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Mystery of the Ravenspurs

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[Pg 195] <h2>CHAPTER XXXVI MRS. MAY LEARNS SOMETHING</h2> Mrs. May sat among her flowers after dinner. She had dined well and was on the very best of terms with herself. It had been a source of satisfaction to see the body of her worst enemy laid to rest in the village churchyard that afternoon. For years she had planned for the death of that man and for years he had eluded her. To strike him down foully had been too dangerous, for had he not told her that he was prepared for that kind of death? Had he not arranged it so that a score of savants in Europe should learn the truth within a month of his decease? "And kindly fate has removed him for me," she said as she puffed with infinite content at one of her scented cigarettes. "There is no longer any danger. What have I to fear now from those wise men of the East? Nothing. They will see that Tchigorsky has died a natural death and will destroy those packets. I can act freely now." A strange look came over the lovely face, a look that boded ill for somebody. Then the whole expression changed as Geoffrey entered. She had seen him that afternoon; she had asked him to come and he had half promised to do so. That Mrs. May hated the young man and all his race with a fanatical hatred was no reason why, for the present, she should not enjoy his society. She was a strange woman, this Eastern, with a full knowledge of Western ways and civilization. She could be two distinct beings in as many minutes. A moment ago she was a priestess thirsting for the[Pg 196] blood of those who had defiled her creed, for the blood of those to the third or fourth generation, and almost instantly she was the charming hostess she would have been in a country mansion or a West End drawing room. She waved Geoffrey to a seat. "I hardly dared hope you would come," she said. "But now you are here, make yourself at home. There are some of the cigarettes you liked so well and the claret purchased for me by a connoisseur. I never touch wine myself, but I know you men appreciate it after dinner." Geoffrey took a cigarette and poured himself out a glass of the superb claret. The bouquet of it seemed to mingle with the flowers and scent the room. Geoffrey mentally likened himself to an Italian gallant upon whom Lucretia Borgia smiled before doing him to death. Not that he had any fear of the wine. Mrs. May was a criminal, but she was not a clumsy one. She would never permit herself to take risks like that. Nevertheless, it was very pleasant, for when Mrs. May chose to exercise her fascinations there was no more delightful woman. And there was always the chance of picking up useful information. Mrs. May touched lightly on Tchigorsky, to which Geoffrey responded with proper gravity. Had Mrs. May known that Tchigorsky himself was not more than a mile away she would have been less easy in her mind. "No more visions lately?" she asked. "No more," Geoffrey replied. "But they will come again. We are hopelessly and utterly doomed; nothing can save us. It is to be my turn next." Mrs. May started. There was an expression on her face that was not all sympathy. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded. Geoffrey slowly extracted from his pocket a sheet of paper. He had discovered it in his plate that morning at breakfast time. Long and earnestly it had been discussed by himself and Ralph and Tchigorsky, and it had[Pg 197] been the suggestion of the last-named that Geoffrey should find some pretext for mentioning it to Mrs. May. "This was by my plate this morning," he said. "I don't mind showing it to you, because you are a good friend of mine. It is a warning." It was a plain half sheet of note-paper, the sort sold in general shops at so many sheets a penny. The envelope was to match. Just a few lines had been laboriously printed on the paper. <blockquote>"Take care," it ran. "You are marked down for the next victim; and they are not likely to fail. You are not to go on the sea till you hear from me once more; you are not to venture along the cliffs. If you show this to anybody I shall not be able to warn you again, and your doom will be sealed.—One who loves you." </blockquote> That was all there was; nothing at the top or the bottom. Mrs. May turned this over with a puzzled face and a hand that shook slightly. Under her smile was another expression, the look of one who has been betrayed and is in a position to lay her hand upon the guilty person. "You are fortunate to have friends with the enemy," she said. "But do you think you were wise to show this to me?" She was playing with him as the cat plays with the mouse. It was a temptation she could not resist, feeling sure that Geoffrey would not understand. But he did, though he did not show it on his face. "Why not?" he asked innocently. "Are you not my friend? Personally I believe it is a hoax to frighten me. You can keep that paper if you please." "Then you are not going to take any notice of the warning?" asked Mrs. May. There was a note of curiosity, sharp, eager curiosity, in the question. Geoffrey did not fail to notice it, though he shook his head carelessly. [Pg 198] "I am going to ignore it, as one should ignore all anonymous letters," he said. "If the writer of that letter thinks to frighten me, then he or she is sadly mistaken. I shall go on with my life as if I had never received it." Mrs. May's lips framed the sentence, "The more fool you," but she did not utter it. It filled her with satisfaction to find that the warning had been ignored, as it had filled her with anger to know that a warning had been received. And Mrs. May knew full well who was the author of that letter. "I don't think that I should ignore it," she said. "It may be a cruel piece of mischief; and, on the other hand, it may be dictated by a generous desire to help you. So the moral is that you are to keep clear of the cliffs and the sea." Geoffrey flicked the ash off his cigarette and laughed. He poured himself out a second glass of the amazing claret. "It is an unusual thing for me to do," he said, "but your claret is wonderful. You speak of the moral, I speak of the things as they are going to be. To-morrow I shall go out fishing alone as if nothing had happened." "Ah, but you have not spoken of this?" Mrs. May indicated the letter lying on the table. Geoffrey looked at her reproachfully. "Have we not trouble and misery enough in our house without making more?" he asked. "Now, I put it to you as a lady of brains and courage, if you had been in my position, would you have shown that to your family?" Geoffrey lay back in his chair with the air of a man who has put a poser. At the same time he had ingeniously parried Mrs. May's question. As a matter of fact, nobody but Ralph and Tchigorsky had seen the paper. And the latter point-blank refused to give his reasons why the letter was to be disclosed to Mrs. May. She looked at Geoffrey with real admiration. [Pg 199] "I shouldn't," she said. "Of course, you are right and I am wrong. And I dare say you will be able to take care of yourself." He was going to disregard the warning; he was going out alone; and nobody knew what was hanging over his head! Here was a fool of fools, a pretty fellow to assist. Much good that warning had done. Geoffrey rose to his feet. "And now I must go," he said. "Still, I hope to come again." The door closed, and she was alone. Hardly had he departed before a dark figure in a white robe crept out of the gloom of the garden into the room. Mrs. May looked at the ragged looking stranger fixedly. "Who are you, and whence do you come?" she asked in her native tongue. The man salaamed almost to the ground. "I am Ben Heer, your slave," he said, "and I bring you great news." "Oh!" Mrs. May said slowly; "and so you have come at last." <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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