A Butterfly on the Wheel Part 34

"Glad to see you again, my lord," said Mr. Devereux. "Not a forgery case this time, I hope?"

"Not a bit of it," Lord Ellerdine replied, shaking hands with the expert. "Glad to see you, Mr. Devereux. No; it is something far more important than a cheque for fifty pounds. It is to do with the Admaston divorce case."

Mr. Devereux started. His face became almost ferret-like in its intentness, while he said nasally, but with suppressed eagerness in his voice, "I guess this is a bit of luck. I have just seen this evening's paper, and of course I have followed the case with great interest from first to last. I know without any possibility of doubt that all my brother experts in London have been consulted. And from the first it has rather hurt me that n.o.body had come to me, because I do claim----"

Lord Ellerdine interrupted him. "I know, I know," he said; "there is no one that can touch you, Mr. Devereux. But probably, you see----" He hesitated in his effort to soothe the somewhat wounded feelings of the expert.

Colonel Adams came to the rescue. "Well, Mr. Devereux," he said, "here we are, and we have got something very important on which to ask your opinion."

The expert became all attention once more. "What is it?" he said briefly.

Lord Ellerdine put his hand in the breast-pocket of his coat and withdrew a long envelope full of papers.

"I have here," he said, "exact photographs and tracings--everything that you will probably find needful, in fact--of the two letters which you have just been reading about in the evening paper, and which have caused such a tremendous sensation this afternoon. It seems at the moment that Mrs. Admaston has absolutely lost her case. To all outward appearances these letters have ruined her. At the same time, I am certain that she knew nothing about them, and that Mr. Collingwood knew nothing about them either. You follow me?"

Lord Ellerdine had never been so concise and explanatory before, but the occasion had come, and he had risen to it.

"I follow you perfectly," said the expert.

"Very well, then," Lord Ellerdine said; "here are the letters, and I want you to tell me what you think about them."

He gave the envelope to the expert, who withdrew the papers it contained and spread them upon the table.

He began to study them with grave attention. The two men sat in the comfortable chairs he had indicated to them.

"My lord," said the expert, looking up suddenly, "I guess you won't realise the necessity of it, but I should very much like to be left alone for say twenty minutes. I can think better when I am alone, and I gather you want an immediate opinion?"

"We do," Lord Ellerdine replied. "All right; we will go, and come back in half an hour or so."

The two gentlemen re-entered the waiting-room.

"Well, my dear," said Lord Ellerdine briskly to the young lady, "we are put out here while Mr. Devereux examines some papers I have brought in; and he tells us that we are to talk to you--what?"

The young lady put down her volume. "Frightfully cold," she said, "isn't it?" And for the next half-hour Lord Ellerdine and Colonel Adams and this very superior young lady conversed with a studied propriety which certainly did not obtain in the drawing-rooms where the two gentlemen were accustomed to visit.

At the end of that time the door opened and the keen-faced American came out.

He was rubbing his hands briskly as though pleased with himself. "Guess I have got something for you, at anyrate," he said, "if you will come in here."

They re-entered the inner room, and Devereux began. "I can tell you one thing," he said, "and one thing only."

Lord Ellerdine was trembling with excitement. "What is it?" he said breathlessly. "Will it help?"

"It may," the expert replied; "but at anyrate it is this. Those two letters were written by some one who can write with the left hand as well as with the right. There is not the slightest doubt about it, and I don't care what any of your darned English experts may say."

Lord Ellerdine's face fell. "With the left hand?" he asked vaguely.

The expert nodded. "I will explain to you," he said, pulling a large book of ma.n.u.scripts towards him; and ill.u.s.trating his theory with swift, decisive movements upon a blank sheet of paper, he showed the two men exactly the reasons for his diagnosis.

"Now, my lord," he said, when he had finished and made certain that both of them thoroughly understood--"now, my lord, all you have to do is to find the person who writes with his or her left hand and could have possibly been sufficiently acquainted with the facts to produce those two letters. When that is done you will have the person."

Lord Ellerdine was considerably disappointed. He had imagined that by some occult means the expert would have been immediately able to name the writer of the letters. He strove to conceal what he felt, however; and after paying Mr. Devereux's fee the two men left the building.

"It isn't much," Lord Ellerdine said, as they got into a cab and drove rapidly towards the West End. "It isn't much, but it is something. I will drop you at your club--Cocoa Tree, isn't it?--and then drive straight to Collingwood's solicitors to find out where he is. It is not much, but it is something," he repeated rather vaguely to himself; and then both men became occupied with their own thoughts and were silent.

CHAPTER VIII

The drawing-room of Mrs. Admaston's house in St. James's was thought by many people to be one of the most delightful rooms in town.

The Morris and aesthetic conventions were entirely ignored in it. There were no soft greys or greens, no patterns of pomegranates, no brown and pleasing sombreness. The room expressed Peggy herself, and was designed entirely by her.

It was large, panelled entirely in white with spa.r.s.e gilding, and the ceiling was white also, though slightly different in tone. The very few pictures which hung upon the walls were all of the gay Watteau school, and there were some fans painted on silk and framed by Charles Conder.

The furniture was not obtrusive. It was in the light style of the Second Empire, fragile and delicate in appearance, but strong and comfortable enough in experience.

The room was essentially a summer room, and yet one could see that even in winter time it would strike a note of warmth, hospitality, and comfort.

For, with great wisdom, Peggy had made concessions. While the drawing-room still preserved its gay French air, there was, nevertheless, a huge open hearth on which, in winter, logs and coal glowed redly. Now, it was filled with great bunches of the simple pink foxglove.

Standing out from the fireplace, at right angles to the wall, was a large sofa of blue linen; and there was also a big writing-table with a pleasant furniture of chased silver upon it.

This room in the luxurious house was called the "drawing-room," but it was not really that. It was, in fact, Mrs. Admaston's own particular room--she hated the word boudoir. The big reception-rooms had no such intimate and pleasant aspect--splendid as they were--as this.

The flowers bloomed on the hearth, the long dull-green curtains had not yet veiled the warm outside evening, when a footman entered and flung open the two big doors which led into this delightful place.

The man stood waiting with one arm stretched out upon one leaf of the door.

Mrs. Admaston and Lady Attwill entered, and Pauline followed them.

"Bring some tea at once," Pauline said in a low voice to the footman.

Then she turned to Peggy. "Madame," she said in a voice full of pain, "do compose yourself. You will be very ill if you go on like this."

Peggy's face was dangerously flushed. Her eyes glittered, her hands clasped and unclasped themselves.

"That letter!" she cried. "That fiendish letter! Who could have sent it?

What _devil_ planned that trap?"

Lady Attwill shrugged her shoulders. "Anonymous--take no notice," she said.

Peggy turned on her like a whirlwind. "Don't be absurd, Alice!" she cried. "It was sent before we left London. Who knew we should go to Paris? Who knew that we should stay at the Tuileries?"

Pauline was hovering round her mistress with a face that was all anxiety, with hands that trembled to touch and soothe. "Remember, madame," she said, "it was sent to your aunt. Very funny that! She has never liked you, that grim old lady!"

"Why did she dislike me?" Peggy said petulantly.