Part 2

I gave a nervous look at the bulldog, expecting him to spring at the intruder. But he only opened his eyes and wagged his tail, and then the truth suddenly flashed upon me.

It was Dorcas Dene. "Mr. Saxon," she said, "they are playing a gipsy play at the theatre; I want you to go with me to the manager, and get him to let me go on with the gipsy crowd at the end of the third act." And then she added with a little laugh, "I told you you would be useful to me."

"But I thought you were going to investigate the mysterious disappearance of young Lord Helsham?" I stammered.

"Exactly--that's why I want to get behind the scenes of the ------ Theatre. Unless I am very much mistaken, that is where 'the lady in the case' is most likely to be found."

"But we can't go together through the street with you--ahem!--like that."

Dorcas Dene laughed. "No, I want you to meet me outside the theatre at eight o'clock, and get me engaged at once as a real gipsy super. I'm sure you can manage that for me. I thought, before you left, you had better see me exactly as I shall meet you to-night. And now, good afternoon and au revoir."

"You think you will find Lord Helsham, then? You have a clue to the mystery already?"

"I may find Lord Helsham to-night if you get me behind the scenes, but as to the clue to the mystery of his disappearance, that is quite another matter. And now I rely upon you. Until eight o'clock this evening, au revoir."

I shook hands cordially with Dorcas Dene and her blind husband, and patted Toddlekins respectfully. A minute afterwards, I was out in the quiet little road trying to think out the mystery for myself.

Here was a young nobleman, his own master, and free to do as he chose, and yet he had deliberately left his mother a prey to the greatest anxiety as to his whereabouts. There was no necessity for him to "disappear," to carry on an intrigue, or even to contract an undesirable marriage.

Not even in the days of my youthful romance had I waited so eagerly for the hour and the lady, as I waited that evening for eight o'clock and Dorcas Dene.

_II. THE HELSHAM MYSTERY_

I sat in the stalls watching the third act of the great gipsy drama, which had drawn all London to the ------ Theatre. I had persuaded the manager, with whom I was on friendly terms, to allow Dorcas Dene, the famous lady detective, to have the use of his stage for her own purposes, disguised as a gipsy super.

But she had so far refused to tell me the name of the actress through whom she expected to run young Lord Helsham to earth that evening, or at least to be able to learn why he had disappeared.

It had been agreed between us that after the third act was over I should go behind, and she would then be able to communicate with me.

Directly the curtain was down the manager joined me, and took me through the private door and left me on the stage. The old gipsy woman was waiting about for me in a quiet corner.

"What success?" I asked eagerly.

Without replying to my question, Dorcas Dene gripped me excitedly by the arm.

"Get a hansom to the stage-door," she said. "I want you to come with me somewhere."

I glanced hesitatingly at her costume.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "The cloak I brought with me will cover all this, and I have a thick veil in my pocket."

I went out to get a hansom, and it was barely at the door before Dorcas Dene was by my side. She sprang lightly in and motioned me to follow, telling the cabman to drive to Grosvenor Square.

"You are going to see Lady Helsham?" I said.

"Yes, I must. Lord Helsham is on the point of committing suicide."

"How on earth have you found that out?" I gasped.

"By a very simple process. Lady Helsham, in our interview this morning, gave me a photograph which she had found among her son's papers. It was the photograph of a very beautiful girl taken in stage costume. On the back of it was written, 'To dearest Bertie, from Nella.' The photographer was Alfred Ellis, of Baker Street, who--it being a theatrical photograph taken for public sale--had printed beneath it, 'Miss Nella Dalroy, in "The Gipsy Wife."'"

"Ah, now I understand why you wanted to get behind the scenes to-night. You wanted to see Nella Dalroy."

"Exactly. Lord Helsham's name is Bertie. Now a girl who puts 'To dearest Bertie, from Nella,' is either engaged to him, or, for the sake of her morals, ought to be. You understand?"

"Yes--I begin to understand."

"To-night I was able to watch Miss Dalroy narrowly. I could see that she was prey to some great anxiety. Once she nearly broke down, and went on with her part with the greatest difficulty. I was sure then that young Lord Helsham's disappearance was not to the advantage of Nella Dalroy.

"During the second act she had to wait, and she stood at the wings. One of the young ladies of the company, evidently her friend, came and talked to her, and I managed to overhear a little of the conversation.

"'Haven't you heard anything more?' said her friend.

"'Yes--to-night just as I left home--a letter telling me that he sees no way out of his trouble, and that I must forget him, and that we shall never meet again--and--and'--here her voice quivered--'he says he has left me all that he has a right to leave me. Oh, what can he mean by that?'

"At that moment Miss Dalroy's cue came, and she went on the stage. It was fortunate for her that it was a tearful scene she was playing, or her agitation must have been noticeable."

Dorcas Dene leant back in the hansom, lost in thought.

After a moment's silence I ventured to ask her how she arrived at the conclusion that Lord Helsham contemplated suicide.

"What else can it mean?" she answered, half speaking to herself. "'I have left you all I have a right to leave.' If he thought of himself in the future as a _living_ man, he would have said, 'I will _give_ you all.'"

I shook my head, and murmured that I really couldn't see any possible reason why a wealthy young nobleman who was his own master should put an end to his life after making a will in favour of a pretty actress who was deeply in love with him.

"Nor I," replied Dorcas Dene. "But I am engaged to restore her son to Lady Helsham, and it is my duty to restore him alive if possible. But here we are at Grosvenor Square."

I got out and assisted Dorcas Dene to alight. "May I wait for you?" I said.

"Not here. But you will do me a great service if you will take the cab and go on to Oak Tree Road, and tell my husband I shall be home some time to-night."

* * * * * * *

It was past midnight when Dorcas Dene joined the little family circle at Oak Tree Road. Paul Dene, the blind artist, had invited me to stay and keep him company until his wife returned.

A few minutes later, the lady detective, divested of her war-paint, was leaning back in the arm-chair and "stating her case," in order that she might have the opinion of her husband and her mother upon it.

Briefly and concisely Dorcas Dene put her "points."

"Here is the case so far as I've gone," she said. "Lord Helsham left Grosvenor Square last week after a 'few words' with his mother. What those 'words' were about, she will not tell me. 'Family matters' is all the explanation I can get from her. He has not been to his club or to his country house, or any hotel in his right name, because inquiries in these directions had been exhausted before I was called in. He is in great distress of mind about something, because he has written a heart-broken letter to the girl he probably intended to marry. She is evidently still devoted to him, so that love has nothing to do with his mental condition. If love is not the cause of his extraordinary behaviour, what _can_ be?"

The blind artist, who had sat silently listening, turned his sightless eyes towards his wife. "Mr. Saxon has told us, Dorcas, that you had an idea the poor fellow contemplated suicide, and he has told us how you arrived at that conclusion. If you reject love and insanity there is only one other thing that will drive a man to deliberate suicide."

"And that is?"

"Fear."

Dorcas laid her hand gently on her husband's arm. "Yes, your thought is mine, dear," she said softly, "but what does he fear?"

"What did his mother say to-night, when you told her what your discoveries had led you to believe?"

"Although, of course, she was horrified, and for a time upset, she really seemed--how shall I put it?--rather relieved in her mind!"

"Relieved to hear her son was likely to kill himself!" exclaimed Mrs. Lester indignantly.

"Well, perhaps relieved is hardly the word. She has seemed to me all along to be in a state of nervous terror as to something _dreadful_ being likely to happen, and when I suggested suicide it seemed as though _that_ was not the worst that she had contemplated. That's what I meant by its being a relief to her."

"Whatever is it that Lord Helsham fears," murmured the blind artist, "it is evident that his mother fears it also. No other theory would account for her being 'relieved'--as you call it--by the idea that he has suicide in his mind."

"Yes," said Dorcas Dene, "and she can only feel that relief for two reasons--either that his death would prevent his arrest for some crime, or would prevent the discovery of something which would bring terrible consequences to him."

"Or to her," said Paul, quietly.

Dorcas Dene started.

"Yes!" she cried, springing to her feet, "that's it--that would account for everything."

"What sort of person is this Lady Helsham?" I asked, venturing to join in the council.

Dorcas Dene drew her notebook from her pocket. "Here is the family history as I got it from Mr. ---- when I took up the case. The late Lord Helsham married a young Scotch lady who was a member of a travelling opera troupe."

"Heredity again!" murmured Paul. "The son falls in love with an actress."

"Two years after their marriage the Earl was killed by a fall from his horse in the hunting-field. The next heir was the Earl's younger brother, the Hon. John Farman, but the peerage had to remain in abeyance pending the accouchement of Lady Helsham, an event which occurred prematurely a month later."

"And the child born a month after its father's death was the present Lord Helsham?"

"Yes," said Dorcas Dene, "that is so. Here are some further particulars. Lady Helsham some years later adopted her sister's little girl, a child of the same age as her son, and the children were brought up together until lately, when her ladyship endeavoured to bring about a marriage between the two. But his lordship informed his mother that the idea was entirely repugnant to him, and eventually the young lady left the family mansion and went back to reside with her real mother in Scotland. Mr. ---- said he gave me these particulars as it was possible, though not probable, that ill-feeling had come between the mother and son through this young lady. And it was concerning her that the 'words' occurred which preceded Lord Helsham's departure from his home."

"And that view of the case you have not thought out at all, Dorcas?" asked Paul Dene.

"No, I thought it better to look for the girl Lord Helsham was likely to go after than for the one he was likely to avoid. But----" Dorcas Dene rose and began to pace the room. No one spoke a word. Suddenly she came up to me and held out her hand.

"Good-night," she said. "I am so much obliged to you for all your help to-day. Come and see us again soon, won't you?"

"But I should like to know more about this case," I said; "I am much interested in it, you know."

"Yes, I quite understand that," replied the lady detective, "but I am afraid it will turn out a far more difficult business than I imagined when I undertook it. Good-night."

There was nothing for me to do but shake hands all round and make as dignified an exit as was possible under the circumstances.

* * * * * * *

A few days afterwards business called me to Paris, and it was quite a fortnight later that sitting one evening outside the Café de la Paix reading the "Daily Telegraph" the name of Lord Helsham caught my eye, and I turned eagerly to an article headed, "A Mystery Cleared Up," and read the following:

"The mystery surrounding the strange disappearance of Lord Helsham has at last been elucidated. His lordship's clothes and watch and scarf-pin have been found in a small cave on the coast near Cromer. It is supposed that his lordship, who must have been staying in the neighbourhood incognito, and who was an expert swimmer, had gone out early in the morning to bathe from the shore. The supposition is that he was seized with cramp and sank unobserved, that part of the coast being a secluded and lonely one. It is not probable after this lapse of time that the body will be recovered. The missing nobleman was traced, and the discovery made, by the famous lady detective Mrs. Dorcas Dene. Lord Helsham is succeeded by his uncle, the Hon. John Farman, who is unmarried."

Immediately on my return to town I hastened to call at Oak Tree Road. Dorcas Dene was out in the pretty little garden at the back reading to her husband, who was sitting under the trees in a great wicker chair. Toddlekins, the bulldog, was lying stretched out in the sunshine.

As I looked at the little group from the dining-room window, I could not help thinking how far removed the loving and tender wife devoting herself to the blind husband seemed from the woman who had unravelled the mystery of the tragic fate of young Lord Helsham.

The servant took my card to her mistress, and Dorcas Dene came in smiling and happy, and gave me a sweet, womanly welcome.

"Won't you come into the garden? Paul will be so pleased," she said.

I shook my head. "Presently. But first I want to know about the Helsham case. I think you ought to tell me, because once--just for a little time--we were partners in this business, you know."

Dorcas Dene's gentle face became suddenly grave. "Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I suppose I ought to tell you. Sit down and you shall hear the story of what happened after you left that night in as few words as possible, for I want to get back to the book I am reading to Paul. It's a sweet book, and we're just in the middle of it. You ought to read it. It is 'The Man who was Good.'"

"Never mind about the man who was good, I want to hear about the woman who was clever. How did you find poor Lord Helsham, and what was the cause of his unhappy fate?"

"You remember our conversation the night we parted," said Dorcas Dene. "The next morning at nine o'clock I went straight to the residence of the Hon. John Farman, the person who would succeed to the title if anything happened to Lord Helsham. He had heard of the disappearance, but concluded it was some temporary feminine entanglement. I showed him how necessary it was that he should be one of the earliest to know of his nephew's fate, and begged him to tell me anything that would assist me in my enquiries. Having already certain ideas in my head, I asked him if he knew where Lord Helsham was born, and he told me that Lady Helsham was confined at the house of her sister, the wife of a captain in the merchant service, who had at the time just sailed for Australia. This sister was residing in Scotland, and Lady Helsham had gone to her in the early days of her widowhood. Mr. Farman himself was absent from England at the time on a hunting expedition in the Rockies, and it was not until a later period that he received the news of his brother's death and the birth of an heir.

"'Had the child been a girl you would have inherited everything?'

"'With the exception of the income secured to Lady Helsham, yes. As it was a boy--'

"'You accepted the situation. And when Lady Helsham returned to London she brought her child with her, of course?'

"'Yes. I arrived a few days after her return. We were not friendly during my brother's lifetime, but I desired to show every courtesy I could to the widow.'

"'And as the child grew up you saw him----'

"'Frequently. He was very much attached to me, and latterly my nephew and myself have been on very friendly terms.'

"'But you have not assisted in any way in endeavouring to find him?'

"'No. I called on Lady Helsham, and she declared there was no cause for alarm. It was an entanglement. She begged me to do nothing for fear of making a scandal. That is why I am rather astonished to learn that she has employed professional assistance' (he bowed to me) 'and let me know nothing about it.'

"'And Lady Helsham's sister and the captain?'

"'The sister is the mother of the little girl Lady Helsham afterwards adopted. I understood when this young lady left Grosvenor Square, she had gone back to her mother, who is now a widow.'

"'And now will you tell me what sort of a young man Lord Helsham was. Was he flighty, weak-minded, dissipated, cunning?'

"'Oh, no,' replied Mr. Farman, 'he was a most lovable and amiable young fellow--highly strung, and sensitive to a degree--romantic undoubtedly, but the soul of honour.'

"I bade Mr. Farman good-day, promising him the earliest information, and went to the ------ Theatre. There I ascertained the address of Miss Dalroy, and at once sought an interview with her, telling her frankly that I was trying to find her lover and restore him to his friends.

"With tears in her eyes she offered to give me any assistance she could. She told me Lord Helsham had promised to marry her, and she showed me the letters she had had since his disappearance. They all spoke of a great shock he had received, and one of them of 'a terrible discovery which must separate them for ever.' It was not concerning her, but a matter relating to his own family.

"By this time I was convinced that the idea which had come to me when I so rudely asked you to take your departure was the key to the mystery. I _knew_ after reading those letters what the skeleton in the Helsham family cupboard was, and I understood the dilemma in which the high-spirited and honourable young man suddenly found himself.

"I asked Miss Dalroy to let me see the last envelope she had received. Fortunately she had kept the letter in it, and showed it to me.

"The letter had been posted in Dunkeld. Dunkeld was in Scotland. That was where Lady Helsham's adopted daughter was--that was where Lady Helsham's sister lived, the sister in whose house Lord Helsham had been born. It was there that I should probably get the latest news of him.

"I went home, and flinging a few things into a Gladstone bag, caught the first train North. Twelve hours later I was in Dunkeld. A few hurried inquiries of the railway porters at the station, and the solitary flyman outside, and at the little station hotel, told me that I was, as they say in the sensational detective stories, 'on the track.' A young gentleman answering the description I have of Lord Helsham had come there a few days previously. The flyman had driven him to the house of Mrs. ----, the merchant captain's widow, which was nearly five miles from the station, and nothing had been seen of him since.

"When the flyman had deposited me at the house, I made my way up the pathway with a fluttering heart, for in spite of my profession, I have still that feminine weakness in moments of excitement. The door was opened by an old Scotch servant. I asked for Mrs. ----, and without waiting for an answer walked straight into a room where I could hear voices.

"An elderly spectacled man was talking with a widow lady. As I entered I caught one sentence--but that was music in my ears.

"'There's not the slightest danger--it's a feverish cold--but the poor young fellow is very low and nervous. I should note leave him alone.'

"It was a doctor who was speaking. I didn't want to guess twice who the poor young gentleman was.

"The widow lady started as I entered and angrily asked me what I wanted.

"'A few words with you alone,' I answered. The doctor bowed and left us together.

"'Who are you?' exclaimed the widow, betraying her nervous agitation in her manner, 'and what do you want with me?'

"'My name is Dorcas Dene--I come from Lady Helsham with a message for her son.

"'You know----!' gasped the widow.

"'That he is here and upstairs ill--yes. This _terrible discovery_ has been a severe shock to him.'

"At the words 'terrible discovery' the widow lady reeled and caught a chair for support.

"'You know that--Lady Helsham has told you?'

"'I had to know,' I answered, evading the question. 'Now for the sake of everybody we must decide what is the best to be done to avoid scandal. He talks of killing himself, but that is cowardly. What do _you_ think can be done?'

"It was a trap and the woman fell into it.

"'I don't know,' she gasped. 'Bertie declares that if he lives he will not retain the title or the property. He says that his death is the only thing that can save me and my sister from--from----' She hesitated; then with a sudden terror that she had betrayed too much, she cried, 'But if you know--tell me _what_ you know.'

"'Only what I was bound to know to be of any use in the case,' I said, quietly. 'That the child which Lady Helsham bore in this house was not the child she returned to London with as the heir. He has discovered that he has unwittingly dispossessed another of the title and estates, and he refuses to be a party to the fraud any longer. The only way in which he can restore them is by dying. To publish the truth now would be to put Lady Helsham in the dock, and, as you say, you also, for you were a party to the imposture.'

"'It was my sister who persuaded me--who took my baby boy from me and left the girl at home with me. My husband was away. Only the old servant you have just seen was with me, and she cannot read or write. It was so simple and--and----'

"'And the doctor?'