mrs. mellop returned from the richmond journey in a very bad temper, as she had wholly failed to get her own way with the wary millionaire. indeed, she was so persistent in her attentions that branwin put an end to them by hinting very plainly that he was engaged to be married. he also gave the widow to understand that it was time she brought her visit to a close, as he wished to send audrey abroad for a time. mrs. mellop offered to accompany the girl, but learnt that arrangements had been made for the young lady to stay in paris with a french family. no wonder the widow returned almost in tears, as she saw very well that the vintage was ended, and she had gathered but few grapes. pleading a headache, she did not appear at dinner, and it was not until the next morning that audrey learnt about her father's new plans. they did not please her.
"i shan't go abroad," she said bluntly, when mrs. mellop had explained matters. "papa wishes to separate me from ralph."
"and wishes you to marry lord anvers," finished mrs. mellop, maliciously.
audrey laughed contemptuously. "i have refused lord anvers."
"he won't take a refusal, neither will your father."
"what does that matter to me?" cried the girl, passionately. "do you think that i am going to place my happiness in lord anvers' hands? a man i detest with all my heart. i shall marry ralph, and no one else."
"then you will lose your money," said mrs. mellop, with a gesture of despair.
"i don't mind losing it, so long as i have love."
"love!" the widow made a face. "oh! love is all very well, but it isn't money, and money is a necessity."
"to you perhaps, mrs. mellop, not to me. ralph would marry me to-morrow if i chose. but i don't choose, as such a marriage would hinder his career. we must wait for better times."
"well, i'm sure i hope you'll get your own way. but you can have no idea how hard your father is," wailed mrs. mellop. "he throws me over as coolly as though i were an old shoe, and i shall have to go to-morrow. oh! the man's mad," she added, in a petty rage, "to think of marrying that horrid woman."
"well, you have had your chance," audrey said, with a shrug; "and, as i told you, my father has taken his own way. i would rather you had married him."
"then you love me, darling?" cried the effusive widow, caressingly.
"no, i don't," rejoined the girl, removing a pair of fond arms which had been thrown round her neck; "but of two evils i choose the least.
"you would make a better lady branwin than miss pearl."
"i'm sure i should," assented mrs. mellop, with vigour, although she was rather daunted by the refusal of audrey to accept her advances. "oh! with all that money i would enjoy myself. and if i married your father, audrey, i should get him to let you marry mr. shawe."
"you have no influence with papa, mrs. mellop. however, you are no worse off than you were when you came here."
"oh! but i am," cried mrs. mellop, quite forgetting the jewellery and clothes that she had bought on the credit of her host's name. "think of what people will say. my name has been coupled with sir joseph's, and it is a shame that he should behave so cruelly. but i shan't submit quietly to seeing him carried off by that woman," raged the widow, walking up and down biting her handkerchief. "i shall tell what i know."
"what do you know?"
"i know that sir joseph goes out night after night prowling about the streets. ugh! the horrid old man."
"how dare you!" cried audrey, flaming up. "papa goes to help the poor."
mrs. mellop laughed contemptuously. "sir joseph never helped a single poor person in his life," she said sneeringly. "he goes out for no good purpose, you may be sure. why, he was out on the night his wife was murdered," hinted mrs. mellop, malignantly. "i believe he had something to do with the matter."
audrey had no reason to be fond of her father, who had always treated her selfishly. but this unfounded accusation was too much for her. she sprang at the little widow and shook her. "how dare you talk in that way?" she said in a cold, hard voice. "you can't connect my father with--"
"oh, can't i?" interrupted mrs. mellop, extricating herself from the girl's grasp with a shriek. "why, when i was waiting in walpole lane on that night i saw your father on the other side of the road."
"you are a fool!" said miss branwin, trying to conceal her agitation. "even if you saw papa, that proves nothing. and you had better hold your tongue, or you will get into trouble."
mrs. mellop ran to the door of the room, so as to avoid another shaking. "i shall get sir joseph into trouble," she said spitefully. "he shan't play fast and loose with poor little me. i shall go back home to-day."
"had you not better see papa?" asked audrey, ironically, "and say what you intend to do?"
"i know what i intend to do," retorted the widow, tossing her head, "and it won't be pleasant for sir joseph when he knows. you're a horrid girl, audrey, and worthy of your common father, who is only the son of a labourer, when all is said and done. i decline to associate with such riff-raff, so good-day to both of you." and mrs. mellop, bursting with spite, swept out of the room in what she conceived was a grand way.
audrey shrugged her shoulders when the little woman disappeared, as she regarded the hinted accusation as merely due to spite; and without doubt it was, as mrs. mellop could not possibly prove branwin's complicity in the crime. sir joseph certainly might have been in walpole lane, although audrey did not think that this was probable. yet, even if he had been, his presence, as the girl had already observed, proved absolutely nothing.
when mrs. mellop took her departure, bag and baggage--which she did in the afternoon--audrey wended her way to kensington gardens to keep the three o'clock appointment with ralph shawe; but although she waited for over an hour he did not make his appearance. this omission made audrey confident that there was something wrong, as it was not like ralph to evade a meeting. lately she had noted his unwillingness to answer questions connected with the search for lady branwin's murderer; and now that he so pointedly avoided her company--for what could be more pointed than a failure to keep his engagement?--she decided to see miss toat and ask questions. the detective certainly knew all that ralph knew, and in what ralph refused to speak about might be found his reason for behaving so strangely. with this idea the girl left the gardens and took a cab to buckingham street.
for once miss perry was not in her office, but the grimy little boy--technically termed a clerk--told her that the detective would return in a few minutes. meanwhile she was shown into the inner room to wait, and found there no less a person than colonel ilse. he rose politely when she entered, and looked at her so hard that audrey blushed.
"i also am waiting for miss toat, miss branwin," said the colonel, offering a chair. "will you not be seated? i understand she will not be long."
"thank you. how did you know my name, colonel ilse?"
"i must answer like a yankee by asking another question, miss branwin. how did you know mine?"
"miss toat told me."
"and miss toat told me," repeated the colonel, smiling. "the fact is--i hope you will not mind my saying this, as i am old enough to be your father, young lady--you remind me of someone who was very dear to me. curiosity made me ask your name."
"and curiosity made me ask what yours was also," said audrey, quickly. "your face--your eyes, to be particular--remind me of someone."
ilse looked at her rather oddly. "of whom, may i ask?" he said eagerly.
the girl shook her head. "i can't say; but i almost feel as if i had known you before. i daresay it is fancy."
"perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't," said the colonel, quietly.
"what do you mean?"
"nothing, miss branwin; only we may have met by chance."
the excuse did not satisfy audrey, but she could not very well go on asking questions. she liked the looks of colonel ilse. he had a handsome but rather sad face, and his blue eyes were strangely kind and pathetic. "you are searching for your little girl?" she said impulsively. "miss toat told me."
"upon my word," said the colonel, humorously, "miss toat seems to have told you a great deal. yes, miss branwin, i am looking for my daughter who was stolen from me some twenty and more years ago. a hospital nurse took her away, and i have never been able to find her."
"why did the nurse take her away?"
colonel ilse actually blushed through his tan. "it was in a fit of jealousy that she did so," he explained hurriedly. "that is, she--well, it is too long a story to tell you. but i have placed the matter in the hands of miss toat, and lately she has told me that she thinks she will be successful in finding my daughter."
audrey shook her pretty head gravely. "it is a long time after the loss to think of finding her."
"i have been in india for many years," said the colonel, who seemed to be singularly frank in his conversation, "and a military man has scanty time to attend to his own affairs. but lately i have retired, and as i have come in for a fortune, owing to the death of my uncle, i greatly wish to find my child, so that she may be my heiress."
"i hope you will be successful," said audrey, sympathetically.
"i hope so too, and i think if we can trace this hospital nurse that the truth will become known. the nurse has-- oh!"--colonel ilse stopped explaining as the door opened to reveal perry toat--"here is the lady. miss branwin, i shall leave you to discharge your business first. my interview can come later." and the colonel bowed himself into the outer room.
perry toat took off her gloves and sat at her desk. by this time the effect of madame coralie's improvements had worn off more or less, and the detective was rapidly becoming the drab, unlovely personage she actually was. but audrey liked her better without the mask of fictitious loveliness, as she had an honest if ugly face. the girl felt that she could absolutely trust her. and she wanted someone to trust, now that ralph had failed her.
"do you like colonel ilse?" asked miss toat when the door closed.
"very much," said audrey, frankly. "he seems to be a very nice man, but sad."
"ah! it is my task to turn his sadness into joy," said the detective, looking keenly at her client.
"by finding his daughter?"
"yes, by finding his daughter," assented perry toat, who looked a sharp little rat of a woman as she sat at the table. "and now, let us come to your business, miss branwin. i can't give you much time, so please state what you wish to see me about as speedily as possible."
"i speak in confidence, of course," hesitated audrey, rather embarrassed.
"of course, in strictest confidence. what is it?"
"it is about mr. shawe. i can't understand him."
"but you are engaged to marry him."
"yes." audrey flushed. "and i love him very dearly. i don't mind telling you this, as you are a woman and can understand. but lately there is something queer about him. i wish him to learn who murdered my mother, and he has been trying. but over a week ago he asked me to give up the search."
"oh"--perry toat sat up alertly--"he asked you to give up the search. why?"
miss branwin felt in her pocket and brought out the anonymous letter. "for this reason," she said, passing it to perry toat. "this letter warns me that if i persist in searching into the case i shall experience the greatest grief of my life."
"oh!" said perry toat again, and ran her sharp eyes over the ill-written lines. "and mr. shawe agrees with this letter?"
"yes. he is most anxious to get me to give up searching, and always avoids answering my questions as much as he can. to-day i had an appointment to see him in kensington gardens, but he did not appear. this is the first time he has ever behaved in this way, so i came at once to ask you if you can tell me the reason for his change of mind."
perry toat looked hard at the anonymous letter, and did not answer. after a time she went to a tin box and brought out some papers, with which she compared the missive addressed to audrey. "let me look at the envelope, please," she said after a long pause. "oh, here it is." she picked it up from the table and examined the postmark.
"what do you make of it?" asked audrey, impatiently.
"of this letter? oh, it is written by someone who wants the case stopped."
"by the assassin?"
"why do you think it might be the assassin?"
"because only the assassin would like an end put to the case."
"humph!" said miss toat, anxiously. "that is one view; but there is another, miss branwin. a certain person may be anxious to prevent your learning the truth in case it should cause you great pain."
"so the letter says," said audrey, quickly. "but i don't understand, unless--" suddenly she stopped, with her mouth open. "oh!" she gasped faintly, for it had just occurred to her what mrs. mellop had hinted, "you don't think that my father wrote it?"
"no." perry toat looked astonished. "why should you think your father--"
"it was merely an idea," interrupted audrey, feverishly. "the fact is, a certain spiteful woman hinted that my father was glad of my mother's death, so that he could marry miss pearl."
"in fact, this person said plainly that sir joseph was guilty," said the other, bluntly.
"not exactly. but"--audrey rose quickly and looked indignant--"it is quite ridiculous to think of such things."
"and yet"--perry toat tapped the anonymous letter--"the person who wrote this may have written it because he suspected your father."
"he? then a man wrote it. what man? can you guess?"
"i can do more than guess," said the detective, drily. "i know by comparison of handwritings. this anonymous letter was written by ralph shawe."
"oh!" audrey turned pale. "so that explains his conduct."
