CHAPTER XIX

A VISITOR

How came the fan there--and on the accursed square of ground where no

grass would grow? Rupert was not superstitious, yet his heart gave a

bound, and for the moment he felt sick. This fan was the cause of much

trouble in the past, it had cost one woman her life, and it might yet

claim another victim. With the fan in his hand, and the yellow light of

the guttering candle in the lantern gleaming on its beauty, he stood

stupidly staring, unheeding the feeble piping of Petley's voice, as he

peered in at the ruined archway.

"What's the matter, Master Rupert?" questioned the old butler with a

shiver, "have you seen _It_?"

"No," said Rupert at length, and he hardly knew his own voice so heavy

and thick it was, "there's nothing to be seen."

A cry came from the old man. "Don't stand on that accursed ground,

Master Rupert," he said, almost whimpering, "and to-night, of all

times."

"Why to-night," said Rupert, retreating back to the arch.

"Any night," shivered Petley putting his hand on his young master's arm

and drawing him out of the cloisters, "it's not a good place for an

Ainsleigh to be in at night. The Abbot--"

"John, I don't believe in the Abbot."

"But Anne saw him--or It. She's not the one to tell a lie."

"Mrs. Petley is deceived in some way." Rupert considered a moment, and

thrust the fan into his pocket. In the darkness, and because he turned

aside the lantern light, old Petley had not seen that anything had been

picked up. "I'm going to search round," said Rupert.

The butler gave a long wail as Ainsleigh broke from his grasp. "No! no!"

he cried, lifting his long hands, "not at night."

But Rupert, now quite himself, did not heed the superstitious cry. He

disbelieved in ghosts more than ever. Some flesh and blood person had

brought the fan, and recollecting Burgh's story, and what Olivia had

reported of Miss Pewsey's talk that afternoon, he quite expected to find

Dr. Forge lurking in the cloisters. He would search for him, and when

face to face, he would demand an explanation. So Rupert swiftly and

lightly, walked round, holding the light high and low in the hope of

discovering some crouching form. And all the time Petley waited,

trembling at the door.

The rain fell softly and there was a gentle wind swinging the heavy

boughs of the pines, so that a murmurous sound echoed through the

cloisters like the breaking of league-long waves on a pebbly beach. For

at least half an hour Rupert searched: but he could see no one: he could

not even find the impression of feet, sodden as was the ground. After

looking everywhere within the cloister, and in the Abbey itself, he

brushed past the old butler and walked down the avenue. Here also, he

was at fault as he could see no one. The gates were closed: but there

was a light in the small house near at hand. Ainsleigh knocked at the

door, and shortly old Payne, holding a candle, above his head, appeared,

expressing surprise.

"Has anyone entered the gates to-night?" asked his master.

"No sir. I closed them at five as usual. No one has come in."

There were no signs of the gates having been climbed, and the wall which

ran round the estate was so high and the top was pricked with such cruel

spikes, that no one could possibly have entered that way. Old Payne

insisted that no one had entered: he had heard no voices, no footsteps,

and seemed much perplexed by the insistence of his young master. At

length Rupert desisted from making inquiries, being perfectly assured

that he would learn nothing. He returned up the avenue slowly to the

mansion, wondering how it came about, that Forge had entered the ground

and left the fan on the very spot where Abbot Raoul had been burnt.

Mrs. Petley had recovered from her swoon and, with her husband, had

retreated to the kitchen. So, Rupert learned from Olivia, and he then

gave her a description of his finding of the fan. She was very amazed

and curious. "Show it to me," she said.

"Not just now, dear," replied Rupert walking to the door. "I must ask

Mrs. Petley first to explain what she saw."

"She declares it was Abbot Raoul."

"Pooh. Forge masquerading as the monk I expect. Though why he should

come here and bring this infernal fan I cannot understand. What is the

time, Olivia?"

"Nine o'clock," she replied, "we had dinner early."

"Yes. Well, I'll see Mrs. Petley. You need not say anything about the

fan, and as old John didn't see me pick it up, there will be no

difficulty with him."

"Why should there be any difficulty with him?" asked Mrs. Ainsleigh.

"Your aunt was killed for the sake of the fan, and the person who killed

her must have been within these grounds to-night. I want to keep the

matter quiet, until I see Rodgers to-morrow. Then I'll explain all, and

place the fan in his hands."

"Then you think Dr. Forge has been here?"

"Yes--or Clarence Burgh. But, as they have left Marport, I don't see

what they have to gain by remaining in a place fraught with so much

danger to both."

"They can't both be guilty, Rupert."

"No. But Burgh declares that Forge strangled your aunt, and Miss Pewsey

lays the blame on her nephew. But I don't believe either one of them. I

shouldn't be at all surprised to learn that the assassin is Major Tidman

after all. He wanted the fan badly, so as to get the money."

"But you were with him on the beach, between eleven and twelve."

"I was, and the evidence of Dr. Forge went to show that Miss Wharf was

killed between those hours. But suppose, Olivia," Rupert sank his voice

and drew nearer. "Suppose Forge knew from the condition of the body that

your aunt had been killed _before_ eleven, and had procured the fan from

Tidman by threatening to say so, in which case the Major could not have

proved an alibi."

"It might be so," replied Mrs. Ainsleigh, "but then the body would have

been found earlier."

"No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went down

those steps. Tung-yu certainly did,--but that was after the crime was

committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with him. It is a very

strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had already killed the woman

when he joined me on the beach to smoke."

"Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed?"

"He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the

circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he had in

Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would make him

uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can talk of this later.

I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert disappeared.

The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the cloisters to

gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the lantern with her. While

stooping at the archway to see what she could pick she heard, even

through the moaning of the wind the swish of a long garment. The sound

brought her to her feet, and--as she phrased it--with her heart in her

mouth. The place was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But

never so plain--oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her

apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my head

and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away, Master

Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its wicked white

face--"

"Did you see the face?"

"I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and evil. I

dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes and then it went.

I took the lantern and ran for the house for dear life, till I burst in

on you and the mistress. Oh, Master Rupert dear, what did you see?"

"Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal

masquerading."

"No! No! T'was a ghost--oh dreary me, my days are numbered."

Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was flesh and

blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He returned the lantern

back to old John and told the couple to retire to bed. They were both

white and nervous and not fit to be up. Then he came back to the

drawing-room and found Olivia seated by the fire reading. At the door

Rupert paused to think what a pretty picture she made in her rich

dinner-dress--one of Miss Wharf's gifts--and with one small hand

supporting her dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic

of his gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she

held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia.

Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned," said he,

"Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a ghost, and

declares that her days are numbered. As she is nearly seventy, I

daresay they are. But this fan,"--he took it out of his pocket.

"Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand.

But Rupert drew it away and spread out the leaves. "No, my dear, I don't

like you to handle the horrible thing. And besides, you have seen it

often enough in the hand of your aunt."

"Yes, but now there is an awful significance about it."

"There's blood--"

"Blood," cried his wife shuddering, "but she was strangled."

"I speak figuratively, my dear. This little trifle has cost one life: it

may cost more. I am quite sure Lo-Keong's life hangs on this fan, or he

would not be so anxious to get it back. It has a secret, and I intend to

learn what the secret is."

"Oh, you mean to wave it in the smoke," said Olivia remembering what

Rupert had told her of Tung-yu's speech.

"Yes I do. I want to see the invisible picture. Then, we may learn of

this hiding place which contains the things, Lo-Keong's enemies wish to

secure. I expect it is some treasonous correspondence."

"But, Rupert, the hiding-place will be in China. Lo-Keong would not send

papers of that kind to be concealed in England."

"It would be the safest place," replied Rupert dryly, "however, I intend

to try the experiment of waving this fan in the smoke."

"You don't know the kind of smoke?"

"I can guess the kind. Olivia do you remember that joss-stick which Mrs.

Petley found in the Abbey."

"Yes--at the time she saw the ghost."

"Precisely. The ghost left that joss-stick behind on the first occasion,

and the fan on the second. Now I shouldn't wonder if the fan had got

into the hands of Hwei, and that _he_ was the ghost."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Hwei confessed that he was lurking outside the Bristol hotel to

get a chance of killing Miss Wharf when she was lured out by Tung-yu.

That gentleman however played false. All the same Hwei was here, and

perhaps he came up to the Abbey--"

"Why?" asked Olivia looking perplexed.

"Ah, that I can't tell you. But I fancy the answer is to be found in

this fan, as soon as we see the picture."

"But the smoke."

"Must be made by that joss-stick. It smells like cinnamon, and is

apparently a manufactured article. Hwei brought it, so that he could

wave the fan in its smoke and then learn the secret. But he dropped the

joss-stick and--where is it Olivia?"

"I put it in a drawer over there, after you showed it to me."

Mrs. Ainsleigh went to a rose-wood cabinet and opened a drawer. She then

returned with the joss-stick in her hand, and gave it to her husband,

who was kneeling on the hearth-rug. "I hope it won't explode, Rupert,"

said Olivia nervously.

He stared. "Why should you think that?"

"Well it might have been dropped on purpose, and looks like a cracker

with that red paper round it. Perhaps there's dynamite--"

"Nonsense," said Rupert taking out a match, "however, if you are afraid,

go into the next room."

"No," said Olivia seating herself, "if you are to be blown to bits, I'll

be blown up with you."

They both laughed at the idea, and then Rupert lighted the match. It was

distinctly nervous work however, and Olivia started back, as her husband

set the joss-stick fizzling. She was leaning forward in the chair with

her dark head nearly touching his fair hair. The joss-stick smoked

slowly and a queer odour diffused itself though the room. Olivia

sniffed. "Rupert," she said positively, "it's the same scent as was on

that letter of Tung-yu's."

"And of Lo-Keong also," said Rupert watching the thick bluish smoke,

which now began to curl up from the joss-stick, "apparently the Mandarin

uses the perfume as a kind of clue, or perhaps it is a special scent

dedicated to this private god of his. I shall never understand Chinamen

and I'm very sure I don't want too. Olivia, hold the stick while I wave

the fan in the smoke."

Being now assured that the smoke was proceeding from a harmless article,

Mrs. Ainsleigh took the stick and held it lightly, while her husband

gravely waved the out-spread fan in the thick smoke. The joss-stick

fizzled and burned and gave out its queer smell, which made both

slightly dizzy. Every now and then, Rupert looked at the enamelled side

of the fan, where Tung-yu said that a picture would appear. There

certainly did seem something scrawled on the smooth green sticks, and a

blurred outline revealed itself. For quite ten minutes Ainsleigh

continued waving, until the joss-stick burnt down nearly to the root.

Then he looked again, Olivia placed the still fizzling joss-stick in the

fender, and peered over his shoulder. She uttered a cry when she saw the

black outline of the picture, and Rupert nearly echoed it. They were

looking at a drawing of the cloisters.

Yes--there were the cloisters of Royabay Abbey taken, as by a camera,

from the archway. The architecture was clear enough, and the trees also.

But the picture was merely evanescent, for as the fan grew cold again

the outlines vanished. However, they knew that the hiding place of the

presumed papers, was within the cloisters of Royabay--but in what spot.

Rupert laid down the fan and propounded the problem to his wife. "The

indications would be more exact."

"Yes," replied Olivia thoughtfully, and picked up the fan, "I suppose

you are right, Rupert. It must have been Hwei who came to the Abbey on

the night my aunt was killed and dropped the joss-stick. Perhaps he came

to see if he could find the hiding place, without the aid of the fan."

"No," said Rupert, "Hwei is the servant of Lo-Keong, and probably knew

of the hiding place; whereas Tung-yu, who served Hop Sing wanted the fan

to learn about it. I expect had Tung-yu bought the fan, he would have

come here and found the papers and then have cleared out to China to

place them in his master's hands and ruin Lo-Keong."

"Are you sure there are papers hidden?" said Olivia, fingering the beads

dangling from the thick yellow cord.

"I think so. It can't be gold or silver or jewels. However, what we have

to do is to find what is hidden. Then when Lo-Keong comes down we can

make a bargain with him. If he hands over my eight thousand, I'll give

him whatever we find."

"But how are we to find the spot?" said Mrs. Ainsleigh dreamily.

"Oh, Rupert," she added, "it's in one of the trees. Don't you remember a

tree was drawn at the side of the picture with a white line down the

trunk?"

"No, I didn't see that. I saw the four trees and the stump drawn in the

picture."

Mrs. Ainsleigh rattled the beads through her fingers. "Four beads and

half a bead," she exclaimed, "Rupert, those stand for the four trees and

for the stump."

"What makes you think so?"

"The half bead--that is the stump, and see, one of the beads is of

jasper, that might be the copper beech."

"By jove," Rupert jumped up, "I believe you are right."

"I am sure I am, and in the tree drawn at the side of the picture which

you did not observe, there was a white line down the trunk."

"Well," said Rupert pondering, "perhaps whatever is hidden is tied to a

string or a chain and is dropped down the trunk of one of the four

trees--or perhaps in the stump."

"Not in the stump," said Olivia quickly, "for then the line would be

visible, while in the other trees it would be concealed in the thick

foliage. I fancy the line must be down the copper beech trunk, as there

is but one red bead."

"There is but one tree though--one copper beech you know," said her

husband. "I am inclined to think that to make things safer, the hiding

place must be in one of the green trees signified by the jade beads. The

question is, which tree is it?"

Olivia looked at the fan again, and as she did so started. Rupert also

raised his head. They heard the sound of wheels scrunching the gravel

outside, and wondered who was arriving so late. The clock pointed to

half-past ten. The servants had gone to bed, so Rupert followed by his

wife, who was rather nervous, went to the door. When Rupert opened it he

found himself facing a tall handsome man in a fur cloak, and wearing a

strange hat.

"Good evening," said the stranger in the best of English, "I speak to

Mr. Ainsleigh I think, I am the Marquis Lo-Keong."