CHAPTER XX

MANY A SLIP 'TWIXT CUP AND LIP

But Giles was not destined to go to London as quickly as he thought. He rushed out of Mrs. Parry's cottage, leaving that good lady in a state of frenzied curiosity, and walked rapidly through the village on the road to his own house. On the way he dropped into "The Merry Dancer" to look at an "A B C." Morris, still swelling with importance over his illustrious guests, although these had now left, conducted him into the deserted salon and gave him the guide. While Giles was looking up the first train, Morley, hot and dusty and short of breath, rushed into the room.

"Upon my word, Ware, I think you must be deaf," he said, wiping his perspiring forehead. "I've been running and calling after you for the last five minutes."

"I was buried in my own thoughts," replied Ware, turning the pages of the guide rapidly, "wait a bit."

"I see you are going to London, Ware. What's up?"

By this time Giles noted the earliest train he could catch from Barnham Station, and found he had over an hour to spare. He was not averse to spending a portion of it in Morley's company, for he had much to tell him of what had happened. And the advice of the ex-detective was certain to be good. "I am following Anne," he said.

"Miss Denham." Morley stared. "Then you know——"

"Yes, I know; I met her last night by accident. And you have known all the time."

"Indeed, I know nothing," said the little man. "I was about to say that you know where she is?"

"Franklin did not tell you that she was with him, then?"

"Miss Denham—with Franklin—at the Priory?" Morley looked stupefied.

"She has been there all the time. I remember now. Franklin did not tell you, because he knew that you would give her up to the police."

"He told me nothing," said Morley slowly, "and if he had I should certainly have given her up to the police. Does he think her innocent?"

Giles shook his head gloomily. "He did, but circumstances have happened which have led him to change his opinion. He believes now that she is guilty. But he would never have told you."

"Well, I suppose that is natural. After all she is his niece, and although he hates his brother Walter, he must have some love for Anne, or he would scarcely have taken her in. So she has gone away. Can you tell me where she is to be found?"

"Is it likely that I should?"

Morley laughed in his cheery manner. "No," he replied bluntly, "for I know she has gone to London, and that you are following her."

"Quite so. But London is a large place. You will not find her."

"I could if I followed you," said Morley promptly.

"I should not let you do that."

"Perhaps not. But if I chose I could circumvent you. All I have to do is to wire your description to Scotland Yard and you would be shadowed by a detective from the moment you left the Liverpool Street Station. But you need not be afraid. I don't want to harm Miss Denham. If she crosses my path I'll have her arrested, but I won't go hunting for her."

"I don't trust you, Morley," said Ware quietly.

"You ought to. I have put you on your guard against myself. If my intentions were bad, I should not have told you. But my detective days are over, and Miss Denham can go scot-free for me. But I'll tell you one thing, Ware. She will never be your wife."

"How can you prophesy that?" asked Giles sharply.

"Because you will never be able to prove her innocence. I believe her to be guilty myself, and if she is not, the task of removing the suspicion is an impossible one. I have had many mysterious cases in my day, but this is one of the most difficult."

"I don't agree with you," said Ware promptly. "The case is perfectly simple. Her blackguard of a father killed Daisy and afterwards intended to kill his brother George and thus get possession of the money. Anne saved him the first time, and to save him now from the hatred of George she has taken his guilt on her own shoulders."

"Who told you all this?"

"It's my theory. And I'll prove the truth of it, Morley, by hunting everywhere for Walter Franklin. When I find him I'll wring a confession out of him."

"I hope you will succeed," said Morley admiringly, "and you ought to for your pluck. So far as I am concerned, I wash my hands of the whole affair. You need not think I'll hunt down Miss Denham. Besides," added Morley, nodding, "I am going away."

"What!" Giles was astonished. "Are you leaving The Elms?"

"In a month's time," replied the little man. "My wife's doing, not mine. She has never got over a certain horror of the house since the murder of that poor girl. I shall sell every stick of furniture and take Mrs. Morley and the children to the United States. She wants to get away from the old life and begin a new one. So do I. Rather a late beginning at my age, eh, Ware?"

"What about your finances?"

"Oh, that's all right," said Morley, jubilantly. "I have settled everything. An old aunt of mine has died and left me a couple of thousand a year. I have paid every debt, and shall leave England without leaving a single creditor behind me. Then Mrs. Morley has her own money. We shall do very well in the States, Ware. I am thinking of living in Washington. A very pleasant city, I hear."

"I've never been there," replied Giles, making for the door, "but I am glad to hear that your affairs are settled. There is no chance of trouble with Asher now."

Morley shook his head with a jolly laugh. "They won't send down another Walter Franklin, if that is what you mean," said he.

"They did not send him down. He came himself."

"Yes. I only spoke generally. Well, I'll be sorry to go, for I have made some pleasant friends in Rickwell—yourself amongst the number. But my wife insists, so I must humor her. There's Franklin. I shall be sorry to leave him."

"Is he not going also?"

Morley looked astonished. "No. Why should he go? He has the Priory on a seven years' lease. Besides, he likes the place."

"He might go to escape his brother."

"I don't think Walter Franklin will dare to trouble George now. He is innocent of actually committing this crime, but he certainly is an accessory after the fact. He'll keep out of the way."

"Let us hope so for the sake of George. Well, Morley, I must be off."

Giles went home at top speed, and Morley remained at the inn to make inquiries about the Hungarian Princesses. Although he was not now a detective, yet Morley still preserved the instinct which made him ask questions. He heard that the foreign ladies had driven to Westbury, and afterwards strolled round to the stables to see the new coachman. He learned from him about the strange lady who entered the carriage on the moor. The man described her face, for it seemed that she had lifted her veil for a moment when alighting at the station. Morley took all this in, and walked home jubilantly. He knew that Anne was with the Princess Karacsay.

"If these were the old days," he said, "I'd wire to London to have the house of those Hungarian women searched. I wonder what they have to do with the matter? Humph! Anne killed Daisy. Is it worth while to try and trace her?"

This speech was made to Mrs. Morley, and the pale woman gave a decided negative. "Let poor Anne go, Oliver," she said beseechingly; "I loved her, and she had much good in her."

"Still, I'm all on fire to follow up the clue," said Morley.

"You promised to leave the detective business alone."

"Quite right; so I did," he answered. "Well, I'll do what you wish, my dear. Anne Denham can go free for me. I said the same thing to Ware, although he won't believe me. But I should like to know what that Princess Karacsay has to do with the matter."

He worried all that evening, and finally went to see Franklin about the matter. But he got scanty satisfaction from him. Franklin denied that Anne had ever been in his house, and told Morley to mind his own business. If the ex-detective's wife had not been present, and if this conversation had not taken place in her presence, Franklin might have been more easy to deal with. But the presence of a third party shut his mouth. So Morley could do nothing, and made no attempt to do anything.

Had Giles known of this it might have set his mind at rest, for he could not get out of his head that he was being followed. At the Liverpool station he alighted about ten o'clock, and looked everywhere in the crowd to see if he was being observed. But his fears were vain, for he could distinguish no one with any inquiring look on his face, or note any person dogging his footsteps. He stepped into a cab and ordered the man to drive to St. John's Wood. But at Baker Street he alighted and dismissed the cab. He had only a hand-bag with him, and, carrying this, he took the underground train to High Street, Kensington. When he arrived there he drove in another cab to his old hotel, "The Guelph," opposite the Park. When alone in his bedroom Giles smoked a complacent pipe. "If any one did try to follow me," he said to himself, "he must have missed me when I took the underground railway."

It was close on half-past eleven when he ended his wanderings, too late to call at the Westminster flat. But Giles thought that Olga would never think he had traced her flight with Anne, and would not do anything till the morrow, probably not before twelve o'clock. He was up early, and went off to New Scotland Yard to see Steel. He did not intend to tell him about Anne, thinking that the detective might arrest her if he knew of her whereabouts. But he desired to know if Steel had discovered anything in connection with the Scarlet Cross. Also, since Steel knew Olga so well, he might be able to explain why she had come down with her mother to Rickwell, and why the elder Princess had called on Franklin. He half thought that Olga, keeping her promise, had brought Anne to London to have her taken in charge by Steel. But on second thoughts he fancied that Olga would keep Anne as a hostage, and not deliver her up if he—Giles—agreed to become her husband. Thus thinking he went to see Steel.

The detective was within, and saw Giles at once. He looked very pleased with himself, and saluted Ware with a triumphant smile.

"Well, sir," he said, "I have found out an astonishing lot of things."

"About the murder?" asked Ware apprehensively.

"No." Steel's face fell. "That is still a mystery, and I expect will be one until that woman—I mean that young lady—is found."

"Do you mean Miss Denham?" demanded Ware stiffly.

"Yes. Do you know where she is?"

Giles shook his head. He was not going to betray Anne to her enemy, as Steel in his detective capacity assuredly was. "I wish I did," he said. "I have been at Rickwell trying to find out things. I'll tell you of my discoveries later. Meantime——"

"You want to hear about mine," cried the detective eagerly and full of his subject. "Well, the murder can wait. I'll get to the bottom of that, Mr. Ware. But I am now quite of your opinion. Miss Denham is innocent. This man Wilson killed the girl."

"I knew that Walter Franklin was guilty," cried Ware.

"I said Wilson," was Steel's reply.

"I forgot; you don't know about Wilson alias Franklin. I'll tell you later. Go on, Steel. I'm all attention."

"Oh! So his real name is Franklin. I never knew that," said Steel, drawing his hand down his chin. "Well, Mr. Ware, I have been to all the ports in the kingdom, and I have learned that wherever that yacht—she's a steam yacht—The Red Cross has been, burglaries have been committed. At last I managed to lay my hand on a member of the gang, and made him speak up."

"What gang?"

"A gang of burglars headed by the man I call Wilson and your Franklin—the Scarlet Cross Society. They own that yacht, and steam from port to port committing robberies. A splendid idea, and Wilson's own."

Then he unfolded to the astonished Giles a long career of villany on the part of the said Wilson. The young man shuddered as the vile category of crime was unrolled. It was horrible that such a wretch as Walter Franklin should be the father of Anne. But for all her parent's vices, Giles never swerved from the determination to marry the girl. He was not one of those who think that the sins of the father should be visited on the child.

"What is the name of the man who confessed all this?" asked Giles.

"Mark Dane."

Ware started. That was the name of the man Anne had mentioned as her father's secretary. However, he said nothing, and when Steel requested him to tell all he knew about Wilson, he related everything save that he was Anne's father. Steel listened attentively, chin on hand. When Giles finished he nodded.

"I'll go down and see this brother," he remarked. "If he hates the man whom we think committed the crime so much, he will be anxious to assist us in securing him. I wonder why that governess helped Wilson, or rather Walter Franklin, to escape? Of course, I believe that she is his daughter. Now don't look so angry, Mr. Ware. If you remember, when I talked with you at the Princess Karacsay's I said you could draw your own inferences. That is what I meant." Here the detective stopped and peered into Giles' face. "You don't appear to be so surprised as I thought you would be."

"Are you sure that Miss Denham is Wilson's daughter?"

"No, I am not yet sure. But if I can make this Mark Dane speak further, I'll be certain. He knows all about the matter. Unfortunately he is gone. I caught him at Bournemouth, and after he told me a portion of the truth he managed to get away. It's a long story how he fooled me. I'll tell it to you another time. But the worst of it is," resumed Steel dolefully, "that Dane will warn Wilson and he will get away. All the same, now you have told me Wilson has a brother I may be able to find out something in that quarter. The brother is all right?"

"He is an honest man, if that is what you mean."

"H'm!" said Steel sceptically. "I don't see how there can be any honest member of the Franklin family."

"Do you include Miss Denham?" asked Giles furiously.

"Well, sir, she sails under false colors."

"She can explain that."

"I hope she will be able to when I catch her."

"Steel, I won't stand this!" cried Ware, much agitated.

The detective thought for a moment. "See here, sir," he remarked, "we won't discuss this matter until I have caught Dane."

"How do you hope to catch him?"

"I have laid a trap for him at the Princess Karacsay's flat," said Steel quietly. "Oh, don't look so astonished. This Dane was one of the attendants at some concert where the Princess sang. He fell in love with her, and has been bothering her with letters. I have arranged that he shall call at the flat. I'll be waiting for him."

"It's odd that the Princess should know about this man," said Ware.

Steel looked at him queerly. "It is odd," he said; "and to my mind it is more than a coincidence. Princess Olga is a clever woman. I have to be very careful with her."

"Do you mean to say that she knows anything?" asked Giles.

"I am sure she does. I believe she could explain the whole business; but I can't find out how she came to be connected with it. Well, Mr. Ware, I must be off. When I see Dane and get the truth out of him, I'll see you again. I hope, for your sake, that Miss Denham is not the daughter of this man, but from a few words let drop by Dane I fear she is. At all events, sir, you can set your mind at rest about her being guilty of murder. She is innocent. The father did it."

Giles departed, much comforted by this statement. He knew well enough that Anne was the daughter of Wilson, alias Denham, alias Franklin, and he shuddered again to think of his pure, good Anne being mixed up with a man who was hand and glove with the criminal classes and a criminal himself. However, he put this matter out of his mind for the moment, and drove to the Westminster flat. If Anne was there, he determined to take her away to a place of safety, and defy Steel and Walter Franklin to do their worst.

He went up the stairs, and was told that Mademoiselle Olga was not at home. He was about to inquire after Anne, when the elder Princess, looking pale and anxious, appeared at the door of the drawing-room. She beckoned him in and shut the door.

"Have you seen Olga?" she inquired.

"No, Princess. Is she not with you?"

"She is not," wailed the woman, throwing herself on the couch. "Late last night she went out with Anne. A summons came—some letter—and Anne had to go. Olga insisted on accompanying her. They said they would be back at midnight; but they have not reappeared. I am distracted, Mr. Ware. What shall I do? Where are they?"

"Who was the letter from?"

"I don't know. It was for Anne, and——"

"You call Miss Denham Anne," said Giles abruptly; "and you brought her here. What do you know of her?"

"Everything," said the Princess, sitting up. "In spite of Olga I must tell you the truth. Anne Denham is my daughter!"