The Mystery of the Clasped Hands: A Novel

by Guy Boothby

  CHAPTER II

  One morning a week or so after the conversation described at the end ofthe previous chapter, Godfrey Henderson found lying on the table in thestudio a long, blue envelope, the writing upon which was of a neat andlegal character. He did not own a halfpenny in the world, so what thiscould mean he was not able to imagine. Animated by a feeling ofcuriosity he opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. He read theletter through the first time without altogether realizing its meaning;then, with a vague feeling of surprise, he read it again. He had justfinished his second perusal of it when Fensden entered the room. Heglanced at Godfrey's face, and said, as if in inquiry:

  "Anything the matter? You look scared!"

  "A most extraordinary thing," returned Godfrey. "You have heard me talkof old Henderson of Detwich?"

  "Your father's brother? The old chap who sends you a brace of grouseevery season, and asks when you are going to give up being a starvingpainter and turn your attention to business? What of him?"

  "He is dead and buried," answered Godfrey. "This letter is from hislawyer to say that I am his heir, in other words that Detwich passes tome, with fifteen thousand a year on which to keep it up, and that theyare awaiting my instructions."

  There was a pause which lasted for upward of a quarter of a minute. ThenFensden held out his hand.

  "My dear fellow, I am sure I congratulate you most heartily," he said."I wish you luck with all my heart. The struggling days are over now.For the future you will be able to follow your art as you please. Youwill also be able to patronize those who are not quite so fortunate.Fifteen thousand a year and a big country place! Whatever will you dowith yourself?"

  "That is for the Future to decide," Godfrey replied.

  That afternoon he paid a visit to the office of the firm of solicitorswho had written to him. They corroborated the news contained in theirletter, and were both assiduous in their attentions and sincere intheir desire to serve him.

  Four days later it was arranged that Godfrey and Fensden should startfor the Continent. Before doing so, however, the former purchased a neatlittle gold watch and chain which he presented to Teresina, accompaniedby a cheque equivalent to six months' salary, calculated at the rate shehad been receiving.

  "Don't forget me, Teresina," he said, as he looked round the nowdismantled studio. "Let me know how you get on, and remember if ever youwant a friend I shall be only too glad to serve you."

  At that moment Fensden hailed him from the cab outside, bidding himhurry, or he feared they would miss their train. Godfrey accordinglyheld out his hand.

  "Good-bye," he said, and though he would have given worlds to haveprevented it, a lump rose in his throat as he said it, and his voice wasso shaky that he felt sure she must notice it.

  Then, bidding her give the key to the landlord when she left the studio,he went out into the street, and jumped into a cab, which next momentstarted off for the station. How was he to know that Teresina was lyingin a dead faint upon the studio floor?

  When they left England for the Continent Godfrey had only the vaguestnotion of what they were going to do after they left Paris. Having spenta fortnight in the French capital they journeyed on to Switzerland, putin a month at Lucerne, three weeks in Rome, and found themselves, in themiddle of November, at Luxor, looking upon the rolling waters of theNile. Their sketch books were surfeited with impressions, and theythemselves were filled with a great content. They had both visited theContinent on numerous occasions before, but this was the first time thatthey had made the acquaintance of the "Land of the Pharaohs." Godfreywas delighted with everything he saw, and already he had the ideas for adozen new pictures in his head.

  "I had no notion that any sunset could be so gorgeous," he said one day,when they sat together watching the ball of fire descend to his rest onthe western horizon of the desert. "The colours have not yet beendiscovered that could possibly do it justice. For the future I shallcome out here every year."

  "Don't be too sure, my friend," said Fensden. "There was a time whensuch a thing might have been possible, but circumstances have changedwith you. You are no longer the erratic Bohemian artist, remember, but aman with a stake in the country, and a county magnate."

  "But what has the county magnate to do with the question at issue?"Godfrey inquired.

  "Everything in the world," retorted his companion. "In virtue of yournew position you will have to marry. The future Mrs. Henderson, in allprobability, will also have a stake in the country. She will have greatideas, moreover, connected with what she will term the improvement ofthe land, and, beyond a trip to the Italian lakes at long intervals,will not permit you to leave the country of her forefathers."

  "What a strange fellow you are, to be sure!" replied Godfrey. "To hearyou talk one would think that the possession of money--and, by Jove,it's a very decent thing to have when you come to consider it--mustnecessarily relegate a man to the region of the commonplace. Whyshouldn't I marry a girl who is fond of travelling?"

  "Because, as a rule, Fate ordains otherwise," Fensden replied. "I thinkI can describe the sort of girl you will marry."

  "Then do so, by all means," said Godfrey, "I'll smoke another cigarwhile you are arranging it."

  "In the first place she will be tall. Your idea of the ludicrous wouldnot let you marry a small woman. She will have large hands and feet, andthe latter will be heavily shod. That is how in London I always pick outthe girls who live in the country. She will be handsome rather thanpretty, for the reason that your taste lies in that direction. She willnot flirt, because she will be in love with you. She will be anadmirable housewife of the solid order, and while I should be preparedto trust to her judgment in the matter of dogs and horses, roots, crops,and the dairy farm, finer susceptibilities she will have none. Do youlike the picture?"

  "Scarcely," said Henderson; "and yet, when all is said and done a manmight do worse."

  There was a pause, during which each man knew what the other wasthinking about. Godfrey was recalling Teresina's beautiful face, andFensden knew that he was doing so.

  "By the way," said Fensden, very quietly, "I noticed this morning thatyou received a letter bearing an Italian post-mark. Would it beindiscreet if I inquired your correspondent's name?"

  "I don't see why there should be any mystery about it," Hendersonreplied. "It was from Teresina."

  "From Teresina?" said the other, with a look of surprise.

  "Yes, from Teresina," his friend answered. "I made her promise before weleft home that should she leave England she would let me have heraddress, and, if she were in need of anything, she would communicatewith me. You can see the letter if you like. Here it is."

  He took the letter in question from his pocket and handed it to hiscompanion. It consisted of only a few lines and gave the writer'saddress with the hope that the time might soon come when she would againbe allowed to sit to "her kind patron."

  Victor, having perused it, handed it back to Godfrey, who replaced it inhis pocket without a word.

  Two days later they returned by steamer to Cairo, where they took uptheir abode at the Mena House Hotel. Godfrey preferred it, because itwas some distance from the dust of the city, and Fensden because heaverred that the sneer on the face of the Sphinx soothed him more thanall the luxuries of Cairo. As it was, he sat in the veranda of the hoteland made impressionist sketches of dragomen, camels, and thebacksheesh-begging Bedouins of the Pyramids. Godfrey found it impossibleto work.

  "I am absorbing ideas," he said. "The work will come later on."

  In the meantime he played polo in the Ghezireh, shot jackals in thedesert, flirted with the charming tourists in the verandas of the hotel,and enjoyed himself immensely in his own fashion. Then one day hereceived a telegram from England announcing the fact that his mother wasseriously ill, and asking him to return without delay.

  "I am sincerely sorry," said Fensden, politely. Then he added,regretfully: "I suppose our tour must now, like all good things, come toan end. When do you leave?
"

  "By to-morrow morning's train," he answered. "I shall pick up the mailboat at Ismailia and travel in her to Naples. If all goes well I shallbe in England to-morrow week. But look here, Victor, when you come tothink of it there's not the least necessity for you to come, too. Itwould be no end of a shame to rob you of your holiday. Why should younot go on and finish the tour by yourself? Why not come with me as faras Port Said, and catch the steamer for Jaffa there?"

  "It's very good of you, my dear Godfrey," said Fensden, "but----"

  "Let there be no 'buts,'" the other returned. "It's all arranged. Whenyou come home you shall describe your adventures to me."

  Needless to say, in the end Fensden agreed to the proposal, and next daythey accordingly bade each other good-bye on the promenade deck of themail steamer that was to take Henderson as far as Naples. Fensden wasbeginning to realize that it was by no means unpleasant to have a richand generous friend. Poverty was doubtless romantic and artistic, but awell-filled pocket-book meant good hotels and the best of wines andliving.

  While the boat ploughed her way across the Mediterranean, an ideaoccurred to Godfrey, and he resolved to act upon it. It was neither morenor less than to utilize what little time was given him in Naples inseeking out Teresina and assuring himself of her comfort in her oldhome. He had quite convinced himself by this time that any affection hemight once have felt for her was now dead and buried. For this reason hesaw no possible danger in paying her a visit. "Victor made more of it,"he argued, "than the circumstances had really warranted. Had he not saidanything about it, there would have been no trouble, and in that caseTeresina would still be in London, and sitting to me."

  As soon as the vessel was in harbour, he collected his luggage and madehis way ashore. A cab conveyed him to an hotel he had patronized before;and when he was safely installed there, and realized that he could notproceed on his journey until the next morning, he resolved to set out insearch of Teresina. Producing her letter from his pocket-book he made anote of the address, and then started upon his errand, to discover thatthe signorina Cardi's home took some little finding. At last, however,he succeeded, only to be informed by an intelligent neighbour that thesignora was not at home, while the signorina had gone out some fifteenminutes before. Considerably disappointed, he turned to descend thesteps to find himself face to face with Teresina herself as he steppedinto the street. She uttered a little exclamation of astonishment anddelight at seeing him.

  "How is it that you are here, signor?" she inquired, when they hadgreeted each other. "I did not know that you were in Naples."

  "I only arrived this afternoon," he answered. "I am on my way toEngland."

  "To England?" she said, and then uttered a little sigh as if the veryname of that country conjured up sad memories. "It is cold and wet inEngland now; and do you remember how the studio chimney smoked?"

  This apparently irrelevant remark caused them both to laugh, but theirmirth had not altogether a happy sound.

  "I am going to give up the studio," he answered. "I expect that for thefuture I shall do my work in the country. But you are not looking well,Teresina!"

  "I am quite well," she answered, hurriedly. How was he to know that formany weeks past she had been eating her heart out for love of him? Ifthe whole world seemed dark to her now it was because he, her sun, nolonger shone upon her.

  "And your mother, the signora, how wrong of me not to have inquiredafter her. I trust she is well?"

  "Quite well, signor," she replied. "She often talks of you. She is atSorrento to-day, but she may be back at any minute. She would have likedto have seen you, signor, to have thanked you for your great goodness tous."

  "Nonsense," said Henderson, hurriedly. "It is the other way round. Mythanks are due to you. Had it not been for your face, Teresina, mypicture would never have been such a success. Do you know that severalladies, great ladies in England, said that they would give anything tobe so beautiful? I don't think I shall ever do a better piece of workthan that."

  He had just said this when he noticed that a young man, tall, slim, andvery dark, had approached them unperceived, and was now glaring angrilyat him. Teresina had also become aware of his presence, and was visiblyaffected by it. Whereas only a moment before she had been all sunshineand delight at seeing Henderson once more, now she was quite thereverse.

  "Is this man a friend of yours?" Godfrey asked, in English. "He seemsto be put out about something."

  "It is only Tomasso Dardini," she answered, as if the explanation weresufficient. "He is quick-tempered, but he means no harm."

  "Then I wish to goodness he'd go away; he glares as if he would like toeat me. If I may hazard a guess, Teresina, I should say that he is inlove with you."

  "He is very foolish," she answered, and a flush spread over her face."Some day, if he is not very careful, he will get into trouble."

  "I should not be at all surprised to hear it," Godfrey replied.

  Then, turning to the man in question, he signed to him to be off abouthis business. For a moment the youth seemed inclined to refuse, butpresently he thought better of it, and marched off down the street,looking back now and again as if to see whether the Englishman and thegirl were still conversing together.

  "And now, Teresina, I have a little plan to propose to you," saidGodfrey, when the other had turned the corner. "As I told you just now,I am on my way to England, and therefore, shall only be able to spendto-night in Naples. From the announcements I see they are playing'Faust' at the Opera-House. Why should not you and your mother dine withme, and go there afterward? It would be a pleasant way of spending theevening, and we could talk of old days."

  Teresina clapped her hands with delight. In her love of the Opera shewas a genuine Neapolitan.

  "It would be lovely," she cried. "My mother will come, I feel sure. Itis kind of you, signor."

  It was thereupon arranged that they should meet at a certain place,dine, and then go on to the Opera together. Having settled this,Henderson returned to his hotel, whiled away the time as best he could,and when the hour arrived, set off to the rendezvous.

  Punctual to the moment he put in an appearance at the place. It was arestaurant not unlike that in which he had first met Teresina and hermother. He could not help recalling that memorable evening as he waitedon the pavement outside, and his one wish was that Fensden could havebeen there to have shared the entertainment with him. When the signoraand her daughter arrived, it was plain that they regarded the occasionan important one. They were both attired in their best, and, so far ascolour went, the signora herself was not unlike a bird of Paradise.Teresina was more soberly clad, but Henderson noticed that a necklacewith which he had once presented her, as a memento of a certain piece ofextra work she had done for him, encircled her slender throat. As helooked at it, he thought of the day on which he had given it to her, andas the remembrance occurred to him, he wondered whether it was wise onhis part to play with fire for a second time. The signora greeted himwith southern volubility, and, as soon as he could get in a word,Henderson suggested that they should enter the restaurant. Having doneso, they seated themselves at one of the small tables, and he gave hisorders. It was a banquet that was destined to be remembered withpleasure by two of the party, and also by a third, for another and lessromantic reason.

  "And so you are returning to England, signor?" said the signora, whenthe first pangs of her hunger had been assuaged. Then, remembering thecircumstances connected with the latter portion of their stay in London,she added, pathetically: "I think if it were possible, I should not besorry to return--even though the winter is so cold and it rains sooften."

  "If you feel as if you would like to return, why do you not do so?"asked Godfrey, with a quickness that caused Teresina to look up at himin surprise, and then to look down again with equal celerity. "I am sureTeresina could get plenty of employment. I would do all I could to helpher. For my own part, I never could understand why you left so quickly."

  If he had reflected for a m
oment, he would probably have been able toarrive at an understanding of the reason that had prompted herdeparture. He was too modest a man, however, to think of such a thing.Nevertheless, he changed the conversation by making inquiries as totheir present life in Naples, and then went on to talk of Fensden, whoat that moment, could they have seen him, was fast asleep in a railwaycarriage, on his way from Jaffa to Jerusalem. The signora had never beenpartial to the impressionist artist and poet, and she had a vague ideathat it was to that gentleman's agency that they owed the flight of theowner, and the consequent cessation of Teresina's employment at thestudio. She was too prudent, however, to say anything on that score toGodfrey. She knew the friendship that existed between the two men; andshe was also aware that her daughter, who was the possessor of a quicktemper, and a tongue that she could use when she liked, would brook nodisparagement of either Mr. Henderson or his friend.

  "As to returning to England, we must think it over," she said,complacently, when Godfrey had filled her glass with champagne for thefourth or fifth time. "It would make another great change in ouraffairs, but Teresina is young, and there is nothing for us to do inNaples. I could wish that she should marry, signor, but she will nothear of it. I tell her the time may come when it will be too late. Butgirls do not listen to their elders nowadays."

  Godfrey glanced at Teresina's face to find that it had suddenly becomevery pale. He hastened to render her assistance without delay bytwitting her mother as to the number of sweethearts she herself had had,much to that lady's delight. This crisis having been smoothed over, hepaid the bill and they left the restaurant.

  Darkness had fallen by this time, a fact which may have accounted forthe young man's uncertainty as to whether he did or did not recognisethe figure of a man who was watching the doorway from the other side ofthe street. It certainly looked as if it belonged to Tomasso Dardini;but he said nothing on this point to either of his guests. He would beleaving Naples in the morning, he argued, and no necessity existed formaking a fuss about it. If the silly young man were jealous, the morrowwould remove the cause; and after that it would not matter very muchwhether he were aware of their visit to the Opera or not. With Teresinabeside him and the signora on the other side, they entered the theatreand took their seats. The house was crowded, and the Opera itself wasreceived with that critical appreciation so characteristic of theNeapolitan theatre-goer. Whether Godfrey enjoyed it as much as hisneighbours is a question that admits of some doubt. He certainly foundpleasure in studying the expressions that flitted across Teresina's faceas she watched what went on upon the stage; but I scarcely think itwent further. When it was over, he escorted them back to their dwelling,and bade them good-bye upon the threshold.

  "Good-bye, Teresina," he said. "It may not be very long before we meetin London. Do you remember the little place where I first saw you? Ithink, when I get back, I must dine there once more, if only for oldassociation's sake."

  "Good-bye, signor," she said, giving him her hand after the Englishfashion. "It was kind of you to think of us, and to give us suchpleasure as you have done to-night."

  "I have enjoyed it," he replied, and then, bidding her return soon toLondon, he left her, and made his way down the narrow, evil-smellingstreet toward the quarter in which his hotel was situated. He was stillfifty yards from the corner when a figure emerged from a doorway andhurried quickly after him, keeping on the dark side of the street.Leaving the thoroughfare in which Teresina's house was located, heemployed a short cut with which he had become acquainted that afternoon.He had scarcely entered this, however, before he became aware of a lightfootstep behind him. Turning quickly, he found a man, whom heimmediately recognised, within a few feet of him. Muttering something inItalian, he raised his arm, and Godfrey saw that he held a poniard inhis hand. With the quickness of a practised athlete, he seized theuplifted wrist with his left hand, while with his right he delivered ablow that took the would-be assassin beneath the chin and sent himsprawling upon his back in the road. Picking up the dagger that theother had let fall, he placed it in his pocket, saying, as he did so: "Iwill keep this, my friend, as a memento." Then, having made sure thatthe other had no intention of following him, he continued his walk,little dreaming how strangely that incident was to affect his futurelife.