CHAPTER II

DR. FORGE

Royabay was distant five miles from Marport, a rising watering place on

the Essex coast. In fact so large was the town, and so many the

visitors, that it might be said to be quite risen, though the

inhabitants insisted that it had not yet attained the height it yet

would reach. But be this as it may, Marport was popular and fashionable,

and many retired gentlepeople lived in spacious houses along the cliffs

and in the suburbs. The ancient town, which lay in a hollow, was left to

holiday trippers, and these came in shoals during the summer months.

There was the usual pier, the Kursaal, the theatre, many bathing

machines and many boarding houses--in fact the usual sort of things

which go to make up a popular watering-place. And the town had been in

existence--the new part at all events--for only fifteen years. Like

Jonah's gourd it had sprung up in a night: but it certainly showed no

signs of withering. In fact its attractions increased yearly.

Major Tidman was a wise man, and had not travelled over the world with

his eyes shut. He had seen colonial towns spring up and fade away, and

knew how the value of land increases. Thus, when he returned to his own

country with a certain sum of money, he expended the same in buying

land, and in building thereon. This policy produced a lot of money, with

which the Major bought more land and more houses. Now, he possessed an

avenue of desirable villa residences in the suburbs which brought him in

a good income, and which, by reason of their situation, were never

empty. The Major did not live here himself. He was a bachelor and fond

of company: therefore he took up his quarters in the Bristol Hotel, the

most fashionable in Marport. As he had shares in the company which built

it, he managed to obtain his rooms at a comparatively moderate rate.

Here he lived all the year round, save when he took a trip to the

Continent, and, as the Bristol was always full of people, the Major did

not lack company. As he was a good-humoured little man, with plenty of

small talk and a fund of out-of-the-way information, he soon became

immensely popular. In this way the crafty Major had all the comforts of

home and the delights of society without bearing the burden of an

establishment of his own. His sole attendant was a weather-beaten

one-eyed man, who acted as his valet, and who knew how to hold his

tongue.

Sometimes the Major would walk up town and inspect his property with

great pride. It was balm to his proud heart to walk up and down the

spacious avenue, and survey the red brick villas smiling amidst trim

gardens. Tidman's birth was humble,--his father had been a small tenant

farmer of the Ainsleighs,--and he had started life without even the

proverbial shilling. For many years he was absent from his native land,

and returned to find fortune waiting for him on the door step. To be

sure he brought a nest-egg home with him. Nevertheless, but for his

astuteness in buying land and in building he would not have acquired

such a good income. So the Major had some cause for self congratulation,

when he paced up and down Tidman's Avenue.

Two days after his dinner with Rupert Ainsleigh, the Major spick and

span as usual,--he always looked as though he had stepped out of a

bandbox,--was strutting up the Avenue. Half way along he came face to

face with a withered little woman, who looked like the bad fairy of the

old nursery tales. She wore a poke bonnet, a black dress and, strange to

say, a scarlet shawl. Her age might have been about fifty-five, but she

looked even older. With her dress picked up, and holding a flower in her

hand, she came mincing along smiling at the world with a puckered face

and out of a pair of very black and brilliant eyes. She looked a quaint

old-fashioned gentlewoman of the sort likely to possess a good income,

for it seemed that no pauper would have dared to dress in so shabby and

old-fashioned a manner. Consequently it was strange that the gallant

Major should have showed a disposition to turn tail when he set eyes on

her. She might indeed have been the veritable witch she looked, so pale

turned Major Tidman's ruddy face. But the old dame was not going to let

him escape in this way.

"Oh good morning," she said in a sharp voice like a saw, "how well you

are looking dear Major Tidman--really so very well. I never saw you look

younger. The rose in your button-hole is not more blooming. How do you

keep your youth so? I remember you--"

But the Major cut her short. He had enough of flattering words which he

guessed she did not mean, and didn't want her to remember anything, for

he knew her memory extended disagreeably to the time when he had been a

poor and humble nobody. "I'm in a hurry Miss Pewsey" he said twirling

his stick, "good-morning ma'am--morning."

"If you're going to see Dr. Forge," said Miss Pewsey, her black eyes

glittering like jet. "I've just come from his house. He is engaged."

"I can wait I suppose, Miss Pewsey," said Tidman bristling, "that is,

supposing I am calling on the doctor."

"Then you really are: not on account of your health I'm sure. I do hope

you aren't ill, dear Major. We all look forward to you shining at the

ball, which is to take place at the Hotel Bristol."

"I may be there, Miss Pewsey. I may be there,--in fact," the Major

flourished his stick again, "I am one of the stewards."

Miss Pewsey clapped together a pair of small claws encased in shabby

cotton gloves. "There," she cried in a shriller voice than ever. "I knew

it. I said so to my Sophia. Of course you know I always call dear Miss

Wharf my Sophia; we have been friends for years--oh yes, for years. We

grew on one stem and--"

"You'll excuse me, ma'am--"

"Oh yes--I know you are so busy. But I was saying, that you can give me

a ticket for my nephew, Mr. Burgh--"

"The tickets are for sale at the hotel," said Tidman gruffly.

"Yes, but my poor nephew is poor. He also has come from foreign parts

Major as you did, and just as poor. You must give him a ticket--oh

really you must." Miss Pewsey spoke with an emphasis on every other

word, and between her teeth as though she was trying to prevent the

speech escaping too rapidly. "Now, Major," she coaxed.

"I'll see, ma'am--I'll see."

"Oh. I knew you would." She clasped her hands again, "come and see my

Sophia--dear Miss Wharf, and then you can give Clarence--that's my

nephew's name, sweet isn't it?--you can give him the ticket. But don't

bring _him_," added Miss Pewsey jerking her old head backward in the

direction of Dr. Forge's residence, "he's there."

"Who is there, ma'am?" demanded the Major with a start.

"Why that horrid Mr. Ainsleigh and--"

Miss Pewsey got no further. The Major uttered something naughty under

his breath, and taking off his hat with a flourish, bowed his way along

the road, pursued by the shrill injunctions of the lady not to forget

the ticket.

Tidman walked more rapidly and less jauntily than usual, and stopped at

Dr. Forge's gate to wipe his red face, which had now assumed its normal

colour.

"By George" said the old soldier, "that woman will marry me, if I don't

take care. She ain't safe--she shouldn't be allowed out. Pewsey--a

cat--a cat--I always said so. Lavinia Pewsey cat, to Benjamin Tidman

gentleman. Not if I know it--ugh--ugh," and he walked up the steps to

ring the bell. While waiting, his thoughts went from Miss Pewsey to

Rupert. "I thought he had gone to town about that fan business," said

the Major fretting, "what's he doing calling on Forge without telling

me," and Tidman seemed very much annoyed that Rupert should have taken

such a liberty.

True enough, he found young Ainsleigh sitting with Dr. Forge. The doctor

was a tall lean man with sad eyes, and a stiff manner. He was dressed in

a loose white flannel suit, in a most unprofessional way. But everyone

knew that Forge had money and did not practise, save when the fancy took

him. With his watchful grey eyes and sad face and lantern jaws, Forge

was not a prepossessing object or a medical attendant to be desired.

Also his hands had a claw-like look, which, added to his thin hooked

nose, made him look like a hawk. He spoke very little though, and what

he did say was to the point: but he was not popular like the Major. A

greater contrast than this mummy and handsome young Ainsleigh, can

scarcely be imagined.

The Major came puffing into the room and looked around. It was a small

apartment furnished with Chinese curiosities. Rice-paper painted in the

conventional Chinese fashion adorned the walls: a many-tasseled lantern

gay with colour, dangled from the roof, and in each corner of the room a

fat mandarin squatted on a pedestal. The furniture was of bamboo, and

straw matting covered the floor. A bookcase filled with medical volumes

looked somewhat out of place in this eastern room, as did the doctor's

writing table, a large one covered with papers and books, and strange

looking Chinese scrips. The room was as queer as its owner, and the

atmosphere had that indescribable eastern smell, which the Major

remembered to have sniffed up at Canton under disagreeable

circumstances. Perhaps it was the revival of an unpleasant memory that

made him sit down so suddenly, or it might have been the cold grey stony

eyes of Forge.

"Well Major," said Rupert who looked handsome and gay in flannels, and

who seemed to have lost his melancholy looks, "who would have thought of

seeing you here?"

"I came to ask Forge to keep the exterior of his house a little more

tidy," said the Major with dignity, "the steps have not been cleaned

this morning, and there is straw in the garden, while the shrubs and

flowers are dying for want of water."

Forge shrugged his thin shoulders, and nodded towards some egg-shell

china cups and a quaint looking tea-pot. But he did not speak.

"No," replied the Major to the silent invitation. "I never drink tea in

the afternoon--"

"Or at any time," said Forge in a melancholy way. "I know you of old.

Ainsleigh, take another cup."

"Not in the Chinese fashion," said Rupert smiling, "you drink it too hot

for my taste and I like milk and sugar. But now I've told you about the

fan, I'll leave you to chat with Tidman."

"The fan," said Tidman sitting up as straight as his stoutness would let

him, "ah yes--I forgot about that. Well?"

"Well," echoed Rupert lighting a cigarette, "I called at the joss-house

in Perry Street Whitechapel, and a nice sort of den it is. A Chinaman,

heard my explanation about my father's connection with Lo-Keong, and

then told me that the fan had been stolen from that gentleman, who is

now a Mandarin."

"Lo-Keong was well on the way to the highest post when I saw him last"

said Forge preparing a roll of tobacco, "he was much in favour at the

court."

"But I thought he was a Boxer," said Tidman, "and surely----"

"Oh he gave up the Boxers, and curried favour with the Dowager Empress.

That was seven years ago, when I was last in China. I met you there

Tidman."

Again the disagreeable recollection of Canton crossed the Major's

memory, and he nodded. "What about the fan?" he asked Rupert again.

"It's of great value," said Ainsleigh, "at least this Chinaman told me

so. Lo-Keong is now a Mandarin, and is high in favour with the Dowager

Empress--"

"And consequently is hated by the Emperor," murmured Forge.

"I don't know, doctor, I'm not up in Chinese politics. However, the fan

was lost by Lo-Keong some years ago, and being a sacred fan, he wants it

back. This Chinaman Tung-yu--"

"Oh," said the Major, "then you didn't see Hwei or Kan-su?"

"Those are names of a river and a province," said the doctor.

"I know," snapped Tidman, "but they were in the advertisement."

"Tung-yu explained that they were used only for the purpose of

advertisement," said Rupert, "but to make a long story short, I told him

that I had seen the fan--"

"You saw the fan," asked Tidman directing a side look at Forge.

"A dream--a dream," said the doctor.

"No," insisted the young man. "I feel sure I have seen that fan, I can't

think where. Perhaps it is amongst my father's effects sent from China

by Lo-Keong years ago----"

"Twenty years ago," said Dr. Forge, "and Lo-Keong would hardly send his

own fan. I remember the things coming. I came home immediately before. A

Chinaman brought your father's papers and luggage to Royabay. He left

them with your mother and went away."

"Were you not with my father when he died?" asked Rupert, "I always

understood you were."

"No. I was at Pekin at the time. Your father and I were working the mine

together, and I went about some imperial concessions. While there I

heard that your father was dead."

"Was he murdered?" asked Rupert earnestly.

"I really can't say, Lo-Keong said that he died of dysentery, but he was

always a liar. He wouldn't be so high in favour with the Court if he

wasn't. Lying is a fine art in the Far East, and--"

"Yes--Yes," said Tidman impatiently, "but what has all this to do with

the fan?"

"I think it's all of a piece myself," said Rupert, "and I intend to get

to the bottom of it. I have seen that fan somewhere--but I can't

think--I can't," he reflected and shook his head, "no. But I have seen

it doctor, so its no use your shrugging your shoulders. I want to

find it and get that five thousand pounds."

"What?" cried the Major leaping up on his stout little legs.

"Lo-Keong is willing to give five thousand pounds for the return of his

fan," said Ainsleigh, who had walked to the door, "and I intend to earn

it."

"Against my advice," said Forge looking up oddly.

Rupert laughed. "Oh you are afraid," he said smiling.

"Of you, not of myself. I know what the Chinese are, and have studied

the race for years. I know how to deal with them; but you will get into

trouble if you meddle with this fan business."

"And so I say," cried Tidman emphatically.

"Why, what do you know of the Chinese, Major?" asked Rupert.

"More than I like to think of," said the little man wiping his bald

head. "I went out to China for a trip seven years ago and met with an

adventure in Canton--ugh!"

"What sort of an adventure?"

"Ugh!" grunted the Major again, "don't talk about it. It makes me cold

to think of it. The Chinese are demons. Forge got me out of the trouble

and I left China never to set foot in it again I hope. Ainsleigh, if you

want that curse of yours to be realised, meddle with the fan. But if you

want to keep your life and your skin, leave the matter alone."

"I'm going to get that five thousand pounds," said Rupert, obstinately,

"as soon as I can recollect where I saw that fan. The memory will come

back to me. I am sure it will. Doctor you won't help me."

"No," said Forge decisively. "I advise you to leave the matter alone."

"In that case I must search it out myself. Good-day," and Ainsleigh

strolled out of the room, lightheartedly enough, as he whistled a gay

tune. Major Tidman looked grimly at the closed door, and then still more

grimly at the doctor, who was paring his nails.

"Our young friend is ambitious," he said.

Forge laughed gently. "You can hardly blame him. He wants to marry Miss

Rayner and save his ancestral home, so I am quite sure he will search

for the fan."

"He won't find it then," said the Major petulantly.

"Won't he?" questioned Forge sweetly, "well, perhaps not. By the way you

want to see me Major. Mrs. Bressy tells me you called at least twice

yesterday."

"Yes. She didn't know when you would be back."

"I never tell her. I like to take the old lady unawares. She is a

Dickens' character, with a fondness for drink, and for taking things

which don't belong to her. I always go away and come back unexpectedly.

Yesterday I was in Paris. Now I am at Marport. Well?"

The Major had contained himself with difficulty all this time, and had

grown very red in the face. The colour changed to a lively purple, as he

burst out. "See here Forge what's the use of talking to me in this way.

You have that fan."

"Have I," said Forge smiling gently.

"Yes. You know well enough that the very fan--the jade fan with the five

beads, was the cause of my getting into trouble in Canton. You got me

out of the trouble and you asked me to give you the fan, when I thanked

you."

"And you refused," said Forge still smiling.

"Well I did at first," said Tidman sulkily. "I risked my life over the

beastly thing, and--"

Forge raised a thin hand. "Spare yourself the recital. I know."

"Well then," went on Tidman excitedly. "You asked again for it when you

came home, and I gave it to you. Ainsleigh is quite right. He _did_ see

the fan. I showed it to him one day before you arrived. I see he has

forgotten, but any stray thought may revive his memory. I don't want him

to have the fan."

"Why not?" asked Forge shutting his knife with a click.

"Because I want the five thousand pounds for myself. I'm not so well off

as people think, and I want--"

"You forget," said Forge gently, "you gave me the fan."

"And have you got it?"

"I have," he nodded towards a cabinet of Chinese work adorned with

quaint figures, "it's in there."

"Give it to me back."

"No. I think I'll keep it."

"What do you want to do with it?" asked Tidman angrily.

Forge rose and looked stern, "I want to keep it from Lo-Keong," he said

savagely, "there's some secret connected with that fan. I can't

understand what the secret is or what the fan has to do with it: but it

means life and death to this Mandarin. He'd give ten thousand,--twenty

thousand to get that fan back. But he shan't."

"Oh," groaned the Major, "why did I give it to you. To think that such a

lot of money should go begging. If I had only known what the fan was

worth."

"You knew nothing about it save as a curiosity."

"How do you know," demanded the Major.

Forge who had turned towards the cabinet wheeled round and looked more

like a hawk than ever as he pounced on the stout man. "What do _you_

know?" and he clawed Tidman's plump shoulders.

"Let me go confound you," blustered the Major, "what do you mean by

assaulting a gentleman--"

"A gentleman." Forge suddenly released the Major and laughed softly,

"does Benjamin Tidman, old Farmer Tidman's son call himself so. Why I

remember you--"

"Yes I know you do, and so does that infernal Pewsey cat."

Forge suddenly became attentive. "Miss Pewsey if you please. She is my

friend. I may--" Forge halted and swallowed something. "I may even marry

her some day."

"What," shouted Tidman backing to the wall, "that old--old--"

"Gently my good Benjamin, gently."

"But--but you're not a marrying man."

"We never know what we are till we die," said Forge turning again

towards the black cabinet, "but you needn't mention what I have said. If

you do," Forge snarled like an angry cat and shot one glance from his

gray eyes that made Tidman shiver: then he resumed his gentle tone.

"About this fan. I'll make a bargain with you."

"What's that?" asked the Major avariciously.

"I'll show you the fan, and if you can guess it's secret, I'll let

you give it to this Tung-yu or Hwei or Kan-su or whatever he likes to

call himself."

"But you don't want Lo-Keong to have the fan," said the Major

doubtfully.

Forge opened the cabinet slowly. "So long as I learn the secret he can

have the fan. I want to ruin him. He's a devil and--ah--" he started

back. "The fan--the fan--"

"What is it?" asked Tidman, craning over Forge's shoulder at an empty

drawer, "where is the fan?"

"Lost," cried Forge furiously, and looked like a dangerous grey rat.

"Five thousand pounds gone," moaned the Major.

"My life you fool--my life," cried the doctor, "it is at stake."