Scarhaven Keep Page 31

  CHAPTER XXXI

  AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY

  If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not knownthat she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance intothat suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a womanwhom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie'spresentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminentlydramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as ifthe lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in theproscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch afirst accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--andaccompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven heartswhich had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smileand the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modestblush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre tableand bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes.

  "I have come to ask--mercy!"

  There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver,only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste toplace a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to hisold-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs.

  "Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whomwe have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly."I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?"

  "Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer."You think, Petherton--yes?"

  "The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icilythan ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is mostunpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searchingfor this--er, young lady."

  "But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraidof the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask youall to be merciful."

  "To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton.

  "Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with anothersoftening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so downon an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There aretwo of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old mento be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?"

  Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked roundagain, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a littlesheepishly at Mr. Petherton.

  "It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what MissChatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own freewill--something. I should like to know what that something is. I thinkMrs. Greyle would like to know, too."

  "Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figurewith great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if MissChatfield proposes to tell us something about her father."

  Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbedby these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor.

  "Where is your father?" he demanded.

  "Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye thatlit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll dono good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd cometo ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up.The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tellyou all about it and then we can be friends?"

  Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were someextraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, wavedthem at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort.

  "I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what youlike--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!"

  Vickers gave Addie a sly look.

  "Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no needfor you to tell anything against yourself, you know."

  "Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all daylong--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle there only knew whatI'd done for her!--look here," she continued, suddenly turning to SirCresswell. "I've come to tell all about it. And first of all--every pennyof that money that my father drew from the bank has been restored thisafternoon."

  "We know that," said Sir Cresswell.

  "Well, that was me!--I engineered that," continued Addie. "Andsecond--the _Pike_ will be back at Scarhaven during the night, to unloadeverything that was being carried away. My doing, again! Because, I'm nofool, and I know when a game's up."

  "So--there was a game?" suggested Vickers.

  Addie leaned forward from the chair which Sir Cresswell had given her atthe end of the table and planting her elbows on the table edge began tocheck off her points on the tips of her slender fingers. She was wellaware that she had the stage to herself by that time and she showed herconsciousness of it.

  "You have it," she answered. "There was a game--and perhaps I know moreof it than anybody. I'll tell now. It began at Bristol. I was playingthere. One morning my father fetched me out from rehearsal to tell methat he'd been down to Falmouth to meet the new Squire of Scarhaven,Marston Greyle, and that he found him so ill that they'd had to go to adoctor, who forbade Greyle to travel far at a time. They'd got toBristol--there, Greyle was so much worse that my father didn't know whatto do with him. He knew that I was in the town, so he came to me. I gotGreyle a quiet room at my lodgings. A doctor saw him--he said he was verybad, but he didn't say that he was in immediate danger. However, he diedthat very night."

  Addie paused for a moment, and Copplestone and Gilling exchanged glances.So far, this was all known to them--but what was coming?

  "Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie."It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said tome that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which hesaid all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father. I believehe became unconscious soon after that; anyway, he never mentioned thatpocket-book to my father. Neither did I. But after Greyle was dead Iexamined its contents carefully. And when I was in London at the end ofthe week, I showed them to--my husband."

  Addie again paused, and at least two of the men glanced at each otherwith a look of surmise. Her--husband! "Who the--"

  "The fact is," she went on suddenly, "Captain Andrius is my husband. Butnobody knew that--not even my own father. We've been married threeyears--I met him when I was crossing over to America once. We gotmarried--we kept the marriage secret for reasons of our own. Well, he metme in London the Sunday after Greyle's death, and I showed him thepapers which were in Greyle's pocket-book. And--now this, of course, waswhere it was very wicked in me--and him--though we've tried to make upfor it today, anyhow--we fixed up what I suppose you two gentlemen wouldcall a conspiracy. My husband had a brother, an actor--not up to much,nor of much experience--who had been brought up in the States and who wasthen in town, doing nothing. We took him into confidence, coached him upin everything, furnished him with all the papers in the pocket-book, andresolved to pass him off as the real Marston Greyle."

  Mr. Petherton stirred angrily in his chair and turned a protesting faceon Sir Cresswell.

  "Apart from being irregular," he exclaimed, "this is altogetheroutrageous! This woman is openly boasting of conspiracy and--"

  "You're wrong!" said Addie. "I'm not boasting--I'm explaining. You oughtto be obliged to me. And--"

  "If Mrs. Andrius--to give the lady her real name--cares to unburden hersecrets to us, I really don't see why we shouldn't listen to them, Mr.Petherton," observed Vickers. "It simplifies matters greatly."

  "That's what I say," agreed Addie. "I'm done with all this and I want toclear things up, whatever comes of it. Well--I say we fixed that up withmy brother-in-law."

  "His name--his real name, if you please," inquired Vickers.

  "Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another namefor the stage," replied Addi
e. "We gave him the papers and arranged forhim to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all,right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was animposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't knowfor a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after thereal Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, heproduced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'dburied. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be asecretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had lefthim in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to passhimself off as the real man until he could get something substantial outof the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father acceptedthat story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into theestate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of hisstewardship quick."

  "Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other detailsabout which I am anxious to hear."

  "Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that.Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birthcertificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybodyaccepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly tillthat Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. Andnow, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth aboutyour brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows itbetter than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speakprivately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keepduring the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking manyminutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, whichone of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. Andwe were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd metMartin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knewthat Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--weboth shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gaveeach other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliverwent on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret towerand went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there'san end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak orthink, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round theinside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!"

  Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes andshe kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readilyenough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almostin her ear.

  "Is that the truth--the real truth?"

  "It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'mnot altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you thereal truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapetand fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying hewas dead. We were both dazed--we separated. He went off to the house--Iwent to my father by a roundabout way. We decided to let things taketheir course. You all know a great deal of what happened. But--later--myhusband and Martin began to take certain things into their own hands.They put me on one side. To this minute, I don't quite know how much myfather got into their secrets or how little, but I do know that theydetermined to make what you might call a purse for themselves out ofScarhaven. Martin left certain powers in his brother's hands and wentoff to London. He was there, hidden, until Andrius got all ready for aflight on the _Pike_. Then he set off to Scarhaven, to join her. But hedidn't join her, and none of us knew what had become of him until today,when we heard of what had been found at Scarhaven. That explained it--hehad taken that short cut from the Northborough road through the woodsbehind the Keep, and fallen over the cliff at the Hermit's steps. Butthat very night, you, Mr. Vickers, and Mr. Copplestone and Miss Greyle,nearly stopped everything, and if Andrius and Chatfield hadn't carriedyou off, the scheme would have come to nothing. Well--you know whathappened after that--"

  "But," interjected Vickers, quickly, "not your share in the lastdevelopment."

  "My share's been to see that the thing was up, and that if I wanted tosave them all, I'd best put a stop to it," rejoined Addie, with a grimsmile. "I tell you, I didn't know what they'd been up to until today. Iwas in England--never mind where--wondering what was going on. YesterdayI got a code message from my husband. When he fetched my father away fromyou, he forced him to tell where that gold was--then he wired to me--bywireless--full instructions to recover it during last night. I did--neveryou mind the exact means I took nor who it was that I got to help--I gotit--and I took good care to put it where I knew it would be safe. Thenthis morning I went to meet the two of them at Scarvell's Cut. And I tookthe upper hand then! I got them away from that sail-loft--safely. I mademy husband give me a code message for the man in charge of the _Pike_,telling him to return at once to Scarhaven; I made my father write a noteto Elkin at the bank, telling him to place the gold which I sent with itto the credit of the Greyle Estate. And when all that was done--I gotthem away--they're gone!"

  Vickers, who had never taken his eyes off Addie during her lengthyexplanation, gave her a whimsical smile.

  "Safely?" he asked.

  "I'll defy the police to find 'em, anyway," replied Addie with a quickresponse of lip and eye. "I don't do things by halves. I say--they'regone! But--I'm here. Come, now--I've made a clean breast of it all. Thething's over and done with. There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle therecoming into her rights--I can prove 'em--my father can prove them. So--isit any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You canall see what he wants--he's dying to hand me over to the police."

  Sir Cresswell Oliver rose, glanced at Audrey and her mother, receivedsome telepathic communication from them, and assumed his oldquarter-deck manner.

  "Not tonight, I think, Petherton," he said authoritatively."No--certainly not tonight!"

  * * * * *

  Some months later, when Audrey Greyle had come into possession ofScarhaven, and had married Copplestone in the little church behind hermother's cottage, she and her husband, to satisfy a mutual andlong-cherished desire, visited a certain romantic and retired part of thecountry. And in the course of their wanderings they came across a verypretty village, and in it a charmingly situated retreat, which looked soattractive from the road along which they were walking that they haltedand peered at it through its trimly-kept boundary hedge. And there,seated in the easiest of chairs on the smoothest of lawns, roses abouthim, a cigar in his mouth, the newspaper in his hand, a glass at hiselbow, they saw Peter Chatfield. They looked at him for a long moment;then they looked at each other and smiled delightedly, as children mightsmile at a pleasure-giving picture, and they passed on in silence. Butwhen that village lay behind them, Copplestone gave his wife a slyglance, and permitted himself to make an epigram.

  "Chatfield!" he said musingly. "Chatfield! sublimely ungrateful that heisn't in Dartmoor."

  THE END