"Of course I do," he said heartily. "You did it for her so I have nothing to forgive. If my poor darling had only plucked up courage and told me all, the hour we were man and wife, she would have learned how dearly I loved her, and it would have saved you both many unhappy years."

Tears of grat.i.tude stood in Harker's eyes, as he returned the handclasp.

"Heaven bless you, John," he murmured. "Not many men would be so merciful. We will never speak of this again. You will not repent your generosity."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ashford; struck by something unusual in the old man's voice.

"I am going back to London," said Harker, smiling grimly, as in antic.i.p.ation of a pleasant task. "I have work to do, an account to settle now--for Lucy and myself. You don't know all yet, John; you don't know, you never will know, all that Lucy and I have suffered."

He paused as if overcome by his emotion; then continued in trembling voice:

"We have been slaves all these years, trembling and shrinking under a villain's nod and frown. I've sold myself to a demon, who, in consideration of my services--of my body and soul--promised to keep his talons from my poor Lucy. He discovered her mistake; and he threatened to let the whole world know, to tell you all, if I did not bind myself to do his villainous work. I have done it for years. I have endured shame and agony unspeakable, that my darling's secret might be safe. I have been his tool and his scapegoat. I, an old man, on my way to the grave, have earned--and rightly earned--the names of usurer and thief.

All this I have done and suffered that he should never blight my child's happiness by his presence. He has broken the contract. He came down here that night you went to Richmond, and, with his fiendish ways and threats, nearly killed her. Well, now his power has gone. Thanks to your generosity, your forgiveness, Lucy is free, and I am free. Now I take my turn, and for every tear he has wrung from my darling's eyes, I will wring a groan from his black heart."

John had listened to him with intense surprise. He knew his father-in-law was in business in the City; but he did not know that the business of "Harker's," for which he had a great respect, had anything to do with moneylending. Still he refrained from asking any questions; and seeing that Mr. Harker was practically exhausted by the excitement and the news, persuaded him to spend the remainder of the night with them, and travel back to town in the morning.

After reflection the old man agreed to this; and it was a very happy little party that met at the breakfast-table next day.

Mr. Harker, unable to sleep, had let his thoughts go back to Jessica; and in the silence of the night a picture had arisen before his eyes; a theatre in which a dark-eyed young girl was dancing, amidst a crowd of others. In his delight at having a clue he cried aloud, "Ada Lester, at the Rockingham!" The more he thought of it the more sure he felt that this girl must be the daughter, or at least some connection, of the well-known actress.

On questioning Jessica, all the information he could obtain from her was that which she had given Adrien Leroy. Johann Wilfer was the boundary of her existence. Harker remembered the name as that of the man from whom he had bought the picture, and he also knew now that he it was who had been responsible for Lucy's early sin. But he was not to be shaken from his belief that in some way Jessica must be related to Ada Lester, and he asked the girl whether she would travel up to London with him, and trust herself to his care.

Jessica looked up into his lined face.

"Yes," she said simply, "if you won't give me back to Johann."

Harker readily promised this, and, amid many smiles and wavings of hand from the a.s.sembled Ashford family, the two started on their way.

On reaching London, Mr. Harker's first visit was to the Casket Theatre, which Jessica at once remembered as the one before which she had kept watch for Adrien Leroy; and with that recollection came the memory of the roll of papers which she had picked up. She related this little incident to Harker; and undoing the bag in which kind-hearted Lucy had put some clothes for her, she found the papers and gave them to him.

Harker looked them over, and gave a cry of joy; for he realised at once that they delivered his arch-enemy into his hands--no miracle from Heaven itself could have done more. Jessica did not understand the reason for his excitement, but she was quite content to let the papers remain in his keeping.

At the theatre he inquired for Miss Lester; and, it being matinee day, he found that the popular actress had already arrived. It took time and money to convince the military-looking door-keeper that it was absolutely necessary to take an urgent message to Miss Lester, but eventually this was done, and Mr. Harker, with Jessica---who was almost dazed by the strangeness of her surroundings--found themselves in Miss Lester's dressing-room, a few minutes before she was due on the stage as Prince Bon-Bon.

Mr. Harker at once hastened to apologise for the intrusion; but, in the midst of his words, he broke off short, for Jessica and the actress were gazing at one another in a mutual recognition. Jessica remembered her at once as the lady who had been with Adrien Leroy; then came the earlier memory, which had so puzzled her on the night she had seen the actress entering the theatre.

"Jessica!" exclaimed Miss Lester, blankly, and she turned on the astounded Harker. "What's the meaning of this?"

The few minutes were nearly up, and the call-boy and the dresser had met in several consultations with regard to the difficulty of getting Miss Lester on to the stage in time, before Mr. Harker's explanations were through.

Ada, now thoroughly a.s.sured as to her own future, thanks to her recent visit to Barminster, was quite willing to look after her niece better than in the past; especially as her presence formed a strong link in the chain of evidence the actress intended shortly to bring against Jasper Vermont. She a.s.sured Harker that she would take care of the girl, and with this he was content; then, leaving Jessica in her aunt's charge, he made his way to his own office, prior to taking a journey down to Barminster Castle.

CHAPTER XXIII

The unexpected appearance of Jasper Vermont startled both Lady Constance and Adrien.

"Jasper!" exclaimed Adrien, almost sternly, drawing the silken wrap around Lady Constance as if to shield her from all eyes but his own. "I did not expect you here to-night."

"No," answered Jasper. "I have travelled post-haste to try and save you from heavy trouble; the matter is so pressing that you must give me my way and attend to it at once. I am sure Lady Constance would forgive this intrusion, if she only knew of what serious importance it is to you, and, indeed, to us all."

He moved forward as he spoke; and the light of the full moon falling on his smooth, clean-shaven face, showed it so ghastly white, so moved by strong emotion that Lady Constance started back a step, while Leroy himself stared in surprise.

"Good Heavens!" he said, "whatever is the matter to make you drive down in such a state? What is wrong? Is it the theatre?" A faint contemptuous smile crossed his face as he thought of Ada.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Vermont, scornfully. "The theatre! No, Adrien, there's not a moment to be lost. I must speak with you at once. Don't look at me like that. You do not grasp what imminent peril is hanging over you."

"Peril!" gasped Lady Constance, springing forward and placing her hand on Adrien's arm, her movement showing, perhaps unconsciously, the state of her feelings towards him more than anything else could have done. It was as if she wished to share with him any approaching pain.

Jasper glanced at her from beneath his lowered lids--the sort of hungry look one would imagine a starving wolf might cast at a lamb.

"Serious peril!" repeated Lady Constance.

"Of what kind?" asked Leroy, still with that faint smile on his lips, and quite unmoved by Jasper's solemn face. Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued scornfully: "Peril! My dear Jasper, what danger can I be in? This is not the Middle Ages, and there are no a.s.sa.s.sins waiting around, are there? However, let me take Con--Lady Constance back to the ball-room again, and then I will enjoy, or at any rate listen to all you have to tell me."

Jasper Vermont smiled bitterly, and took out his watch, which had been a present from Leroy.

"Adrien," he said slowly, "you have ten minutes between you and dishonour!"

Adrien turned round sharply, and half raised his arm as if to strike, while such a stern look crossed his face that Lady Constance scarcely recognised it as the same which, but a few minutes ago, had gazed on her so lovingly.

"Adrien!" she cried, almost shuddering at the tense anger shining in his eyes. "He must be mad!" She turned proudly on Jasper. "That is sufficient, Mr. Vermont. Pray leave us at once. If this is a jest, I consider it is in extremely bad taste."

Jasper bit his lip at her words, but did not shift his ground.

"No," said Leroy, "it is no jest, dear; there is something wrong, I feel sure. I will have a few words with him in private." He led her gently towards the door, and with pale face and trembling heart, Lady Constance re-entered the ball-room she had left so happily, seating herself near the entrance in one of the many alcoves. She was overcome by a nameless fear, and that horrible feeling of utter helplessness which overwhelms one as in a heavy cloud, and darkens the horizon for us all when weighed down by suspense.

Suddenly she determined to seek Lord Barminster, and had risen to do so, when she heard not only the voices of Adrien and Vermont, but another also, a strange one, talking not loudly but very sternly. Hardly knowing what to do, she was about to return to the terrace to ascertain what was happening, when fortunately her uncle approached with Mortimer Shelton.

She went quickly to meet them, and told them her fears.

Much surprised, both Lord Barminster and Mr. Shelton accompanied her; and they found the voices were issuing from one of the small anterooms adjoining the terrace. Within this room, which was far removed from where the dancing was going on, they discovered Adrien Leroy, unmasked and very pale, staring at a blue paper which had evidently been given to him by the man standing at his side--an inspector of police.

"What is the matter, Adrien?" asked his father, and seeing that Jasper Vermont was also present, he turned his eyes to him inquiringly. But Jasper seemed wishful to avoid his glance, and only shook his head.

Adrien handed back the blue paper, still without speaking, then turned, as if to address his father, who was looking sternly from one troubled face to the other, while behind him stood Lady Constance and Mortimer Shelton. But before any one could utter a word, the inspector came forward, and addressing Lord Barminster, said quietly:

"Sorry, my lord, to have to do this at such a time but I am here in the performance of my duty. I should be glad if we could go to a more private room, where I could explain to your lordship without your guests being informed of the matter."

Lord Barminster was about to sharply retort when Shelton, who seemed to realise the seriousness of the affair, touched him lightly on the arm.

"I think, sir," he said earnestly, "it would be as well to hear what this man has to say quietly, as he suggests."

Lord Barminster controlled his feelings, recognising the good sense of the suggestion, and turning coldly to the inspector, said:

"Perhaps it would be best, Inspector. Kindly come this way."