CHAPTER X

THE _DEUS EX MACHINA_

If Lesbia had been a trifle more versed in the ways of the wicked world, she would have remained longer in conversation with Maud, if only to learn about that lady's plans. Maud declared that unless George became her husband she would have him put into gaol for the burglary. But it was difficult to know how she intended to proceed. Of course, she could declare that Walker had chloroformed her and had stolen the key of the strong-room to steal the jewels, but she had no one to prove the truth of her story, plausible as it was, in the face of Walker's known presence in the picture-gallery. It was George's word against Maud's and, therefore, the law would have no easy matter to prove the young man's supposed guilt.

But Lesbia was so hot with indignation at the discovery of Maud's mean plot that she ended the interview abruptly, and walked quickly away trying to stifle her rage. For George's sake it was necessary that she should keep a clear head, and it was necessary also that she should learn the truth of this conspiracy--as she verily believed it to be.

Come what might, Lesbia decided in her own mind that George should marry her. But to bring this about she had not only to clear his character, but to find the amethyst cross and restore it to her father. But where the cross might be she could not guess. The mystery of the robbery and of George's presence in the cottage on that fatal night had never been cleared up.

Walking swiftly down to the river Lesbia thought over these things, and thought still more when she entered Tim's boat. The little man had rowed her up to Henley at her request, and took her back the same way. She had detailed her reasons for visiting Miss Ellis, but had received scanty comfort from Tim. He was disposed to take a gloomy view of the matter.

"It's the crass, bad luck to it!" groaned Tim, when she told him how badly she had fared. "Sure there's nivir bin a moment's pace sinse it was lost."

"That is very true," rejoined Lesbia, steering the boat towards the lock, and reviewing in her own mind the untoward circumstances which had disturbed her life since the proposal of George in the garden. From the time when the cross had been given to him, there had been nothing but incessant trouble. Her father had raged, her lover had been assaulted, her liberty had been curtailed, and George had lost his situation through being accused of a sordid crime. And to crown all, another woman, of whose existence she had scarcely heard, had stepped in to claim Walker as her future husband.

"It's very true," sighed Lesbia dolefully, "the cross has brought nothing but trouble. If we could get it back again things might mend. But the question is, how to recover it?"

Tim bent to his oars, and shook his head with another groan. "Let it bide, Miss, let it bide. Sure we don't want more kick-ups. Me mother, rist her sowl, towld me that the crass wud bring lashins av worry whin ye guv it off av yer hand. An' it's truth she spoke, me dear."

"Do you know where she got the cross, Tim?"

"Sure, Miss, an' didn't she tell ye whin she died? 'Twas yer mother's. I know no more nor that, me dear, 'twas your mother's. As for Masther Garge, cudn't ye forgit him, Miss?"

"No!" cried Lesbia, indignantly. "I shall love George as long as I live. I can no more forget him than he can forget me. Would you have me marry Captain Sargent?"

"Sure, an' I wudn't. He's a proud baste, an' if ye married him, me dear, he'd be afther bringing me to the gallows, for his treatmint av ye, Miss Lesbia."

"Then don't let us talk any more about the matter," cried Lesbia, impetuously. "I shall keep my faith with George."

"Wud ye like to see him, Miss?"

"No," said the girl promptly. "I told him in my letter that we must never meet again. Nor will we until this mystery of the burglary is cleared up. I intend to clear it up."

"But how, Miss? Ye've no wan to help ye."

Lesbia reflected. "There's The Shadow," she said quietly.

"An' what wud that poor cratur be afther doing, Miss?"

"I don't know. But he offered to help me, so I shall put his professions of gratitude to the test. Tim, to-night you must go down to Cookham and bring him back with you."

"Augh!" groaned Tim, annoyed that anyone but himself should do anything for his darling. "Sure he's out av the house, so let him bide, me dear."

"If you don't go to Cookham, I will," said Lesbia firmly.

"An' have trouble wid that baste av a Captain? Me dear, I'll go."

And Tim was as good as his word. Lesbia reached the cottage to find that her father had left a note saying he had gone to London for a few days. Hale was always stealing off on mysterious errands, possibly connected with his equally mysterious business.

Of late no odd characters had been coming to the cottage, but Hale was absent much more frequently. On this occasion his absence was welcome, as it gave Lesbia a chance of arranging her plans with Canning. What these might be she had, as yet, no very clear idea. All she intended to do was to explain the situation and ask The Shadow what was best to be done. When she received his opinion, she could then take a step forward into the veiling mists which surrounded her.

While Tim rowed down to Cookham, which he did after landing Lesbia at the bottom of the garden, the girl ran into the cottage. She found that she had it all to herself as, true to his promise, Mr. Hale had dismissed Mrs. Petty. That good lady, liking the easy place, had retired in high dudgeon, and would have shown fight but that Hale quelled her with a glance of his cold, grey eye.

Hale, indeed, possessed a great power--perhaps a hypnotic power--over those who came to the cottage. Had not Canning fallen sick, and thus had been removed from his influence, it is very questionable if he would have offered his services to Lesbia. However, he had done so, and the girl was about to accept them gratefully.

Lesbia passed the time in dressing herself for dinner, and in partaking of it. It was a homely meal, consisting of cold meat and salad, bread and cheese and a glass of prime claret. Afterwards Lesbia made herself a cup of black coffee, and sat down in the tiny drawing-room with a book, pending the arrival of The Shadow. But her thoughts wandered from the printed page to George, and more than ever she longed for his coming. It had cost her much to write the letter of dismissal, but in the face of Maud's threat, as conveyed to her by Hale, she could do nothing else. And the worst of it was that she had not been permitted to assign a cause for what George must regard as her heartless behaviour.

However, and very luckily, she had scanty time for sad reflections, for shortly she heard the hearty voice of Tim, as he entered the house by the back door, and later the sibilant whisper of The Shadow.

In a few minutes Canning presented himself, looking more lean and more dismal than ever in his customary suit of black. But his haggard face was lighted up with an eager smile. The mere fact that Lesbia had decided to avail herself of his services made him as gay as such a sad personage well could be. Canning was desperately anxious to repay the kindness he had received.

"I am glad to see you," said Lesbia cordially. "You lost no time."

"No, Miss," whispered the grim man, who stood with long, hanging arms at the door. "Captain Sargent went to London to-day with your father, and I came back with Tim at once. I am so glad you want me to help you, Miss."

"I need your help very badly," sighed Lesbia, passing her hand across her brow. "Will you not sit down, Canning."

"In your presence, Miss? Please excuse me."

"But you are yet weak after your illness. Sit down. I want you to."

Thus urged, The Shadow sank softly on to the extreme edge of a convenient chair placed near the door. Here he fixed his sad eyes on the beautiful vision at the window, and adored in silence.

Lesbia turned matters over in her mind. She knew that she would have to speak very plainly, and had a natural reluctance to doing so, since Canning was a servant and a stranger.

Still, he was the sole person who could help her, as now that George was out of her life, temporarily, at all events, she felt very lonely. Her father neither gave her affection, nor desired any, and certainly would not put out a hand to save George, much less clear his character. Why should he, when he wanted Walker out of the way so that his daughter could marry Sargent?

Lesbia thought of these things with her eyes on the floor, and finally determined to confess everything, as her plight and that of George was too desperate to permit of over-nice feelings.

With some colour, therefore, she related the whole story from the time that Walker had proposed to the result of her visit to Maud.

"I was forced to dismiss Mr. Walker," she said in addition, "because my father came back to tell me that Miss Ellis had threatened to have Mr. Walker arrested. I saw Miss Ellis also, as I have told you, and she declares that she can prove Mr. Walker's guilt, and will do so unless he marries her."

Canning, with his sad eyes fixed upon her, heard the whole tale without comment. At the end he nodded. "What do you wish me to do, Miss?"

"I want you to learn who committed this burglary at Mr. Tait's house, so that Mr. Walker can be cleared."

"But how can I do that, Miss, when I am servant to Captain Sargent? I have my duties to consider."

"I know that," Lesbia faltered, and became downcast, "and then you have no experience in looking into these things. I am sorry you cannot help me."

"I did not say that, Miss."

"Then you will?"

The Shadow reflected, but did not take his eyes from her eager face. "Yes!" he said at length. "I will help you."

"Oh, Canning, thank you so much. But how?"

"I can't say yet, Miss. In the first place I must leave Captain Sargent."

Lesbia rose impulsively. "I don't want you to lose your situation."

"I had intended to give the Captain notice long ago," explained Canning, rising in his turn. "What you say decides me. I shall go to London, and in one way or another I may be able to learn who stole those jewels."

"But why in London? They were stolen at Henley."

"Quite so, but the two thieves--if Mr. Walker is to be believed, there were two--must have taken the jewels to dispose of them in London. Leave everything to me, Miss. I was in an inquiry office once, and know how to go about these matters. But," he hesitated, "it will require money."

"Oh!" Lesbia uttered an ejaculation of dismay. "I have none."

"Can't your father give you some, Miss?"

Lesbia shook her head. "He wants me to marry Captain Sargent, and so will not allow me to help Mr. Walker. No, my father will give me nothing. What is to be done?"

"I don't know, Miss. But I have no money and I must have at least fifty pounds to work on. I shall learn about the burglary first and then will discover who knocked down Mr. Walker and stole the cross." He paused. "Has Tim saved any money?"

"No, poor soul," sighed Lesbia, "my father never pays him any wages. I am sure he would lend me the money if he had it. There is no one from whom I can borrow, and----" here a sudden idea came to the girl, and she flushed crimson with mingled hope and nervous fear. "Oh!" she cried, "he might, he might."

"Who might, Miss?" asked the man sharply.

Lesbia took no notice. "Fifty pounds," she murmured. "It's a large sum of money. Still he might. He----" she stopped again as she saw The Shadow looking at her curiously. "Go away, Canning, and return to-morrow evening. I hope to have the fifty pounds by then."

"Miss," Canning spoke slowly and impressively, "you have honoured me with your confidence, and you will never regret doing so, as I am entirely devoted to you. Add to that confidence by telling me from whom you design to borrow this fifty pounds."

"There is no reason why you should not know," said Lesbia quickly, "I am thinking of Lord Charvington."

"Mr. Hale's cousin."

"Oh, you know that," she cried, surprised.

"Yes," The Shadow laughed in his whispering, silent way, rather oddly. "I know more than you give me credit for. You see," he added, slowly, and with a downcast face, "I was at school with your father and Charvington."

"You," Lesbia gasped in astonishment, and stared at the lean, dusky, untidy figure before her. Then she remembered the scrupulous refinement of the man, noted anew his excellent diction, and suddenly saw in the weird face and figure evidences of good breeding.

"Mr. Canning," she said suddenly, and gave him a new position at once, "you are a gentleman!"

"I _was_ a gentleman," he replied bitterly, and dropping his use of the word "Miss." "Now I am Captain Sargent's valet and a wastrel. But I am also your very devoted servant, Miss Hale," he bowed. "Let it remain at that."

"But how did you come to----"

"Don't ask me--don't ask me," said Canning hurriedly. "Some day you will learn how I came to occupy this position. Meanwhile, get the fifty pounds from Charvington"--Lesbia noted that he spoke quite as an equal of the nobleman--"and give it to me. I shall save your lover and make your path straight for you."

"Can you do this, Mr. Canning?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "Good-night, Miss Hale. Please do not tell Tim what I have mentioned, and say nothing to Charvington. To-morrow night I shall come for the fifty, and the----" he paused, opened and closed his hand several times, and then vanished with a sigh. He might indeed have been a veritable shadow from the noiseless way in which he disappeared.

Lesbia remained spell-bound. In a flash it occurred to her that she should long ago have guessed that The Shadow was other than he appeared to be. Many things which had puzzled her became plain, and she wondered how a gentleman had sunk so low as to be a spy, and to occupy the position of Sargent's valet. But she had too much delicacy to question Canning, until such time as he chose of his own free will to speak out.

Besides, she had much to think about in connection with her proposed borrowing of fifty pounds from Lord Charvington. And unless she could procure that sum, there would be no chance of George being saved from the clutches of Maud Ellis.

The nobleman in question was a cousin of Mr. Hale's and had once or twice been to the cottage. Indeed, Lesbia had reason to believe that Lord Charvington allowed her father a certain sum every quarter, although this seemed strange in the face of Hale's assertion that he could give her two thousand a year if she married to his liking. There was also the business in the City about which Lesbia knew nothing. Why should a man in business accept an annuity?

It was all very strange, but then everything connected with Mr. Walter Hale was strange, and now that Lesbia began to think, she began to mistrust her father. Why did he keep his business secret? Why did he accept an annuity, and then declare that he could give her a large income? Why did he have such shady people at the cottage whom he scarcely permitted her to see? Altogether Lesbia became aware that there was something sinister about her father's position. She felt like a watcher of a black cloud waiting for it to discharge lightning. More than ever did she determine at least to have the mysteries of the burglary and of the cross cleared up. The old time of peace had passed away for the girl, and now she felt that she would have to go forth and do battle.

With regard to Charvington, she knew him moderately well. He had always been kind to her, and she had heard her father state that the nobleman was her godfather. It seemed rather cool to apply to him for a loan of fifty pounds, but Lesbia was not only desperate but also very unsophisticated in worldly ways.

Almost without considering what she was about, she wrote a hurried letter asking him to lend her fifty pounds for six months, and promised to explain later why she desired the loan. She proposed in her own mind to repay the money by selling the amethyst cross when Canning should get it back for her, as she believed he would.

Of course the whole business was very naïve and very childish, and a girl more versed in worldly things would never have ventured to take such a step. But Lesbia, just like a trusting child, asked for the money, and posted her letter with a prayer that God would grant her request.

Like a newly-fledged gambler, who wins every game through sheer ignorance, Lesbia's desperately-played card turned up trumps in four and twenty hours. Lord Charvington sent her a cheque by return of post and invited her to come and explain matters to him personally. Lesbia danced with joy.

"Now!" she said to herself. "George is safe. Thank God!"