CHAPTER XXII

AN EXPERT

Returning from morning stables to his barrack-room, Soldier Bill found on his table a document that puzzled him exceedingly. He read it a dozen times, turned it up-side down, smoothed it out with his riding-whip, all in vain. He could make nothing of it; then he summoned Barney.

"When did this thing come, and who brought it?"

"Five minutes back," answered the batman. "Left by a young man on fatigue duty."

So Barney, with military exactitude, described a government official, in the costume of its telegraphic department.

"Did the man leave no message?" continued Bill.

"Said as there was nothing to pay," answered Barney, standing at "attention" and obviously considering this part of his communication satisfactory in the extreme.

"Said there was nothing to pay!" mused his master, "and I would have given him a guinea to explain any two words of it." Then he took his coat off, and sat doggedly down to read the mysterious sentences again and again.

The soldier, as he expressed it, was "up a tree!" That the message must be of importance, he argued from its mode of transmission. The sender's name was legible enough, and his own address perfectly correct. He felt sure Daisy would not have telegraphed from the wilds of Roscommon but on a matter of urgency; and it did seem provoking that the only sense to be got out of the whole composition, was in the sentence with which it concluded--"Do not lose a moment." In his perplexity, he could think of no one so likely to help him as Mrs. Lushington.

"She has more 'nous' in that pretty little head of hers," thought Bill, as he plunged into a suit of plain clothes, "than the Horse Guards and the War Office put together. _She'll_ knock the marrow out of this, if anybody can! I've heard her guess riddles right off, the first time she heard them; and there isn't her equal in London for acting charades and games of that kind, where you must be down to it, before they can say 'knife.' By Jove, I shouldn't wonder if this was a double acrostic after all? Only Daisy wouldn't be such a flat as to telegraph it all the way from Ireland to _me_. I hope she'll see me. It's awfully early. I wonder if she'll blow me up for coming so soon."

These reflections, and Catamount's thorough-bred canter, soon brought him to Mrs. Lushington's door. She was at home, and sufficiently well prepared for exercises of ingenuity, having been engaged, after breakfast,--though it is but fair to say, such skirmishes were of unusual occurrence,--in a passage-of-arms with Frank.

The latter was a good-_natured_ man, with a bad _temper_. His wife's temper was excellent; but her enemies, and indeed her friends, said she was ill-_natured_. Though scarcely to be called an attached couple, these two seldom found it worth while to quarrel, and so long as the selfishness of each did not clash with the other, they jogged on quietly enough. It was only when domestic affairs threw them together more than common, that the contact elicited certain sparks, such as crackled on occasion into what observers below-stairs called a "flare-up."

To-day they happened to breakfast together. After a few "backhanders," and some rapid exchanges, in which the husband came by the worst, their conversation turned on money-matters--always a sore subject, as each considered that the other spent more than a due share of their joint income. Complaints led to recriminations, until at length, goaded by the sharpness of his wife's tongue, Mr. Lushington exclaimed: "Narrow-minded, indeed! Paltry economy! I can tell you, if I didn't keep a precious tight hand, and deny myself--well--lots of things. I say if I didn't deny myself _lots_ of things, I should be in the Bench--that's all."

"Then you are a very bad financier," she retorted, "worse than the Chancellor of the Exchequer even. But I don't believe it. I believe you're saving money every day."

He rose from his chair in a transport of irritation, the skirts of his dressing-gown floating round him, like the rags of a whirling dervish.

"Saving money!" he repeated, in a sort of suppressed scream. "I can only tell you I had to borrow five hundred last week, and from little Sharon too. That doesn't mean getting it at three per cent.!"

"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said she. "No gentleman borrows money from Sharon."

"No gentleman!" he vociferated. "Upon my life, Mrs. Lushington, I wish you would try to be more temperate in your language. No Gentleman, indeed! I should like to know what you call General St. Josephs? I fancy he is rather a favourite of yours. All I can tell you is, _he_ borrows money of Sharon. Lumps of money, at exorbitant interest."

"It's very easy to _say_ these things," she replied. "But you can't prove them!"

"Can't I?" was his rejoinder. "Well, I suppose you won't doubt my word, when I give you my honour, that he consulted me himself about a loan from this very man. Three thousand pounds, Mrs. Lushington--three thousand pounds sterling, and at two days' notice. Didn't care what he paid for it, and wanted it; well, _I_ didn't ask him why he wanted it; _I_ don't pry into other people's money-matters. _I_ don't always think the worst of my neighbours. But you'll allow I'm right, I hope! You'll admit so much at any rate!"

"That has nothing to do with it," replied his wife; and in this highly satisfactory manner their matrimonial bicker terminated.

Mrs. Lushington, while remaining, in a modified sense, mistress of the position--for Frank retired to his own den, when the servants came to take away breakfast--found her curiosity keenly stimulated by the little piece of gossip thus let fall under the excitement of a conjugal wrangle. What on earth could St. Josephs want with three thousand pounds? She had never heard he was a gambler. On a race-course, she knew, from personal observation, that beyond a few half-crowns with the ladies, he would not venture a shilling. He had told her repeatedly how he abhorred foreign loans, joint-stock companies, lucrative investments of all sorts, and money speculations of any kind whatever; yet here, if she believed her husband, was this wise and cautious veteran plunging overhead in a transaction wholly out of keeping with his character and habits. "There _must_ be a woman at the bottom of it!" thought Mrs. Lushington, not unreasonably, resolving at the same time never to rest till she had sifted the whole mystery from beginning to end.

She felt so keen on her quest, that she could even have found it in her heart to seek Frank in his own snuggery, and, sinking her dignity, there endeavoured to worm out of him further particulars, when Catamount was pulled up with some difficulty at her door, and his master's card sent in, accompanied by a humble petition that the early visitor might be admitted. Having darkened her eyelashes just before breakfast, and being, moreover, dressed in an unusually becoming morning toilet, she returned a favourable answer, so that Soldier Bill, glowing from his ride, was ushered into her boudoir without delay.

Her womanly tact observed his fussed and anxious looks. She assumed, therefore, an air of interest and gravity in her own.

"There's some bother," said she kindly; "I see it in your face. How can I help you, and what can I do?"

"You're a conjuror, by Jove!" gasped Bill, in a paroxysm of admiration at her omniscience.

"_You're_ not, at any rate!" she replied, smiling. "But, come, tell me all about it. You're in a scrape? You've been a naughty boy. What have you been doing? Out with it!"

"It's nothing of my own; I give you my honour," replied Bill. "It's Daisy's turn now. Look here, Mrs. Lushington. I'm completely puzzled--regularly knocked out of time. Read that. I can't make head or tail of it."

He handed her the telegram, which she perused in silence, then burst out laughing, and read it again aloud for his edification:--

"_Very strong Honey just arrived--bulls a-light on Bank of Ireland--Sent by an unknown Fiend--fail immediately--Sell Chief--consult a Gent, and strip Aaron at once--Do not lose a moment._"

"Mr. Walters must be gone raving mad, or is this a practical joke, and why do you bring it here?"

"I don't think it's a joke," answered Bill ruefully. "I brought it because you know everything. If _you_ can't help me, I'm done!"

"Quite right," said she. "Always consult a woman in a tangle. Now this thing is just like a skein of silk. If we can't unravel it at one end, we begin at the other. In the first place, who is Aaron? and how would you proceed to strip him?"

"Aaron," repeated Bill thoughtfully. "Aaron--I never heard of such a person. There's Sharon, you know; but stripping _him_ would be out of the question. It's generally the other way!"

"Sharon's a money-lender, isn't he?" she asked. "What business have _you_ to know anything about him, you wicked young man?"

"Never borrowed a sixpence in my life," protested Bill, which was perfectly true. "But I've been to him often enough lately about this business of Daisy's. We've arranged to get fifteen hundred from _him_ alone. Perhaps that is what is meant by stripping him. But it was all to be in hard money; and though I know Sharon sometimes makes you take goods, I never heard of his sending a fellow bulls, or strong honey, or indeed, anything but dry sherry and cigars."

She knit her brows and read the message again. "I think I have it," said she. "'_Strip Aaron._' That must mean 'Stop Sharon.' '_Sell the Chief_',--that's 'Tell the Colonel.' Then '_fail immediately_' signifies that the writer means to cross by the first boat. Where does it come from--Dublin or Roscommon?"

"Roscommon," answered Bill. "They're not much in the habit of telegraphing up there."

"Depend upon it Daisy has dropped into a good thing. Somebody must have left, or lent, or _given_ him a lot of money. I have it! I have it! This is how you must read it," she exclaimed, and following the lines with her taper finger, she put them into sense with no little exultation, for the benefit of her admiring listener. "'_Very strange! Money just arrived. Bill at sight, on Bank of Ireland. Sent by an unknown Friend. Sail immediately. Tell Chief. Consult Agent, and stop Sharon at once._ Do not lose a moment.' There, sir, should I, or should I not, make a good expert at the Bank."

"You're a witch--simply a witch," returned the delighted Bill. "It's regular, downright magic. Of course, that's what he means. Of course, he's come into a fortune. Hurrah! hurrah! Mrs. Lushington, have you any objection? I should like to throw my hat in the street, please, and put my head out of window to shout!"

"I beg you'll put out nothing of the kind!" she answered, laughing. "If you must be a boy, at least be a good boy, and do what I tell you."

"I should think I _would_ just!" he protested, still in his paroxysm of admiration. "You know more than the examiners at Sandhurst! You could give _pounds_ to the senior department! If you weren't so--I mean if you were old and ugly--I should really believe what I said at first, that you're a witch!"

She smiled on him in a very bewitching manner; but her brains were hard at work the while recapitulating all she had learned in the last twenty-four hours, with a pleasant conviction that she had put her puzzle together at last. Yes, she saw it clearly now. The registered envelope of which she found the address, in reverse, on Blanche's blotting-paper, must have contained those very bills, mentioned in Daisy's telegram. It had struck her at the time that the handwriting was stiff and formal, as if disguised; but this served to account for the mysterious announcement of an "unknown fiend!" She was satisfied that Miss Douglas had sent anonymously the sum he wanted to the man she loved. And that sum Bill had already told her was three thousand pounds--exactly the amount, according to her husband's version, lately borrowed by the General from a notorious money-lender. Was it possible Satanella could thus have stripped one admirer to benefit another? It must be so. Such treachery deserved no mercy, and Mrs. Lushington determined to show none.

She considered how far her visitor might be trusted with this startling discovery. It was as well, she thought, that he should be at least partially enlightened, particularly as the transaction was but little to the credit of any one concerned, and could not, therefore, be made public too soon. So she laid her hand on Bill's coat-sleeve, and observed impressively--

"Never mind about my being old and ugly, but attend to what I say. Daisy, as you call him, has evidently found a good friend. Now I know who that friend is. Don't ask me how I found it out. I never speak without being sure. That money came from Miss Douglas."

Bill opened his eyes and mouth. "Miss Douglas!" he repeated. "Not the black girl with the black mare?"

"The black girl with the black mare, and no other," she answered. "Miss Douglas has paid his debts, and saved him from ruin. What return can a man make for such generosity as that?"

"She's a trump, and he ought to marry her!" exclaimed the young officer. "No great sacrifice either. Only," he added, on reflection, "she looks a bit of a Tartar--wants her head let quite alone at her fences, I should think. She'd be rather a handful; but Daisy wouldn't mind that. Yes; he's bound to marry her no doubt; and I'll see him through it."

"I quite agree with you," responded Mrs. Lushington, "but I won't have you talk about ladies as if they were hunters. It's bad style, young gentleman, so don't do it again. Now, attend to what I tell you. Jump on that poor horse of yours; it must be very tired of staring into my dining-room windows. Go to your agent, and send _him_ to Sharon. Let your Colonel know at once. When Daisy arrives, impress on him all that he is bound in honour to do, and you may come and see me again, whenever you like, to report progress."

So Bill leapt into the saddle in exceedingly good spirits, while Mrs. Lushington sat down to her writing-table, with the self-satisfied sensations of one who has performed an action of provident kindness and good-will.