The dead stranger had said he intended to remove to the Grand Hotel. Diamonds intention was to go further to purchase a fine estate somewhere in the grass-country, and in future live the life of a gentleman.
Mrs Diamond noticed her husbands preoccupied manner, and naturally attributed it to financial embarrassment.
A few moments later the door opened, and a pretty, fair-haired girl, about thirteen, entered, and finding the doctor had returned, rushed towards him and, throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him, saying:
I had no idea you were back again, dad. I went down the station-path half-way, expecting to meet you.
I came by the road, my child, was the Doctors reply as he stroked her long fair hair. Ive been to Paris to see your dad, Aggie, he added.
My other dad, repeated the child reflectively. I I hardly remember him. You are my own dear old dad! And she stroked his cheek with her soft hand.
Aggie was the doctors favourite. He was devoted to the daughter of that tall, thin man who was such a cosmopolitan adventurer, the child who was now the eldest of his family, and who had, ever since she had arrived, a wee weakly little thing, always charmed him by her bright intelligence and merry chatter.
She was a distinctly pretty child, neat in her dark-blue frock and white pinafore. In the village school she was head of her class, and Mr Holmes, the popular, good-humoured schoolmaster, had already suggested to the Doctor, and also to Lady Gavin at the Manor, that she should be sent to the Secondary School at Peterborough now that he could teach her no more.
The Doctor drew Aggie upon his knee, and told her of her fathers inquiries and of his suggestion that she should go to Paris to see him.
Paris seemed to the child such a long way off. She had seen it marked upon the wall-maps in school, but to her youthful mind it was only a legendary city.
I dont want to leave Horsford, dad, replied the girl with a slight pout. I want to remain with you.
Not in order to see and know your father?
You are my dad my only dad, she declared quickly. I dont want to see my other dad at all, she added decisively. If he wants to see me, why doesnt he come here?
He cant my dear, replied the doctor. But tell me. Have you seen Lady Gavin since Ive been away?
No, dad. Mr Farquhar and his sister have come to stay at the Manor, so shes always engaged.
Frank Farquhar is down here again, eh? asked Diamond quickly. Then he reflected deeply for a few moments.
He was wondering if Farquhar could help him if he dare take the young man into his confidence.
Nowadays he was out of it. He knew nobody, buried there as he was in that rural solitude.
Is Sir George at home? he asked the child, who, like all other children, knew the whole gossip of the village.
No, dad. He started for Egypt yesterday. Will Chapman told me so.
The Doctor ate his tea, with his wife and five daughters of varying ages, all bright, bonnie children, who looked the picture of good health.
Then, after a wash and putting on another suit, he went out, strolling down the village to where the big old Manor House, with its quaint gables and wide porch, stood far back behind its sloping lawn.
Generations of squires of Horsford had lived and died there, as their tombs in the splendid Norman church almost adjoining testified. It was a house where many of the rooms were panelled, where the entrance-hall was of stone, with a well staircase and a real priests hole on the first floor.
He ascended the steps, and his ring was answered by a smart Italian man-servant. Yes. Mr Farquhar was at home. Would the doctor kindly step into the library?
Diamond entered that well-known room on the right of the hall a room lined from floor to ceiling with books in real Chippendale bookcases, and in the centre a big old-fashioned writing-table. Over the fireplace were several ancient manuscripts in neat frames, while beside the blazing fire stood a couple of big saddle-bag chairs.
Sir George Gavin, Baronet, posed to the world as a literary man, though he had risen from the humble trade of a compositor to become owner of a number of popular newspapers. He knew nothing about literature and cared less. He left all such matters to the editors and writers whom he paid clever men who earned for him the magnificent income which he now enjoyed. Upon the cover of one of his periodicals it was stated that he was editor. But as a matter of fact he hardly ever saw the magazine in question, except perhaps upon the railway bookstalls. His sole thought was the handsome return its publication produced. And, like so many other men in our England to-day, he had simply paid up and received his baronetcy among the Birthday honours, just as he had received his membership of the Carlton.
Diamond had not long to wait, for in a few moments the door opened, and there entered a smart-looking, dark-haired young man in a blue serge suit.
Hulloa, Doc! How are you? he exclaimed. Im back again, you see just down for a day or two to see my sister. And how has Horsford been progressing during my absence eh? he laughed.
Frank Farquhar, Lady Gavins younger brother, occupied an important position in the journalistic concern of which Sir George was the head. He was recognised by journalistic London as one of its smartest young men. His career at Oxford had been exceptionally brilliant, and he had already distinguished himself as special correspondent in the Boer and Russo-Japanese campaigns before Sir George Gavin had invited him to join his staff.
Tall, lithe, well set-up, with a dark, rather acquiline face, a small dark moustache, and a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes, he was alert, quick of movement, and altogether a live journalist.
The two men seated themselves on either side of the fireplace, and Farquhar, having offered his visitor a cigar, settled himself to listen to Diamonds story.
Ive come to you, the Doctor explained, because I believe that you, and perhaps Sir George also, can help me. Dont think that I want any financial assistance, he laughed. Not at all. I want to put before you a matter which is unheard of, and which I am certain will astound even you a journalist.
Well, Doc, remarked the young man with a smile, it takes a lot to surprise us in Fleet Street, you know.
This will. Listen. And then, having extracted a promise of silence, Diamond related to the young man the whole story of the dead stranger, and the curious document that had been only half-consumed.
When the Doctor explained that the papers had not been wholly burned, Frank Farquhar rose quickly in pretence of obtaining an ash-tray, but in reality in order to conceal the strange expression which at that, moment overspread his countenance.
Then, a few seconds later, he returned to his chair apparently quite unmoved and unconcerned. Truth to tell, however, the statement made by the dwarfed and deformed man before him had caused him to tighten his lips and hold his breath.
Was it possible that he held certain secret knowledge of which the Doctor was ignorant, and which he could turn to advantage?
He remained silent, with a smile of incredulity playing about his mouth.
The truth was this. Within his heart he had already formed a fixed intention that the dead mans secret the most remarkable secret of the age should be his, and his alone!
Chapter Five
Spreads the Net
The deformed man existed in a whirl of excitement. He already felt himself rich beyond his wildest dreams. He built castles in the air like a child, and smiled contentedly when rich people some of the hunting crowd passed him by unrecognised.