The Mystery Queen

by Fergus Hume

  “You don’t appear to be very decided in your own mind,” rejoined Mrs. Jarsell, drily, and sat down on a large block of granite, which was embedded amongst the heather; “our neighbourhood evidently has a fascination for you,” her eye searched his face carefully. “I am pleased, as we are proud of our scenery hereabouts. Those who come once, come twice: quite a proverb, isn’t it? Is your friend Mr. Laurance with you?”

  “Not on this occasion,” answered Dan, coolly, and coming to the point. “I came with two ladies, Miss Moon and her companion. They are stopping at The Peacock Hotel for a short time.”

  “Miss Moon! Miss Moon!” mused Mrs. Jarsell, “oh, yes, the young lady you are engaged to marry. The daughter of that poor man who was murdered.”

  “You have an excellent memory, Mrs. Jarsell.”

  “We have little to exercise our memories in this dull place,” said the woman graciously, and with a motherly air, “you don’t ask after Miss Armour, I observe. That is very unkind of you, as you are a great favourite with her.”

  “Miss Armour is my very good friend,” responded Halliday, cautiously, “and so are you, since you induced Mr. Vincent to lend me the aeroplane.”

  “I am as glad that I did that, as I am sorry you lost the race, Mr. Halliday.”

  “Fortune of war,” said Dan, lightly, “we can’t always be successful you know, Mrs. Jarsell. I wish you had seen the start; it was grand.”

  “I wish I had,” said the woman, lying glibly, “but it was impossible for me to leave Miss Armour on that day, as she had bad health. In fact, Mr Vincent wished to go also and see how his machine worked; but he could not get away either. Still,” added Mrs. Jarsell, with a cheerful air, “perhaps it is as well, so far as I am concerned, that I could not go. Aviation seems to be very dangerous, and I should have been afraid for your safety.”

  “Oh, I shall never come to harm in the air, I hope,” responded Dan, with emphasis, “you must let me take you up some day.”

  Mrs. Jarsell shuddered. “I should be terrified out of my wits,” she protested, “fancy a heavy woman such as I am, trying to emulate a bird. Why, I am quite sure I would fall and smash like an egg, even supposing there is any machine capable of bearing my none too trifling weight.”

  “Oh, I think there is, Mrs. Jarsell. Some machines can carry two you know, and lately in France, an aviator took five or six people from one given point to another. It is quite safe.”

  Mrs. Jarsell shook her head seriously. “I think not, since aviation is yet in its infancy. In five years, if I live as long, I may venture, but now —no thank you, Mr. Halliday.”

  “Most ladies are afraid, certainly. Even Miss Moon, who is plucky, will not let me take her for a fly.”

  “Miss Moon, of course. I was quite forgetting her. I hope you will bring her to see me and Miss Armour.”

  “If she stays here, certainly. But I think of returning to town to-morrow, so I may not be able to bring her. I daresay Mrs. Bolstreath will, however,” ended Dan, quite certain in his own mind that the chaperon would find some good excuse to avoid the visit.

  “I shall be delighted,” Mrs. Jarsell murmured vaguely; “how have you been, Mr. Halliday, since I saw you last?”

  It seemed to Dan that she asked this question with intention, and he was entirely willing to give her a frank answer. In frankness, as in taking Lillian under the guns of the enemy lay the safety of both. Halliday was convinced of this. “I have been rather worried,” he said, slowly, and with a side-glance at Mrs. Jarsell’s watchful face. “I had an adventure.”

  “I love adventures,” replied the woman, heavily, “and this one?”

  “Well. I was hustled into a taxi-cab and carried in a drugged condition to some place where I met with a collection of scoundrels. A kind of murder-gang, you might call it, who slay, blackmail, and thieve for the sake of power.”

  “Rather a strange reason,” said Mrs. Jarsell, equably, and not at all moved. “I should say the reason was money.”

  “That, with power,” explained Dan; “but, indeed, this society appears to be governed on wonderful principles, such as one would ascribe to honest men.”

  “In what way?” Mrs. Jarsell was quite curious in a detached manner.

  “Well, the members are chaste and sober and industrious.”

  “They must be virtuous. You are describing a society of saints.”

  “Quite so; only these saints apply their virtues to crime. They have a head who is called Queen Beelzebub.”

  Mrs. Jarsell shuddered and drew lines on the dust of the road with her can slowly and carefully. “Did you see her?” she asked, “it’s a horrid name, full of horrid possibilities.”

  “No, I did not see her or any one,” said Dan, frankly; “the room was in darkness save for a red light round Queen Beelzebub’s mask.”

  “Oh, this person wore a mask! How did you know she was a woman?”

  “Well, you see the name is Queen Beelzebub.”

  “That might be taken by a man to hide the truth.”

  “It might,” admitted the other carelessly, “and indeed, I don’t think that any woman would have the nerve to belong to such a gang.”

  “I agree with you,” said Mrs. Jarsell, gravely, “well, and what happened?”

  “I was asked by Queen Beelzebub to join the gang and share the profits, which you may guess are large. I have a month to think over the matter.”

  Mrs. Jarsell looked at him keenly. “surely, you would never belong to such an organisation,” she said with a reproachful tone in her heavy voice.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I have my own axe to grind like other people, and if this gang helps me to grind it I may consider the offer. Do I shock you, Mrs. Jarsell? Your voice sounded as though I did.”

  “You shock me more than I can say,” she replied decisively; “that an honest man should even think of such a thing is dreadful. This gang should be denounced to the police. I wonder you have not done so already.”

  Dan shook his head and admired the cool, clever way in which she was playing a very dangerous game, though to be sure, she was far from suspecting that he guessed her connection with Queen Beelzebub.

  “I can’t do that yet.”

  “What do you mean by—yet?” questioned Mrs. Jarsell, and this time, there was a distinct note of alarm in her voice.

  “I risk death if I denounce the gang, not only to myself, but to Miss Moon. I am sure she and I would be killed as her father was killed, if I moved in the matter. Also, I am not sure of many things.”

  Mrs. Jarsell, still drawing patterns, spoke thoughtfully. “I don’t think you are wise to speak of this gang if it is so dangerous, even to a country mouse such as I am. Of course, I shall say nothing, as I have no one to say anything to, and if I had I should not speak. But if you talk to a stranger like me, about things you were told to keep secret, you or Miss Moon may be murdered.”

  “I thought so a week ago,” admitted Halliday, candidly.

  “Then you don’t think so now.”

  “No. Not since Marcus Penn died.”

  Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath and wriggled uneasily. “Who is Marcus Penn?”

  “Well, he was the secretary of Sir Charles Moon, and afterwards he was the secretary of Lord Curberry. Now he’s a corpse.”

  “Oh!” cried Mrs. Jarsell, suddenly, “I wish you wouldn’t talk of these horrible things. Has this gang—”

  “Murdered him?” finished the young man; “yes, I believe so, although a verdict of suicide was brought in. But poor Penn’s death may be the means of saving me and Miss Moon.”

  “Indeed,” the woman’s tone became harsh and imperative, but she did not ask any questions.

  “Yes. He left a confession.”

  Even the side-glance Dan sent in Mrs. Jarsell’s direction showed him that her olive cheeks had turned to a dead white. However, she said nothing, although she moistened her lips slowly, so he went on easily as if he were telling an idle story. “This confessi
on was concealed in Lord Curberry’s house, but Penn sent a note of its whereabouts to Miss Moon, who told me. I got the confession and placed it in safe keeping.”

  “That was wise,” said Mrs. Jarsell, with an effort. “And the safe keeping?”

  “Oh, I shall only tell the whereabouts of the confession and the name of the person who holds it when there is no necessity for the confession to be used.”

  “I don’t see quite what you mean, Mr. Halliday.”

  “Well, you see, Mrs. Jarsell, I have to protect myself and Miss Moon from the machinations of the society. The person who holds the confession will not open the sealed envelope in which it is placed unless something happens to Miss Moon or to myself. Therefore, so long as no member of the gang hurts us the secrets of the gang are quite safe.”

  To his attentive ear it seemed that Mrs. Jarsell drew a long breath of relief. With a command of herself which did her credit, she displayed no emotion but observed playfully, “It is very clever of you and very wise to guard yourself in this way. Certainly the gang cannot hurt you in any way so long as there is a danger of the confession being opened in the event of things happening to you or to Miss Moon. I suppose the confession is a very dreadful one, Mr. Halliday?”

  “It is not so dreadful or so full as I should like it to be,” said Dan, in his calmest manner; “but there is sufficient set down to warrant the interference of the authorities. If that confession comes to the notice of the Scotland Yard officials they can lay hands on the gang”; he was bluffing when he said this, as he was not quite sure if Curberry had not let Mrs. Jarsell know that the confession—as Curberry thought—had been destroyed.

  “I think the police should know,” said Mrs. Jarsell, rising.

  “Thank you for nothing,” said Dan, following her example; “but if I move in the matter, I run the risk of death. Besides, I may accept the offter of the society. Who knows?”

  “Don’t do that,” implored Mrs. Jarsell so earnestly that Dan was convinced Curberry had not told her of any confession, “it’s so wicked.”

  “Perhaps it is. However, if these beasts leave me and Miss Moon alone, the confession won’t be opened and the gang is safe. Otherwise—”

  “Otherwise the whole association will be exposed to the danger of arrest,” said Mrs. Jarsell, lightly; “well, it sounds all very dreadful to a country lady as I am. I wish you had not told me. Why did you tell me?”

  “Because,” said Dan, ironically, “I look upon you as a friend.”

  Mrs. Jarsell’s face cleared and she smiled. “I am your friend,” she said in an emphatic way, “and believe me, when I say that I am sure Miss Moon is safe.”

  “Thank you,” replied Dan, agreeably, “I am sure also.”

  Then they parted with mutual compliments, smiles, and handshakes.

  Chapter XVII. AT BAY

  When Dan left Mrs. Jarsell he was very well pleased with the promise she had given concerning the safety of Lillian. He fully believed that she, in her role of Queen Beelzebub, would keep that promise faithfully, if only because her own interests demanded such honesty. The fact that the confession of Penn was in the hands of a third party to be made use of should anything happen to Miss Moon, prevented the Society of Flies from carrying out the threat made to him at the secret meeting. To save their own lives the members would be forced—much against their will no doubt —to spare those of Lillian and himself. Dan chuckled at the way in which he had circumvented the deadly organisation. But he had only scotched the snake, he had not killed it, and until he did so there was always the chance that it would strike when able to do so with safety. But while Penn’s confession remained in Laurance’s hands, all was well.

  One thing struck Halliday as strange, and that was the persistence with which Mrs. Jarsell kept up the comedy of having-nothing-to-do-with-the-matter during so confidential a conversation. She knew that Penn had been a doubtful member of her gang; she knew that he had been despatched—as Dan truly believed—because he was not to be trusted, and now she knew that he had left a confession behind him, which was in the hands of her enemies. Also, she was aware that the man who spoke to her had read the confession and must have guessed that her name, as Queen Beelzebub, was mentioned therein. This being the case, it was to be presumed that she would speak freely, but in place of doing so, she had pretended ignorance, and for his own ends he had humoured her feigning. Either she doubted that such a confession existed or she guessed in whose possession it was, and intended to regain it.

  “Queen Beelzebub knows well enough that Freddy is my best friend,” thought Dan, as he returned to The Peacock Hotel, “and it would be reasonable for her to believe that he had Penn’s confession, which is certainly the case. I should not be at all surprised if Freddy was inveigled into a trap as I was, so that he might be forced to surrender the document or rather what remains of it. If that were managed, Queen Beelzebub would revenge herself on Lillian and on me, since there would be nothing left to shielf us from her spite. And in any case Freddy is in danger, as I am certain she guesses that he holds the confession.” He mused for a few moments, and then added, aloud, “I shall return to town at once and see him.”

  The more he thought the more he saw the necessity of doing this. Mrs. Jarsell’s first move to counterplot him would be to seek out Lord Curberry and learn all she could, relative to what Penn had left behind him. Certainly Curberry would assure her that he had burnt the confession, in which case Queen Beelzebub would think that she would be free to act. But Halliday believed she was of too suspicious a nature to be quite convinced that he had only bluffed. Before taking any steps she would decidedly ascertain for certain—although in what way it was difficult to say—if there really was any compromising document in Laurance’s hands. To do so, she would, as Dan had thought a few minutes before, set a trap for him, and brow-beat him into stating what he knew and what he held. Therefore, for Freddy’s sake, it was necessary to go to London, and report in detail the conversation on the moor. Then the two could arrange what was best to be done. They were dealing with a coterie of daring scoundrels, who would stop at nothing to secure their own safety, and it behoved them to move warily. “We are walking on a volcano,” was Halliday’s concluding reflection.

  Of course, as it was useless to alarm the ladies, Dan said nothing of his meeting with Queen Beelzebub on the moor. However, on being questioned, he confessed the sudden thought which had sent him out of doors, and both Lillian and Mrs. Bolstreath agreed that it was entirely probable that Mrs. Jarsell did travel in up-to-date aeroplanes, like a mischief-making fairy. Then in turn, they told him that Mildred had stayed for quite a long time and was altogether more charming on each occasion she appeared. She suggested many trips and Mrs. Bolstreath was inclined to stay at Sheepeak longer than she intended in spite of the near menace of Queen Beelzebub. Lillian was delighted with the lovely scenery, so gracious after the drab hues of London.

  “I don’t see why we shouldn’t get a house here after we are married,” she said to her lover, “one of those delicious old manor houses of faded yellow stone. I could live quietly with Mrs. Bolstreath, while you ran up to business on your aeroplane.”

  “And all the time you would be fretting lest any harm came to him,” said the chaperon, shaking her head; “besides, my dear, when you are married, you won’t want me to be with you.”

  “Dear Bolly, I shall always want you, and so will Dan.”

  “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Bolstreath, briskly, “two’s company and three’s none.”

  “Well,” remarked Halliday, leisurely, “we can settle the matter when we are married, Lillian. Remember, before your uncle will consent, I shall have to discover who murdered your father.”

  “You have discovered who murdered him. It was the false Mrs. Brown, who is Mrs. Jarsell, who is Queen Beelzebub.”

  “So I believe, but I have to prove my case,” said Dan, drily, “and, moreover, I won’t find it easy to place the woman in the dock when she has this ac
cursed society at the back of her.”

  “You don’t think there is danger?” asked Lillian, hastily.

  “No, no, no! Things are safer than ever, my dear. I go to town this evening and can leave you here with the certainty that all is well.”

  “You go to town this evening?” said Mrs. Bolstreath, anxiously; “isn’t that a very sudden resolution?”

  “Oh, I think not,” answered Dan, in an easy way, “I came down here only to settle you and Lillian. By the way, Sir John—”

  “I wired our address, and he wrote me,” interrupted Mrs. Bolstreath; “he is quite pleased that we are away. I rather think,” the lady added, thoughtfully, “that Sir John is not ill-pleased we are away. At his age the constant presence of two women in his house is rather disconcerting. Finding we had left town, he returned there to enjoy having his own house to himself.”

  “In that case,” said Dan, cheerfully, “he will be glad to see Lillian married.”

  “But to Lord Curberry, not to you.”

  “I would die rather than marry Lord Curberry,” said Lillian, decisively, and with her chin in the air.

  “You won’t be asked to do either one or the other, my dear,” replied Dan, in his calmest tone. “We shall marry right enough whatever opposition Sir John may make. As to Lord Curberry,” he hesitated.

  “Well?” asked Mrs. Bolstreath, impatiently.

  “I intend to see him when I return to town.”

  “I think it will be as well. Better have a complete understanding with him so that he will not worry Lillian any more.”

  “He won’t,” answered Dan, grimly, “and now I shall have to get away. I see Mrs. Pelgrin has had the trap brought round. Take care of Lillian.”

  Lillian kissed her lover and followed him to the door of the sitting-room with a gay laugh. “Lillian can look after herself,” she said lightly, “I am not afraid of Mrs. Jarsell or of any one else. But you take care, Dan. I fear much more for you than for myself.”