A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story
"Daisy!" – Anne rose to her feet and walked towards the door – "I have had quite enough of your hysterical nonsense. If you came here to insult me in this way, it is time you went. Mr. Ware and I were complete strangers to one another when I came here."
"Strangers! And what are you now?"
"Friends – nothing more, nothing less."
"So you say; and I daresay Giles would say the same thing did I ask him."
Anne's face grew white and set. She seized the foolish, hysterical little creature by the wrist and shook her. "I'll tell you one thing," she said softly, and her threat was the more terrible for the softness, "I have black blood in my veins, for I was born at Martinique, and if you talk to Giles about me, I'll – I'll – kill you. Go and pray to God that you may be rid of this foolishness."
Daisy, wide-eyed, pallid, and thoroughly frightened, fled whimpering, and sought refuge in her own room. Anne closed the door, and locked it so as to prevent a repetition of this unpleasant visit. Then she went to open the window, for the air of the room seemed tainted by the presence of Daisy. Flinging wide the casement, Anne leaned out into the bitter air and looked at the wonderful white snow-world glittering in the thin, chill moonlight. She drew several long breaths, and became more composed. Sufficient, indeed, to wonder why she had behaved in so melodramatic a fashion. It was not her custom to so far break through the conventions of civilization. But the insults of Daisy had stirred in her that wild negro blood to which she had referred. That this girl who had all should grudge her the simple Christmas present made Anne furious. Yet in spite of her righteous anger she could not help feeling sorry for Daisy. And, after all, the girl's jealousy had some foundation in truth. Anne had given her no cause, but she could not deny that she loved Giles and that he loved her. To end an impossible situation there was nothing for it but flight.
Next day Anne quite determined to give Mrs. Morley notice, but when she found that Daisy said nothing about her visit, she decided to remain silent. Unless the girl made herself impossible, Anne did not see why she should turn out of a good situation where she was earning excellent wages. Daisy avoided her, and was coldly polite on such occasions as they had to speak. Seeing this, Anne forbore to force her company upon the unhappy girl and attended to her duties.
These were sufficiently pleasant, for the three children adored her. They were not clever, but extremely pretty and gentle in their manners. Mrs. Morley often came to sit and sew in the schoolroom while Anne taught. She was fond of the quiet, calm governess, and prattled to her just as though she were a child herself of the perfections of Mr. Morley and her unhappy early life. For the sake of the children she forbore to mention the name of their father, who from her account had been a sad rascal.
Giles came sometimes to dine, but attended chiefly to Daisy. Anne was content that this should be so, and her rival made the most of the small triumph. Indeed, so attentive was Giles that Daisy came to believe she had been wrong in suspecting he loved the governess. She made no further reference to Anne, but when Miss Denham was present narrowly watched her attitude and that of Ware. Needless to say she saw nothing to awaken her suspicions, for both Giles and Anne were most careful to hide their real feelings. So far the situation was endurable, but it could not continue indefinitely. Anne made up her mind to leave.
On the day before New Year she was wondering what excuse she could make to get away when an incident happened which set her duty plainly before her and did away with all necessity for an excuse. It occurred at breakfast.
The little man was fond of his meals, and enjoyed his breakfast more than any other. He had the most wonderful arrangement for keeping the dishes hot – a rather needless proceeding, as he was invariably punctual. So were Mrs. Morley and Anne, for breakfast being at nine o'clock they had no excuse for being late. Nevertheless, Daisy rarely contrived to be in time, and Morley was much vexed by her persistent unpunctuality. On this occasion she arrived late as usual, but more cheerful. She ever greeted Anne with a certain amount of politeness.
"There's a letter for you," said Morley, "but if you will take my advice you will leave it until breakfast is over. I never read mine until after a meal. Bad news is so apt to spoil one's appetite."
"How do you know the news will be bad?" asked Daisy.
"Most news is," replied Morley, with a shade on his usually merry face. "Debts, duns, and difficulties!" and he looked ruefully at the pile of letters by his plate. "I haven't examined my correspondence yet."
Anne said nothing, as she was thinking of what arrangement she could make to get away. Suddenly she and the others were startled by a cry from Daisy. The girl had opened the letter and was staring at it with a pale face. Anne half rose from her seat, but Mrs. Morley anticipated her, and ran round to put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Daisy, what is the matter?"
"The – the – letter!" gasped Daisy, with chattering teeth. Then she cast a look full of terror at the astonished Anne. "She will kill me," cried the girl, and fell off the chair in a faint.
Morley hastily snatched up the letter. It was unsigned, and apparently written in an uneducated hand on common paper. He read it out hurriedly, while Anne and Mrs. Morley stood amazed to hear its contents.
"'Honored Miss,'" read Morley slowly, "'this is from a well-wisher to say that you must not trust the governess, who will kill you, because of G. W. and the Scarlet Cross.'"
Anne uttered a cry and sank back into her chair white as the snow out of doors. "The Scarlet Cross," she murmured, "again the Scarlet Cross."
CHAPTER III
A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR
Later in the day Mr. Morley called the three women into his library to have a discussion regarding the strange letter and its stranger accusation. Daisy had recovered from her faint, but was still pale and obviously afraid of Anne. The governess appeared perfectly composed, but her white face was as hard as granite. Both Morley and his wife were much disturbed, as was natural, especially as at the moment Anne had refused any explanation. Now Morley was bent on forcing her to speak out and set Daisy's mind at rest. The state of the girl was pitiable.
The library was a large square apartment, with three French windows opening on to a terrace, whence steps led down to a garden laid out in the stiff Dutch style. The room was sombre with oak and heavy red velvet hangings, but rendered more cheerful by books, photographs, and pictures. Morley was fond of reading, and during his ten years' residence at The Elms had accumulated a large number of volumes. Between the bookcases were trophies of arms, mediæval weapons and armor, and barbaric spears from Africa and the South Seas, intermixed with bows and clubs. The floor was of polished oak, with here and there a brilliantly colored Persian praying-mat. The furniture was also of oak, and cushioned in red Morocco leather. Altogether the library gave evidence of a refined taste, and was a cross between a monkish cell and a sybarite's bower.
"Well, Miss Denham," said Morley, his merry face more than a trifle serious, "what have you to say?"
"There is nothing I can say," replied Anne, with composure, "the letter has nothing to do with me."
"My dear," put in Mrs. Morley, much distressed, "you cannot take up this attitude. You know I am your friend, that I have always done my best for you, and for my sake, if not for Daisy's, you must explain."
"She won't – she won't," said Daisy, with an hysterical laugh.
"I would if I could," replied Anne, talking firmly, "but the accusation is ridiculous. Why should I threaten Daisy?"
"Because you love Giles," burst out the girl furiously.
"I do not love Mr. Ware. I said so the other night."
"And you said more than that. You said that you would kill me."
"Miss Denham," cried Morley, greatly shocked, "what is this?"
"A foolish word spoken in a foolish moment," said Anne, realizing that her position was becoming dangerous.
"I think so too," said Mrs. Morley, defending her. "It so happened, Miss Denham, that I overheard you make the speech to Daisy, and I told my husband about it the next morning. We decided to say nothing, thinking – as you say now – that it was simply a foolish speech. But this letter" – she hesitated, then continued quickly, "you must explain this letter."
Anne thought for a moment. "I can't explain it. Some enemy has written it. You know all about me, Mrs. Morley. You read my credentials – you inquired as to my former situations at the Governess Institute where you engaged me. I have nothing to conceal in my life, and certainly I have no idea of harming Daisy. She came to my room and talked nonsense, which made me lose my temper. I said a foolish thing, I admit, but surely knowing me as you do you will acquit me of meaning anything by a few wild words uttered in a hurry and without thought."
"Why did you make use of such an expression?" asked Morley.
"Because I was carried out of myself. I have a strain of negro blood in me, and at times say more than I mean."
"And your negro blood will make you kill me," cried Daisy, with an expression of terror. "I am doomed – doomed!"
"Don't be a fool, child," said Morley roughly.
"She is a trifle hysterical," explained Mrs. Morley, comforting the girl, who was sobbing violently.
"Mr. Morley," said Anne, rising, "I don't know who wrote that letter, or why it should have been written. Mr. Ware and I are friends, nothing more. I am not in love with him, nor is he in love with me. He has paid me no more attention than you have yourself."
"No, that is true enough," replied Morley, "and as Giles is engaged to Daisy I don't think he is the man to pay marked attention to another woman."
"Ah! Giles is all right," cried Daisy angrily, "but she has tempted him."
"I deny that."
"You can deny what you like. It is true, you know it is true."
"Daisy! Daisy!" said Morley persuasively, whereupon she turned on him like a little fury.
"Don't you defend her. You hate me as much as she does. You are a – "
"Stop!" said Mrs. Morley, very pale. "Hold your tongue, Daisy. My husband has treated you in the kindest manner. When your father died you were left penniless. He took you in, and both he and I have treated you like our own child. Ungrateful girl, how can you speak so of those who have befriended you?"
"I do. I shall. You all hate me!" cried Daisy passionately. "I never wanted your help. Giles would have married me long ago but for Mr. Morley. I had no need to live on your charity. I have a hundred a year of my own. You brought that horrid woman down to steal Giles from me, and – "
"Take her away, Elizabeth," said Morley sharply.
"I'll go of my own accord," cried Daisy, retreating from Mrs. Morley; "and I'll ask Giles to marry me at once, and take me from this horrid house. You are a cruel and a wicked man, Mr. Morley, and I hate you – I hate you! As for you" – she turned in a vixenish manner on Anne – "I hope you will be put in gaol some day. If I die you will be hanged – hanged!" And with a stamp of her foot she dashed out of the room, banging the door.
"Hysteria," said Morley, wiping his face, "we must have a doctor to see her."
"Miss Denham," said the wife, who was weeping at the cruel words of the girl, "I ask you if Daisy has ever been treated harshly in my house?"
"No, dear Mrs. Morley, she has always received the greatest kindness both from you and your husband. She is not herself to-day – that cruel letter has upset her. In a short time she will repent of her behavior."
"If she speaks like this to Mrs. Parry, what will happen?" moaned the poor woman, wringing her hands.
"I'll have Mrs. Parry in court for libel if she says anything against us," said Morley fiercely. "The girl is an hysterical idiot. To accuse her best friends of – pshaw! it's not worth taking notice of. But this letter, Miss Denham?"
"I know nothing about it, Mr. Morley."
"Humph! I wonder if Daisy wrote it herself."
"Oliver!" cried Mrs. Morley in amazement.
"Why not? Hysterical girls do queer things at times. I don't suppose Mrs. Parry wrote it, old scandal-monger as she is. It is a strange letter. That Scarlet Cross, for instance." He fixed an inquiring eye on Anne.
"That is the one thing that makes me think Daisy did not write the letter. I fancied myself she might have done it in a moment of hysteria and out of hatred of me, but she could not know anything of the Scarlet Cross. No one in Rickwell could know of that."
"The letter was posted in London – in the General Post Office."
"But why should any one write such a letter about me," said Anne, raising her hands to her forehead, "and the Scarlet Cross? It is very strange."
"What is the Scarlet Cross?" asked Mrs. Morley seriously.
"I know no more than you do," replied Anne earnestly, "save that my father sometimes received letters marked with a red cross and on his watch-chain wore a gold cross enamelled with scarlet."
"Did your father know what the cross meant?" asked Mrs. Morley.
"He must have known, but he never explained the matter to me."
"Perhaps if you asked him now to – "
"My father is dead," she said in a low voice; "he died a year ago in Italy."
"Then this mystery must remain a mystery," said Morley, with a shrug. "Upon my word, I don't like all this. What is to be done?"
"Put the letter into the hands of the police," suggested his wife.
"No," said Morley decisively; "if the police heard the ravings of Daisy, Heaven knows what they would think."
"But, my dear, it is ridiculous," said Mrs. Morley indignantly. "We have always treated Daisy like one of ourselves. We have nothing to conceal. I am very angry at her."
"You should rather pity her," said Anne gently, "for she is a prey to nerves. However, the best thing to be done is for me to leave this place. I shall go after the New Year."
"I'm sure I don't know what the children will do without you," sighed the lady; "they are so fond of you, and I never had any governess I got on better with. What will you do?"
"Get a situation somewhere else," said Anne cheerfully, "abroad if possible; but I have become a bugbear to Daisy, and it is best that I should go."
"I think so too, Miss Denham, although both my wife and I are extremely sorry to lose you."
"You have been good friends to me," said Miss Denham simply, "and my life here has been very pleasant; but it is best I should go," she repeated, "and that letter, will you give me a copy, Mr. Morley?"
"Certainly, but for what reason?"
"I should like to find out who wrote it, and why it was written. It will be a difficult matter, but I am curious to know who this enemy of mine may be."
"Do you think it is an enemy?" asked Mrs. Morley.
Anne nodded. "And an enemy that knows something about my father's life," she said emphatically, "else why was mention made about the Scarlet Cross? But I'll learn the truth somehow, even if I have to employ a detective."
"You had much better leave the matter alone and get another situation, Miss Denham," said Morley sagely. "We will probably hear no more of this, and when you go the matter will fade from Daisy's mind. I'll send her away to the seaside for a week, and have the doctor to see her."
"Dr. Tait shall see her at once," said Mrs. Morley, with more vigor than was usual with her. "But about your going, Miss Denham, I am truly sorry. You have been a good friend to me, and the dear children do you credit. I hope we shall see you again."
"When Daisy is married, not before," replied Anne firmly; "but I will keep you advised of my address."
After some further conversation on this point the two women left the library. Daisy had shut herself in her room, and thither went Mrs. Morley. She managed to sooth the girl, and gave her a sedative which calmed her nerves. When Daisy woke from sleep somewhere about five she expressed herself sorry for her foolish chatter, but still entertained a dread and a hatred of Anne. The governess wisely kept out of the way and made her preparations for departure. As yet the children were not told that they were to lose her. Knowing what their lamentations would be like, Mrs. Morley wisely determined to postpone that information till the eleventh hour.
There was to be a midnight service at the parish church in honor of the New Year, and Anne determined to go. She wanted all the spiritual help possible in her present state of perplexity. The unhappy love that existed between her and Giles, the enmity of Daisy, the anxiety of the anonymous letter – these things worried her not a little. She received permission from Mrs. Morley to go to the midnight service.
"But be careful Daisy does not see you," said she anxiously.
"Is Daisy going also?"
"Yes. Giles is coming to take her in his motor-car."
"I hope she will say nothing to him about the letter."
"I'll see to that. She is much quieter and recognizes how foolish she has been. It will be all right."
Morley was much upset by the state of affairs. But a few days before and life had been all plain sailing, now there was little else but trouble and confusion. His ruddy face was pale, and he had a careworn expression. For the most part of the day he remained in his library and saw no one. Towards the evening he asked his wife not to bring the triplets to the library as usual, as he had to see some one on business. Who it was he refused to say, and Mrs. Morley, having no curiosity, did not press the question.
After dinner the visitor arrived – a tall man muffled in a great-coat against the cold, and wearing a thick white scarf round his throat. He was shown into the library and remained with Mr. Morley till after nine. About that time Anne found occasion to go into the library in search of a book. She had not heard the prohibition of Morley, and did not hesitate to enter without knocking, supposing that no one was within.
Meantime Daisy dressed herself very carefully in expectation of Ware's arrival. He was to take her for a ride in his motor before Church, and then they were to go to the service together. There was plenty of snow on the ground, but the nights were always bright with moonlight. Daisy had a fancy for a moonlight ride, and Giles was willing to humor her. She expected him about ten, and descended shortly after nine to watch for him from the drawing-room window.
Outside it was almost as light as day, and the white sheet of snow threw back a reflection of the moonlight. Daisy gazed eagerly down the avenue, where the leafless trees rocked in the cutting wind. Unexpectedly she saw a tall man come round the corner of the house and walk swiftly down the avenue. She knew from Mrs. Morley that there was a visitor in the library, and wondered why he had elected to leave by the window, as he must have done to come round the house in this way. Being curious, she thought she would tell Mr. Morley of what she had seen, and went in search of him.
At the door of the library she had just laid her hand on the handle when it suddenly opened, and Anne came out. Her face was white and drawn, her eyes were filled with fear, and she passed the astonished girl in a blind and stumbling fashion as though she did not see her. Daisy saw her feebly ascend the stairs, clutching the banisters. Wondering at this, Miss Kent entered the room. Morley was standing by the window – the middle window – looking out. It was open. He started and turned when Daisy entered, and she saw that he was perturbed also.
"What is the matter?" she asked, coming forward.
"Nothing. What should be the matter?"
Morley spoke shortly and not in a pleasant tone. "I thought that Anne, that Miss Denham, looked ill," said Daisy.
"Don't you think you had better leave Miss Denham alone, Daisy, seeing the mischief you have caused? She has been weeping herself blind here."
"Well, that letter – "
"Oh, that letter is rubbish!" interrupted Morley scornfully. "Miss Denham is a simple, kind woman, and you should take no notice of anonymous correspondence. However, she is going away to-morrow. I have just paid her her wages."
"I am glad she is going," said Miss Kent doggedly; "I am afraid of her. You think she is an angel; I don't."
"I don't think anything about her; but I do think you are a very hysterical girl, and have caused a great deal of unnecessary trouble. Miss Denham is not in love with Ware, and it is only your absurd jealousy that would accuse her of such a thing. Besides, this morning you behaved very badly to my wife and myself. You must go away for a time till we can get over your ungrateful words and conduct."
"I am very sorry," said Daisy humbly, "but it was Anne who disturbed me, and that letter. I was afraid."
"Then you admit that we have behaved well?"
"You are my best friends."
"Thank you. And now may I ask what you want?"
"I came to tell you that I am going to church. I thought you were engaged."
"So I was; but my visitor is gone."
"I know; he went out by that window. I saw him going down the avenue. Who is he?"
"A friend of mine. That is all you need to know. Did you think it was some one who had to do with the anonymous letter?"
"No, no!" Daisy seemed to be thoroughly ashamed of herself. "But you must admit that the letter was strange."
"So strange that you had better say nothing about it. Don't mention it to Giles."
"Why not?"
"Because I will find occasion to tell him myself. I at least will be able to explain without showing jealousy of poor Miss Denham."
"I won't say anything," replied Daisy, with a toss of her head, "but you are all mad about Anne Denham. I don't believe she is a good woman. What is the matter with her now? She seems ill."
"For Heaven's sake don't ask me any further questions," said Morley irritably. "What with your conduct of this morning and other things with which you have no concern I am worried out of my life."
Daisy took the hint and walked away. When she got outside the library she came to the conclusion that Morley's visitor was a bailiff, and that was why he had been shown out by the window. Decidedly her guardian was in a bad way financially speaking.
"I shall marry Giles and get away from them all," said the grateful Daisy. "They may be sold up, and my hundred a year will not keep me. What a mercy that Giles is so rich and loves me! No, he does not love me," she said vehemently to herself. "It is that woman. But he is engaged to me, and I'll marry him if only to spite her."
CHAPTER IV
THE CHURCHYARD
To Daisy that drive in the motor-car was like an exquisite dream. Her frivolous, shallow soul was awed by the vast white waste gleaming mysteriously in the moonlight as the car sped like a bird along the silent roads. There was not a cloud in a sky that shone like tempered steel; and amidst the frosty glitter of innumerable stars the hard moon looked down on an enchanted world. With Giles' hand on the steering gear and Daisy beside him wrapped in a buffalo rug, the machine flew over the pearly whiteness with the skimming swiftness of the magic horse. For the first time in her life Daisy felt what flying was like, and was content to be silent.
Giles was well pleased that the Great Mother should still her restless tongue for the moment. He was doing his duty and the will of his dead father, but his heart ached when he thought of the woman who should be by his side. Oh that they two could undertake this magical journey together, silent and alone in a silent and lonely world. He made no inquiries for Anne, and Daisy said nothing. Only when the car was humming along the homeward road to land them at the church did she open her mouth. The awe had worn off, and she babbled as of old in the very face of this white splendor.
"Anne's going away," she said abruptly.
For the life of him Giles could not help starting, but he managed to control his voice and speak carelessly. "Ah, and how is that?" he asked, busy with the wheel.
"She is going to-morrow. I suppose she is tired of the dull life here."
"I expect she is," replied Ware curtly.