gerald did nothing until the conclusion of the presumed charity bird's engagement at the belver theatre. there was no need to do so for the moment, as the scheme to hide her had proved entirely successful, and no one guessed where to look for the much-wanted mavis. mrs. pelham odin took her to the theatre, waited for her there, and escorted her back again, so that mavis spoke very little to the people behind the scenes. gerald often came to supper, and spent much of his time at the bloomsbury flat. he was supposed to be writing a new book, but in reality he indulged himself with a holiday, to make love to the girl he had so strangely rescued.

but when the belver theatre closed for a time, mrs. pelham odin, feeling the want of a change, took mavis to southend, and there occupied pleasant apartments looking out on to the sea. mavis did not like to be parted from her lover, as he could not see her so frequently; but mrs. pelham odin pointed out that haskins would have to begin his search for the true murderer of bellaria, so that things could be put right. also, as mavis was being taught to read and write by the old actress, it was just as well that gerald should not come too often, to distract the scholar's attention from her lessons. so mrs. pelham odin stopped with mavis at the lively seaside town, happy in the company of the girl, and happy also to receive glowing letters from mrs. tod macandrew, in which she expatiated on her heavenly honeymoon.

haskins found his time hang rather heavily on his hands when mavis and her new guardian left london. he wished to wait for tod before beginning operations, but it would be quite a fortnight until macandrew returned, and until then there was nothing to do. gerald tried to write a few chapters of his new book, in vain. the thought of mavis and of her perilous position filled his head, so he was obliged to throw aside his literary work, until matters were made straight for the girl. having come to this conclusion, he resolved not to wait for tod's arrival, but to work at the case himself. the difficulty was how to begin.

arnold had stated plainly that he believed rebb to be the guilty person, but of this gerald could not be sure. he was convinced that if bellaria's life had stood between rebb and the six thousand a year she would have been murdered long ago. moreover, the story of how geary's knife came to be used sounded very plausible, and, if rebb were guilty, haskins believed that he would not have told the police about the weapon, as he had done, when the inquest was held. then, again, arnold did not know the true reason of bellaria's fear and why she had buried herself in that secluded devonshire village. it struck gerald that the tána society had traced bellaria dondi to leegarth, and there she had been slain, as she expected. mrs. berch knew of bellaria's dread of the coral hand, as gerald had told her about it when she called to claim it again. she might have informed venosta, who had bestowed the amulet on mrs. crosbie. he was undoubtedly an emissary of the tána society, and probably was the real criminal.

arguing in this way, haskins resolved to call on mrs. crosbie, and question her mother as to whether she had betrayed bellaria to the burly italian. also, he was anxious to learn why signor venosta had given the coral hand to the widow, as it was incredible to think that she belonged to such a cut-throat organization. but there must be some reason why mrs. crosbie should hold the trinket which had so sinister a significance, and this gerald made up his mind to see into. finally, and as a third reason for his visit, he desired to know when rebb and mrs. crosbie would marry. if tod were right about the widow's impecuniosity--and gerald believed that he was--she would not become the major's wife unless he was certain of his income. and while mavis remained undiscovered rebb could by no means be certain.

gerald would have asked arnold to come to london, but he thought it best that he should not be seen in the company of schaibar, as the major might suspect that something was wrong. it was of course, impossible that rebb could ever trace mavis, but it was just as well to be on the safe side. so arnold remained in exeter, touring the surrounding country as far as silbury, denleigh, and leegarth, keeping a keen eye on geary, and communicating to gerald by registered letters all the gossip dealing with the case which he could gather. it seemed from the little man's epistles that the excitement had died down after bellaria was buried, and a belief existed that mavis, while flying from justice, had fallen into some river and had been drowned. whether the negro or rebb shared this comfortable belief haskins could not discover. he thought not, else the major might have been still more afraid of losing his illegal income. in spite of his denial that mavis had any relatives either on the father's or mother's side, it was possible that the gallant officer lied. and if relatives existed they would certainly claim the money if mavis was supposed to be dead.

a few days, therefore, after mavis had departed with mrs. pelham odin to southend, gerald paid a visit to ladysmith mansions. mrs. crosbie was within, looking much the same as usual, and she received him in quite a friendly manner. he fancied that the disagreeable topic of their last conversation had vanished from her memory. but her first words, after greetings, proved that this was not the case.

"i am glad to see you, my dear gerald," she said, languidly pointing to a seat, "but i hope you are not going to tell me any more horrors."

"i was not aware that i had ever told you any," he answered, rather annoyed by her tone.

"oh yes. all that story of the lunatic, whom you wanted me to look after. it was just as well that i did not, seeing how mad she is."

"she is not mad," insisted the young man. "i told you that before, and i tell you again, madge."

"how often have i said that you are not to call me by my christian name, you silly boy," said mrs. crosbie irritably.

"there is no one here." gerald looked at the curtains dividing one room from the other. "i suppose mrs. berch is not again lying down with a headache."

"no. she is out shopping, and will be in soon. and you needn't look so cross. neither mother nor i told major rebb about your weird love affair. mother overheard, as she said, but held her tongue."

"madge----"

"don't, i tell you. major rebb may come in at any moment, and i am also expecting signor venosta to afternoon tea. what would either of them say, if they heard you address me so familiarly."

gerald shrugged his shoulders, and did not argue the point. "as you please, mrs. crosbie. i was merely taking the privilege of our age-long acquaintanceship."

"why not friendship?" she inquired, closing her eyes.

"friendship, then. when are you to be married?"

"i can't say! michael--that is major rebb, you know--has not settled anything yet. he's very much upset, poor man, over this crazy girl."

"i don't believe that the girl is crazy!" said gerald decisively.

"so you said before! major rebb told me of his interview with you at that denleigh inn, and how absurd you were. now i suppose you will admit that you have had a lucky escape?"

"i admit nothing of the sort!" said haskins bluntly: then added, in a diplomatic manner: "did i know where that poor girl was i would look her up and marry her to-morrow."

"i don't think that lunatic marriages are legal," yawned mrs. crosbie. "in spite of what you say, the girl must be guilty. the jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder, and she should be hanged. as it is, owing to her insanity, i presume she will be shut up in an asylum."

"then the major will be pleased, i expect," said gerald grimly.

"no; he will not. he is very sorry about the affair. it has brought his name before the public in a most unpleasant manner. luckily, everyone knows how well he behaved in looking after the girl. he got nothing for doing it."

haskins started, and wondered if it would be wise to reveal the real terms which existed between mavis and her guardian. if mrs. crosbie did not know how rebb earned his income--if it could be called earning--he was certainly marrying her under false pretenses. for the moment gerald was inclined to blurt out the truth: but, remembering how mrs. crosbie had taken his last confidence, he resolved to hold his tongue about the money question, and to let the widow and her admirer adjust their own private affairs.

meanwhile the widow had gone to the tea-table, which had just been set, and was talking, while she poured out the tea. "i hope that you have got over your infatuation for that girl, gerald. you will never see her again. i expect she is dead; fell into a pit, or a river, or something, when she ran away after committing murder. poor thing! it is a lucky business for her that she is dead."

"mrs. crosbie," said gerald, ceremoniously taking a cup of tea, "you will insist that miss durham killed her nurse. i believe from the bottom of my heart that she is innocent."

"oh, of course you would, being in love," said mrs. crosbie, with a shrug, "but, if she is innocent, who is guilty? major rebb?"

"no, i do not accuse him."

"how good of you, my dear gerald."

"but," added the young man, with emphasis, "you may have an idea as to who killed bellaria dondi."

a piece of bread and butter fell from mrs. crosbie's hand, and she turned round with an amazed look. "i? in heaven's name, how should i know?"

"didn't your mother tell you what i said about bellaria and that coral hand which i found in your cigarette-case?"

"yes. the woman was afraid when she saw it."

"do you know why she was afraid?"

"no; i certainly do not."

"could signor venosta tell you?"

mrs. crosbie rose, and came forward with a glittering light in her eyes not pleasant to look at. "what do you mean? signor venosta----"

"gave you the amulet? mrs. berch told me as much."

"if he did, what then? signor venosta is an old friend of mine. so long as major rebb does not object, i fail to see why you----"

"oh, i have no objections to offer," interrupted gerald hurriedly. "but bellaria was afraid of that coral hand, which symbolized--now then, mrs. crosbie, what did it symbolize?"

"i don't know," she faltered, and her eyes dropped; after a pause she looked up. "i'll tell you all i know," she added, passing her lace handkerchief across her lips. "but keep what i say to yourself."

"go on. i shall say nothing to the world without your permission."

mrs. crosbie reflected. "i was in difficulties over money when we last met," she said rapidly. "there was an italian moneylender--a jew in the city--who held a bill of mine, and treated me badly. i did not know what to do. when i told signor venosta, in despair, since he was always a good friend of mine, he asked me the name of the jew, and all particulars."

"what is the name of the jew?" asked gerald quickly.

"that has nothing to do with the story. there is no need for you to know. this moneylender was an italian jew, and came from naples. when signor venosta heard my tale he detached that coral hand from his watch chain, on the very day you found us together, and gave it to me, saying, that if i showed it to the jew everything would go well. i put it for safety in my cigarette-case, which you carried off. so small an object could easily be lost, as you may guess. when i found that my case was missing i sent mother at once to you, thinking--and rightly--that you had taken it. she brought it back."

"well, go on. did you show it to the jew?"

"yes. he was desperately afraid, and agreed to whatever terms i chose to make; so you may guess, i insisted on having favorable ones. that is all, gerald."

"why was the jew afraid?"

"i know no more than i know why bellaria was afraid."

"did this italian jew from naples say anything?"

"no. he turned a dirty yellow, and nearly went on his knees. i told him that if he did not give me my way that he would get into trouble, and that i had brought the sign to show him. he yielded, and after our making terms he seemed glad to get rid of me."

"but you know----"

"i know nothing," she interrupted tartly, and returned to the tea-table, haskins wondering if she was playing a part. since she knew so much it seemed to him that she must know more. he tried the effect of a surprise. "ah, the jew was probably afraid of the tána."

this time mrs. crosbie dropped the teapot, which clattered on the tray with a great noise. "the tána society?" she stammered, very pale.

"the tána society?" said a new and foreign-sounding voice at the same time, and signor venosta was shown into the room as the teapot fell.

'mrs. crosbie recovered herself with an effort. "oh, signor, how are you to-day? last time, mr. haskins--you know mr. haskins--found you with me, now you find him with me. how strange!"

she was talking for the sake of talking, as gerald noted, for her face was livid and her bosom rose and fell stormily. the burly italian, who looked perfectly self-controlled and composed, eyed haskins, who bore his gaze without flinching. neither man took notice of mrs. crosbie's chatter, and she sank again into her seat before the tea-table. "won't you sit down also, you two?" she tittered nervously.

"you mentioned the tána society," said venosta, turning on the little woman, "and to this young man."

"pardon me. i mentioned it first to mrs. crosbie," said haskins coolly.

"what do you know of the tána society?"

"very little beyond the fact that it consists of a body of men who emerge on occasions from the den to dispense that justice which cannot be obtained by law. the headquarters of the society is in naples, and the symbol is a coral hand grasping a dagger."

signor venosta might have been hewn out of marble for all the surprise he showed at this speech. but he was staggered, since gerald caught the expression of his eyes. "may i ask how you know all this, sir?"

gerald shrugged. "i see no reason to conceal the fact that by chance i carried away mrs. crosbie's cigarette-case during my last visit. the amulet fell out when i opened the case in my rooms for a cigarette."

"quite so,"' assented venosta blandly, "but you thought, no doubt, that it was merely a trinket."

"yes; such as an old friend--you, for instance, signor venosta--might give to mrs. crosbie."

"ah!" the italian turned swiftly on the widow, "you have told him."

"no, no!" she said vehemently, "only that you gave me the trinket, and that i made that jew moneylender do what i wanted by showing it to him. i did not tell anything else, because i know nothing else, save that the coral hand has to do with some society called the tána."

"how do you know that much even?"

"my mother told me. mr. haskins told her."

"and how do you know?" demanded venosta, turning toward gerald.

"because bellaria dondi," the italian started, "came to my rooms just before mrs. berch appeared to reclaim the cigarette-case. bellaria was afraid when she saw the amulet, and staggered out of the room crying out: 'tána! tána!' i asked a friend what the word meant, and he told me it meant a den. told me also, that he had heard of the society by that name in naples. i guessed then from what bellaria said, and from her terror, that the tána society wished to kill her."

venosta nodded and smiled amiably. "you are a clever young gentleman to piece things together so cleverly. well, i have heard the name of bellaria dondi."

"in connection with this murder?" asked gerald, "or long ago, when she was a singer, and in love with enrico salviati?"

signor venosta's brow grew dark, and he frowned fiercely. "bellaria told you much," he said, striving to appear calm.

"much," assented gerald easily, and not at all daunted by black looks, "but she did not tell me who had struck the blow, or who had given the information which led to the striking of the blow. she could not; she is dead, poor soul."

venosta eyed him coldly. "then, and in spite of the verdict which accuses an english young lady of murder, you believe the tána society murdered bellaria dondi."

"did justice on her, let us say," remarked gerald quietly; "that is the euphonious way in which you italians put such things."

"and you believe that i obtained the news of bellaria's whereabouts from----" his eye wandered to mrs. crosbie.

she sprang to her feet indignantly. "it is not true. i told you nothing of what my mother said; nothing of what she heard from gerald. say that i did not tell you? how could i, when i knew nothing? had i known of this society, and your connection with it, i should not have made use of that coral hand to terrify the jew."

"i do not say that i am connected with the tána society, madam."

"you gave me the trinket."

"which was given to me by a member of the society for use in emergencies, madam. i gave it to you to aid you out of friendship. that is all. he waved his large white hand. there is no more to be said."

"pardon me," said gerald quickly, "there is this much to be said. how did you come to know of bellaria's hiding-place, if mrs. crosbie----"

"madam here told me nothing," interrupted the italian, silencing the little widow with a gesture. "bellaria dondi was a traitress, who deserved to be killed. nevertheless, she hid herself so successfully that the tána society never knew where she was until the papers said that she had been found dead in devonshire."

"did not an emissary of the tána society kill her?" asked gerald, confounded.

"no," said venosta gravely. "heaven punished bellaria, not the tána. she is dead--stabbed--but i do not know who struck the blow."

he looked at mrs. crosbie, and at gerald coldly, bowed slightly, and left the room.