Part 16

In the big conservatory the proceedings had already commenced. The Coroner had addressed the rather frightened-looking jury, and then had waited for Inspector Townsend to call the witnesses. Hafid dragged himself into the box and was sworn on a Koran. He had very little to say except that he had heard a cry and found the body of his unfortunate master as he had found the body of Mr. Manfred. Beyond that he knew nothing. For the way he looked around him he might have been the criminal himself.

"Take it and burn it, and destroy it," he said. "Take it and burn it, and destroy it."

"And what do you mean by that remark?" the Coroner asked sharply.

"We can explain that presently, sir," Sir James Brownsmith said, suddenly breaking off the whispered conversation with Townsend. "The poor fellow is half beside himself with terror. I know I am quite irregular, sir, but this is an extraordinary case. If I may make a suggestion----"

"Would it not be better to call the next witness?" the Coroner asked. "Inspector Townsend tells me he has a full solution of this strange affair."

There was a visible flutter among the pressmen present. Without further ado Harold Denvers was called. From his place he could see Angela's black figure in the doorway. The same barrister who had represented the Crown at the inquiry into the Streatham affair faced Harold with a smile. It was quite evident that he knew the whole history.

"You were present here last night when Sir Clement's body was found?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I had called to see Sir Clement on important business. I called here to desire the return of the Crimson Moth you see close above you."

All eyes were turned upwards to where the scarlet crowd of blossoms hovered. The stranded ropes sagged and bagged now so that some of the blooms were almost in reach. A little later there was a hiss of steam, and the cords tightened to the moisture as if some human hand had raised the beautiful garlands. As to the loveliness of the Cardinal Moth there was only one opinion.

"So that is the strange bloom," Counsel said. "Do orchids of that class require constant moisture?"

"Some of them do," Harold explained. "You see the Cardinal Moth came originally from a hot swamp, probably in Borneo or on the West Coast of Africa. You see that is on a very coarsely-woven Manilla rope."

"Are we not wandering from the point?" the Coroner suggested.

"On the contrary, sir, we are sticking very closely to it," the barrister retorted. "Now tell me, is not this same Cardinal Moth supposed to be endowed with magic powers?"

"That is the idea. Perhaps I had better say once more what I have already stated elsewhere. For generations the Cardinal Moth guarded or was supposed to guard the inner temple of Ghan in Koordstan. The form and beauty of the Moth travelled until it was known to most collectors. Two or three people made up their minds to steal it; it matters little who they were. They did steal it and divided it into three portions. Two of these portions were lost, and the third came into my hands. The plant above your head is the one that was stolen from the greenhouse at Streatham, where I put it for safe custody."

"Have you any idea who stole it?"

"Yes, it was taken away by Paul Lopez after the death of Count Lefroy's representative, who had nearly stolen a march on Lopez."

"But Lopez never murdered that man."

"You think somebody else did?"

"Indeed, I don't. That man was not murdered at all, neither was Manfred, or Sir Clement Frobisher."

A murmur of astonishment followed this speech. It seemed hard to believe, but Harold spoke quietly, though in tones absolutely emphatic.

"Perhaps I had better explain," he went on. "I told you that the Moth used to guard the inner temple at Ghan. It was the punishment of high political criminals that they should go into the inner temple and pluck from the trail a single blossom. They went in, but they never came out alive. When the gates were thrown back they lay dead with strange marks about their throats or their breast bones broken. It was a terrible and awesome punishment, and one that gave the priests immense power. Nobody knew how death came, nobody was meant to know, but we shall all in the room know in a few minutes. It was the work of the Moth."

Again the murmur of astonishment arose. Harold signed to the policemen to open the window; As a dry air came in the long strands of the Manilla rope stretched as the moisture warmed out of it, a climber of the Moth dangled over the head of an inspector who pushed it aside, as if it had been poison. Harold produced something that looked like an oblong sack filled with firewood. He proceeded to tangle it in the loops and folds of the rope.

"We will suppose that is a man," he said, "a man who has climbed up to the roof to steal the Moth which is all tangled up. He puts his arm through one loop and his head through another, thinking no evil, when suddenly the steam-hose is turned on. Now watch."

Harold crossed the room and touched the steam-tap. As the moisture struck the very coarse Manilla rope it suddenly tightened with the moisture till it hummed again. The same effect was to be seen with a clothes-line after a shower of rain. But the almost diaphanous character of the rope and the heavy discharge of moisture brought the strands up so tight that they seemed to hum in the air.

"There!" Harold cried, "there is the mystery--there is the secret of the priests. The man climbs until he is in a maze of loose rope; the steam is discharged and he is strangled--the life pressed out of him by those cruel cords; one cry and all is over. Listen."

As the rope drew up the wood within the sack was heard to crack as if a vice had a grip on it. Gradually at the same time the whole mass lifted higher and higher. Presently as the air dried the loops again slackened and the sack came to the ground. Nobody said anything for a long time. But practically the proceedings were over; there was very little to say or do.

The gentlemen of the pencil began to file out. After all, the extraordinary tragedy that had thrilled London as it had not been thrilled since the days of Jack the Ripper had resolved itself into a mere accident. One or two of the more fanciful element stayed, for they could see the making of a fine story here. After all, there was never a murder or a set of murders planned like this before.

"The explanation is quite satisfactory," the Coroner said. "If you propose to go any further--"

Inspector Townsend shook his head. There was no occasion to rake up any mud. Sir Clement was dead, and the other two men had lost their lives in attempted robbery. But that the trap had been deliberately laid for Manfred, and that Sir Clement was morally guilty of murder, the Inspector did not doubt. Then the proceedings collapsed almost before they had begun, and the usual prosaic verdict was returned.

"I'm glad it was so simple," Angela said when everybody had gone. "But how Sir Clement----"

"He was going to take the Moth away," Harold hastened to explain, "so that I should not recover possession of it. He thought the steam-cock was out of order, and it wasn't. That is the bald truth. That plant belongs to me, and I have no doubt that Lady Frobisher will let me take it away. Ask her on the first favourable opportunity. It's no time to talk of business, but the sooner I can hand that accursed thing over to the Shan, the sooner I shall have those concessions. And now, is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart?"

It was late before Harold saw the Shan. He had been reading the morning's proceedings in the early edition of some evening paper. He welcomed Harold effusively.

"Glad to see you," he said. "Upon my word, you are the only honest and straightforward one of the lot. By the way, if you don't want the Moth----"

"I came here to offer it you," Harold said, "but after the way the trick has been exposed----"

"Bless you, that will not make any difference in Koordstan. Nobody reads papers there, and the priests will be pretty sure to keep their mouths shut. Besides, I shall have them on my side now that I know the whole game. Now sit down and we'll settle the business of those concessions."

* * * * *

It was a month later, and the season was drawing to an end. Lady Frobisher was back in town for a few days, to make arrangements for her trip abroad, and Angela had come along. Harold had been dining there. He was prosperous now, and pretty certain to become a rich man.

"When is Lady Frobisher going?" he asked.

"Not till August," Angela replied. "That is nearly two months. And in the meantime----"

"In the meantime we are going to be married and have a long honeymoon," Harold said. "Then I have to go out to Koordstan for a spell, and Lady Frobisher can come along. It is a lovely country, and it will be a complete change for her. What do you say to that, Angela?"

Angela smiled and did not draw herself away as Harold kissed her. She appreciated his kindness and thought for others.

"Always unselfish," she murmured. "Harold, it shall be as you say."

Harold stooped and kissed Angela again, and then there was silence between them, the blissful silence of a perfect understanding.

* * * * * * * *

*SUCCESSFUL NOVELS*

BY

*FRED M. WHITE*

PUBLISHED BY

WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.

"Mr. White is a master of the breathless pace which whirls a reader along whether he will or not."--_Yorkshire Observer_.

THE FIVE KNOTS THE BRAND OF SILENCE THE GOLDEN ROSE THE FOUR FINGERS THE TURN OF THE TIDE THE WINGS OF VICTORY THE SLAVE OF SILENCE A CRIME ON CANVAS NETTA A QUEEN OF THE STAGE THE RIDDLE OF THE RAIL MYSTERY OF THE RAVENSPURS THE CARDINAL MOTH THE KING DIAMOND