Miss Cayley's Adventures

by Grant Allen

  X

  THE ADVENTURE OF THE CROSS-EYED Q.C.

  The 'cold weather,' as it is humorously called, was now drawing to aclose, and the young ladies in sailor hats and cambric blouses, whoflock to India each autumn for the annual marriage-market, werebeginning to resign themselves to a return to England--unless, ofcourse, they had succeeded in 'catching.' So I realised that I musthurry on to Delhi and Agra, if I was not to be intercepted by theintolerable summer.

  When we started from Moozuffernuggar for Delhi and the East, LordSouthminster was starting for Bombay and Europe. This surprised me not alittle, for he had confided to my unsympathetic ear a few nightsearlier, in the Maharajah's billiard-room, that he was 'stony broke,'and must wait at Moozuffernuggar for lack of funds 'till the oof-birdlaid' at his banker's in England. His conversation enlarged myvocabulary, at any rate.

  'So you've managed to get away?' I exclaimed, as he dawdled up to me atthe hot and dusty station.

  'Yaas,' he drawled, fixing his eye-glass, and lighting a cigarette.'I've--p'f--managed to get away. Maharaj seems to have thought--p'f--itwould be cheepah in the end to pay me out than to keep me.'

  'You don't mean to say he offered to lend you money?' I cried.

  'No; not exactly that: _I_ offahed to borrow it.'

  'From the man you call a nigger?'

  His smile spread broader over his face than ever. 'Well, we borrow fromthe Jews, yah know,' he said pleasantly, 'so why the jooce shouldn't weborrow from the heathen also? Spoiling the Egyptians, don't yahsee?--the same as we used to read about in the Scripchah when we wereinnocent kiddies. Like marriage, quite. You borrow in haste--and repayat leisure.'

  He strolled off and took his seat. I was glad to get rid of him at themain line junction.

  In accordance with my usual merciful custom, I spare you the details ofour visit to Agra, Muttra, Benares. At Calcutta, Elsie left me. Herhealth was now quite restored, dear little soul-- I felt I had done thatone good thing in life if no other--and she could no longer withstandthe higher mathematics, which were beckoning her to London withinvisible fingers. For myself, having so far accomplished my originaldesign of going round the world with twopence in my pocket, I could notbear to draw back at half the circuit; and Mr. Elworthy having willinglyconsented to my return by Singapore and Yokohama, I set out alone on myhomeward journey.

  HE WROTE, I EXPECT YOU TO COME BACK TO ENGLAND AND MARRYME.]

  Harold wrote me from London that all was going well. He had found thewill which I drew up at Florence in his uncle's escritoire, andeverything was left to him; but he trusted, in spite of this untowardcircumstance, long absence might have altered my determination. 'DearLois,' he wrote, 'I _expect_ you to come back to England and marry me!'

  I was brief, but categorical. Nothing, meanwhile, had altered myresolve. I did not wish to be considered mercenary. While he was richand honoured, I could never take him. If, some day, fortunefrowned--but, there--let us not forestall the feet of calamity: let usawait contingencies.

  Still, I was heavy in heart. If only it had been otherwise! To say thetruth, I should be thrown away on a millionaire; but just think what asplendid managing wife a girl like me would have made for a pennilesspauper!

  At Yokohama, however, while I dawdled in curiosity shops, a telegramfrom Harold startled me into seriousness. My chance at last! I knew whatit meant; that villain Higginson!

  'Come home at once. I want your evidence to clear my character.Southminster opposes the will as a forgery. He has a strong case; theexperts are with him.'

  Forgery! That was clever. I never thought of that. I suspected them oftrying to forge a will of their own; but to upset the real one--to throwthe burden of suspicion on Harold's shoulders--how much subtler andcraftier!

  I saw at a glance it gave them every advantage. In the first place, itput Harold virtually in the place of the accused, and compelled him todefend instead of attacking--an attitude which prejudices people againstone from the outset. Then, again, it implied positive criminality on hispart, and so allowed Lord Southminster to assume the air of injuredinnocence. The eldest son of the eldest brother, unjustly set aside bythe scheming machinations of an unscrupulous cousin! Primogeniture, theingrained English love for keeping up the dignity of a noble family, theprejudice in favour of the direct male line as against the female--allwere astutely utilised in Lord Southminster's interest. But worst ofall, it was _I_ who had typewritten the will--I, a friend of Harold's, awoman whom Lord Southminster would doubtless try to exhibit as his_fiancee_. I saw at once how much like conspiracy it looked: Harold andI had agreed together to concoct a false document, and Harold had forgedhis uncle's signature to it. Could a British jury doubt when a Lorddeclared it?

  Fortunately, I was just in time to catch the Canadian steamer from Japanto Vancouver. But, oh, the endless breadth of that broad Pacific! Howtime seemed to lag, as each day one rose in the morning, in the midst ofspace; blue sky overhead; behind one, the hard horizon; in front of one,the hard horizon; and nothing else visible: then steamed on all day, toarrive at night, where?--why, in the midst of space; starry skyoverhead; behind one, the dim horizon; in front of one, the dim horizon;and nothing else visible. The Nile was child's play to it.

  IT WAS ENDLESSLY WEARISOME.]

  Day after day we steamed, and night after night were still where webegan--in the centre of the sea, no farther from our starting-point, nonearer to our goal, yet for ever steaming. It was endlessly wearisome;who could say what might be happening meanwhile in England?

  At last, after months, as it seemed, of this slow torture, we reachedVancouver. There, in the raw new town, a telegram awaited me. 'Glad tohear you are coming. Make all haste. You may be just in time to arrivefor the trial.'

  Just in time! I would not waste a moment. I caught the first train onthe Canadian Pacific, and travelled straight through, day and night, toMontreal and Quebec, without one hour's interval.

  I cannot describe to you that journey across a continent I had neverbefore seen. It was endless and hopeless. I only know that we crawled upthe Rocky Mountains and the Selkirk Range, over spider-like viaducts,with interminable effort, and that the prairies were just the broadPacific over again. They rolled on for ever. But we did reach Quebec--intime we reached it; and we caught by an hour the first liner toLiverpool.

  At Prince's Landing-stage another telegram awaited me. 'Come onat once. Case now proceeding. Harold is in court. We need yourevidence.--GEORGINA FAWLEY.'

  I might still be in time to vindicate Harold's character.

  At Euston, to my surprise, I was met not only by my dear cantankerousold lady, but also by my friend, the magnificent Maharajah, dressed thistime in a frock-coat and silk hat of Bond Street glossiness.

  'What has brought you to England?' I asked, astonished. 'The Jubilee?'

  He smiled, and showed his two fine rows of white teeth. 'That,nominally. In reality, the cricket season (I play for Berks). But mostof all, to see dear Tillington safe through this trouble.'

  'He's a brick!' Lady Georgina cried with enthusiasm. 'A regular brick,my dear Lois! His carriage is waiting outside to take you up to myhouse. He has stood by Harold--well, like a Christian!'

  'Or a Hindu,' the Maharajah corrected, smiling.

  'And how have you been all this time, dear Lady Georgina?' I asked,hardly daring to inquire about what was nearest to my soul--Harold.

  The cantankerous old lady knitted her brows in a familiar fashion. 'Oh,my dear, don't ask: I haven't known a happy hour since you left me inSwitzerland. Lois, I shall never be happy again without you! It wouldpay me to give you a retaining fee of a thousand a year--honour bright,it would, I assure you. What I've suffered from the Gretchens sinceyou've been in the East has only been equalled by what I've sufferedfrom the Mary Annes and the Celestines. Not a hair left on my scalp; notone hair, I declare to you. They've made my head into a _tabula rasa_for the various restorers. George R. Sims and Mrs. S. A. Allen are goingto fight it out between them. My dear, I w
ish _you_ could take my maid'splace; I've always said----'

  I finished the speech for her. 'A lady can do better whatever she turnsher hand to than any of these hussies.'

  She nodded. 'And why? Because her hands _are_ hands; while as for theGretchens and the Mary Annes, "paws" is the only word one can honestlyapply to them. Then, on top of it all comes this trouble about Harold.So distressing, isn't it? You see, at the point which the matter hasreached, it's simply impossible to save Harold's reputation withoutwrecking Southminster's. Pretty position that for a respectable family!The Ashursts hitherto have been _quite_ respectable: a co-respondent ortwo, perhaps, but never anything serious. Now, either Southminster sendsHarold to prison, or Harold sends Southminster. There's a nice sort ofdilemma! I always knew Kynaston's boys were born fools; but to findthey're born knaves, too, is hard on an old woman in her hairlessdotage. However, _you've_ come, my child, and _you'll_ soon set thingsright. You're the one person on earth I can trust in this matter.'

  Harold go to prison! My head reeled at the thought. I staggered out intothe open air, and took my seat mechanically in the Maharajah's carriage.All London swam before me. After so many months' absence, thepolychromatic decorations of our English streets, looming up through thesmoke, seemed both strange and familiar. I drove through the first halfmile with a vague consciousness that Lipton's tea is the perfection ofcocoa and matchless for the complexion, but that it dyes all colours,and won't wash clothes.

  After a while, however, I woke up to the full terror of the situation.'Where are you taking me?' I inquired.

  'To my house, dear,' Lady Georgina answered, looking anxiously at me;for my face was bloodless.

  'No, that won't do,' I answered. 'My cue must be now to keep myself asaloof as possible from Harold and Harold's backers. I must put up at anhotel. It will sound so much better in cross-examination.'

  'She's quite right,' the Maharajah broke in, with sudden conviction.'One must block every ball with these nasty swift bowlers.'

  'Where's Harold?' I asked, after another pause. 'Why didn't he come tomeet me?'

  'My dear, how could he? He's under examination. A cross-eyed Q.C. withan odious leer. Southminster's chosen the biggest bully at the Bar tosupport his contention.'

  'Drive to some hotel in the Jermyn Street district,' I cried to theMaharajah's coachman. 'That will be handy for the law courts.'

  He touched his hat and turned. In a sort of dickey behind sat twogorgeous-turbaned Rajput servants.

  That evening Harold came round to visit me at my rooms. I could see hewas much agitated. Things had gone very badly. Lady Georgina was there;she had stopped to dine with me, dear old thing, lest I should feellonely and give way; so had Elsie Petheridge. Mr. Elworthy sent atelegram of welcome from Devonshire. I knew at least that my friendswere rallying round me in this hour of trial. The kind Maharajah himselfwould have come too, if I had allowed him, but I thought it inexpedient.They explained everything to me. Harold had propounded Mr. Ashurst'swill--the one I drew up at Florence--and had asked for probate. LordSouthminster intervened and opposed the grant of probate on the groundthat the signatures were forgeries. He propounded instead another will,drawn some twenty years earlier, when they were both children, dulyexecuted at the time, and undoubtedly genuine; in it, testator lefteverything without reserve to the eldest son of his eldest brother, LordKynaston.

  'Marmy didn't know in those days that Kynaston's sons would all grow upfools,' Lady Georgina said tartly. 'Besides which, that was before thepoor dear soul took to plunging on the Stock Exchange and made hismoney. He had nothing to leave then but his best silk hat and a fewpaltry hundreds. Afterwards, when he'd feathered his nest in soap andcocoa, he discovered that Bertie--that's Lord Southminster--was afirst-class idiot. Marmy never liked Southminster, nor SouthminsterMarmy. For after all, with all his faults, Marmy _was_ a gentleman;while Bertie--well, my dear, we needn't put a name to it. So he alteredhis will, as you know, when he saw the sort of man Southminster turnedout, and left practically everything he possessed to Harold.'

  'Who are the witnesses to the will?' I asked.

  'There's the trouble. Who do you think? Why, Higginson's sister, who wasMarmy's _masseuse_, and a waiter--Franz Markheim--at the hotel atFlorence, who's dead they say--or, at least, not forthcoming.'

  'And Higginson's sister forswears her signature,' Harold added gloomily;'while the experts are, most of them, dead against the genuineness of myuncle's.'

  'That's clever,' I said, leaning back, and taking it in slowly.'Higginson's sister! How well they've worked it. They couldn't preventMr. Ashurst from making this will, but they managed to supply their owntainted witnesses! If it had been Higginson himself now, he'd have hadto be cross-examined; and in cross-examination, of course, we could haveshaken his credit, by bringing up the episodes of the Count deLaroche-sur-Loiret and Dr. Fortescue-Langley. But his sister! What's shelike? Have you anything against her?'

  'My dear,' Lady Georgina cried, 'there the rogue has bested us. Isn't itjust like him? What do you suppose he has done? Why, provided himselfwith a sister of tried respectability and blameless character.'

  'And she denies that it is her handwriting?' I asked.

  'Declares on her Bible oath she never signed the document.'

  I was fairly puzzled. It was a stupendously clever dodge. Higginson musthave trained up his sister for forty years in the ways of wickedness,yet held her in reserve for this supreme moment.

  'And where is Higginson?' I asked.

  Lady Georgina broke into a hysterical laugh. 'Where is he, my dear?That's the question. With consummate strategy, the wretch hasdisappeared into space at the last moment.'

  'That's artful again,' I said. 'His presence could only damage theircase. I can see, of course, Lord Southminster has no need of him.'

  'Southminster's the wiliest fool that ever lived,' Harold broke outbitterly. 'Under that mask of imbecility, he's a fox for trickiness.'

  I bit my lip. 'Well, if you succeed in evading him,' I said, 'you willhave cleared your character. And if you don't--then, Harold, our timewill have come: you will have your longed-for chance of trying me.'

  'That won't do me much good,' he answered, 'if I have to wait fourteenyears for you--at Portland.'

  THE CROSS-EYED Q.C. BEGGED HIM TO BE VERY CAREFUL.]

  Next morning, in court, I heard Harold's cross-examination. He describedexactly where he had found the contested will in his uncle's escritoire.The cross-eyed Q.C., a heavy man with bloated features and a bulbousnose, begged him, with one fat uplifted forefinger, to be very careful.How did he know where to look for it?

  'Because I knew the house well: I knew where my uncle was likely to keephis valuables.'

  'Oh, indeed; _not_ because you had put it there?'

  The court rang with laughter. My face grew crimson.

  After an hour or two of fencing, Harold was dismissed. He stood down,baffled. Counsel recalled Lord Southminster.

  The pea-green young man, stepping briskly up, gazed about him,open-mouthed, with a vacant stare. The look of cunning on his face wascarefully suppressed. He wore, on the contrary, an air of injuredinnocence combined with an eye-glass.

  '_You_ did not put this will in the drawer where Mr. Tillington foundit, did you?' counsel asked.

  The pea-green young man laughed. 'No, I certainly didn't put it theah.My cousin Harold was man in possession. He took jolly good care _I_didn't come neah the premises.'

  'Do you think you could forge a will if you tried?'

  Lord Southminster laughed. 'No, I don't,' he answered, with awell-assumed _naivete_. 'That's just the difference between us, don'tyah know. _I'm_ what they call a fool, and my cousin Harold's a preciousclevah fellah.'

  There was another loud laugh.

  'That's not evidence,' the judge observed, severely.

  It was not. But it told far more than much that was. It told stronglyagainst Harold.

  'Besides,' Lord Southminster continued, with engaging frankness,
'if Iforged a will at all, I'd take jolly good care to forge it in my ownfavah.'

  My turn came next. Our counsel handed me the incriminated will. 'Did youdraw up this document?' he asked.

  I looked at it closely. The paper bore our Florentine water-mark, andwas written with a Spread-Eagle. 'I type-wrote it,' I answered, gazingat it with care to make sure I recognised it.

  Our counsel's business was to uphold the will, not to cast aspersionsupon it. He was evidently annoyed at my close examination. 'You have nodoubts about it?' he said, trying to prompt me.

  I hesitated. 'No, no doubts,' I answered, turning over the sheet andinspecting it still closer. 'I type-wrote it at Florence.'

  'Do you recognise that signature as Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's?' he wenton.

  I stared at it. Was it his? It was like it, certainly. Yet that _k_? andthose _s_'s? I almost wondered.

  Counsel was obviously annoyed at my hesitation. He thought I was playinginto the enemy's hands. 'Is it his, or is it not?' he inquired again,testily.

  'It is his,' I answered. Yet I own I was troubled.

  I WAS A GROTESQUE FAILURE.]

  He asked many questions about the circumstances of the interview when Itook down the will. I answered them all. But I vaguely felt he and Iwere at cross-purposes. I grew almost as uncomfortable under his gaze asif he had been examining me in the interest of the other side. Hemanaged to fluster me. As a witness for Harold, I was a grotesquefailure.

  Then the cross-eyed Q.C., rising and shaking his huge bulk, began tocross-examine me. 'Where did you type-write this thing, do you say?' hesaid, pointing to it contemptuously.

  'In my office at Florence.'

  'Yes, I understand; you had an office in Florence--after you gave upretailing bicycles on the public roads; and you had a partner, Ithink--a Miss Petherick, or Petherton, or Pennyfarthing, or something?'

  'Miss Petheridge,' I corrected, while the Court tittered.

  'Ah, Petheridge, you call it! Well, now answer this question carefully.Did your Miss Petheridge hear Mr. Ashurst dictate the terms of his lastwill and testament?'

  'No,' I answered. 'The interview was of a strictly confidentialcharacter. Mr. Ashurst took me aside into the back room at our office.'

  'Oh, he took you aside? Confidential? Well, now we're getting at it. Anddid anybody but yourself see or hear any part whatsoever of thisprecious document?'

  'Certainly not,' I replied. 'It was a private matter.'

  'Private! oh, very! Nobody else saw it. Did Mr. Ashurst take it awayfrom the office in person?'

  'No; he sent his courier for it.'

  'His courier? The man Higginson?'

  'Yes; but I refused to give it to Higginson. I took it myself that nightto the hotel where Mr. Ashurst was stopping.'

  'Ah! You took it yourself. So the only other person who knows anythingat first hand about the existence of the alleged will is this personHigginson?'

  'Miss Petheridge knows,' I said, flushing. 'At the time, I told her ofit.'

  'Oh, _you_ told her. Well, that doesn't help us much. If what you areswearing isn't true--remember, you are on your oath--what you told MissPetherick or Petheridge or Pennyfarthing, "at the time," can hardly beregarded as corroborative evidence. Your word then and your word now arejust equally valuable--or equally worthless. The only person who knowsbesides yourself is Higginson. Now, I ask you, _where_ is Higginson?_Are_ you going to produce him?'

  The wicked cunning of it struck me dumb. They were keeping him away, andthen using his absence to cast doubts on my veracity. 'Stop,' I cried,taken aback, 'Higginson is well known to be a rogue, and he is keepingaway lest he may damage your side. I know nothing of Higginson.'

  'Yes, I'm coming to that in good time. Don't be afraid that we're goingto pass over Higginson. You admit this man is a man of bad character.Now, what do you know of him?'

  I told the stories of the Count and of Dr. Fortescue-Langley.

  The cross-eyed cross-examiner leant across towards me and leered. 'Andthis is the man,' he exclaimed, with a triumphant air, 'whose sister youpretended you had got to sign this precious document of yours?'

  'Whom Mr. Ashurst got to sign it,' I answered, red-hot. 'It is not _my_document.'

  'And you have heard that she swears it is not her signature at all?'

  'So they tell me. She is Higginson's sister. For all I know, she may beprepared to swear, or to forswear, anything.'

  'Don't cast doubt upon our witnesses without cause! Miss Higginson is aneminently respectable woman. You gave this document to Mr. Ashurst, yousay. There your knowledge of it ends. A signature is placed on it whichis not his, as our experts testify. It purports to be witnessed by aSwiss waiter, who is not forthcoming, and who is asserted to be dead, aswell as by a nurse who denies her signature. And the only other personwho knows of its existence before Mr. Tillington "discovers" it in hisuncle's desk is--the missing man Higginson. Is that, or is it not, thetruth of the matter?'

  'I suppose so,' I said, baffled.

  'Well, now, as to this man Higginson. He first appears upon the scene,so far as you are concerned, on the day when you travelled from Londonto Schlangenbad?'

  'That is so,' I answered.

  'And he nearly succeeded then in stealing Lady Georgina Fawley'sjewel-case?'

  'He nearly took it, but I saved it.' And I explained the circumstance.

  The cross-eyed Q.C. held his fat sides with his hands, lookingincredulously at me, and smiled. His vast width of waistcoat shook withsilent merriment. 'You are a very clever young lady,' he murmured. 'Youcan explain away anything. But don't you think it just as likely that itwas a plot between you two, and that owing to some mistake the plot cameoff unsuccessful?'

  'I do not,' I cried, crimson. 'I never saw the Count before thatmorning.'

  He tried another tack. 'Still, wherever you went, this manHigginson--the only other person, you admit, who knows about theprevious existence of the will--turned up simultaneously. He was alwaysturning up--at the same place as you did. He turned up at Lucerne, as afaith-healer, didn't he?'

  'If you will allow me to explain,' I cried, biting my lip.

  He bowed, all blandness. 'Oh, certainly,' he murmured. 'Explain awayeverything!'

  I explained, but of course he had discounted and damaged my explanation.

  He made no comment. 'And then,' he went on, with his hands on his hips,and his obtrusive rotundity, 'he turned up at Florence, as courier toMr. Ashurst, at the very date when this so-called will was beingconcocted?'

  'He was at Florence when Mr. Ashurst dictated it to me,' I answered,growing desperate.

  'You admit he was in Florence. Good! Once more he turned up in Indiawith my client, Lord Southminster, upon whose youth and inexperience hehad managed to impose himself. And he carried him off, did he not, byone of these strange coincidences to which _you_ are peculiarly liable,on the very same steamer on which _you_ happened to be travelling?'

  'Lord Southminster told me he took Higginson with him because a roguesuited his book,' I answered, warmly.

  'Will you swear his lordship didn't say "_the_ rogue suited hisbook"--which is quite another thing?' the Q.C. asked blandly.

  'I will swear he did not,' I replied. 'I have correctly reported him.'

  'Then I congratulate you, young lady, on your excellent memory. My lud,will you allow me later to recall Lord Southminster to testify on thispoint?'

  The judge nodded.

  'Now, once more, as to your relations with the various members of theAshurst family. You introduced yourself to Lady Georgina Fawley, Ibelieve, quite casually, on a seat in Kensington Gardens?'

  'That is true,' I answered.

  'You had never seen her before?'

  'Never.'

  'And you promptly offered to go with her as her lady's maid toSchlangenbad in Germany?'

  'In place of her lady's maid, for one week,' I answered.

  'Ah; a delicate distinction! "In place of her lady's maid." You are alady, I believe; an of
ficer's daughter, you told us; educated atGirton?'

  'So I have said already,' I replied, crimson.

  'And you stick to it? By all means. Tell--the truth--and stick to it.It's always safest. Now, don't you think it was rather an odd thing foran officer's daughter to do--to run about Germany as maid to a lady oftitle?'

  THE JURY SMILED.]

  I tried to explain once more; but the jury smiled. You can't justifyoriginality to a British jury. Why, they would send you to prison atonce for that alone, if they made the laws as well as dispensing them.

  He passed on after a while to another topic. 'I think you have boastedmore than once in society that when you first met Lady Georgina Fawleyyou had twopence in your pocket to go round the world with?'

  'I had,' I answered--'and I went round the world with it.'

  'Exactly. I'm getting there in time. With it--and other things. A fewmonths later, more or less, you were touring up the Nile in your steamdahabeeah, and in the lap of luxury; you were taking saloon-carriages onIndian railways, weren't you?'

  I explained again. 'The dahabeeah was in the service of the _DailyTelephone_,' I answered. 'I became a journalist.'

  He cross-questioned me about that. 'Then I am to understand,' he said atlast, leaning forward with all his waistcoat, 'that you sprang yourselfupon Mr. Elworthy at sight, pretty much as you sprang yourself upon LadyGeorgina Fawley?'

  'We arranged matters quickly,' I admitted. The dexterous wretch wasmaking my strongest points all tell against me.

  'H'm! Well, he was a man: and you will admit, I suppose,' fingering hissmooth fat chin, 'that you are a lady of--what is the stock phrase thereporters use?--considerable personal attractions?'

  'My Lord,' I said, turning to the Bench, 'I appeal to you. Has he theright to compel me to answer that question?'

  THE QUESTION REQUIRES NO ANSWER, HE SAID.]

  The judge bowed slightly. 'The question requires no answer,' he said,with a quiet emphasis. I burned bright scarlet.

  'Well, my lud, I defer to your ruling,' the cross-eyed cross-examinercontinued, radiant. 'I go on to another point. When in India, Ibelieve, you stopped for some time as a guest in the house of a nativeMaharajah.'

  'Is that matter relevant?' the judge asked, sharply.

  'My lud,' the Q.C. said, in his blandest voice, 'I am striving tosuggest to the jury that this lady--the only person who ever beheld thisso-called will till Mr. Harold Tillington--described in its terms as"Younger of Gledcliffe," whatever that may be--produced it out of hisuncle's desk-- I am striving to suggest that this lady is--my duty to myclient compels me to say--an adventuress.'

  He had uttered the word. I felt my character had not a leg left to standupon before a British jury.

  'I went there with my friend, Miss Petheridge----' I began.

  'Oh, Miss Petheridge once more--you hunt in couples?'

  'Accompanied and chaperoned by a married lady, the wife of a MajorBalmossie, on the Bombay Staff Corps.'

  'That was certainly prudent. One ought to be chaperoned. Can you producethe lady?'

  'How is it possible?' I cried. 'Mrs. Balmossie is in India.'

  'Yes; but the Maharajah, I understand, is in London?'

  'That is true,' I answered.

  'And he came to meet you on your arrival yesterday.'

  'With Lady Georgina Fawley,' I cried, taken off my guard.

  'Do you not consider it curious,' he asked, 'that these Higginsons andthese Maharajahs should happen to follow you so closely round theworld?--should happen to turn up wherever you do?'

  'He came to be present at this trial,' I exclaimed.

  'And so did you. I believe he met you at Euston last night, and droveyou to your hotel in his private carriage.'

  'With Lady Georgina Fawley,' I answered, once more.

  'And Lady Georgina is on Mr. Tillington's side, I fancy? Ah, yes, Ithought so. And Mr. Tillington also called to see you; and likewise MissPetherick-- I beg your pardon, Petheridge. We must be strictlyaccurate--where Miss Petheridge is concerned. And, in fact, you hadquite a little family party.'

  'My friends were glad to see me back again,' I murmured.

  He sprang a fresh innuendo. 'But Mr. Tillington did not resent yourvisit to this gallant Maharajah?'

  'Certainly not,' I cried, bridling. 'Why should he?'

  'Oh, we're getting to that too. Now answer me this carefully. We want tofind out what interest you might have, supposing a will were forged, oneither side, in arranging its terms. We want to find out just who wouldbenefit by it. Please reply to this question, yes or no, withoutprevarication. Are you or are you not conditionally engaged to Mr.Harold Tillington?'

  'If I might explain----' I began, quivering.

  He sneered. 'You have a genius for explaining, we are aware. Answer mefirst, yes or no; we will qualify afterward.'

  I glanced appealingly at the judge. He was adamant. 'Answer as counseldirects you, witness,' he said, sternly.

  'Yes, I am,' I faltered. 'But----'

  'Excuse me one moment. You promised to marry him conditionally upon theresult of Mr. Ashurst's testamentary dispositions?'

  'I did,' I answered; 'but----'

  My explanation was drowned in roars of laughter, in which the judgejoined, in spite of himself. When the mirth in court had subsided alittle, I went on: 'I told Mr. Tillington I would only marry him in casehe was poor and without expectations. If he inherited Mr. MarmadukeAshurst's money, I could never be his wife,' I said it proudly.

  The cross-eyed Q.C. drew himself up and let his rotundity take care ofitself. 'Do you take me,' he inquired, 'for one of Her Majesty'shorse-marines?'

  There was another roar of laughter--feebly suppressed by a judicialfrown--and I slank away, annihilated.

  'You can go,' my persecutor said. 'I think we have got--well, everythingwe wanted from you. You promised to marry him, if all went ill! That isa delicate feminine way of putting it. Women like these equivocations.They relieve one from the onus of speaking frankly.'

  I stood down from the box, feeling, for the first time in my life,conscious of having scored an ignominious failure.

  Our counsel did not care to re-examine me; I recognised that it would beuseless. The hateful Q.C. had put all my history in such an odious lightthat explanation could only make matters worse--it must savour ofapology. The jury could never understand my point of view. It couldnever be made to see that there are adventuresses and adventuresses.

  Then came the final speeches on either side. Harold's advocate said thebest he could in favour of the will our party propounded; but his bestwas bad; and what galled me most was this-- I could see he himself didnot believe in its genuineness. His speech amounted to little more thana perfunctory attempt to put the most favourable face on a probableforgery.

  As for the cross-eyed Q.C., he rose to reply with humorous confidence.Swaying his big body to and fro, he crumpled our will and our case inhis fat fingers like so much flimsy tissue-paper. Mr. Ashurst had made adisposition of his property twenty years ago--the right disposition, thenatural disposition; he had left the bulk of it as childless Englishgentlemen have ever been wont to leave their wealth--to the eldest sonof the eldest son of his family. The Honourable Marmaduke CourtneyAshurst, the testator, was the scion of a great house, which recentagricultural changes, he regretted to say, had relatively impoverished;he had come to the succour of that great house, as such a scion should,with his property acquired by honest industry elsewhere. It was fittingand reasonable that Mr. Ashurst should wish to see the Kynaston peerageregain, in the person of the amiable and accomplished young noblemanwhom he had the honour to represent, some portion of its ancient dignityand splendour.

  But jealousy and greed intervened. (Here he frowned at Harold.) Mr.Harold Tillington, the son of one of Mr. Ashurst's married sisters, castlonging eyes, as he had tried to suggest to them, on his cousin LordSouthminster's natural heritage. The result, he feared, was an unnaturalintrigue. Mr. Harold Tillington formed the acquaintance o
f a younglady--should we say young lady?--(he withered me with his glance)--well,yes, a lady, indeed, by birth and education, but an adventuress bychoice--a lady who, brought up in a respectable, though not (he mustadmit) a distinguished sphere, had lowered herself by accepting theposition of a lady's maid, and had trafficked in patent American cycleson the public high-roads of Germany and Switzerland. This clever anddesigning woman (he would grant her ability--he would grant her goodlooks) had fascinated Mr. Tillington--that was the theory he ventured tolay before the jury to-day; and the jury would see for themselves thatwhatever else the young lady might be, she had distinctly a certainouter gift of fascination. It was for them to decide whether Miss LoisCayley had or had not suggested to Mr. Harold Tillington the design ofsubstituting a forged will for Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's undeniabletestament. He would point out to them her singular connection with themissing man Higginson, whom the young lady herself described as a rogue,and from whom she had done her very best to dissociate herself in thiscourt--but ineffectually. Wherever Miss Cayley went, the man Higginsonwent independently. Such frequent recurrences, such apt juxtapositionscould hardly be set down to mere accidental coincidence.

  He went on to insinuate that Higginson and I had concocted the disputedwill between us; that we had passed it on to our fellow-conspirator,Harold; and that Harold had forged his uncle's signature to it, and hadappended those of the two supposed witnesses. But who, now, were thesewitnesses? One, Franz Markheim, was dead or missing; dead men tell notales: the other was obviously suggested by Higginson. It was his ownsister. Perhaps he forged her name to the document. Doubtless he thoughtthat family feeling would induce her, when it came to the pinch, toaccept and endorse her brother's lie; nay, he might even have beenfoolish enough to suppose that this cock-and-bull will would not bedisputed. If so, he and his master had reckoned without LordSouthminster, a gentleman who concealed beneath the careless exterior ofa man of fashion the solid intelligence of a man of affairs, and thehard head of a man not to be lightly cheated in matters of business.

  The alleged will had thus not a leg to stand upon. It was 'typewritten'(save the mark!) 'from dictation' at Florence, by whom? By the lady whohad most to gain from its success--the lady who was to be transformedfrom a shady adventuress, tossed about between Irish doctors and HinduMaharajahs, into the lawful wife of a wealthy diplomatist of noblefamily, on one condition only--if this pretended will could besatisfactorily established. The signatures were forgeries, as shown bythe expert evidence, and also by the oath of the one surviving witness.

  The will left all the estate--practically--to Mr. Harold Tillington, andfive hundred pounds to whom?--why, to the accomplice Higginson. Theminor bequests the Q.C. regarded as ingenious inventions, pure play offancy, 'intended to give artistic verisimilitude,' as Pooh-Bah says inthe opera, 'to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.' The fads,it was true, were known fads of Mr. Ashurst's: but what sort of fads?Bimetallism? Anglo-Israel? No, braces and shoe-horns--clearly the kindthat would best be known to a courier like Higginson, the sole begetter,he believed, of this nefarious conspiracy.

  The cross-eyed Q.C., lifting his fat right hand in solemn adjuration,called upon the jury confidently to set aside this ridiculousfabrication, and declare for a will of undoubted genuineness, a willdrawn up in London by a firm of eminent solicitors, and preserved eversince by the testator's bankers. It would then be for his lordship todecide whether in the public interest he should recommend the Crown toprosecute on a charge of forgery the clumsy fabricator of thispreposterous document.

  The judge summed up--strongly in favour of Lord Southminster's will. Ifthe jury believed the experts and Miss Higginson, one verdict alone waspossible. The jury retired for three minutes only. It was a foregoneconclusion. They found for Lord Southminster. The judge, looking grave,concurred in their finding. A most proper verdict. And he considered itwould be the duty of the Public Prosecutor to pursue Mr. HaroldTillington on the charge of forgery.

  I REELED WHERE I SAT.]

  I reeled where I sat. Then I looked round for Harold.

  He had slipped from the court, unseen, during counsel's address, someminutes earlier!

  That distressed me more than anything else on that dreadful day. Iwished he had stood up in his place like a man to face this vile andcruel conspiracy.

  I walked out slowly, supported by Lady Georgina, who was as white as aghost herself, but very straight and scornful. 'I always knewSouthminster was a fool,' she said aloud; 'I always knew he was a sneak;but I did not know till now he was also a particularly bad type ofcriminal.'

  On the steps of the court, the pea-green young man met us. His air wasjaunty. 'Well, I was right, yah see,' he said, smiling and withdrawinghis cigarette. 'You backed the wrong fellah! I told you I'd win. I won'tsay moah now; this is not the time or place to recur to that subject;but, by-and-by, you'll come round; you'll think bettah of it still;you'll back the winnah!'

  I wished I were a man, that I might have the pleasure of kicking him.

  We drove back to my hotel and waited for Harold. To my horror and alarm,he never came near us. I might almost have doubted him--if he had notbeen Harold.

  I waited and waited. He did not come at all. He sent no word, nomessage. And all that evening we heard the newsboys shouting at the topof their voice in the street, 'Extra Speshul! the Ashurst Will Kise;Sensational Developments' 'Mysterious Disappearance of Mr. 'AroldTillington.'