CHAPTER XXV

John's work of that night was commended highly by Dacent Smith. For his discovery of the japanned box had put the department in possession of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's code and a score of letters evidently part of a secret correspondence conducted with a camp for officers, and with Kurt von Morgen, whose "plans for escape were progressing nicely"!

The great man commended this achievement. But, like John, he felt pity for Beecher Monmouth, who had fallen so easy and gullible a victim to his wife's treachery. In regard to Cherriton's suspicions of John he took a serious view.

"I think, Treves," he said, leaning back in his chair, "we shall have to remove Cherriton from the scene. He appears, from what you tell me, not to have confided his suspicions of you either to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth or to von Kuhne. It is unfortunate that he chanced to be appointed by von Kuhne to watch Heatherpoint. But I don't think we can blame Lieutenant Parkson for letting out the fact that you were for a brief period attached to that fort. Nevertheless the position is one that must be handled swiftly and effectively."

He suddenly smiled at John.

"You have done very well up to now, Treves," he said. "But I should not like your career to be suddenly cut short when there are big things ahead. We have safely got rid of Lady Rachel Marvin in Pitt Lunan Hydro, where she can enjoy the company of other fools of her own sort, and will be unable to endanger any more of our forces by loose gossip." He paused, then went on: "The virtual suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act was a god-send to us in the handling of dangerous social fools like Lady Rachel. We could do still more than we do at present, Treves, if every one who knew of suspicious persons or suspicious gossip would only let us know. If members of the public would take the trouble to write a letter to their favourite newspaper the information would always reach us, and would enable us to keep watch on a good many suspicious characters who would otherwise escape us."

"The trouble is," said John, "the members of the public do not understand either the power of the German spy system in this country or the wideness of its extent."

"Exactly," nodded his chief. "Who, for instance, would suspect Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, the beautiful and wealthy wife of a well-known member of Parliament? But, to my mind, persons like Lady Rachel Marvin are just as dangerous to us as the actual German spies who pick up their information."

John went away from Dacent Smith's bachelor abode that night full of intense curiosity as to what Mrs. Beecher Monmouth would do in the immediate future. If, however, he thought that the death of her husband would check her activities he was speedily disillusioned. For immediately after the funeral of the late politician, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, looking beautiful in her widow's weeds, departed for the Isle of Wight. The funeral of Beecher Monmouth had been an impressive public affair, and there had been much commiseration for the tragically bereaved young widow. It was only natural, therefore, that after so terrible a shock she should wish to withdraw herself from the public gaze. Rooms were engaged at an hotel at Newport, and Mrs. Monmouth, in deepest widow's weeds, made the journey accompanied by her maid Cecily.

She arrived at Newport on the twenty-fourth of the month, and the proprietor of the hotel, who knew of her bereavement, received her with a grave and discreet cordiality. He himself showed her to the parlour which had been allotted to her, and assured her that he would do all that was in his power to make her stay as quiet and reposeful as he possibly could.

Mrs. Beecher Monmouth thanked him cordially. That night she dined in the retirement of her little parlour, but on the following evening it was discovered that her chimney smoked a little. She therefore decided to take her dinner in the public dining-room. As the chimney in her sitting-room had never smoked before, the proprietor of the hotel was a little puzzled. Nevertheless he prepared for her a table in a quiet corner of the dining-room downstairs. Here, accompanied by Cecily, her confidential maid, who placed her chair for her and then departed, the newly-bereaved widow took her meal. The only other diners in the room were four young officers, who sat at a table in an opposite corner. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, in her simple and costly black dress, immediately engaged their attention. They respected her sorrow, however, and, despite the evident admiration of one of them, who thought her possessed of the most beautiful profile he had ever seen, Mrs. Monmouth did not encounter from the young men a single glance. When dinner was at an end she rose gracefully, and, carrying her novel, went upstairs to her apartments. When the door had closed upon her the four young officers became animated in a surprising manner.

"By gad!" exclaimed one, "she's a dashed fine-looking woman, and young, too."

"A dashed sight too young for Beecher Monmouth, I should think," remarked another. "What a rotten thing to happen to her. I wonder what made him shoot himself."

They speculated upon Mrs. Beecher Monmouth and her tragedy for some minutes, then rose to go.

In the meantime Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had reached her sitting-room. Strange to say, the fire no longer smoked. She turned swiftly to the sallow-skinned Cecily.

"Cecily!"

"Yes, madame."

"Go downstairs and find out which of those young officers was Lieutenant Parkson, of Heatherpoint Fort. You know how to find out?"

Cecily looked at her knowingly.

"Yes, madame."

Presently Cecily returned.

"Lieutenant Parkson, madame, was the one with the black hair and the little black moustache who sat facing you."

"Thank you, Cecily," said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. "Did you discover when he was coming again?"

"He and his friends have engaged the same table for to-morrow night, madame."

"Thank you." Mrs. Beecher Monmouth lit one of her Russian cigarettes, flung the match into the fire, and, relapsing into a chair at the hearth, began to smoke quietly. "I shall dine downstairs at the same time to-morrow, Cecily," she said.

"Very good, madame."

The next night the four young men were already seated at their table when Mrs. Beecher Monmouth entered the old-fashioned dining-room, followed by Cecily. This time Lieutenant Parkson caught the full view of Mrs. Monmouth's beauty for the first time. Her fine eyes met his, lingered for a moment, then turned away. After that the young man watched her during the entire meal. He watched her as she moved away. She carried herself superbly.

For some minutes, unheeding his companions' conversation, Parkson looked at the vacant place she had occupied. He remained absorbed in thought until something gleaming caught his eye on the carpet, within a yard of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's vacated chair. Parkson saw this object, left his seat, and discovered it to be a small gold cigarette-case.

He took it up quickly and examined it with a good deal of interest. On the gold surface of the case the letters "A.B.M." were outlined in small rubies. For a minute the young man hesitated, holding the article in his hand; then suddenly he made up his mind what to do. He determined to seize advantage by the forelock.

Excusing himself to his friends, Parkson hurried out of the room. He had determined upon a course which would enable him to make her acquaintance. The single glance Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had rested upon him when entering the room gave him courage. At the door of No. 9, which was her sitting-room, he knocked quietly. A low voice bade him come in.

Then Parkson, embarrassed despite his boldness, stepped into the room.

"I beg your pardon for intruding upon you, but I think you dropped this cigarette-case in the dining-room."

Mrs. Beecher Monmouth looked at him, then at the case, and came quickly to her feet.

"Oh, yes," she exclaimed. She accepted it from his fingers and smiled at him, looking steadily into his eyes. "I am so grateful to you," she said. "I cannot," she lied, "tell how I came to drop it!"

Parkson bowed, and was moving towards the door.

"Not at all," he murmured.

"You know, the servants," went on Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "are sometimes so dishonest in these hotels."

"Quite so," answered Parkson clumsily. Then he noticed that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had opened the cigarette-case and was holding it towards him. There were four buff-coloured cigarettes in its interior.

"Won't you give me the pleasure of accepting one of them? I am afraid it is the only reward you will permit me to offer you, Mr.----"

She paused, looking questioningly at him.

"My name is Parkson."

Mrs. Beecher Monmouth uttered a pleased exclamation; her face wreathed itself in smiles. For a devastated widow she looked at that moment particularly light-hearted.

"Oh, how very nice that is. Then you must know my cousin, Captain Cherriton?"

"Yes," said Parkson; "I've met him a number of times here." His tone conveyed to her swift intelligence the fact that Captain Cherriton was not high in his favour. She looked at him seriously.

"I am afraid he was not the best of company for you."

At that moment Cecily, who had been conveniently absent from the room, entered with coffee upon the tray.

"You will please bring another cup, Cecily. I am sure Captain Parkson----"

"Lieutenant Parkson," corrected the young man.

"Lieutenant Parkson will join me."

Five minutes later Lieutenant Parkson was comfortably seated in a chair on the opposite side of the hearth. He was consuming one of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's buff-coloured cigarettes, and was very much at home drinking some of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's after-dinner coffee. After the first few minutes he gathered together his natural self-possession. He was generally at home where women were concerned, and he was intensely susceptible to feminine beauty. At that particular moment he was flattering himself that he was making a good impression upon this rich and beautiful young widow. It occurred to him that she was, in the circumstances, unduly cheerful, but he attributed this to his own good company. The fact that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had cunningly put him in this frame of mind was, of course, unknown to him. His own social position was quite a modest one, and this _tete-a-tete_ with a woman of Mrs. Monmouth's importance and aristocratic connections flattered his vanity.

"Do you know, Mr. Parkson, I don't look upon you as a stranger in the least. You are a friend of my reckless cousin, and, therefore, we are in a sense mutually acquainted."

"It is very nice of you to say so," acknowledged Parkson.

In her amiable presence he began to grow expansive, until suddenly Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, as it were, appeared to recollect her tragic widowhood. She dismissed him very neatly, but before he went away they shook hands, and she thanked him again. He could feel her fingers warm, vibrant, and vital in his. Her brilliant eyes held his for a moment; then she permitted him to depart.

Cecily came into the room when he had gone.

"You can take away the cups, Cecily," said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "and to-morrow night, in addition to coffee, you will provide whisky and liqueurs."

"Very good, madam."

"Glasses for two," announced Mrs. Beecher Monmouth.

Within four days of her arrival at her hotel Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had completely enchained the susceptible young officer. Parkson was amazed at his own success, yet perhaps not so much amazed after all. He began to see himself as a newly fledged Don Juan, a dog, a daring and romantic fascinator of women.