CHAPTER XVII

DISGRACE

Next morning, Lesbia was sitting in her bedroom, thinking over the terrible event of the previous night. She had remained in a faint for a considerable time, and had recovered consciousness to find herself lying on her bed. At once she had desired to see Lady Charvington, but her hostess sent up a message asking that Lesbia should wait until the arrival of Lord Charvington, who had been wired for. From the somewhat pert behaviour of the maid who brought the message, the unfortunate girl felt that she was in disgrace, and did not dare to resent it. Having recognised her father in the man whose mask she had torn off, she fancied that the whole household knew of the matter. But in this she was wrong, as she learned, when Agatha, the elder of the girls, came by stealth to her room about eleven o'clock at night.

"I don't know what is the matter with mother," said Agatha speaking in a whisper and keeping a watchful eye on the door, "she told Lena and I that we were not to see you, or speak to you."

"Why?" stammered Lesbia, feeling sick with shame.

"I don't know. I suppose mother is angry at the loss of her jewels. But my father always told her that she would lose them."

"Have they caught the thieves?"

"No. Lena and I screamed, and everyone came rushing, up. They found Bertha lying half stunned on the floor, and you in a faint. The two men had a motorcar at the gate and got away."

Lesbia turned even whiter than she was. "Do they know who the men are?"

"Of course they don't. They wore masks, you know," said Agatha, "but one mask was found on the floor. Bertha said that you pulled it off the man who was struggling with her. Did you know his face?"

"No," muttered Lesbia. The lie choked her, but she could not denounce her own father, evil as he was.

"I expect when I fainted he jumped from the window after his companion, and managed to reach the motorcar. Has your father returned, Agatha dear?"

"No," answered the girl softly, "he is coming back in the morning. Mother has brought in the police from Maidenhead, but I heard her tell the chief man that you were too ill to be questioned until the morning. Mother seems to be very angry with you, Lesbia. I wonder why?"

"I don't know, dear," said the girl, and indeed she did not. If the names of the thieves were unknown, Lady Charvington could have nothing against her. "But if your mother doesn't want you to speak to me, Agatha, you must go back to bed. When the morning comes I shall see your mother and ask what is the matter."

"See father," said Agatha, pattering across the room with bare feet, "he is fond of you: he told me so. Mother is always jealous of anyone father likes and she will only be disagreeable. I waited till Lena was asleep, then came here. But I'll go now," she returned to kiss Lesbia, "good-night, dear, and don't worry. Everything will be right when father comes back."

Lesbia thought so also. She had implicit faith in Lord Charvington as his daughter had, and knew that he would understand when he heard the truth. But could she tell him the truth? Could she say that the man to whom he allowed an annuity had crept into the house to steal the jewels? And then Canning had said particularly that the two thieves were the same that had robbed Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction. In that case, her father was doubly a villain, as he was not only a thief, but had tried to throw the blame of the first burglary on George Walker in order to bring about a separation between them. Now he had added a second crime to the first, and had robbed his benefactor and cousin at the very time that his own daughter was a guest in the house. Canning must have known of her father's guilt and so, in his letter--for Lesbia's sake no doubt--had advised that the police should not be brought in. But would Charvington keep the affair quiet when his wife had lost her jewels? And in any case would he not send from the house in anger the daughter of such a villain? It was all terrible, shameful, disgraceful, and poor Lesbia sobbed herself to sleep at the horror of it all.

Next morning she could eat no breakfast, but after a cold bath to freshen her up, dressed and sat by the window waiting for Lord Charvington's arrival. At first she was inclined to see her hostess and ask why she behaved so oddly. But the fancy was strong within her, that Lady Charvington in some way must have learned the identity of at least one of the thieves, and so was visiting the shame of the father on the head of the innocent daughter. But then Lesbia could not conjecture if this was true. As Lady Charvington had not entered her bedroom until Hale escaped, she could not have recognised him, and as Hale had escaped the truth would never become known unless Lesbia spoke. This she did not intend to do, unless to Lord Charvington, whom she could trust. She therefore waited patiently. At all events, as she gathered from Agatha's report, whatever Lady Charvington suspected she certainly had not informed the household, in spite of the demeanour of the pert servant. Nevertheless, the very forbidding of the two girls to see Lesbia pointed to doubts and hatred and knowledge of the worst on Lady Charvington's part.

As Lesbia sat there looking out on to the beautiful garden with tear-filled eyes, she recalled many circumstances in her father's life which brought home to her forcibly his wicked vocation. The sordid persons who came by stealth to Rose Cottage must have been thieves and fences who received stolen goods. Her father's mysterious actions and frequent absences were accounted for by the fact, for when away he probably had been robbing with his shameful associates. No wonder he had laughed when George had proposed to leave Tait's office and join him in business. And Tait also was a rogue and a scoundrel, belonging to the gang of which Walter Hale was a member. Sargent might be a thief also--but of this Lesbia could not be certain. Nevertheless, she began to suspect that Canning _alias_ The Shadow had something to do with the robberies. That would explain why a gentleman would descend to being a spy. Canning was under Hale's thumb and would have to do what he was told to do. Then she recollected how he had stated that for telling her about Tait's scheme he would have to go into hiding. There could be no doubt about it. Canning belonged to the gang and out of gratitude had betrayed his sordid associates.

Thinking thus Lesbia grew sick and faint. The thought of the wickedness that surrounded her made her shiver. How could she expect George to marry her when she was the daughter of a thief? And she would be forced to tell him, since she could not marry him and keep silent upon such an important point. To marry George without telling him the truth would be to place herself in the power of her father. And now knowing what her father was, Lesbia felt certain that to put money into his pocket he would not stop short of blackmail. No, she would have to tell what she had discovered to George and to Lord Charvington, and thus in one moment she would lose the only two friends she possessed. Tim remained and Lesbia knew that, come what might, she could always depend upon the fidelity of the Irishman; she felt sure that Tim was as innocent as herself of this dreadful knowledge which had come to ruin her life. In all wide England there was no more miserable girl than the unfortunate Lesbia, as she sat weeping by the window and bidding farewell to happiness and respectability.

Towards noon a message was brought that Lord Charvington wished to see her in the library, and Lesbia after washing away all traces of the bitter tears she had shed descended the stairs. She was pale and worn, but held herself proudly, for whatever might be known, she was determined to face the worst. Several people were in the hall, and she saw a policeman near the door. But no one looked at her in any way suggesting that the terrible truth was known, so Lesbia entered the noble library with a hope that her father had escaped recognition by all save herself.

Only two people were in the library, Lord Charvington and his wife. The former was walking to and fro with a worried expression on his kind face, but the latter seated in an arm-chair near the window looked red with anger and apparently had been engaged in a furious argument: "If you don't tell, I shall," she was saying when Lesbia entered.

"You shall say nothing," said Lord Charvington sternly. "Hold your tongue as you have done. Hitherto you have displayed sense in keeping silence and in silencing Bertha. Continue to behave and----"

"Here's the girl," snapped Lady Charvington, interrupting as Lesbia came silently into the room and closed the door.

"Why do you speak of me in that way?" asked Lesbia, up in arms at once. Knowing herself innocent, she did not intend to stand insult.

"You will soon learn," retorted the other, curling her lip. "I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself. And after all my kindness too, and my----"

"Silence, Helen," said Lord Charvington imperiously. "How dare you talk to Miss Hale so insolently?"

"Miss Hale," sneered his wife. "Why not call her Lesbia, as you have done?"

"I have every right to; she is my cousin." Lord Charvington made an angry gesture to impose silence on his indignant wife, and turned to the girl who stood pale and motionless. "My poor Lesbia, don't look so woe-begone. I will stand by you whatever my wife may say."

"What does she say?" asked Lesbia quietly.

"You had better hear her when she is more composed," said Lord Charvington with a glance at his wife, thereby arousing her to fresh fury. "She will probably say something in the heat of the moment for which she will be sorry. Helen, had you not better go and lie down?"

Lady Charvington arose with a red spot burning on either cheek, and her eyes glittered like those of an angry cat. "How dare you speak to me like this in my own house, Charvington?" she cried in a shrill voice. "I don't leave this room until you turn that shameless girl out of doors."

"What do you mean?" demanded Lesbia indignantly; but with a sinking heart.

"Mean," screamed the infuriated woman; "I mean that Bertha heard you calling the masked man who attacked you, 'Father!' And you cannot deny it. See, Charvington," she pointed tauntingly to the agonised girl, "she dare not deny it. Oh you--you daughter of a thief; you accomplice of a thief."

"Helen, Helen; be silent."

"I shall not be silent. When Bertha told me the truth I ordered her to hold her tongue until you returned, Charvington. I have held my peace myself and neither the police nor the servants nor our friends know that this horrid girl is the daughter of a thief. Why you take such an interest in the minx I don't know, but surely after what we have discovered you will pack her off to gaol."

"To gaol; to gaol," Lesbia drew herself up, pale, but fearless. As Lady Charvington hurled her accusations, the girl's spirit rose to defend herself. After all, guilty as her father might be, she at least was innocent. "How dare you speak to me in this way?" she said again.

"And how dare you face me, you cat?" snarled Lady Charvington, looking much more like a cat herself. "You arrange with your abominable father to rob me of my jewels, you enter my house to----"

Before Lord Charvington could put out his hand to stop her--for he was afraid to think what these two angry women might do--Lesbia glided past him, and stood face to face with her enemy. "You lie," she breathed in such a low, fierce voice that the other woman fell back into her chair with a gasp of fear. "I knew nothing of this. I had no wish to rob you of your jewels."

"Yes, you had, and I know why!"

"Explain then. I dare you to explain."

Lady Charvington cast a swift glance at her husband. "I know what I know."

"You know that I am innocent," said Lesbia, clenching her hands; "I dare you to say that I am not."

"You are your father's accomplice."

"That is untrue," broke in Lord Charvington smoothly, "Lesbia warned me that the jewels would be stolen."

"Of course," scoffed his wife triumphantly, "she knew!"

"If I had been in league with my father would I have given the warning?"

"Yes," said Lady Charvington, rising to confront Lesbia, who had asked the question. "My husband showed me the letter purporting to come from some man in London. It said that the burglary was arranged for Thursday, and by telling my husband that, he thought he might safely leave the house and go to London to engage a detective, while your father robbed the house on Wednesday. It's a well-arranged business."

"I don't know why the burglary took place on Wednesday," said Lesbia steadily; "the letter I gave Lord Charvington is perfectly true. I can't explain further than I have done."

"Because you can't; because you can't," taunted Lady Charvington, "but you shall leave my house in disgrace."

Lord Charvington caught his wife's wrist. "Lesbia shall return to her home this day," he said imperiously, "because I won't have her stopping here to be insulted by you. Bertha will say nothing of what she overheard, as I have forbidden her to speak on the pain of instant dismissal. You also, Helen, shall hold your tongue."

"I will do nothing of the sort," breathed Lady Charvington vindictively.

"You shall. I will not permit you to ruin an innocent girl. Knowing that Hale has stolen your jewels, I can get them back, and have already communicated with him."

"The police----"

"The police can do nothing. Hale and his accomplice got away cleverly in their motorcar and cannot be traced. If the jewels are returned intact--which they will be, as I can force Hale to return them--the police will not move further in the matter, as I can stop them. Then this painful episode will be a thing of the past."

"I want that girl disgraced as an accomplice," said the elder woman, grinding her teeth and pointing towards Lesbia.

Charvington put his arm round Lesbia's waist or she would have fallen. "I shall not allow it, Helen," he said quietly. "Lesbia is innocent. Woman, have you no pity for the poor thing; surely she is suffering enough already, in finding out that her father is a thief."

"Her father," jeered Lady Charvington insultingly. "Oh, yes, her father," she moved swiftly towards the library door. "If you get back my jewels I shall hold my tongue, for reasons which you may guess, Charvington. But don't let that creature come near me, or I shall--I shall--oh." Lady Charvington could scarcely contain herself. "How I hate you; hate you. I wish you were dead with all my heart and soul, you--you----"

What she was about to say in her furious anger Lesbia could not guess. But whatever it was she never uttered the epithet. Charvington suddenly moved towards his wife and towering above her glared into her eyes. "If you say another word I'll kill you."

Lady Charvington quailed. "You are quite capable of doing so," she breathed undauntedly; "I'm not afraid of you. But clear my house of that," and with a jeering laugh, she pointed at the trembling girl and left the room.

"What--what does she mean?" gasped Lesbia, sinking into a chair, her courage all gone. "What have I done? How can I help my father--my father--oh Lord Charvington!" and she broke down weeping bitterly.

"Hush! hush!" He stood over her, patting her heaving shoulder. "She doesn't know what she is saying. I'll see that she holds her tongue and Bertha also. Nothing will ever be known of your father's complicity in this crime."

"But what does it mean?" asked Lesbia, lifting a tear-stained face.

"God knows," muttered Charvington moodily, "I have been mistaken in your father, my dear."

"But--but you don't blame me?"

"No," he declared emphatically, "a thousand times no. My dear, I love you as if you were my own child, and I shall never, never believe any harm of you in any way. I can keep my wife's tongue silent, but I can do no more. You must return to Marlow, until such time as I can arrange further about your marriage with George Walker."

"Oh," Lesbia wailed and stretched her arms, "I cannot marry him now. Who would marry the daughter of a thief? Father was one of the thieves who robbed Mr. Tait's strong-room."

"At Tait's request remember," interpolated Charvington quickly.

Lesbia brushed away the speech. "Oh, what does it matter even if they are all thieves. But George must have known the dreadful truth and so he will not renew our engagement. I did not understand him before; I do now."

"There! there!" Charvington patted her shoulder again, "don't worry. All will come right, I am sure, and in a way which you do not expect."

Lesbia looked up with sudden hope. "You know of something."

"Yes," said the man gloomily. "I know of something. Don't ask me any further questions just now, but go back to Marlow. The motorcar is already at the door with your box on it. As all our other guests have left the house, your departure will cause no surprise."

"But the police. Will they not want to question me?"

"I'll attend to that. I told the inspector that if necessary he could question you at Rose Cottage. But as I hope to make your father give back the jewels, the prosecution will be dropped. Remember, the police do not know that your father is guilty. Being thus ignorant, they can do nothing. Go away in peace, my dear, and leave everything to me."

Lesbia rose shuddering. "How can I go back to my father, knowing what I now know?" she murmured, shivering.

"You go back to the cottage," explained Charvington distinctly. "It is my cottage, as I pay the rent; the furniture also is mine. I have supported your father for years and this is the way he repays me. However, the cottage is yours. I promise you that your father will not come near you."

"I trust not! I trust not. I could not face him. And you?"

"I shall come over and see you shortly. But go away, contented to know that all is well. There will be no scandal, and not a word will be said about this burglary. Your father is safe and you are safe. Later, I shall see about getting your father to go to Australia, and then you can marry Walker."

"If he will have me," sighed the unfortunate girl.

"Lesbia," Charvington took her face between his two hands and looked into her eyes; "I swear that you shall marry him. There! Let the dead past alone and dream of future happiness," and he kissed her solemnly.