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<h3> CHAPTER XVII </h3> <h4> MR. JASPER JARMAN RELIEVES HIS MIND </h4> There was silence for a few moments. Edward Povey nervously poked little holes in the gravel path with the ferrule of his walking-stick. "Don't you think, uncle, that we had better discuss the situation without personalities—or rudeness?" Mr. Jasper Jarman's answer was a grunt. "You see, uncle, I feel that I owe you some sort of apology, or at any rate an explanation. I read what they said in the papers about you. I laughed for ten minutes." "You did, eh! Well, I read the same as you did, and I didn't laugh for ten seconds." "But I didn't take it seriously. I thought you would explain easily." "Yes, and be convicted as an accessory—as one of the gang." "Accessory to what?" "To the theft of the bonds—you did well out of that, it seems." Jasper's eyes took in his nephew's attire, the well-cut dark suit, the gleaming jewel in the cravat. "I suppose you decided on San Pietro for the same reason as I did." "My dear uncle, I was never more astonished in my life than when I saw you sitting there, outside the Caf� de l'Europe." "Not more than I was to see you, Mr. Povey." Edward sat for a moment gazing out over the sea. "What I'm wondering at is that a clever business man like you should run away from a shadow." "Yes, the shadow of a jail—what." "Not at all, uncle. I read in the Paris Daily Mail weeks ago that the bonds had been recovered and that the matter was ended. Why don't you go back, now?" "The fact that the bonds are safe does not explain my presence at Adderbury Cottage. I'd have to say I was visiting you—and admit you as my nephew." "And you wouldn't like that?" "It's not a relationship that I'm proud of, Edward." Edward looked at his uncle. "As I remarked before, there's no need to be rude," he said. "I'm only stating facts, Edward. Remember, I go by what I have seen. What were you doing at Bushey, and, for the matter of that, what are you doing here in San Pietro?" Edward Povey rose and took a turn or two up and down the path. He had asked himself at first whether he had been wise to attract his uncle's attention. But he well knew that until he had found out the reason of the old man's presence on the island, he would know no peace. He was more than relieved to discover the true state of things and that his uncle knew nothing of the Baxendale affair. The best thing to do now was to get the old man back to Kidderminster as soon as possible. There was nothing to associate Edward in his uncle's mind with the Mr. Sydney who lived at Venta Villa, even if, as was hardly probable, that gentleman's name were known to the carpet manufacturer. He pulled up suddenly in his walk as a scheme suggested itself, and stood looking down on Mr. Jarman. "I really think, uncle, you had better go back and face the music—it's a bit late, I'll admit, but it's your best move." "And face the scandal too. Not me." "There won't be any scandal if you do as I say. Write a letter to the editor of your local paper—The Kidderminster Shuttle, isn't it? Tell him that you have been on a long sea voyage by your doctor's orders and that you haven't been able to write or receive letters for weeks. Say that you have just read in an old number of the Daily Telegraph that you have been 'wanted.' Work up the indignation hot and strong—say that you are hastening home to take proceedings for libel against any one who has said a word against you. You must, also, say that Kyser was a friend of yours and that he had lent you the cottage at Bushey, and that when Aunt Eliza heard he was murdered, she was frightened of ghosts and that is why you left so hurriedly. Say she wouldn't sleep another night in the place for a fortune." Edward paused and wiped the perspiration from his face. Jasper, who had been looking glum enough when his nephew had begun to speak, now raised his head with a little smile. "You're a magnificent liar, Edward—same time I rather like your idea—I believe you possess the elements of sense." Edward smiled his acknowledgments, then went on— "But I have a favour to ask, uncle. Forget you've seen me. I'm here on business—secret political business." "I shan't say a word. Get me out of this benighted place and I'll do anything you like. Now come on with me to my hotel and I'll write that letter." The two men left the gardens and walked up towards the Old Town. "I'm staying at The Three Lilies, a comfortable old place—nothing grand and smart like these"—Jasper waved to the great hotels on the front,—"but I wanted somewhere quiet, you see." "The Three Lilies? Is that the little inn that faces an old castle sort of a place—just on the edge of the Old Town?" "Yes—why?" "Oh, nothing. I'm only wondering if you have noticed anything strange about that old place opposite." "Well—they seem rather a queer lot. Men—mostly soldiers—come pretty often to see the man who lives there. They come secretly too; there was one the other night who hid in the yard under my window. I heard something and looked out; you can understand the fright I got when I saw the tip of a man's cigar." "What kind of a man was he? Can you describe him?" "I watched after I had put the light out. There was a horse standing at the door opposite and the owner of the place came and saw a man—another soldier—off the premises. When the sound of the horse had died away in the distance, the man under my window crossed over. I've often seen him." "Sallow face, eh? Thin?" "That fits him. He's been in the wars, however. I saw him to-day and he walks with a crutch and carries his arm in a sling. Why? Do you know the Johnny who lives in the castle?" Edward did not answer; he was thinking deeply. These clandestine meetings between Mozara and Dasso were only in accordance with the suspicions that crowded his mind of a plot. A great joy filled his heart as he told himself that Miranda was alive. He was glad he had written to the Duc de Choleaux Lasuer, a strong arm to lean on would be useful in the work Edward Povey had in hand. It was late when they reached The Three Lilies and the house opposite was in darkness. Edward accompanied his uncle to his room and together they wrote their letter to The Kidderminster Shuttle. This done, the younger man took his departure. He made an appointment with his uncle at the stone seat in the gardens for eleven o'clock the next morning. He was rather sorry he had advised the old man to hurry away; he would have been useful as an informant, living as he did with the enemy under his eye. Any schemes such as these, however, were doomed to have a very rude awakening. Edward arrived at the stone seat early and gave himself up to his thoughts. His original misdemeanour in assuming the name and personality of Mr. Kyser was all but forgotten in the light of later events, and the plans for the location and rescue of Galva Baxendale. In his own mind he was rather more than half a hero already, and the shock which he received at five minutes past eleven was a sharp one, and coming, as it did, hard upon his self-adulation seemed to him unmerited and unfair. As steps approached he looked up expecting to see the portly figure of Mr. Jasper Jarman. Instead, he made out a lean and hungry looking Corbian who, when he saw the figure on the seat, advanced, and snatching off his greasy cap handed a letter to Edward. "Meester Povee?" Edward took the envelope and opening it drew out a sheet of paper. It was dated at nine o'clock in the morning and was headed with the device THE THREE LILIES. "EDWARD POVEY, "Please accept my very best thanks for the advice you gave me yesterday evening. You have in some measure atoned for the harm you have done. On your head and yours alone rests the onus of my shattered reputation, the anguish of your Aunt Eliza and the possible downfall of one of the largest carpet factories in the Midlands. "Last night circumstances made it expedient that I should dissemble and show you a tolerance I was far from feeling. You are a liar and I do not doubt for one moment but that you are a thief. It was to avoid the possible trial with such a scoundrel beside me in the dock that I left England. When you get this I shall have departed from the cursed island of San Pietro by the boat that leaves for Spain at ten. You did not mention your poor wife to me. I do not expect I will run across her, it being more than probable that you have murdered the poor woman and buried her in the garden at Adderbury Cottage. If I do see her, however, I will consider it my duty to acquaint her with the evil life of self-indulgence and ease you are living in Corbo. "The messenger who brings you this is the son of the landlord of The Three Lilies. I have told him that you will reward him—you can afford it. "JASPER JARMAN" Edward tore the letter into little pieces and swore softly to himself. It was a rude awakening to his dreams of rescuing distressed damsels. Then he took a silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the son of the landlord of The Three Lilies. "There's no answer," he said shortly, and turned and walked up to the bustling life of the boulevard. He had entered the gardens with the feelings of Sir Galahad, he left them with those of Charles Peace. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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