"You can say that I am ill with nerves or consumption, or something," said the girl, vaguely. "I don't want to meet the woman if she murdered my father."
"If you do," said Dan, impressively, "don't reveal your suspicions," and then he went on to instruct the two ladies how they were to behave in the enemy's country. That they were safe there, so long as they pretended ignorance, Dan did not doubt, but, should Mrs. Jarsell learn that they knew so much about her, she might adopt a counsel of despair and strike. It did not do to drive so dangerous a woman into a corner. For the rest of the journey very little was said. The subject had been thoroughly threshed out. Lillian had been informed of what was going on, and all plans had been made for the future. The girl was to live at the Peacock and see Miss Vincent, and chat with Mrs. Pelgrin, and take walks and admire the country, and to conduct herself generally as one who came simply for a change of air. If she did not go to The Grange--and on the plea of illness, she could excuse herself from going--Mrs. Jarsell could not harm her in any way. And, indeed, even if Mrs. Jarsell did succeed in getting her to come to afternoon tea, Dan had a plan in his head whereby to ensure Lillian against any use being made of the Sumatra scent. It was a daring thing to take Miss Moon into the jaws of the lion, yet that very daring would probably prove to be her safeguard. But Halliday had done what he could to guard against the events of a threatening future, and now could only wait to see what would take place. At the moment there was nothing more to be done. In due course the train arrived at Thawley Station, and Dan singled out George Pelgrin to convey luggage to a cab. Mindful of his last tip, George displayed great alacrity in performing his duties as porter, and, what is more, when he received another half-crown gave inadvertently a piece of valuable information, which Halliday was far from expecting. "That's the second two-and-six since yesterday," said George, spitting on the coin for luck. "Mrs. Jarsell gave me the same when she came back yesterday evening."
"Oh," Dan was startled, but did not show it, "your Sheepeak friend has been to London then?"
"Went a couple of days ago, and came back last night," said Pelgrin, "and she says to me, 'George, look after my traps, for you're the only smart porter in this station,' she says. Ah, she's a kind lady is Mrs. Jarsell, and that civil as never was. There's the luggage in the cab all right, sir. The Vulcan Hotel? Yes, sir. Drive on, cabby." Mrs. Bolstreath and Lillian had not heard this conversation, but Dan pondered over it on the way to the hotel. Mrs. Jarsell had, then, been in London at the time of Penn's death, and probably--although he could not prove this--she was responsible for the same. When the young man arrived at the hotel, and the ladies went to rest, he wrote a letter to Laurance, detailing the new fact he had learned, and instructed him what use to make of the confession if anything happened to himself in Hillshire. Then he enclosed the confession and went out personally to register the packet. Once it was posted he felt that he had done all that was possible. "And now," said Dan, to himself, "we'll see what move Queen Beelzebub will make."
CHAPTER XVI
[DAN'S DIPLOMACY]
Mrs. Pelgrin welcomed her unexpected guests with great delight and showed her appreciation of their coming by emphatic aggressiveness. Why she should mask a kind heart and an excellent disposition by assuming a brusque demeanor is not very clear, but certainly the more amiable she felt the more disagreeable did she become. In fact, the landlady appeared to believe that honesty of purpose was best shown by blunt speeches and abrupt movements. Consequently, she did not get on particularly well with Mrs. Bolstreath, who demanded respect and deference from underlings, which Mrs. Pelgrin positively declined to render. She termed the chaperon "a fine madam," in the same spirit as she had called Dan "a butterfly," and was always ready for a war of words. But, admiring Lillian's gay and lively character, she waited on the girl hand and foot, yet with an air of protest to hide the real satisfaction she felt at having her in the house. To Mrs. Pelgrin, Lillian was a goddess who had descended from high Olympus to mingle for a time with mere mortals. Out of consideration for Halliday's desire to seek safety for Lillian by placing her under the guns of the enemy, Mrs. Bolstreath decided to remain a week at the Peacock Hotel. Later she arranged to go to Hartlepool in Durhamshire, where she and her charge could find shelter with two spinsters who kept a school. The chaperon admitted that she felt uneasy in the near vicinity of Queen Beelzebub, and all Dan's assurance could not quieten her fears. She thought that he was playing too bold a game, and that ill would come of the stay at Sheepeak. Lillian was more confident, always confident that Dan could do no wrong, and she was quite indifferent to Mrs. Jarsell's doings. However, she agreed to go to Hartlepool, and as Mrs. Bolstreath was bent upon the change, Halliday accepted the situation. Meanwhile, he decided to call at The Grange on some innocent pretext and diplomatically give Queen Beelzebub to understand that he held the winning card in the game he was playing with the Society of Flies. This could be done, he ventured to think, by assuming that Mrs. Jarsell knew nothing about the nefarious association, and he did not believe that she would remove her mask, since it was to her interest to observe secrecy in Hillshire. However, he left this matter of a call and an explanation in abeyance for the time being, and for a couple of days attended to the three ladies. The third, it is needless to say, was Mildred Vincent, who called at The Peacock Hotel on receipt of her lover's letter. She gave Dan to understand that he was out of favor with the inventor. "Uncle has never forgiven you for not winning the race," said Mildred, at afternoon tea, "he says you should have gained the prize."
"I wish I had," said Halliday, dryly, "the money would have been very acceptable. It was my fancy-flying did the mischief, as I broke the rudder. However, I shall call and apologize."
"He won't see you, Mr. Halliday."
"Ah, that's so like an inventor, who is as touchy as a minor poet."