CHAPTER XX

THE UNEXPECTED

As Montrose had stated to Alice, his flight was looked upon as a tacit admission of guilt. Up to that moment Enistor had not been quite certain that Douglas was the culprit, as the young man had never given him the impression that he was one likely to proceed to such extremities. But this sudden disappearance could only mean that he had done so, therefore Enistor very naturally concluded that Montrose had been infuriated by Don Pablo's bitter tongue into revenging himself hastily. Probably he now regretted that haste, but whether he did so or not mattered little to the Squire. All that the master of Tremore knew was that his enemy was now at his mercy, and he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity. His first step was to inform the Perchton Inspector of that fatal visit to the cottage.

Then, very speedily, the hue and cry was out, and for miles round the police explored the country. There was no doubt in any one's mind as to the actual truth. The threats of Montrose, his presence at the cottage at the time when the crime had taken place, and now the unexpected disappearance—these things showed that Douglas and none other was the guilty person. The next day every one was searching far and wide for the criminal, and Enistor was so vindictive that he offered a reward he could ill afford for the capture of the unfortunate young man. This he did to gratify the hatred which had existed for many incarnations, and also because he believed that when Montrose found it was impossible to escape the gallows, he would make over his wrongfully inherited money to Alice. And once Alice was in possession of the income, her father felt convinced that he would be able to handle the same. It was a very plausible plan, and Enistor worked hard to carry it out.

As Alice had come and gone in the space of an hour, and her absence had not been noticed, save by the housekeeper, the Squire was far from suspecting that his daughter had organised the flight and selected the hiding-place. As to the housekeeper, she was quite on the side of the lovers, since she did not believe for one moment that a nice young gentleman like Montrose had so vilely murdered Don Pablo. Therefore she procured the food and wine and the candles which Montrose had taken with him, and also promised to hold her tongue in spite of all temptation. Alice trusted her, and she was right to do so, for the woman was perfectly staunch. Moreover the girl was glad to have some one to whom she could talk freely. During those dark days she saw little of her father, but remained in her bedroom praying constantly for the safety of her lover. It was a terrible ordeal for one so young and delicate and friendless, but Alice felt that she was being supported by the Master of Love, and that out of sorrow would come enduring joy.

Mrs. Sparrow came to see her, and the narrow-minded grey woman proved to be unusually sympathetic. Neither she nor her husband could bring themselves to believe that Douglas was guilty, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, and for this loyal support Alice was duly grateful. Of course the vicar's wife was excessively aggravating with her platitudes, which did not give much comfort. "All is for the best!" "We must not murmur at the rod!" "It is for your good that you suffer!"—these cut-and-dried phrases dropped incessantly from Mrs. Sparrow's prim lips, and wrought on Alice's nerves to such an extent that sometimes she could have screamed. But knowing that the grey woman meant well, and appreciating her defence of Montrose, the girl controlled her feelings, and accepted these exasperating condolences as genuine, which they assuredly were. But she longed for the presence of Dr. Eberstein and wondered why he did not put in an appearance. Yet he remained absent and silent, not even sending a letter to comfort her in trouble. Still Alice had such a belief in the man that she did not resent his apparent neglect. All the same, her faith was being sorely tried.

Job Trevel did not return. According to his mother he had gone away in his boat to the fishing-grounds at six o'clock on the evening of the murder. No one therefore could suspect that he had anything to do with the matter, but the Polwellin folk wondered at his absence. Rose could give no explanation, as the death of her patron caused her so much grief that she took to her bed. There was no chance now that she would go to London and appear on the stage, and beyond possessing some jewels and a few articles of costly clothing, she had benefited little by Don Pablo's sinister friendship. She would not even have his name mentioned, and now that the man was dead both Dame Trevel and Mrs. Penwin hoped that Rose would marry Job and settle down. The gaudy bubble blown by Narvaez had burst, and the disappointed beauty had to do the best she could. Therefore, she and the two old women looked forward to the return of Job as the best thing that could happen to put the crooked straight. And as the weather had been stormy, it was presumed that Job had been driven for shelter into some distant cove, whence he would come back in due time.

Polwellin was quite excited over the tragic events which had taken place, and the village was in a ferment over the possibility of this person and that gaining the reward offered by the Squire. But although every acre of the moorland was searched the fugitive could not be discovered. It was over forty-eight hours before the first clue was found, and that clue came from a quarter least expected. Also it was given to the man who most wanted to learn the whereabouts of Montrose, on the second day after the commission of the crime. Enistor was the man, and Mr. Sparrow was the person who put him into communication with the individual who afforded the desired information.

"The most wonderful thing has happened, Mr. Enistor," said the vicar, entering the library on the afternoon of the second day. "The age of miracles is not yet past, my dear friend."

Enistor scowled. He did not like to be called a dear friend by the parson, as he thought the man was an ass, and he was quite sure in his own mind that miracles were all rubbish. He told Mr. Sparrow as much. "This isn't Palestine to be gulled by such things, and we live in a scientific era."

"In a very godless era," said the vicar in a tone of reproof. "And I only hope that the wonderful thing that has happened will convert those who do not believe in an Almighty Being to a more reverent frame of mind."

This was a hit at the Squire, who was looked upon as an atheist by Mr. Sparrow. But Enistor did not take up the challenge. "What is your miracle?"

"Mr. Hardwick is alive."

"What?" the Squire could not but feel startled at the announcement.

"Ah, I thought you would be amazed," said Mr. Sparrow complacently. "Wonderful are the works of God and——"

"Oh, hang your platitudes! You talk rubbish. Why, you told me yourself that Hardwick was dead."

"I did. I saw him lying dead on his bed, and mentioned to Mr. Montrose that he looked as though he were asleep. It might be a case of suspended animation," continued Mr. Sparrow, brushing his bald head thoughtfully, "something of a cataleptic nature it may be."

"Well? Well? Well? Go on."

"There is nothing further to say, Mr. Enistor. The presumed dead man revived this morning and is now as well as you or I. I was sent for immediately by the landlady and called to express my astonishment. I have telegraphed for the Perchton doctor who deposed to the death. He will be amazed to learn what has taken place. Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!"

"It is no doubt a case of catalepsy as you say," growled the Squire, turning to his desk again. "A good thing for Hardwick that he wasn't buried alive. Now he can enjoy Narvaez' fortune and have a good time."

"I hope he will be a good man, seeing that he has been raised from the dead like Lazarus. Not that Mr. Hardwick was bad. Indeed I always thought that he had signs of grace about him. Well! Well! His resurrection gives me a text for next Sunday. I thought you would be pleased."

"I am not pleased and I am not sorry," retorted Enistor. "Hardwick is a nonentity and is nothing to me."

"I thought you were friends, Mr. Enistor. He asks to see you, saying that he is sure you will come down to him at once."

"He presumes too much. I have quite enough to do in searching for this scoundrel who murdered my dear friend."

"I don't believe he did," said Sparrow decidedly. "Mr. Montrose is not the man to shed blood."

"He didn't," said the Squire grimly, "he broke the man's neck. And if he did not murder Narvaez, who did? Not Job Trevel, who was the other person who uttered threats."

"It is a great mystery," sighed the vicar, putting on his hat.

"Like this confounded resurrection of Hardwick. Why the deuce couldn't he stay in the next world after taking the trouble to go there? He's not much use in this one so far as I can see."

"Question not the decrees of the Almighty," said Mr. Sparrow rebukingly. "But there: I am speaking to a deaf adder. May I see Miss Enistor to comfort her and offer up a prayer in her present sorrow?"

"Yes. She's moping in her room and behaving like a fool. Offer up what prayers you like: they won't do any good. It is all her folly in getting engaged to that young criminal that has brought things to this pass."

"Mr. Montrose is innocent," said Sparrow obstinately, "and in due time God will prove his innocence. I wish you a softer heart, Mr. Enistor, and good-day," and the worthy parson stalked out of the room to seek Alice and console her.

Enistor did not resume his work immediately. It had to do with the disappearance of Montrose, as he was writing to the Perchton Inspector. Before the entrance of Sparrow with his wonderful news, the work had seemed very important, but now Enistor felt inclined to lay it aside and seek the lodgings of the artist. Certainly it was wonderful that Hardwick should recover, after he had been lying dead—as the doctor insisted—for so long a time. Undoubtedly it was a case of catalepsy, and Enistor felt curious to see the man who had been so nearly buried alive. His sister was due the next day to see about the funeral, and Enistor laughed when he thought how the frivolous little woman would be surprised. Disappointed also it might be, as she, being the next of kin, would have enjoyed Narvaez' money had her brother really passed away. It was all very strange, and after a moment's hesitation the Squire put on his cap and walked down to Polwellin. He would see for himself what had taken place, and would question Hardwick concerning what he had seen during his trance. For trance it was the Squire felt sure, and the recovery—in his opinion—was a perfectly natural one.

There was quite a crowd round the lodging, and Hardwick's landlady was recounting her feelings when the dead man had come to life. She certainly looked as though she had sustained a shock, and seemed rather disappointed that there was to be no funeral. Enistor listened grimly to her incoherent explanations, then pushed his way into the house and sought the artist's sitting-room. He found Hardwick dressed in his usual clothes and presenting an unusually vigorous appearance. His face was more highly coloured, his eyes were full of fire, and he moved about with the swift grace of a panther, alert, vital, impetuously and wonderfully alive. Enistor stared in amazement at the sight. Never had he seen before so splendid and powerful a man, or one so charged with life-force.

"Dying seems to have done you good, Hardwick," he observed dryly.

"It looks like it," replied the other, and although he spoke in his usual mellow voice, the Squire pricked up his ears and looked at him inquiringly. The tone was more imperious than that ordinarily used by Hardwick, and had in it a dominant, crushing quality which startled the visitor.

The two men stared hard at one another. Hardwick took up his position on the hearth-rug, leaning easily against the mantelpiece, while Enistor took possession of a deep arm-chair near the window. The door was closed, as was the window, so they were quite alone; entirely free from observation and eavesdropping. The Squire felt that in spite of Hardwick's late cataleptic trance the artist was more alive than he was, since wave after wave of powerful animal vitality seemed to emanate from him and fill the little room. Then Enistor cried out with sudden terror.

He had reason to do so. Every nerve in his body was aching with agony, and every muscle was twisted with pain. Some force ran through his frame like fire, excruciating, insistent and terrible. He could not rise from the chair, he could not even move a finger, but lay where he was inert and helpless, with that devouring flame tormenting him to madness. And indeed Enistor wondered why he did not go mad with the frenzy of pain, while Hardwick smiled on him quietly and calmly and unwinkingly, like an avenging god. After that one cry the miserable man uttered no other. He felt that it would be useless to protest in any weak human way. He was in the grip of a tremendous force and as helpless as a fly in the claws of a spider.

"I don't think you will taunt me any more with the loss of my power," said Hardwick suavely. "I am a fraud, am I? my will has been shattered? Eh? How do you like that, my dear friend?" and again there came another surge of the biting fire, which caused the perspiration to break out on Enistor's forehead.

"Who—who—who are you?" stammered the Squire brokenly. He was beginning to have an inkling of the appalling truth, for he well knew that only one man—if man he were—could exercise such devilish power.

"I think you can tell me that."

"Narvaez!"

"Exactly!" The magician withdrew his intense gaze, and loosened his victim from the bonds of torment, then sat down quietly, smiling and bland. "I think you have had enough proof."

Enistor feebly moved his limbs and wiped his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief. His mouth was so dry that he could scarcely speak, and he thankfully poured out a glass of water from a carafe which was on the table. As he drank, a delicious sense of freedom from pain passed through him, and he knew that the man lounging in the chair was curing what he had hurt. "I have had enough proof," gasped Enistor, setting down the empty glass. "You are Don Pablo in Hardwick's body."

"Yes! I am very well satisfied with my new suit of clothes," said the other, looking at his limbs complacently. "Hardwick's retiring soul left its earthly vehicle in good order. The organs are all sound, the blood is of the best, and the whole mechanism only needed the extra vitality which I am able to supply."

"How can you get the vitality?" asked Enistor rather nervously, for the sight before him was enough to shake an ordinary man to the core of his being.

"Never mind. I know how to tap the source of life and use what I will. Hardwick could not do that, being ignorant, therefore he died from sheer lack of vitality. A lucky thing for me, as it gave me a chance of replacing my worn-out body with this very splendid instrument."

"Did you kill Hardwick?"

"No. There was no need to kill him. His Ego had been drawing the soul back for a long time, and knowing that he would soon die, I made my arrangements accordingly so as to enter the body."

"Then your lie to lure Montrose to the cottage——"

"Was a lie—in your interest," said Narvaez-Hardwick coolly. "It was necessary that Montrose should be there so as to be inculpated in my death. Do you understand now why I insulted Alice so that Montrose might publicly quarrel with me?"

"Oh!" The Squire turned pale as he began to comprehend the infernal ingenuity with which the magician had wrought out his scheme. "Then Montrose is not the guilty man?"

"No more than you are. My insult to your daughter was a comedy to deceive the public as to Montrose's feelings towards me. My behaviour when you called to taunt me was part of the same comedy. I think I played my part excellently well, Enistor, or you would have been afraid to say what you did. I suppose you are now convinced that I still have my powers: if not——" he leaned forward to fix the other man with his eye.

"No! No! No, I am quite convinced," and Enistor cowered in his chair. "You are Narvaez true enough."

"To you and to The Adversary whom no disguise can deceive. But the rest of the world will know me as Julian Hardwick. When Montrose is disposed of, my friend, I can then marry Alice as arranged. She was not averse to becoming Hardwick's wife, so there will be no difficulty over that. And I am still rich, as I made over all my fortune by will to Hardwick, and inherit my own money. I have sent for the lawyer, who will come and see me to-morrow to arrange about the transfer of the property when my late body is buried. And I think," ended Narvaez-Hardwick pensively, "that I shall follow the corpse of my benefactor to the grave. Grace my own funeral," he laughed, much amused.

"Where is Hardwick's soul?" stammered Enistor, who felt the hair of his head rising with the natural terror of the human for the superhuman.

"Purging its baser qualities on the Astral Plane," said the other carelessly. "He won't stay long there, as he was such a pious ass he will probably get his share of heaven before long. I am not interested in him. I have done him no harm in taking his body. It was useless to him and is useful to me. Oh!"

Narvaez-Hardwick rose and stretched himself. "It is splendid to have so magnificent a vehicle. In it I shall live years and years gaining wider and wider knowledge to extend my empire."

"But the Great Power that struck you down and warned you——"

"Hold your tongue," snarled the magician, with a look which transformed the kindly face of Hardwick into the semblance of a fiend. "Leave me to deal with powers higher or lower as the case may be. I have held my own for centuries against all. Are you about to become a pupil of The Adversary as I suggested when you taunted me in the cottage?"

"No. And yet The Adversary has greater power than you have."

"It's a lie," shouted Narvaez-Hardwick imperiously. "What struck me down was a much Mightier Power, which I don't choose to name. I told you that before. Hold to me, Enistor, and I can give you the kingdoms of the earth."

"At what price?" Enistor shivered at the look on the other's face.

"You know the price. You must give me Alice for my wife, and you must obey me in every way. I cannot instruct you unless you do. And now that Montrose is in your power and has to pay back the life he took from you in Chaldea, you can force him to give up the fortune."

"He refuses."

"He dare not refuse if he wants to save his neck."

"But is he guilty?"

"No." Narvaez-Hardwick laughed contemptuously. "You might have guessed that no pupil of The Adversary would be bold enough to commit murder. He is full of silly scruples. You know who killed me!"

"No, I don't."

"Then you are a fool," said the magician roundly. "Job Trevel is the man."

Enistor started from his chair. "Impossible! Job was away in his——"

"Job was at the cottage on the evening when I died," interrupted Narvaez-Hardwick grimly. "I sent for Rose Penwin to come and see me some time after eight, knowing that Job would follow. I contrived to let him know by impressing a message on his foolish brain. He really was going out in his boat, and at six was about to start when he felt compelled to come to the cottage. He saw Rose on the moor and followed her. By that time I had drawn Montrose to the cottage, so as to incriminate him, and you know the means I used. After I had confessed that I had told a lie about the marriage he went away, and I saw Rose, to talk nonsense and rouse Job's jealousy. I went with her to the gate and kissed her there. She didn't mind, as I was an old man and had promised she should go to London next week. Job was waiting for her at the gate, having seen her enter the cottage. Then he sprang on me and broke my neck. After that Rose ran away and Job returned to his boat."

"He has not come back yet," said Enistor, horror-struck at the callous way in which Narvaez-Hardwick detailed his wickedness.

"Nor will he. He fears lest the truth should come to light and he should be hanged for my murder. Rose knows, but for her own sake she will hold her tongue. So you see that Montrose cannot escape. He can offer no defence and must be hanged. Go to him and offer him his life on condition that he surrenders the fortune. Then hang him, or pardon him if you will. I don't care in the least. You are bound to me by stronger bonds when the money is gained, and as Julian Hardwick I shall marry Alice and train her as a clairvoyante. We shall go to Spain, where I have my home, as Narvaez, and which as Julian Hardwick I inherit. I think I have managed everything very cleverly."

"Yes," faltered Enistor, awed by the power and frightened by the unscrupulous cruelty of this strange being. "But Montrose has disappeared."

Narvaez-Hardwick frowned. "I know that, but I don't know where he is. I have searched and searched without success."

"But you have not yet been out of doors."

"You fool, have I no means of searching other than in the physical?" cried the man wrathfully. "I have been looking for him from the other side. It is as easy for me to use my astral body as this physical one. But The Adversary has placed a veil round him. I cannot see where he is. Still Alice knows; I am certain of that. She will want to see him: follow her, and then deal with the man as you will. I have placed him at your mercy. But I am bound to say that this would not have been the case had he not killed you in Chaldea, my friend. The Adversary would have interfered."

"He may interfere now," said Enistor, rising slowly.

"He cannot. Montrose owes you the life of which he robbed you. You can do what you like. Where he is I cannot tell, as he is protected so far. But his evil Karma is too powerful for this protection to continue. He must work out his fate. Follow Alice: she will lead you to him."

"I am sure Alice does not know, Narvaez."

"Call me Hardwick, you fool, else you will be considered a lunatic and will be shut up for one. Alice does know. This much I am aware of. She assisted him to fly: she knows where he is hidden. Now I think that is all I have to see you about. You can go."

Enistor's pride revolted at being ordered about like a dog. "I wish you would speak more civilly, Hardwick," he said, scowling.

"You spoke civilly to me when you thought I had lost my power, didn't you?" jeered the other. "Don't bend your brows at me, or I shall make you suffer. I have done much for you and expect repayment. Nothing for nothing is the rule of the Left-hand Path."

"I'd like to kill you."

"Oh, my dog is showing his teeth, is he? Take care! I have shown you what I can do. If you want to be shown further——"

"No! No!" Enistor winced at the thought of again enduring that cruel pain.

"Then obey me. Go away and watch Alice so that she may unknowingly lead you to Montrose's burrow. When he is found come to me again. Good-bye."

Enistor gnashed his teeth at the insults hurled at him, but being in the grip of a greater force than he had within himself, there was nothing for it but to yield. He departed with a gloomy face, to carry out his orders. Narvaez, in the splendid body of Hardwick, rejoiced with unholy glee.

"I am winning," he cried exultingly. "Winning all along the line."