thrown by this torrent of words, Miss Pewsey taking the arm of the melancholy doctor had left the room. When alone Tidman scratched his chin and swore. "There's something in this," he soliloquised. "I believe the old woman wants to get the money herself. By George, I'll keep my eyes on her," and the Major shook his fist at the door, through which the fairy form of Miss Pewsey had just vanished.

Later in the day Tidman dressed to perfection, walked up the town twirling his stick, and beaming on every pretty woman he came across. The stout old boy was not at all appalled by the threat of Miss Pewsey regarding her buccaneering nephew's attentions. When he saw the gentleman in question bearing down on him, he simply stopped and grasped his stick more firmly. If there was to be a fight, the Major resolved to have the first blow. But Burgh did not seem ready to make a dash. He sauntered up to Tidman and looked at him smilingly, "Well met old pard," said he in his slangy fashion.

"My name to you, is Major Tidman," said the old fellow coolly.

"I guess I know that much. Can't we go a stretch along the lower part of the town?"

"If there's any row to come off," said the Major, keeping a wary eye on the young man. "I prefer it to take place here. On guard sir—on guard."

Clarence shrugged his shoulders and produced a cigarette. "Oh that's all right," said he striking a match. "I guess my old aunt's been at you. I'm not going in for any row—not me."

"Just as well for you," said the Major sharply, "how dare you threaten me, you—you—"

"Now I ask you," said Clarence, "if I have threatened you? Go slow. I guess the old girl's been piling on the agony. She's got old Forge to fight her battles. When I make trouble," added Clarence musingly, "it will be for a pretty girl like Olivia."

"You can have your desire for a row by telling that to young Ainsleigh."

"Huh," said Burgh with contempt, "I guess I'd lay him out pretty smart. I tell you, Major, I'm dead gone on that girl: but she treats me like a lump of mud."

"And quite right too," said Tidman coolly, "you aren't worthy of her. Now Ainsleigh is."

Clarence pitched away his cigarette with an irritable gesture. "Don't get me riz," said he darkly, "or I'll make the hair fly with Ainsleigh."

"Pooh. He's quite able to look after himself."

"Can he shoot?" demanded the buccaneer.

"Yes. And use his fists, and fence, and lay you out properly. Confound you, sir, don't you think I've travelled also. I've been in the Naked Lands in my time, and have seen your sort growing on the banana plants. You're the sort to get lynched."

"Oh, tie it up," said Burgh with sudden anger, for these remarks were not to his mind. "I want to tell you about the fan."

"Why do you want to talk of that?" asked Tidman with suspicion, "I don't care a straw for the fan."

"Oh, I reckon you do, Major. But you're well out of it. If you'd kept that fan there would have been trouble—yes, you may look, but if you'd held on to that article you'd have been a corpse by now."

Tidman sneered, not at all terrified by these vague threats. "What do you mean by this drivel?"

"Let's come to anchor here," said Clarence pulling up beside a seat in a secluded part, near the old town beach. "I'll spin the yarn."

"About the fan," said the Major sitting promptly. "I confess I am curious to know how it came to England again, after Forge took it again to the Far East. Didn't he give it to Lo-Keong?"

"So he says," said Clarence with a side-long look at his companion. "I don't know myself. All I know is, that I got it from a pirate."

"From a pirate?"

"That's so. I was in Chinese waters a year or so ago, and I reckon pirates swarm in those parts—"

Tidman shivered. "Yes," he admitted, "I had an adventure myself in Canton with a pirate of sorts."

"Old Forge told me something about it," said Clarence lighting a fresh cigarette, "but my yarn's different. I was out with some of the boys in Chinese water, and a pirate tried to board us. We were down Borneo way, looking out for a ruby mine said to be in those parts. My pals—there were two of them, and myself engineering the job—hired a boat and cut across to Borneo. The pirates tried to slit our throats and our Chinese crew tried to help them. But we used our Winchesters and six shooters freely, and shot a heap. The pirates cleared off and we brought our barky into port safe enough."

"But about the fan?"

"I'm coming to that. The Boss pirate was shot by me—a big six foot Northern Chinee, got up, to kill, like a tin god. He had this jade fan, and directed operations with it. When his pals cleared I found him as dead as a coffin and nailed the fan. It was pretty enough, but didn't appeal to me much. I clapped it away in my box, and when I reached England I offered it to Aunt Lavinia. She wants me to marry Miss Rayner, and said I should offer it to her, and cut out that aristocratic Ainsleigh chap. Olivia—ripping name, ain't it—well, she didn't catch on, so I thought I'd gain the goodwill of old Miss Wharf, and passed it along to her."

The Major listened in silence to this story, which seemed reasonable enough. "Strange it should have come back to England, and to a small place like this, where Forge had it," he mused. "A coincidence I suppose. By the way did you see the advertisement?" he asked.

"You bet I did, and it made me sick to think I'd parted with the fan. Leastways, it made me sick till I saw Hwei!"

"You mean Tung-yu."

"No, I don't. I mean the Chinee as calls himself Hwei, who put that advertisement in every newspaper in London, and the United Kingdom."

"What, in everyone?" said the Major, "must have cost——"

"A heap you bet, Major. Well I struck Hwei—"

"That's the name of a river, man."

"Maybe: but it's what this celestial calls himself. I struck him near the Mansion House, and knew him of old in Pekin I reckon, where we chin-chined over some contraband biznai. I spoke to him in Chinese—I know enough to get along on—and he told me he had come to this country about Lo-Keong's fan. I never said I'd got it, though by that time I'd seen the advertisement. I know Chinamen too well, to give myself away in that fashion. I pumped him, and learned that Hwei intended to scrag the chap who held the fan, so I concluded to lie low."

"But he offered wealth to whomsoever gave it up."

"Maybe. I don't know exactly how the thing figures out. I guess Hwei does the killing, and Tung-yu the rewarding. But you can take it from me, Major, that unless Miss Wharf gets rid of that fan she'll have her throat cut. So I guess, you must be glad you didn't handle the biznai," and Clarence puffed a serene cloud of smoke.

"It's more of a mystery than ever," said the Major. And so it was.

CHAPTER VII

"They are about as bad as they can be, John," replied Ainsleigh. "I have seen Mr. Thorp. It will take thirty thousand pounds to put matters right. And where am I to get it? Oh," the young man started up and walked to and fro, "why didn't I go into the law, or take to some profession where I might make money? Forge was my guardian, he should have seen to it."

"Master Rupert," said the old butler, "do you think that gentleman is your friend?"

"What makes you think he isn't, John?"

Petley pinched his chin between a shaky finger and thumb. "He don't seem like a friend," said he in his quavering voice. "He didn't tell you or me, Master Rupert, how bad things were. When you was at college he should have told you, and then you might have learned some way of getting money."

"My father trusted him, John. He was appointed my guardian by the will my father made before he left for China."

"And Dr. Forge went with the master to China," said the old man, "how did the master die?"

"Of dysentery, so Dr. Forge says."

"And others say he was murdered."

"Who says so, John?"

"Well sir, that Mandarin gentleman sent your father's papers and luggage back here when your mother was alive. A Chinaman brought the things. He hinted that all was not right, and afterwards the mistress died. She believed your father was murdered."

Rupert looked pensive. He had heard something of this, but the story had been so vague, and was so vague as John told it, that he did not believe in it much. "Does Dr. Forge know the truth?" he asked.

"He ought to, sir. Dr. Forge came from China with a report of this gold mine up in Kan-su, and your father was all on fire to go there and make money. The mistress implored him not to go but he would. He went with Dr. Forge, and never returned. The doctor, I know, says that the master died of dysentery, when the doctor himself was at Pekin. But I never liked that Forge," cried the old servant vehemently, "and I believe there's something black about the business."

"But why should Forge be an enemy of my father's?"

"Ah sir," Petley shook his old head, "I can't rightly say. Those two were at college together and fast friends; but I never liked Forge. No, sir, not if I was killed for it would I ever like that gentleman, though it's not for a person in my position to speak so. I asked the doctor again and again to let me know how bad things were, when you were at school, Master Rupert, but he told me to mind my own business. As if it wasn't my business to see after the family I'd been bred up in, since fifteen years of age."

"I'll have a talk with Dr. Forge," said Rupert after a pause, "if there is any question of my father having been murdered, I'll see if he knows," he turned and looked on the old man quickly. "You don't suppose John that if there was a murder, he—"

"No! no!" cried Petley hurriedly, "I don't say he had to do with it. But that Mandarin—"

"Lo-Keong. Why Forge hates him."

"So he says. But this Mandarin, as I've heard from the Major, is high in favour with the Chinaman's court. If the doctor was his enemy, he could not go so often to China as he does. And since your father's death fifteen years ago, he's been back several times."

"Well I'll speak to him, John."

"And about the money, sir?"

Rupert sat down again. "I don't know what to do," he groaned. "I can manage to stave off many of the creditors, but if Miss Wharf forecloses the mortgage at Christmas everyone will come down with a rush and I'll have to give up Royabay to the creditors."

"Never—never—that will never be," said John fiercely, "why the place has been under the Ainsleighs for over three hundred years."

"I don't think that matters to the creditors," said Rupert wincing, "if I could only raise this thirty-thousand and get the land clear I would be able to live fairly well. There wouldn't be much; still I could keep the Abbey and we could live quietly."

"We sir?" asked the old man raising his head.

Rupert flushed, seeing he had made a slip. He did not want to tell the old man that he was married, as he was fearful lest the news should come to Miss Wharf's ears and render his wife's position with that lady unbearable. "I might get married you know," he said in an evasive way.

"Lord, sir," cried Petley in terror, "whatever you do, don't cumber yourself with a wife, till you put things straight."