E-text prepared by Al Haines
A QUEEN'S ERROR
by
CAPTAIN HENRY CURTIES
Author of
"The Blood Bond" "The Idol of the King" "Tears of Angels" "The Queen's Gate Mystery" "Out of the Shadows" Etc. Etc.
LondonF. V. White & Co. Ltd.17 Buckingham Street, Strand, W.C.1911
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. A STRANGE VISIT II. THE MAN WITH THE GLASS EYE III. THE SECOND VISIT AND ITS RESULT IV. I AM DETAINED V. ARRESTED VI. PUT TO THE TORTURE VII. CRUFT'S FOLLY VIII. SANDRINGHAM IX. THE DUKE OF RITTERSHEIM X. THE PLOT THAT FAILED XI. THE _OCEANA_ XII. HELD UP XIII. DON JUAN D'ALTA XIV. THE CASKET XV. THE ABBOT OF SAN JUAN XVI. THE CONFESSION OF BROOKS XVII. THE STEEL SAFE XVIII. THE OLD GRAVEYARD XIX. THE STRUGGLE IN THE TUNNEL XX. THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUKE XXI. MADAME LA COMTESSE XXII. THE QUEEN'S ERROR XXIII. THE QUEEN'S ATONEMENT
TO
SWEET KATHLEEN
OF
BATH
A QUEEN'S ERROR
CHAPTER I
A STRANGE VISIT
I turned the corner abruptly and found myself in a long, dreary street;looking in the semi-fog and drizzle more desolate than those dismalold-world streets of Bath I had passed through already in my aimlesswandering; I turned sharply and came almost face to face with her.
She was standing on the upper step, and the door stood open; the houseitself looked neglected and with the general appearance of having beenshut up for years. The windows were grimed with dirt, and there wasthat little accumulation of dust, pieces of straw, and little scraps ofpaper, under the two steps which tells of long disuse.
She stood on the step, a figure slightly over the middle height,leaning one hand on a walking stick, and her face fascinated me.
It was the face of an old lady of perhaps seventy, hale and healthful,with fresh colour on the cheeks, and bands of perfectly white hairfalling over the ears. But it was the expression which attracted me;it was peculiarly sweet and winning.
My halt could only have been momentary. I recollected myself and waspassing on, when she spoke to me.
"Would you be so kind as to do me a favour, sir?" she asked.
The voice was as sweet and winning as her expression; though she spokeperfect English, yet there was the very slightest _soupcon_ of aforeign accent. Of what country, I could not tell.
I stopped again as she spoke, and having perhaps among my friends alittle reputation for politeness to the weaker sex, especially theolder members of it--for I am not by way of being a Lothario, be itsaid--I answered her as politely as I could.
"In what way may I be of service to you?"
She brought her walking stick round in front of her and leant upon itwith both hands as she made her request. She then appeared, in thefuller light of the yellow-flamed old-fashioned gas lamp opposite, tobe much older than I first thought.
"I want you, if you will," she said, "to come into this house for a fewminutes. I wish to ask a further favour of you which I shall then havean opportunity of explaining, but, on the other hand, the service Ishall ask will not go unrewarded."
Prepossessing though her appearance and address were, yet I hesitated.
I took another long look at her open face, white hair, and very correctold lady's black hat secured by a veil tied under her chin. It wasjust such a hat as my own dear mother used to wear.
"You seem to hesitate," she remarked, noting, I suppose, my delay inanswering her; "but I assure you you have nothing to fear."
I took a sudden resolve, despite the many tragedies I had read of inconnection with empty houses; I would trust her.
There was something about her face which conveyed confidence.
"Very well," I replied, "if I can be of any use to you, I _will_ comein."
"Thank you," she said, "then kindly follow me."
She turned and held the door for me to pass in; when I was inside sheclosed it, and we stood almost in complete darkness, except for theglimmering reflected light of the yellow street lamp opposite, whichstruggled in through the dirty pane of glass over the door.
"Now," she added, "I will get a light."
She passed me and went to the hall table on which stood one of thosecandlesticks in which the candle is protected by a glass chimney. Shestruck a match and lighted a candle. "Now if you please," she added,going on before me down the dark passage. I saw now from her totteringwalk that she was much older and much more feeble than I had imagined.I followed her and saw signs of dust and neglect on every side; thehouse, I should say, had stood empty for many years. But as I followedthe old lady one thing struck me, and that was, that instead of thecommon candle which I would have expected her to use under thecircumstances, the one she carried in its glass protector was evidentlyof fine wax. She took me down a long passage, and we came to a flightof stairs leading to the kitchens, I imagined.
"We must go down here," she announced. "I am sorry to have to take youto the basement, but it cannot be helped." Again I had some slightmisgivings, but I braced myself. I had made up my mind and I would goforward.
I followed her as she went laboriously step by step down the flight.At the bottom was the usual long basement passage, such as I expectedto see, but with this difference, it was swept and evidently well kept.
The old lady led on to the extreme end of this passage towards the backof the house, then opened a door on the left hand and walked in. Ather invitation I followed her and found her busily lighting more waxcandles fixed in old-fashioned sconces on the walls. As each candleburned up I was astonished to find the sort of room it revealed to me.
It was a lady's boudoir beautifully furnished and filled with works ofart; china, choice pictures, and old silver abounded on every side; onthe hearth burned a bright fire; on the mantelpiece was a very handsomelooking-glass framed in oak. My companion, having lit six candles,went to the windows to draw down the blinds. I interposed and savedher this exertion by doing it myself.
I then became aware that the house, like so many others in Bath, wasbuilt on the side of a hill, the front door being on a level with thestreet, whilst the lower back windows even commanded lovely views overthe beautiful valley, the town, and the distant hills beyond.
Below me innumerable lights twinkled out in the streets through themisty air, while here and there brightly lit tram cars wound throughthe town or mounted the hills. Thick though the air was the sight wasexceedingly pretty.
I could now understand how even a room situated as this was in thebasement of a house could become habitable and pleasant. The voice ofthe old lady recalled me to myself as I pulled down the last blind.
"I am sorry to have to bring you down here," she said. "It is hardlythe sort of room in which a lady usually receives visitors, but youwill perhaps understand my liking for it when I tell you that I havelived here many years."
The information surprised me.
"Whatever induced you to do that?" I asked without thinking, thenrecollected that I had no right to ask the question. "You must excusemy question," I added, "but I fear you find it very lonely unless youhave some one living with you?"
"I live here," she replied, "absolutely alone, and yet I am neverlonely."
"You have some occupation?" I suggested.
"Yes," she replied, "I write for the newspapers."
This piece of information astounded me more than ever. I imagined itto be the last place from which "copy" would emanate for the presentgo-ahead public prints, and the old lady to be the last person whocould supply it.
She saw my puzzled look, and came to my aid with further information.
"Not the newspapers of this country," she added, "the newspapers of--offorei
gn countries."
I was more satisfied with this answer; the requirements of most foreignjournals had not appeared to me to be excessive.
"I too am a brother of the pen," I answered, "I write books of sorts."
The old lady broke into a very sweet smile which lighted up hercharming old face.
"Permit me to shake hands," she suggested, "with a fellow-sufferer inthe cause of Literature."
I took her hand and noted its soft elegance, old though she was.
She crossed to a carved cupboard which was fixed in the wall, and tookfrom it a tiny Venetian decanter, two little glasses, and a silvercigarette case.
"We must celebrate this meeting," she suggested with another smile, "asdisciples of the pen."
She filled the two little glasses with what afterwards proved to beyellow Chartreuse, and held one glass towards me.
"Pray take this," she suggested, "it will be good for you after beingout in the damp air."
I took the tiny glass of yellow liqueur in which the candlelightsparkled, and sipped it; it was superb.
"Now," she continued, indicating an armchair on the farther side of thefireplace, "sit and let us talk."
I took the chair, and she opened the silver box of cigarettes andpushed them towards me.
"I presume you smoke?" she suggested. "I smoke myself habitually; Ifind it a great resource and comfort. I lived for a long time in acountry where all the ladies smoked."
I took a cigarette, lit a match, and handed her a light; she lit hercigarette with a grace born of long habit.
"Now," she said, as I puffed contentedly, "I can tell you what I haveto say in comfort."
I certainly thought I had made a good exchange from the raw air of thestreet to this comfortable fireside.
"It will not interest you now," she continued, "to hear the reasonswhich have moved me to live here so long as I have done; that is astory which would take too long to tell you. All the preamble I wishto make to my remark is this; that the favour I shall ask of you is onethat you can fulfil without the slightest injury to your honour. Onthe contrary it will be an act of kindness and humanity which no one inthe world could object to."
"I feel sure of that," I interposed with a bow, "you need not sayanother word on that point."
I was really quite falling in love with the old lady, and her old-worldcourtesy of manner.
"I will then come straight to the point," she proceeded, taking acurious key from her pocket; it was a key with a finely-wrought handlein which was the letter C.
"I want you to open a secret drawer in this room, which, since itshiding-place was contrived, has been known only to me and to one other,the workman who made it, a Belgian long since dead. Please take thiskey."
I took it.
"Now," she continued, "cast your eyes round this room, and see if youcan detect where the secret safe is hidden."
I looked round the room as she wished, and could see nothing which gaveme the slightest clue to it.
"No," I said, "I can see nothing which has any resemblance to a safe."
She laughed, and, rising from her seat, turned to the fireplace andtouched a carved rose in the frame of the handsome over-mantel;immediately the looking-glass moved up by itself in its frame,disclosing, apparently, the bare wall.
"Please watch me," proceeded the old lady.
She placed her finger on a certain part of the pattern of the wallpaper beneath, and the whole of that part of the pattern swung forward;behind was a safe, apparently of steel, evidently a piece of foreignworkmanship.
"Please place the key in the lock, and turn it," she asked, "but do notopen the safe."
I regarded her proceedings with much interest, and rose from my chairand did as she asked.
"Thank you," she said, when she heard the lock click and the boltsshoot back, "now will you lock it again?"
I did so.
"Now please put the key in your pocket, and take care of it for me. Igive you full authority to open that safe again in case of necessity."
"What necessity?" I asked.
"You will discover that in due course," she answered.
This was about the last thing I should have expected her to ask, butnevertheless I did as she told me and put the key in my pocket.
"Please notice how I close it again," was her next request.
She pushed back the displaced square of the wall paper pattern, whichwas simply the door of a cupboard. It closed with a snap and fitted soexactly into the pattern of the paper that it was impossible to detectit.
Then with a glance towards me to see that I was paying attention, shetouched a carved rose on the frame of the over-mantel on the oppositeside to that which had caused the looking-glass to move, and at oncethe latter slowly slid down again into its place.
I stood gazing at her as this was accomplished, and she noted the lookof inquiry on my face.
"There is only one thing now I have to ask you," she said, "and then Iwill detain you no longer. Will you oblige me by coming to see me hereat five o'clock to-morrow?"
I considered for a moment or two, and then recollected that there wasnothing in my engagements for the next day to prevent my complying withthe old lady's request. My life for the last week had been occupied intaking the baths and the waters at regular intervals, with the dailydiversion of the Pump Room concert at three.
"Yes," I answered, "I shall be very pleased to come and see you againat five to-morrow."
Although up to now I looked upon her proceedings as simply the whims ofan eccentric old lady, yet I felt some considerable interest in them.
"Then let me fill your glass again with liqueur?" she suggested.Alluring as the offer was I declined it.
I buttoned up my overcoat and prepared to depart, accepting, however,the offer of another cigarette.
The old lady insisted upon accompanying me to the door, and went on infront with a candle, despite my remonstrances, to show me the wayupstairs.
She had one foot on the stair when she stopped.
"Do you mind telling me your name?" she asked.
I handed her my card, and she put up her glasses.
"'William Anstruther,'" she read. "That is a coincidence." "I hadnearly forgotten one thing," she continued. "I must give you aduplicate latch-key to let yourself in with. I have a habit of fallingasleep in the afternoon, and you might ring the bell for half an hourand I should not hear you."
She went back into the room we had left and returned in a few momentswith the latch-key, which she gave me.
Despite my endeavours to persuade her, she went with me to the frontdoor, and I felt a deep pity for her when I left, thinking that she wasto spend the night alone in that dismal old house.
"_Au revoir_ until five to-morrow," I said cheerfully, as I bowed andleft her.
She smiled benignantly upon me.
"_Au revoir_," she answered.
When the door had closed and it was too late to call her back, Irecollected one piece of forgetfulness on my part; I had never thoughtto ask her name!
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