The Major laughed insolently, shrugged his shoulders, and left the room, convinced that Haskins could not harm him. He disbelieved in God.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
THE DWARF, SCHAIBAR.
After that interview Gerald saw that he would have to leave the Major in possession of the field. For the present, as he had observed, Rebb held all the cards, and Haskins could only retire to consult with Macandrew as to some way of winning the game in the teeth of such bad luck. Moreover, Gerald was now in possession of all facts connected with the crime, and by lingering at the Pixy's House he would become possessed of no more important facts. Also Rebb, wishing to get rid of his too observant enemy, so worked on Morgan's feelings that the inspector hinted retirement to the lover. Having learned that the inquest would take place in the inn of Leegarth village, next day, Haskins mounted his machine and returned to Silbury.
But he felt that it was impossible to sit down and do nothing, for he was very anxious regarding the future of Mavis. Probably, on discovering the dead body of Bellaria, she had fled panic-stricken from that bloodstained mansion; but distraught with terror, and not knowing the country, it was probable that she would soon be captured. Gerald would have gone in search of her forthwith, but that he did not know in which direction to look for her, and again, if he did find her, would be unable to smuggle her into safety while the countryside was all on the alert. He half made up his mind to return to London and enlist the services of Tod, but could not quite decide to do so, since his going to the Metropolis meant his leaving the neighborhood in which the girl he loved was wandering. Mavis was a fugitive with, so to speak, a price on her head. He could not go away heartlessly, and leave her, so innocent and unsophisticated, in the lurch.
His hesitation was ended at five o'clock in the afternoon, by a wire from Exeter asking him to come there at once and meet the person who signed the telegram--Simon Arnold by name--in the coffee-room of the Monmouth Hotel. It flashed across Gerald's mind at once that the former tutor of Mavis had sent the telegram, and probably wished to see him about the girl whom they both loved in their several ways. But he wondered how Arnold--whom Mavis playfully called Schaibar--had learned his address, and then, on examining the telegram again, saw that it had been directed to the Devon Maid at Denleigh. Wondering if Geary had opened it, he sent for the boy, and found that Mrs. Geary, on receiving the wire at the door, had told the lad that Mr. Haskins was staying at Silbury. Gerald was relieved at this, as Geary would undoubtedly have read the telegram, in order to learn any possible plans Haskins might have formed. Nevertheless, on the face of it, the wire could convey little information to the conspirators likely to be of use, save that Arnold--whom Rebb apparently dreaded--was enlisting himself on the side of the lovers.
Haskins found that there was a train from Silbury to Exeter at seven o'clock that same evening, so after dinner he packed his portmanteau and went to the station. Guessing that Rebb would probably make inquiries as to his whereabouts, he left a message with Mrs. Jennings, stating that he had gone to London, and hoped that the information would upset the Major, by making him think that steps were being taken to save Mavis from his snares. Strong as was Rebb's hand, he yet had a difficult game to play. The fact of Durham's will would undoubtedly be made public should Mavis be arrested, and Rebb certainly would not like his friends to think that he derived his income in the way he did. But then Rebb had daring enough to face anything, especially when six thousand a year was at stake.
Somewhere about nine o'clock Gerald reached Exeter, and, leaving his portmanteau in the cloak-room, proceeded to the Monmouth Hotel, a small inn on the outskirts of the cathedral city. The place was little known, but Haskins was fortunate enough to pick up a cabman who came from the neighborhood where it is situated. In half-an-hour he found himself in the coffee-room of the hotel, and recognized Arnold at once from the description given by Mavis.
The ex-tutor, and present hawker of books, was reading a Latin author when Gerald entered, but flung it aside when the young man, conducted by a waiter, appeared on the threshold. He was about to greet the newcomer, but on seeing the waiter turned aside to look out of the window. To make an excuse for entering Gerald ordered a glass of whisky and soda, which he truly needed, so wrought up was he, by the strain and stress of the situation. The waiter disappeared and soon came back with the drink. While he was absent Gerald eyed Arnold--who still did not speak--and sat down near the fireless grate. But a glance passed between the two men which showed mutual recognition.
Arnold was a remarkably small man, quite worthy to be called a dwarf, but he was not deformed in any way. His body, his hands and feet and his head, were all perfectly proportioned, and the most noticeable thing about him was his long gray beard, which fell below his waist. He had a noble forehead, crowned with long loose gray hair and two vividly blue eyes, penetrating and unblinking. No one could have called the little man ugly, but, owing to his small stature and noble beard, he looked uncanny. Gerald, ever imaginative, thought at once of the Norwegian gnomes and kobolds, although Arnold was not so grotesquely ugly as those earth fairies of legend.