The Amethyst Cross

by Fergus Hume

"I expect when I fainted he jumped from the window after his companion, and managed to reach the motorcar. Has your father returned, Agatha dear?"

"No," answered the girl softly, "he is coming back in the morning. Mother has brought in the police from Maidenhead, but I heard her tell the chief man that you were too ill to be questioned until the morning. Mother seems to be very angry with you, Lesbia. I wonder why?"

"I don't know, dear," said the girl, and indeed she did not. If the names of the thieves were unknown, Lady Charvington could have nothing against her. "But if your mother doesn't want you to speak to me, Agatha, you must go back to bed. When the morning comes I shall see your mother and ask what is the matter."

"See father," said Agatha, pattering across the room with bare feet, "he is fond of you: he told me so. Mother is always jealous of anyone father likes and she will only be disagreeable. I waited till Lena was asleep, then came here. But I'll go now," she returned to kiss Lesbia, "good-night, dear, and don't worry. Everything will be right when father comes back."

Lesbia thought so also. She had implicit faith in Lord Charvington as his daughter had, and knew that he would understand when he heard the truth. But could she tell him the truth? Could she say that the man to whom he allowed an annuity had crept into the house to steal the jewels? And then Canning had said particularly that the two thieves were the same that had robbed Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction. In that case, her father was doubly a villain, as he was not only a thief, but had tried to throw the blame of the first burglary on George Walker in order to bring about a separation between them. Now he had added a second crime to the first, and had robbed his benefactor and cousin at the very time that his own daughter was a guest in the house. Canning must have known of her father's guilt and so, in his letter--for Lesbia's sake no doubt--had advised that the police should not be brought in. But would Charvington keep the affair quiet when his wife had lost her jewels? And in any case would he not send from the house in anger the daughter of such a villain? It was all terrible, shameful, disgraceful, and poor Lesbia sobbed herself to sleep at the horror of it all.

Next morning she could eat no breakfast, but after a cold bath to freshen her up, dressed and sat by the window waiting for Lord Charvington's arrival. At first she was inclined to see her hostess and ask why she behaved so oddly. But the fancy was strong within her, that Lady Charvington in some way must have learned the identity of at least one of the thieves, and so was visiting the shame of the father on the head of the innocent daughter. But then Lesbia could not conjecture if this was true. As Lady Charvington had not entered her bedroom until Hale escaped, she could not have recognised him, and as Hale had escaped the truth would never become known unless Lesbia spoke. This she did not intend to do, unless to Lord Charvington, whom she could trust. She therefore waited patiently. At all events, as she gathered from Agatha's report, whatever Lady Charvington suspected she certainly had not informed the household, in spite of the demeanour of the pert servant. Nevertheless, the very forbidding of the two girls to see Lesbia pointed to doubts and hatred and knowledge of the worst on Lady Charvington's part.

As Lesbia sat there looking out on to the beautiful garden with tear-filled eyes, she recalled many circumstances in her father's life which brought home to her forcibly his wicked vocation. The sordid persons who came by stealth to Rose Cottage must have been thieves and fences who received stolen goods. Her father's mysterious actions and frequent absences were accounted for by the fact, for when away he probably had been robbing with his shameful associates. No wonder he had laughed when George had proposed to leave Tait's office and join him in business. And Tait also was a rogue and a scoundrel, belonging to the gang of which Walter Hale was a member. Sargent might be a thief also--but of this Lesbia could not be certain. Nevertheless, she began to suspect that Canning alias The Shadow had something to do with the robberies. That would explain why a gentleman would descend to being a spy. Canning was under Hale's thumb and would have to do what he was told to do. Then she recollected how he had stated that for telling her about Tait's scheme he would have to go into hiding. There could be no doubt about it. Canning belonged to the gang and out of gratitude had betrayed his sordid associates.

Thinking thus Lesbia grew sick and faint. The thought of the wickedness that surrounded her made her shiver. How could she expect George to marry her when she was the daughter of a thief? And she would be forced to tell him, since she could not marry him and keep silent upon such an important point. To marry George without telling him the truth would be to place herself in the power of her father. And now knowing what her father was, Lesbia felt certain that to put money into his pocket he would not stop short of blackmail. No, she would have to tell what she had discovered to George and to Lord Charvington, and thus in one moment she would lose the only two friends she possessed. Tim remained and Lesbia knew that, come what might, she could always depend upon the fidelity of the Irishman; she felt sure that Tim was as innocent as herself of this dreadful knowledge which had come to ruin her life. In all wide England there was no more miserable girl than the unfortunate Lesbia, as she sat weeping by the window and bidding farewell to happiness and respectability.

Towards noon a message was brought that Lord Charvington wished to see her in the library, and Lesbia after washing away all traces of the bitter tears she had shed descended the stairs. She was pale and worn, but held herself proudly, for whatever might be known, she was determined to face the worst. Several people were in the hall, and she saw a policeman near the door. But no one looked at her in any way suggesting that the terrible truth was known, so Lesbia entered the noble library with a hope that her father had escaped recognition by all save herself.

Only two people were in the library, Lord Charvington and his wife. The former was walking to and fro with a worried expression on his kind face, but the latter seated in an arm-chair near the window looked red with anger and apparently had been engaged in a furious argument: "If you don't tell, I shall," she was saying when Lesbia entered.