large, rathersprawling hand, which I at once recognised as Sybil's, and signed eitherby her Christian name or by her initials, "S.B."
The first we read was written on the notepaper of Hethe Hall, inCumberland, a country house near Keswick, where she often visited.Undated, it ran:--
"I do wish, Ralph, you would be more careful. Your actions every daybetray the truth, and I fear somebody may suspect. You know howcarefully I am watched and how my every action is noted. Every hour Ilive in dread. Think what exposure would mean to me. I shall walk downto Braithwaite Station to-morrow evening about 5:30. Do not write tome, as I fear Mason may get hold of one of your letters. She is so verycurious. If you are free to-morrow evening perhaps I shall meet you`accidentally.' But I do warn you to be careful for my sake. Till tomorrow.--S."
What was meant by the "truth?" Was that ill-dressed, low-born fellowactually her secret lover? The love token showed that such was actuallythe case. Yet who was he?
Another note, written hurriedly upon a plain sheet of common notepaper,was as follows:--
"I don't know if I can escape them. If so, I shall try and get hold ofone of Mason's dresses and hats and meet you in Serle Street, outsideLincoln's Inn. But it is very risky. Do be careful that you are notfollowed."
The next was upon pale green notepaper, bearing in gold the heading,"S.Y. _Regina_," with the added words, "Off the Faroe Islands:--
"I am longing to be back again in town, but it cannot be for anotherfour or five weeks. We have decided to do the Fiords. Do not write, asyour letter must go through so many hands before it reaches me. Whatyou tell me makes me suspicious. Why should they ask you that questionif there had not been some whisper? Find out. Remember I haveenemies--very bitter ones. It was hazardous of you to come to Glasgow.I saw you on the quay when we sailed. But you may have been recognised.If so, think of my position. Again I do beg of you to be as cautiousas I am. From me the world shall never know the truth. I can keep asecret. See if you cannot do so, for my sake."
Apparently the fellow had preserved all her letters, either because hewas so deeply in love with her, or with that ulterior motive of whichshe had so openly accused him.
"Why did you speak to me on the stairs last night?" she asked,reproachfully, in another hastily-written note upon plain paper. "Youimperil me at every moment. You may love me as fervently as you declareyou do, but surely you should do nothing that may imperil my good name!"
In another, evidently of more recent date, she wrote:
"I cannot understand you. Our love has been a very foolish romance.Let us part and agree to forget it. I have been injudicious, and sohave you. Let us agree to be friends, and I will, I assure you, do allI can for your interests in the future. Sometimes I think that Masonsuspects. She may have seen you speak to me, or overheard you. Shelooks at me so very strangely sometimes, and I'm sure she watches me."
Again in another communication, which was besmirched by the dead man'sblood, writing from the Hotel Ritz, in Paris, she said:--
"We are in deadly peril, both of us--but you more especially. E--knowsthe truth. Avoid him. He intends to betray you. I met J--in the Boisto-day, and he asked if you were in Paris. I pretended to be ignorantof your very existence, but he told me that E--had explained certainthings, and he promised to keep my secret. I send you fifty poundsenclosed. Don't acknowledge it. Burn this letter."
The longest, written on thin blue foreign paper, was even moreenigmatical. It was dated from her sister's place up in Durham, andread:--
"You are right when you declared last night that I am very fond ofWilfrid Hughes. It is a pity, perhaps, that I did not marry him threeyears ago. If I had I should have been spared this awful anxiety anddouble life that I am now forced to lead. You say that I am giddy andheartless, thoughtless and reckless. Yes. I am all that, I admit. Andyet I am only like many women who are seeking to forget. Some takemorphia, others drink brandy, and I--well, I try and amuse myself as faras my remnant of a conscience will allow me. Ah! when I look back uponmy quiet girlhood down at Ryhall I recollect how happy I was, how easilysatisfied, how high were my ideals when I loved Wilfrid Hughes. Andnow? But will you not give me back my freedom? I ask, I beg, I imploreof you to give me liberty--and save my life. You have always said thatyou loved me, therefore you surely will not continue this cruelpersecution of a woman who is defenceless and powerless. I feel thatyour heart is too noble, and that when we meet to-morrow you willrelease me from my bond. Up to the present I have been able to closethe lips of your enemies, yet how have you repaid me? But I do notreproach you. No. I only crave humbly at your feet."
The last, written from Ryhall, and dated three days before, was briefbut to the point:--
"If you are absolutely determined that I should see you then, I willkeep your appointment. Recollect, however, that I have no fear of you.I have kept my mouth closed until to-day, and it will remain closedunless you compel me to open it.--S."
The other papers, of which we made methodical examination, weremysterious and puzzling. Upon a sheet of ruled sermon paper was drawnin red ink a geometrical device--the plan of a house we took it to be--while another piece of paper was covered with long lists of letters,words and phrases in a masculine but almost microscopic hand, togetherwith their cipher equivalents.
Was this the cipher used by the dead man to communicate with Sybil?
"This will assist us, no doubt," remarked Eric, scrutinising it beneaththe light. "Probably she sent him cipher messages from time to time."
There was also a man's visiting card, bearing the name,--
"Mr John Parham, Keymer, Sydenham Hill, S.E." As I turned it over Iremarked, "This also may tell us something. This Mr Parham is perhapshis friend." The card-case was empty, but a couple of pawn tickets fora watch and ring, showing them to be pawned at a shop in the Fulham Roadin the name of Green, completed the miscellaneous collection that I hadfilched from the dead man's pockets, and showed that, at any rate, hehad been in want of money, even though he had a few shillings upon himat the time of his death.
To say the least, it was a strange, gruesome collection as it lay spreadupon the table. To my chagrin one of the blood-stained letters made anugly mark upon the long hem-stitched linen toilet-cover.
Eric took up letter after letter, and with knit brows re-read them,although he vouchsafed no remark.
Who was the man? That was the one question which now occupied ourminds.
"How fortunate we've been able to possess ourselves of these!" Iremarked. "Think, if they had fallen into the hands of the police!"
"Yes," answered my friend, "you acted boldly--more boldly than I dareact. I only hope that the person who saw us will not gossip. If hedoes--well, then it will be decidedly awkward."
"If he does, then we must put the best face upon matters. He probablydidn't see us take anything from the body."
"He may have followed and watched. Most likely."
"We've more to fear from somebody having seen Sybil go to the spot thisafternoon. At that hour people would be at work in the fields, andanybody crossing those turnips must have been seen half a mile off."
"Unless they made a _detour_ and came through the wood from the oppositeside, as I expect she did. She would never risk discovery by goingthere openly."
"But what shall we do with all this?" I asked.
"Burn the lot; that's my advice."
"And if we've been discovered. What then? It would be awkward if thepolice came to us for these letters and we had burnt them. No," Ideclared. "Let us keep them under lock and key--at least for thepresent."
"Very well, as you like. All I hope is that nobody will identify thefellow," my friend said. "If they do, then his connection with Sybilmay be known. Recollect what the letters say about the maid Mason. Shesuspects."
"That's so," I said, seriously. "Mason must be sent to London on somepretence the first thing in the morning. She must not be allowed to seethe body
."
"It seems that Sybil held some secret of the dead man's, and yet wasloyal to him throughout. I wonder what it was?"
"The fellow was an outsider, without a doubt. Sybil foolishly fell inlove with him, and he sought to profit by it. He was an adventurer,most certainly. I don't like that cipher. It's suspicious," Ideclared.
"Then you'll keep all these things in your possession. Better seal themup and put them in your bank or somewhere safe."
"Yes," I said, "I'll take them to my bank. At any rate, they'll be putaway from prying eyes there."
"And how shall we face her?" Eric asked.
"How will she face us, that's the
Whatsoever a Man Soweth Page 7
