"Ah! I haven't any idea of the keyword," I admitted.

"Then you haven't been able to make it out!" she remarked, breathing more freely. "You don't know to what it refers?"

"No," I responded frankly. "I am in ignorance. But if you will remain a moment I'll go to my room and fetch it."

"You need not," was her reply. "It is quite unnecessary."

"Why?"

"Well, because I chance to know what is contained in it, and that there was nothing of importance."

Did she imply that she had written that secret message herself? I glanced at her countenance, and somehow became convinced that she was still bent upon the concealment of the truth, a conviction that was both irritating and tantalising.

Mystery had succeeded mystery, until I admit that I was now overcome by blank bewilderment.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

WHICH TELLS OF A HEART'S DESIRE.

The result of our consultation did not, as far as I was concerned, enlighten me upon one single point connected with the puzzling affair.

Certain matters were arranged between the man Keene and the woman I so dearly loved, but strangely enough both were equally careful to allow me no loop-hole through which to gain knowledge of their motives or the secret they held.

I made no mention of the remarkable affair at the lonely farm a few miles distant, nor did I inquire of Keene his object in lying concealed there, or of the ident.i.ty of those foreigners who were the man Logan's friends in hiding. I felt it wise to keep all this knowledge to myself.

I told Lolita, however, how I had discovered that the police had introduced a female detective as servant to the Stanchester household, and that her inquiries had been directed towards endeavouring to discover the Ownership of the Louis Quinze shoes, the print of which had been found at the spot where Wingfield had fallen.

The news fell upon her like a thunderbolt. She stood utterly unable to reply.

Keene said nothing. He merely looked at her, and then, sighing, turned away.

I did not tell them that a week ago, when pa.s.sing the cottage of Jacobs, one of the gamekeepers, the man asked me to enter and see something. I had followed the man in, and producing a muddy damp-stained ermine cloak much soiled and ruined by exposure to the weather, he said--

"I found this yesterday in the Monk's Wood, sir, an' I've been wondering if it might belong to anybody up at the Hall?"

Instantly I had recognised it as Lolita's, the one she must evidently have worn on the night of the tragedy! It was torn in one part, and a small piece was missing--the piece which had been found near where the dead man lay!

In a moment I had invented an excuse.

"Why," I said, "that's the cape my sister lost when she was staying with me. She went out with her little daughter to pick wild flowers, laid it down in the wood and forgot all about it."

Then I gladly took possession of it, gave Jacobs a tip, dropping a hint at the same time that it was not necessary for him to talk about it, for if he did there would be all sorts of wild theories formed as to its connexion with the mysterious tragedy. "The police would be sure to begin worrying over nothing," I added.

"I quite understand, sir," was the gamekeeper's answer. "Mr Redway and his men are worse than useless. They've made a lot of fuss and haven't even found out yet who the poor young man was! I shall say nothing about it, for they'd only begin to question and worry me, as well as you."

And so I had taken the fur cape, and that same night had surrept.i.tiously buried it in my garden.

When at last the stranger's consultation with Lolita had ended, I recognised how completely my love was in the man's thraldom. He held power over her inevitable and complete. Why?

Was it because he knew her guilty secret?

She had, in a moment of desperation, declared that he did, and besought him to spare her.

"I will do my best," was his rather evasive answer. "The man who loves you, Lady Lolita, will help me, and between us we may, I hope, effect your freedom."

"I am ready to do anything--to go anywhere in order to serve her ladyship," I declared, with deep earnestness. "I am only glad that we have now come to a thorough understanding."

"Your attention must be directed towards the actions of the Countess,"

was Keene's reply. "Watch her, and see what she does, and whom she meets. I am unable to approach her because she fears me, and also-- well, to be frank--she is no friend of mine any more than she is of Lady Lolita."

"Very well," I agreed. "I will leave Lady Lolita to your protection and turn my efforts towards watching the Countess. But," I added, "I am puzzled by all this mystery and all these conflicting motives."

"No doubt," he said, as my love wished us good-night, grasping both my hands in trustful thankfulness. "It is but natural. When you know the real facts you will find it to be stranger than you have ever dreamed-- more tragic--more terrible--more bewildering. The truth, Mr Woodhouse, will stagger you--as it will the world!"

And with that emphatic expression of opinion we rejoined the men in the smoking-room, had a final whisky-and-soda and cigarettes, and then parted for the night.

Next morning at five the cry of the hounds pa.s.sing across the park awakened me, and I knew that the Earl was already out cubbing, leaving his party to go shooting after breakfast. Therefore I rose, and was early at work at my desk, for a quant.i.ty of the kennel accounts had come in overnight and required checking.

My mind was full of what had pa.s.sed between us in the red room, and I was anxious to obtain opportunity to watch the young and brilliant mistress of the house.

The shoot that day was over at Beanfield Lawns, and after breakfast the men, including Keene, drove there in the new Mercedes car, a merry party, leaving the ladies to accompany the luncheon. Through the morning I was busy. Once I encountered Lolita in one of the corridors, and found her just a trifle more hopeful.

"Act on Mr Keene's suggestion," she urged. "Watch Marigold closely, and ascertain what she is doing. From what I've seen to-day I believe there is something curious in progress."

"Rely upon me," I answered, "to serve you dearest. I will do anything-- that you know."

"Yes--I feel sure you will," she responded smiling sweetly upon me, a fresh erect figure in her clean cotton blouse. "I put my trust entirely in you."

"And I will not betray it," I declared in deep earnestness.

Then we parted. She had her hat on, and was going out, I knew, to her Saints' Garden, in order to give directions to the gardener who attended to it. The thought brought back to me a recollection of my recent conversation with the Countess at that same spot, and I returned to my room and was soon again immersed in my rather onerous duties.

About noon the ladies left in the Panhard, carrying the luncheon, and a quiet fell upon the great old mansion. I interviewed the house-steward and his wife regarding stores to be ordered, ate my luncheon in my room, and afterwards started out to walk to my house at Sibberton, for when there were guests at the Hall, and especially during the shooting-season, I was seldom able to get home, owing to my multifarious duties.

I was pa.s.sing the Countess's boudoir--the door of which stood open--and having been urged to keep careful watch upon her, I searched her waste-paper basket. The torn letters, however, were of no account--the usual correspondence a fashionable woman receives. Therefore I was disappointed. In her ladyship's every movement I now scented suspicion.

Hitherto I had watched Lolita, and found mystery in all her movements, and now it was the giddy handsome woman so popular in her own gay set of banjo-playing, skirt-dancing, cake-walking and bridge-playing. I would have gone with the shooting-party over to Beanfield, but I had been prevented by pressure of work, and now I was rather sorry that I had not deferred the accounts and taken a gun.

About three o'clock the ladies returned, a gay bevy of well-dressed beauties, and as I stood chatting with them in the hall, a servant handed the hostess a telegram.

I watched how her countenance changed as she read it, then crushing it in her hand, she suddenly recovered herself and thrust it into her pocket. The message contained something that caused her anxiety--of that I was convinced. Her guests had not noticed the quick opening of her eyes, and the slight movement of the mouth betraying apprehension, as the words were revealed to her. What could they be? How I longed to discover.

Lolita, who, lounging in a chair, was chatting with a pretty young girl in tweeds, the daughter of a very up-to-date mother, looked across at me quickly, as though to place me on the alert, and then I fell to wondering how to obtain knowledge of that message.

To try and get hold of it through her maid would be a too risky proceeding, and besides if it contained anything secret she would no doubt destroy it. Therefore the difficulty seemed insurmountable. She had re-composed herself, and had at that moment declared her intention of dressing and going out again to pay an afternoon call, inviting two of her guests to go with her.

Of a sudden an idea occurred to me; therefore I went out through the servants' hall, and obtaining the bicycle belonging to Murdock, his lordship's valet, I mounted and rode down the avenue to Sibberton post-office.

"Oh, Miss Allen," I said, addressing the daughter of the village post-master, "Lady Stanchester received a telegram just now, and doesn't quite understand it. She wishes it repeated, please," and I placed sixpence on the counter, adding, "Her ladyship believes there is some mistake. I suppose it won't take long to repeat, will it?"