The Weight of the Crown

by Fred M. White

The listeners standing round the fire-place admitted that it was. Interest was painted on every face.

"We know now that Lancing failed in his mission which was proved by the fact that he returned to his club and shot himself there. Now, I conclude that Lancing did not fail to find his deceiver. He would not have given up the search so easily as all that. It was not the man's character, nor could the deceiver have left London, because it was imperative that the same deceiver should be on the spot to watch the progress of events. My idea is that Lancing saw the deceiver and failed to get the papers back."

"Then where does his strength and courage come in?" Merehaven asked. "Remember that you began to draw a series of inferences from that same courage."

"I have not finished yet, my lord," Lechmere said quietly. "Lancing failed because his courage and personal strength was useless in this case. If he had been dealing with a man he would not have hesitated. But poor Lancing was seriously handicapped by the fact that he had a woman for his antagonist. You can't ill-treat a woman; you can't damage her features and knock her teeth out. And that is why Lancing failed. He saw the woman, and she laughed at him. She defied him to do his worst. He could not denounce her without proclaiming his own shame, and the clever woman traded on that. Therefore Lancing went and shot himself. What do you think of my argument?"

It was evident from the silence that followed that each of the little group was considerably impressed by the clear logic of the speaker's story. It was not often that Lechmere said so much, though his reputation was high, and more than one knotty trouble had been solved by him.

"Our friend is absolutely right," Varney said at length. "The more I think of it the more certain I am. Perhaps he can tell us the name of the woman?"

"That I am also in a position to do," Lechmere proceeded, without the slightest shade of triumph in his voice. "Accident helped me to that. In the hall some time ago there was a little scene between Countess Saens and her maid. The maid came to say that a strange robbery had taken place at the house of the countess. Nothing had been taken but papers from a certain drawer. Now I was close by and heard that, and I had a good opportunity of seeing that lady's face. Rage, anger, despair, murder almost, danced like so many devils in her dark eyes. The countess was quick to recover herself, but she had betrayed herself to me. I did not think so very much of this at the time, but when I subsequently saw the countess leave the house and subsequently find that she had gone off to have supper with Hunt of the Evening Mercury in a private room at the Carlton, I knew as well as if she had told me that she had met Hunt to tell him why she could not give him the chance of printing the crux of those stolen papers in the morning edition of the Mercury—for the simple reason that the papers had in turn been stolen from her."

Ronald Hope turned as if to speak, then as suddenly changed his mind. It would be a mistake to still further complicate matters at this junction, he thought.

"It was to Countess Saens that Lancing delivered those papers," Lechmere said finally. "Lord Merehaven looks dubious; but his lordship does not know, and I do, that the brilliant society creature, Countess Saens, is really one of the cleverest adventuresses in Europe—a police spy, passing as a kind of socialist and the rest. If I could see the King of Asturia——"

"You shall," Varney snapped out. "You shall see him before half an hour has passed. Stay where you are and—— Stop! Hope, keep an eye on Prince Mazaroff, and see that he does not leave the house."