Mr. Marx's Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXXI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

  When I awoke it was with the dulled senses and aching head which usuallyfollow either a drugged sleep or an unnaturally heavy one. I sat up onthe sofa, rubbing my eyes and staring around in blank surprise. Daylightwas streaming in through the chinks of the drawn blinds, but the gas wasstill burning with a dull, sickly light.

  The table betrayed all the signs of an all-night orgie. Several packs ofcards were lying strewn over the crumpled, ash-scattered cloth. Therewere half-a-dozen tumblers--one nearly full, another broken intopieces--and several empty soda-water bottles lay on the floor.

  But the most ghastly sight of all was Cecil's face. He sat on a chairdrawn up to the table, his chin fallen upon his folded arms, dark rimsunder his eyes, and without a single vestige of colour in his ashen face.There was no one else in the room.

  I sprang to my feet and hurried to his side.

  "Cecil! Cecil!" I cried. "What's the matter, old chap? Wake up, forHeaven's sake, and tell me what has happened!"

  He pulled himself together and struggled to his feet. Then he lookedround the room and finally into my anxious face, with an odd littlelaugh, strained and unnatural.

  "I've about done it this time," he said. "By George! Let's clear out ofthis before Milly comes down. I shouldn't like her to know that we'vebeen here all night. Poor little girl! She'd never forgive herself forletting us play here at all."

  "Where are the others?" I asked.

  "Fothergill has gone back to his hotel and Leonard went with him. I saidI'd wake you and we'd follow directly, but I think I must have beendozing."

  "We must go, and at once," I said, "or we shall never be back before thedoctor gets down. Come, Cecil! Don't tell me anything yet."

  I linked my arm in his and drew him out of the room. We crept softly downthe passage and out at the back door. I was afraid to ask him questionsand he seemed in no hurry to disclose what had happened, so we hurriedalong in silence, Cecil baring his head to the strong sea-breeze whichblew in our teeth when we had left the town behind us and had all theeffect of a strong, invigorating tonic.

  At every step I felt my head grow clearer, and, glancing at Cecil, I sawthe colour creeping back into his cheeks with every breath he took of thesalt air which came sweeping across the sandy, barren country between usand the sea.

  When at last we reached our destination and had cautiously made our wayup to the back entrance, he hesitated. Opposite to us was thepine-plantation, which led down to the sea, and between the thicklygrowing black trunks a curious light shone and glistened. I had lived allmy life in the country and knew well what it was, but Cecil turned roundand watched it with amazement.

  "Look, Phil!" he whispered. "What's that light? It seems as though theplantation were on fire!"

  "It's the sunrise," I answered. "Shall we go and see it?"

  He nodded, and we stole across the lawn, through the wicket-gate andalong the narrow, winding path, thickly strewn with dried leaves andfir-cones, down towards the shore. We were just in time to see the finaleffect. A rim of the sun had already crept into sight, casting brilliant,scintillating reflections upon the dancing waves, and the eastern sky wastinged from the arc of the heavens to the horizon with streaks ofbrilliantly-hued, fantastically-shaped cloudlets, strewn upon abackground of the lightest transparent blue.

  Far off the sails of a few fishing-smacks glittered like gossamer wingsupon a fairy ocean; and farther away still, where the banks of orange andazure clouds seemed to sink into a blazing sea of polished glass, thewhite funnel of a passing steamer shone like a pillar of fire.

  It was a sight so new to Cecil that he stood spellbound, with a look ofwondering awe upon his pale face. And it was not until we had gazed tothe full and were retracing our steps in silence through the plantationthat I cared to speak of the events of the night.

  "Philip," he said solemnly, when I mentioned the subject, "there's no oneto blame for this night's work but myself. To do Leonard and that fellowFothergill justice, they both continually urged me to leave off playing,but I wouldn't. It seemed as though the luck must change at every dealand so I went on, and on, and on. What a fool I was!"

  "And the result?" I asked anxiously.

  "I owe Fothergill between six and seven hundred pounds and I haven't asmany shillings."

  I stopped short and looked at him in horror.

  "Seven hundred pounds! Why, Cis, how on earth came you to play up to thatfigure and with a man you know so little of?"

  "Oh, the man's all right--at least, he's no sharper, if you mean that!"Cecil answered doggedly. "It was my own fault altogether. He's a betterplayer than I am, and, of course, won."

  "But he ought not to have gone on," I protested. "I don't know much aboutsuch matters, but I feel sure that a gentleman wouldn't sit down and winseven hundred pounds from a boy of your age. You're not eighteen yet, youknow, Cis."

  "I don't quite see what age has got to do with it," he answered gloomily."As regards Fothergill, I don't feel particularly sweet on him just now,as you may imagine; but it wasn't his fault at all. I made him go on,and, you know, the winner is a great deal in the hands of the loser in acase of that sort. He kept on wanting to go and he went at last. I shouldhave gone on playing till now, I think, if he hadn't."

  "When does he expect you to settle up?" I asked.

  "I've got to see him this afternoon. I say, you'll come down with me, oldchap, won't you?" he pleaded. "I shall have to ask for a little time, ofcourse."

  "Yes, I'll go with you," I promised. "How shall you try to raise themoney?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea," he acknowledged gloomily. "I've overdrawnmy allowance already several hundreds. The mater is as poor as a churchmouse and I simply daren't ask my Uncle Ravenor, though he's as rich asCroesus. He might disinherit me."

  We reached the house and stole softly up the back stairs to our rooms.Cecil threw himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed. But I was in nohumour for sleep, and after a cold bath I dressed and got downstairs intime for breakfast. To my surprise, de Cartienne was in the morning-room,carefully dressed as usual and with no sign in his appearance or mannerof having been out all night. He was chatting lightly with Dr. Randallabout some trivial matter connected with the meeting which the latter hadattended the previous evening.

  "Cecil is late again," remarked the doctor, with a frown, as we beganbreakfast. "James, go to Lord Silchester's room and ask him how long hewill be."

  James retired and reappeared in a few minutes with a grave face.

  "Lord Silchester desires me to beg you to excuse him this morning," wasthe message which he brought back. "He has a very bad headache and hashad no sleep."

  Dr. Randall, who was one of the kindest-hearted men breathing, lookedcompassionate.

  "Dear me!" he said. "I'm very sorry to hear that! Certainly we willexcuse him. Will he have anything sent up?"

  "A cup of tea, sir, only. I have ordered it in the kitchen."

  "Poor fellow! It's strange how he suffers from these attacks! I'm afraidhe can't be very strong," remarked the doctor absently, as he butteredhimself a piece of toast.

  De Cartienne and I exchanged glances, but we said nothing.

  Directly after breakfast the doctor took us into the study and we beganthe morning's labours. It happened that, in working out a series ofalgebraic questions, de Cartienne and I used a great deal of paper, andwhen the doctor looked for a piece to explain the working of a ratherstiff quadratic, the rack was empty.

  "Have either of you a piece of wastepaper in your pockets?" he asked."The back of an envelope, or anything will do. I see it is lunch-time, soit is scarcely worth while sending for any."

  I felt in all my pockets, but they were empty. De Cartienne drew anenvelope from his pocket and handed it to the doctor. The moment he hadparted with it, however, I saw him give a sudden start and he seemed asthough about to make an effort to regain possession of it. But he was toolate,
for the doctor was already fast covering it with figures.

  De Cartienne quitted his seat and stood looking over his shoulder,probably hoping that I should do the same. But I remained where I was,taking care to manifest my interest in the problem by asking frequentquestions. The moment the doctor had finished his rapid figuring andsolved the equation, I stretched out my hand for it eagerly.

  "May I see it, sir?" I begged. "I fancy you've made a mistake in thevalues."

  He handed it across the table at once, with a quiet smile.

  "I think not, Morton," he said. "Examine it for yourself."

  De Cartienne moved round to my side, with nervously twitching lips and anugly light in his eyes.

  "One moment, Morton," he said. "I won't keep it longer."

  I laid a hand upon it, and pushed him back with the other.

  "My turn first, please. Isn't that so, Dr. Randall?"

  He nodded genially, not noticing the suppressed excitement in deCartienne's manner.

  "Certainly. I'm glad to find you both so interested in it. Let me knowabout this mistake at lunch-time, Morton," he added, smiling. "I'm goingfor a stroll round the garden now, and I should advise you to do thesame. We've had a close morning's work."

  He rose and left the room. De Cartienne watched the door close and thenturned to me.

  "Morton," he said quickly, "I want that envelope. There are somememoranda on the reverse side which concern my private affairs. I neednot say more, I suppose."

  "Keep your hands to yourself, de Cartienne!" I answered, shaking him off."I shall not give you the envelope till I have examined it."

  "You cad!" he hissed out, his voice shaking with fury. "How dare youattempt to pry into my private affairs? Give me the envelope, orI'll----"

  "You'll what?" I answered, standing up, putting the envelope in my pocketand facing him. "Look here, de Cartienne, I'm not going to attempt tojustify my conduct to you. On the face of it, it may seem to be taking amean advantage, but I don't care a fig about that. I've made up my mindwhat to do, and all the blustering in the world won't make me alter it. Iam going to look at the reverse side of this envelope. You----"

  I ceased and with good reason, for, with a sudden, panther-like spring,he had thrown himself upon me, and his slender white fingers weregrasping at my throat. It was a brief struggle, but a desperate one, forhe clung to me with a strength which seemed altogether out of proportionto his slim body and long, thin arms.

  I was in no mood for trifling, however, and, suddenly putting forth allmy strength, I seized him by the middle, and sent him backwards, with acrash of fallen furniture, into a corner of the room. Before he couldrecover himself, I drew out the envelope from my pocket and looked at it.

  There was nothing on the reverse side but the address and the postmark.They were quite sufficient for me, however. The postmark was Mellboroughand the handwriting was the peculiar, cramped handwriting of Mr. Marx.