A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story

"How very good of him! Ask him to come up."

"Are you strong enough, Master Giles?"

"Yes, you old tyrant. I hope to be up and about in a week."

Trim shook his grey head. He was rather a pessimist, and did not believe in too sudden recoveries, insisting that such did not last.

"You'll have a relapse, sir, and be worse than ever."

Ware laughed, knowing Trim's ways, and motioned him out of the room. When the old servant left, grumbling that his master should be disturbed, Giles began to wonder what had brought Morley back from Brighton. Perhaps he had come to speak of Daisy and her untimely end; but he had already, on a previous occasion, said all that was to be said about that matter. Ware sincerely mourned Daisy, for in a way he had been fond of her. Still, he could not but confess that a marriage between them would have been a mistake, and that drastic as was the cutting of the Gordian knot, it relieved him from an impossible position. His love for Anne would always have stood between himself and the unfortunate girl, and her jealousy would have ruined both their lives. Certainly he saw no chance of making Anne his wife, seeing that she was a fugitive and accused of a terrible crime. Nevertheless, since he had not to marry Daisy, the situation was less difficult. But Ware, his heart aching for the woman he loved, found cold comfort in this reasoning.

Morley entered, looking ruddy and cheerful, quite his old self, in fact. Evidently the sea air and the change had assuaged his grief to a considerable extent, and Giles could not help remarking cynically on his quick recovery. "I thought you were fond of Daisy," he said reproachfully.

"I was, and so was my wife," answered Morley, taking a seat beside the bed. "But what's done can't be undone, and I have been trying to get over my sorrow. But in spite of my looks, Ware, I have my bad moments. And you?"

"I sincerely mourn for the poor girl. It is terrible that she should be cut off so suddenly. But I am just as sorry for Miss Denham, if not more sorry. It is those who are left behind that suffer most, Morley."

"Humph!" said the little man thoughtfully, "then you did love Miss Denham?"

"Morley" – Giles started up on his elbow – "what do you mean?"

"I am simply repeating what Daisy said."

"She had a monomania on the subject," said Ware uneasily. "I never gave her any cause for jealousy."

"Would you have married her had she lived?"

"Certainly," said Ware coldly. "I promised my father that the daughter of his old friend should be my wife."

"I am sure you would have acted honorably," said Morley gravely, "but it is just as well that you did not marry the girl. I think she had some reason to be jealous of Miss Denham."

Ware groaned. "I tried my best to – " He broke off with a frown. "This is my private business, Morley. You have no right to pry into these things."

Morley shrugged his shoulders. "As you please. I shall say no more. But I don't expect you'll see Miss Denham again."

"I don't expect I shall. Please leave her name out of this conversation."

"For the moment I am agreeable to do so. But as I believe her to be guilty, I must ask you a question or two."

"I shall answer no questions," responded Giles violently. "Miss Denham is innocent."

"Then why did she fly?"

"I don't know. If I can only find her, I shall ask her to come back and face the worst. She can explain."

"She will have to when she is caught. How do you propose to find her, Ware?"

"I don't know. Wait till I am on my feet again."

"Well," said Morley cheerfully, "I'll give you a clue – the Scarlet Cross."

"Rubbish! There's nothing in that in spite of the anonymous letter. What do you know about the matter?"

"Only what Steel told me. He found a boatman at Gravesend who declared that on the day of the crime – Steel gave him the date – a small steam yacht was lying in the river off the town. It was called The Red Cross. The next morning it was gone. The night was foggy, and no one saw it leave its moorings. It simply vanished. What do you make of that, Ware?"

"Nothing at all. What has this yacht to do with Miss Denham?"

"Can't you see? The anonymous letter referred to a Scarlet Cross. Such an ornament was picked up in the church, and the boat was called – "

"The Red Cross – not The Scarlet Cross," interrupted Ware.

"Only a difference of shade," said Morley ironically. "But I am certain that Miss Denham with her companion went on board that yacht. I can't think how else they escaped."

"Why should this lawyer's clerk have gone on board?"

"That's what Steel is trying to find out. I expect he will make inquiries of Asher, Son, and Asher's office. But the name of the yacht, the fact that Miss Denham made for Gravesend, where it was lying, and its appearance and disappearance within twenty-four hours during which the crime was committed shows me that she fled and that she is guilty."

Ware restrained himself with a violent effort. "Oh," he said ironically, "then you believe that Miss Denham arranged that the yacht should be at Gravesend, ready for her flight, after the death of Daisy."

"It looks like that," assented Morley. "I believe myself that the crime was premeditated."

"And was the fact of my car being at the church gate premeditated?" asked Ware angrily.

"Why not? Miss Denham knew that your car was coming for you after the service."

"Morley, I admit that things look black, but she is not guilty."

"Humph! You love her."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"As you will. Let us say no more on the subject. I wish to tell you why I came."

"It is sure to be a more disagreeable subject," retorted Giles; then felt compunction for the rude speech. "I beg your pardon, Morley, I am a perfect bear. But this illness has made me peevish, and the events of the last few weeks have rendered my brain irritable. Forgive my bad temper."

"Oh, that's all right, Ware," replied his visitor heartily. "I can always make allowances for invalids. You'll be your old self again shortly."

"I shall never be myself again," replied Giles gloomily.

It was on the tip of Morley's tongue to make some fresh reference to Anne. But he knew that such a remark would only exasperate the invalid; and, moreover, Giles looked so ill and worried that Morley generously refrained from adding to his troubles. "Let us come to business," he said, taking some papers out of his breast coat-pocket. "Since you were engaged to Daisy I thought it right that you should be made aware of a communication I have received from Asher, Son, and Asher."

"About the summons you told me of?" asked Ware wearily. He did not take much interest in Morley's affairs.

"No. I have managed to compromise that. The solicitors have accepted payment in instalments. In this instance they write to me officially as Daisy's guardian. She has come into five thousand a year, Ware."

Giles opened his eyes and sat up in bed excitedly.

"Do you mean to say that her half-uncle Powell is dead?"