Part 13

"Well, let us open the packets, then," said Monk; "we shall perhaps find more traces of Mr. Howell's fingers."

The small packet was opened, and we all leant over to look at the will.

It was drawn in the usual legal form, and told briefly that Frick bequeathed his curiosities and collections to the state, all his movable property--ready money, bank shares, etc., etc.,--to Mr. Reginald Howell; house property, mortgages, etc., to the university, the Royal Society for Science, and other institutions.

Everything was fully specified, and the sums either given exact, or reference was made to a list appended.

"Well, everything here seems all right; it is exactly as I wrote it myself. The coachman and gardener have signed as witnesses. I gave them each five thousand kroners cash, to avoid including them among the legatees."

"Are you quite sure, Mr. Frick?" said Monk, as he leant over the paper. "Here is a figure which looks as if it had been erased."

"Let me see! Yes--what the devil is this? My house, property, shares, etc.," he read, "which, according to the list, amount to about 1,000,000 kroners,--but, bless me! I possess nearer 1,900,000, which is nearly the double, and that was what I wrote--"

"There you are! We shall get at it, little by little," said Monk, with his most genial smile. I hadn't seen him in such a good humour for a long time.

"But I don't understand," grumbled old Frick. "What motive can he have in making me out to be poorer than I am? He doesn't get the 900,000 kroners which have been erased!"

"Let us look at the list and the mortgages," answered Monk, just as genially. "We shall be sure to find the solution."

The other envelope was opened.

I read out the list, and old Frick opened the mortgages and deeds in the order I read:--

"No. 177 Drammen Road, 'deed.'"

"Yes, here it is."

"Karl Johans Street, 77, 'deed.'"

"Yes, that's all right."

Etc., etc.

"Mortgages to the amount of 27,000 kroners, in the farm Hoff, in Hedemarken."

"Yes, here it is."

And so we went on.

"It was a long business," I said; "but we've come to the end at last."

"End!" shouted old Frick. "But it hasn't come to an end! The plum is always at the bottom, and a fine plum it is too!"

"What do you mean? There's nothing more on the list."

Old Frick fumbled about in the empty envelope.

"And nothing more here, either! He has stolen the mortgage deed in Ashton Abbey, and--" Old Frick tore the list out of my hand. "Just look here! Confound him! If he hasn't cut off the bottom part of the list, so that the last item is missing! But bless me, if I can understand what satisfaction he can get out of this mortgage."

"Nor I," I muttered; "mortgages are not papers payable to bearer, so any one can make them into ready money. You need only write to England to get a new copy of the mortgage."

"Monk knows very well what it all means," exclaimed Clara; "he is only raising our curiosity. If I had known that you would so soon begin with your superior detective ways, I wouldn't have helped you so quickly with the photograph,--that you may be quite sure about."

She glanced with comic exasperation at Monk, who, in return, only smiled pleasantly.

"I must admit that at this moment all is clear to me; but the last knot has only been unloosened two minutes ago. Tell me, Mr. Frick, what mortgage is it that you now speak of, and what was the amount of it?"

"Don't you remember," answered Frick, testily, "I once told you of an old rascal, Davis by name, and how I was lucky enough at last to get at him and make him pay me my share of the money which he had stolen?"

"Yes, of course I remember."

"Yes; and I, also."

"And I, also."

Old Frick looked at Clara and me in astonishment.

"I have told them all about the affair," remarked Monk. "Let us just hear some more about Mr. Davis."

"Well, there isn't much more to say about it. He was to pay me L50,000, but he had no ready money, as he had invested all his funds in a large estate, and was quite willing to take a mortgage on it. It suited me just as well as ready money, for the estate was worth more than double that. This is the mortgage which has been stolen and cut off the list."

"Well, then, the total sum of 1,000,000 kroners would be right, instead of 1,900,000 kroners," said Monk; "for L50,000 is just 900,000 kroners."

"Yes, that is true; but he can't do much with it. As Mr. Viller says, he can't sell the mortgage without my signature."

"Did any one know you were in possession of that mortgage?" asked Monk.

"No, no one in this country: those rascally lawyers I have always kept at a distance, and no one has had a chance of meddling with my papers."

"No one except Mr. Howell," was Monk's dry reply. "But listen here, my friends! I will put a question to you. But excuse me, Mr. Frick, if I first ask you to answer me. If all this had not happened to-day, do you think you would ever have opened these envelopes again?"

"No," said old Frick, decidedly; "when my last hours approached, I might perhaps have had the iron box opened to see that the envelopes were there and the seals in order, but nothing more. I should have been satisfied that all was as it should be."

"Very well. Now let me put my question to you two. If Mr. Frick had died without having discovered the theft of this mortgage, no one, of course, would have known of the existence of such a mortgage, and the owner of Ashton Abbey would not be obliged to pay any interest. Wouldn't that be a clear saving for Davis, or his heirs, of about L2500 a year?"

"By Jove, so it would!" exclaimed old Frick; "but why young Howell should help Davis to L2500 a year, I cannot understand. He may be a big rascal,--that I now can very easily see, although his father was the best man under the sun,--but he isn't exactly stupid."

"All the same, he resembles his father in that--"

"Stop!" I cried. "Now I can see it all. Ashton Abbey! Ashton Abbey! Now I understand! Young Howell must be the son of old Davis!"

"Yes, that is also my opinion," answered Monk, not at all offended that I had taken the word out of his mouth. "He must have travelled from Australia with the real young Howell. All must have lost their lives except young Davis, who must have possessed himself of young Howell's papers, and later on, played his role in the old world. That, I think, explains all."

"Yes, he is the son of old Davis, there's no mistake about that!" exclaimed Frick in great spirits. "Upon my soul it was the best discovery of all, for now I need not mourn that my old friend had such a son. But what was it you said about Ashton Hall? It is the neighbouring estate to Ashton Abbey. Once they were both one estate."

"Monk told us earlier to-day that his agent had informed him that Mr. Howell, or rather Davis junior, often visited that estate. It was, of course, in order to confer with his worthy father, old Davis. I suppose that was what set you on the track, Monk."

"Just so!"

*CHAPTER VII*

*THE YACHT "DEERHOUND"*

Monk kept his word. The following Friday he sailed for America; but our hope that he would soon return was not fulfilled.

When he arrived in New York he found Sigrid laid up with a dangerous illness. Sorrow, and over-exertion in nursing her brother, had completely prostrated her. I believe Monk's telegram, which we sent directly the discovery about the photograph was made, saved her life.

She had made great progress toward recovery by the time Monk arrived, but she was still exceedingly weak.

It was a month afterward before they were able to get married; but the crossing over the Atlantic was not to be thought of during the stormy winter months.

At last, in the beginning of May, we heard from them. They had sailed. And fourteen days afterward we welcomed them in Christiania.

The lady we saw on Monk's arm on the steamer's deck was remarkably pretty, and looked exceedingly happy; although sorrow and trouble had imparted a sad and serious expression to her face, which is never likely to leave it.

Before the gangway could be properly adjusted, Clara had jumped on board and taken her in her arms, a proceeding which seemed to both to be the most natural thing in the world, although they had never seen each other before.

Old Frick hobbled restlessly about on the quay, like a large dog which has done something wrong, and is not quite sure whether it will be forgiven or no.

He could not speak a word when his niece clasped her arm round his neck and sprinkled his white hair with joyous tears. But his eloquence was the greater, when we were all gathered in the evening at Villa Ballarat. It was there that the newly married couple were to stay for the present.

* * * * *

About a week after their return home, Monk came to me with a face more serious than usual. "I have still a duty to fulfil in the matter of the black tortoise," he said. "You won't come with me to Stavanger to-morrow, I suppose? I hope to meet Mr. Howell there, or more correctly speaking, Mr. Davis, junior."

"Monk, Monk!" I exclaimed threateningly. "Is the detective on the warpath again? Will you desert your wife already?"

Monk blushed slightly.

"No, this time it is not the detective. But it is my duty to justice and to my wife to get at the bottom of the diamond affair. Remember that more than half of what we believe we have discovered is only the fruits of guesswork and putting two and two together."'

"You are right. I shall come with you. May I ask how you intend to proceed in the matter against the Englishman? There are not, I suppose, sufficient proofs to get a warrant of arrest?"

"No, I am afraid not; and I haven't got my plans quite ready yet. But I fancy we must content ourselves with compelling him to give us a complete proof of Sigrid's innocence, and letting him off from any further unpleasantness. It is hard; but Sigrid is now very nervous, and shudders at the thought of appearing before the court, and all that kind of thing, you know."

"Well, let us start to-morrow evening on the west coast steamer. I shall be ready. But are you sure to meet him there?"

"Yes, my agent in London writes that he has already sailed from England in his yacht _Deerhound_, and is bound for the Ryfylke fjord to fish for salmon, but in Stavanger he'll await a party which will arrive here by the mail steamer in a few days."

* * * * *

It was on a morning in the beginning of June that the steamer glided into Stavanger harbour. We had had rain and southerly wind the whole way, and the night outside Jaedren had been anything but pleasant, although neither Monk nor I suffered from seasickness.

Toward the morning, the wind sprung around to the north, and drove rain, fog, and clouds in front of it, out into the North Sea. The sun shone on the small rippling billows, which merrily splashed against the gaudily painted coasting vessels and warehouses in the harbour.

Among the ships in the harbour, there were two which attracted our attention. One was a pretty English cutter--her blue flag flying at her stern. She had only one mast, although her tonnage must have been about fifty; but the lofty lower mast and the big boom betrayed that she, on this one mast, could carry a sail, the mainsheet of which would be no easy matter to haul in, when the wind had filled it. She seemed to have a numerous crew in proportion to her size--for six or eight men were seen busily engaged in hoisting the wet sails to be dried. She was riding by one of her anchors, and had boats hanging on their davits; while only a small jolly-boat was lying at her stern.

The other ship was painted light grey, and had a large yellow funnel. The Norwegian naval flag waved at the stern, and on the bow could be seen the name, "Viking."

"We are in luck!" exclaimed Monk. "There is the gunboat, _Viking_. The commander on board is Captain Holst; you know him, of course, Trygive Holst?"

"Yes, I know him; but how can he help? Surely you don't want to get him to sink the Englishman?"

"Not exactly that; but none the less he will be of use to us."

Monk had again taken the lead. I had sunk down into my modest role of historian, and allowed him to have his way.

Our first business, after leaving the steamer, was to visit the gunboat and pay our respects to the officers.

Monk went below into the captain's cabin, where they spent a quarter of an hour together.

I knew they were good friends of old, and I could very well understand he wished to be alone with his friend and inform him of the turn events had taken.

Then we went on land, and gave ourselves good time to visit the remarkable cathedral and one or two other places of interest.

"Shall we visit Mr. Howell now?" I asked.

"Yes, but not before twelve o'clock," was Monk's reply.

"Why not?"

"Isn't it a fact that you love a bit of excitement?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then you had better not ask any further questions, and you will probably have plenty of it."

At last it was twelve o'clock, and a one-eyed, weather-beaten boatman rowed us out to the yacht. Abaft the mast stood a tall, handsome man, with a heavy black mustache.

Monk was the first to go on board. He went right up to the owner of the yacht--for it was he. I followed behind.

Mr. Howell---we must still call him so--did not appear particularly pleased at the visit. He stepped back involuntarily, and his face became dark, but only for a moment; then he smiled and exclaimed in good Norwegian:--

"What a surprise! Have I at last the pleasure of seeing you, after so many years, Mr. Monk?"

"Yes, the world contains many surprises, Mr. Howell," was Monk's dry reply, while he did not appear to notice the hand which the Englishman stretched out to him. "Allow me to present an engineer friend, Mr. Frederick Viller, Mr. Howell."

The Englishman bowed stiffly, and gave me a searching look. "Engineer?" he repeated inquiringly. In his own mind he no doubt added, "Probably a police official."

"Yes, an engineer. Here in Norway we must all be something, we cannot only be gentlemen."

The Englishman did not seem to appreciate Monk's humour. He frowned, and made no reply.

"We have a few words to say to you," said Monk, quietly; "will it be convenient to take us down to your cabin?" He cast a glance full of significance at the two sailors who were busy near us.

The Englishman seemed to consider for a moment. He looked out over the sea and up at the rigging; then he put a little silver whistle to his mouth, and a man who appeared to be the steward appeared.

"Show these gentlemen down into the saloon--I am coming directly. I have just a word or two to say to the captain. He has to keep a lookout for the English steamer, and to fetch my party on board here."

His expression appeared to me to be somewhat strained and peculiar, and I cast a questioning glance at Monk; but as he seemed to be quite unconcerned, I had nothing else to do but to follow him and the steward below.

We went first along a corridor with two cabins on each side, then through a small saloon, which took up the whole width of the yacht, and then into a smaller one with a cabin on each side. The place was lighted by a skylight of opaque glass.

This was apparently the owner's private cabin. The size of the yacht did not admit of any large dimensions, but the cabin was luxuriously fitted, and four or five people could sit down in it very comfortably.

The owner of the yacht came down soon after; his face wore a friendly smile.

"May I offer you anything to drink, gentlemen? Shall I get my steward to make you a cocktail? I can assure you, he is a master of the art. Or would you prefer a glass of champagne?"

We refused any refreshments, and the Englishman smiled resignedly.

"We shall not keep you long," began Monk, looking the Englishman in the face. "It will rest with yourself whether the proceedings are long or short."

"You have, perhaps, come to bring me a greeting from dear old Mr. Frick, his charming niece, or the gay Einar?"

"Yes, I have come with greetings from them all, but--"

"Have a cigar?" The Englishman rose, took a box from a shelf, and handed it to us. "Not even a cigar? Then you will, at any rate, allow me to light one. Tell me, you who are Norwegians, and who understand the weather here, do you think we shall have good weather for the next few days? I and my friends think of going to the Ryfylke fjord, and--"

"It will be all the worse for yourself if you waste time," said Monk, in a sharp and threatening voice. "You had better listen to what I have to say, and answer quickly."

"Ho, ho! Have you come on board to threaten me? You, Mr. Viller, who seem to be a gentleman, ought to tell your friend that he should not make himself unpleasant to an Englishman on board his own yacht."

I wisely left it to Monk to answer for himself, and only glanced contemptuously at him; the thought of what he had done filled me with disgust. I would rather have taken him by the neck and given him a good thrashing.

"You can't get away from us, Mr. Howell," continued Monk, undisturbed. "We are come to settle an account with you, and we don't intend to leave here before it is done."

A peculiar smile passed over Howell's face at Monk's last words.

"Go on, then," he said. "I must, at any rate, know what it is all about. I don't know that I have any business with Mr. Monk, the private detective,--for you are, I understand, no longer in the service of the police."

"What I am or am not has nothing to do with the case. You remember the diamond robbery at Mr. Frick's, in Christiania, six years ago? Well, by a shameful deception, you succeeded in throwing suspicion on Miss Frick. She is now my wife--"

The Englishman interrupted with a long, low whistle. Monk's face crimsoned, and for the moment I thought he would have thrown himself upon the rascal; but he continued quietly: "No, it is not necessary for you to fumble about in your drawer for the revolver. I am not so stupid as to give you an opportunity of shooting me in self-defence. It would suit you too well."

The Englishman uttered a horrible oath, and we heard a heavy object fall back into the drawer.

"Go on with your business, then," he shouted; "but I shall teach you what it costs to insult me on board my own yacht. Do you hear? Go on!"

I got the impression that his noisy anger was to a great extent assumed, and while Monk continued, he seemed to be listening to something quite different.

"We demand of you," said Monk, "that you give a full account of the deception which was practised on the occasion which I refer to and that you enable me to prove my wife's innocence."

"Yes, I'll give you a full account,--you may take your oath on that, you wretched police spy, trying to threaten a gentleman! You haven't yet mentioned how much money you intend to blackmail me for."

He got up and struck the table so that the cigar boxes and ash trays jumped about.

"Why do you make all this noise?"

"Noise? May I not do what I like on board my own yacht? Wait a bit, and you'll see something which will perhaps astonish you."

The Englishman laughed triumphantly, and got up.

I also got up. I had a suspicion that our host, if I may call him so, was evilly disposed toward us. I had for some time felt that the ship was in motion; first, I thought it was the effect of the small waves which the passing steamers caused; but the last few minutes made it clear to me that the yacht was steadily leaning over on one side, and when both the Englishman and I got up, we could clearly hear the rippling sound that water makes when it is being forced aside by a ship in motion. "What do you think now, gentlemen?" The Englishman threw open the door to the cabin on the starboard side, opened the port-hole, and pointed out.

It was as I had suspected. The yacht had got under way, and was sailing out of the harbour to eastward, between the islands, as the wind did not admit of steering in a northerly direction. We were already about a quarter of a mile away from the anchorage.

"On our next tack we shall clear Tungendess," continued Mr. Howell, "and then you know for yourselves how far it is out to sea."

I looked at Monk, and I must confess my heart beat quicker than usual; but Monk smiled back in a manner which plainly said that nothing unexpected had happened.

Presently a great whining sound cut through the air and forced its way through the open porthole in the cabin. Monk, with a friendly nod to the Englishman, asked:--

"What do you think that is?"

"It is the grey gunboat, which is trying her steam whistle; but I promise we shall not be long troubled by her infernal noise; the wind freshens."

The Englishman threw himself comfortably into a chair.

"This won't do any longer, Mr. Howell," said Monk, and this time his voice was again sharp and stern. "I suspected you would try and play us this trick, and so make your position worse, and so I allowed you to try it."

"What the devil do you mean?"

"Be silent, and listen to me. It is time we came to the serious part of the business. The noise we heard comes, as you say, from the gunboat, and it was the signal which to me means that at this moment she is getting under way and making for this yacht. When she is alongside us, she will, by persuasion or force, compel you to turn back to Stavanger harbour. With this wind the yacht makes five or six knots, while the gunboat makes sixteen; so you can calculate for yourself how long it will take before she is alongside us."

It was a study to watch the Englishman's face as Monk spoke; it became pale and green with anger and disappointment. But he still tried to hold the position.

"Do you mean to tell me that a Norwegian gunboat dares stop an English yacht which has done nothing unlawful? It will cost the captain his position, if no more; you know that, as well as I do."

"This morning, at nine o'clock," answered Monk, quietly, "I was on board the gunboat, and after having stated my case, the captain gave orders to fire up. At twelve the steam would be up, and until then I postponed my visit to your yacht. I informed the captain that I had business on board here, but that it was not improbable we might be exposed to violent treatment. It was arranged that if we did not leave the yacht within two hours, the captain was to send a boat and fetch us; and if the yacht weighed anchor without our having left, the gunboat was to follow and compel the yacht to return. Do you think the captain, will hesitate at stopping the yacht, when he knows that two Norwegian subjects are retained on board by force? Give orders to tack about, and let the yacht again anchor, and the gunboat will not trouble us. That's the only way in which you can avoid a scandal. Do you understand me?"

The Englishman did not at first answer a word, but he made a wry face. After a short pause he violently pulled a bell rope, which hung beside his chair, and the captain of the yacht entered, with his gold-braided cap in hand.

"Let her tack about again and anchor where she was lying, Captain Watkins. These gentlemen have forgotten something: we must put off our little cruise till to-morrow."

"I am glad to see you have come back to your senses, Mr. Howell; you know your attempt to carry me and my friend away has made your case still worse. I will openly admit that I have no warrant of arrest against you, but the result of this little escapade will be that neither the captain of the gunboat nor the police will hesitate in detaining you here until such a warrant can be obtained from Christiania."

"What do you demand of me?"

"I have told you once before--a clear and concise account of all you know about the diamond robbery in Mr. Frick's house six years ago."