The Great God Gold Part 47

Hardly knowing what she did, or what words escaped her, she re-entered the study where her father, her lover and the Doctor were in consultation, and standing before them, described the scene that had occurred in that room during the night-hours.

The three men, when they heard the astounding truth, started to their feet with one accord.

"You!--Gwen--my daughter!" gasped the old Professor in a voice of bitter reproach. "And you have allowed this--you allowed that man to gain our secret without alarming me! I am ashamed of your conduct--heartily ashamed!"

"I could not, father," answered the girl, panting and pale-faced, "I--I was afraid--I feared him!"

She raised her eyes to Frank's, and saw in them a look of blank disappointment. She now fully realised that if she had raised the alarm, the communication of the secret to Challas might perhaps have been prevented. She pointed to the broken bell-push, and explained how before her entry there, the resourceful scoundrel had disarranged it as a precaution.

Diamond paced the room in a frenzy of despair. The little man raised his clenched fists above his head and uttered curses upon his enemies, for he saw that through his fingers at the very moment of success, there had slipped a colossal fortune.

"Frank!" exclaimed the girl, in a low piteous voice, standing before him with bent head, "forgive me. I--I was helpless last night. I am helpless now!"

"Forgive!" echoed her father in furious anger. "How can he ever forgive you--how can I forgive you? You might have been in fear of him at that moment, but upon your own showing, you knew him, is not that so?"

"Yes, father," she faltered. "I--I did know him."

"Then you have had dealings with our enemies before!" Frank cried, all his dark suspicions now suddenly aroused by her fears and apprehensions.

"I told them nothing, though they tried to force me to."

"You knew this man, Jim Jannaway, while I was in Copenhagen," said Frank, his eyes fixed upon her very seriously. "Come, tell the truth, Gwen."

She nodded in the affirmative, and unable to utter another word, burst again into tears.

And the three men standing there saw that her tears were tears of shame.

Two hours later, Frank Farquhar, dark-faced and determined, stood in one of the smaller rooms in Sir Felix Challas's house in Berkeley Square, while before him, seated easily on the edge of the table, was Jim Jannaway.

"Well, Mr Farquhar," he said, "what you've just stated is to a certain extent correct. I have no reason whatever to hide the truth, now that you have come to me and demanded it. The investigation of Holmboe's story has simply been a matter of business in which the keenest wits win. We have won."

"By trickery--and by a burglary, for which Professor Griffin intends to have you arrested."

Jannaway laughed impudently in his face.

"My dear sir, pray don't be foolish," he answered, "why it was Miss Griffin herself who let me in, and who showed me her father's decipher of the message in Ezekiel. And if you don't believe me," he added, "here's the telegram which the sent me."

Frank took the telegram he handed him, and read the following words: "Shall place candle at my window at two to-morrow morning. Come. Have something very important to communicate. Love, Gwen."

Love! The word danced before Frank's eyes.

"Why should she be acting in your interests, Mr Jannaway, and not in her father's? That seems to me a very curious point," he said, for want of something else to say.

"There was a reason--a very strong reason," replied the fellow, with a mysterious grin, pretending, of course, to be unaware that Farquhar was the girl's lover; "the little girl is a particular friend of mine."

"What do you mean?" gasped Frank, his face paler.

"Well--what I say. Need I be more explicit? It is not usual for a man to imperil a girl's reputation, is it?"

"Come," said Frank; "tell me the truth. Is your acquaintance an intimate one?"

The fellow nodded and laughed. He plainly saw the result of his cruel aspersions upon the girl's character.

"I don't believe it," declared Frank.

"Oh! perhaps you are her friend also!" exclaimed Jannaway with a smile.

"If so, you'd better ask her if she did not remain with me during a recent absence from home. I wanted her to go back, but she seemed afraid, and preferred life in a bachelor's chambers."

"You lie!" cried Frank, crimson with anger.

"No, not so quick, Mr Farquhar," exclaimed the scoundrel coolly. "Just inquire of her, that's all. Ask her if she did not meet me in secret late one night, and whether she didn't remain with me in my chambers off Oxford Street. She will certainly not have forgotten the incident," he added with meaning sarcasm.

"I don't believe you!" declared Frank, "but even if she had, you're a cursed blackguard for giving her away!"

"You asked me for the truth, and you've got it!" was Jim Jannaway's response. "Anything more you wish to know? If so, I am entirely at your service."

It was one of Jannaway's characteristics that the more angry he became, the more cool was his exterior.

"I want to know nothing from one who is a liar, a thief, and a slanderer of women," Frank responded, in a hard, bitter voice.

"I understand that the object of your visit was to inquire the reason why I called so early this morning at Pembridge Gardens. I have simply replied that I called at the Professor's in response to this invitation," and he indicated the telegram which he still held in his hand, and which, if the truth were told, he had taken the precaution to send to himself, as additional evidence against the innocent girl whom he had all along intended should be his victim.

"And you repeat your allegation that Miss Gwen has been your guest at your chambers for several days--eh? Remember, if untrue, such a statement is actionable."

"I repeat it. And I ask you to satisfy yourself as to its truth by asking her. But," he added, "I may as well tell you that the little girl is annoyed with me just now for betraying her father's secret to my friends. Yet, after all, as I've already said, it was only a matter of business, and with business women ought never to meddle. They always burn their fingers."

"And your friends--that is Sir Felix Challas and his a.s.sociates--intend, of course, to profit by this secret which you've stolen--eh?" asked Frank, his face darkening.

"That's their affair--not mine."

"I hear that you bribed the parlour-maid at Pembridge Gardens--the crafty scoundrel that you are!"

"That's it!" Jim laughed, "and I squeezed the cook, and kissed the kitchenmaid! Anything else? No, I really haven't any more time to waste, Mr Farquhar. All I need add is, that if you doubt my statement, please ask Miss Griffin herself."

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

REVEALS A WOMAN'S FACE.

A cold bleak afternoon in Kensington Gardens. The frozen gravelled path was lightly powdered with snow, and against the bare black branches showed the pale yellow light of the wintry afternoon. Bent to the biting wind, men and women, wrapped to the ears, pa.s.sed up the Broad Walk, and among them was Gwen Griffin, a lonely, solitary, sweet-faced little figure, neat with her black bow in her hair, her blue doth skirt, fur bolero, and fur toque and m.u.f.f to match.

She walked very slowly, her sad eyes cast upon the ground. She always went into the gardens when she wanted to think. Near Hyde Park Gate, she turned into one of the narrow and little-frequented paths, for she wanted to be alone.

That afternoon the great blow which she dreaded had fallen, and her young heart so light and happy, was crushed and broken.

Frank Farquhar had sent her, by messenger from Half Moon Street, a cruel, brief letter, in which he told her plainly of the allegation which Jim Jannaway had made, and explaining that, in consequence, he must ask her to consider their engagement at a complete end.