A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story

"Then the money which Denham holds as Franklin is rightfully Anne's?"

"Yes. Now you are beginning to see. But don't be in too much of a hurry. I want to tell you how my elopement came about."

Ware nodded, and composed himself to listen. The Princess resumed.

"I was happy at first with George. I really was in love with him, and for two years we were devoted to one another. Anne was born, and she drew us still closer together. Then Denham chose to fall in love with me. I repelled him with scorn, but did not tell my husband, as I dreaded lest George, who had a fiery temper, should kill the man. I simply kept Denham at his distance. He vowed to be revenged, and gradually ruined George. He made him neglect the plantation, and spend more money than he could afford. He induced him to drink, and then George, who had not a very strong will, began to run after other women. I was furious, and told him about Denham. He was so besotted with the creature that he refused to listen to me. Powell tried to stop George's downward course, but without result. Then he was called back to England, and I was left to battle against my enemy alone. My father and mother were both dead, and I could do nothing. Denham constantly inflamed George against me. Our house was like hell."

Here she stopped to draw a long breath and control her emotion. Giles pitied her profoundly, as he guessed how she had suffered. However, he did not interrupt her, and she continued in a few moments.

"Prince Karacsay came to the island. He was travelling for pleasure, and in his own yacht. He fell in love with me. Seeing how miserable I was, he implored me to fly with him. But I would not. I had lost much of my love for George, who, under the bad influence of Denham, treated me so cruelly. But there was my child – my little Anne – to consider. I declined to fly. Our plantation was not far from the seashore. In a creek the Prince had anchored his yacht. Denham was making my husband jealous, and my life became unbearable. Oh!" – she threw up her arms – "not even the years of peace that I have had can obliterate the memory of that terrible time." And she wept.

Still, Ware did not interrupt, thinking it best that she should not be questioned too much. With a great effort she controlled herself, and resumed her pitiful story.

"One night," she went on in a low voice, "the climax came. The Prince had been to dinner. He had to go, because George was so violent. Denham had got my husband to drink, and his paroxysms of anger became terrible. The Prince wanted to stop to protect me, but I asked him to go. It was a rainy night, a violent thunderstorm was going on. I locked myself in the nursery, to protect myself from the fury of George. He came to the door and broke it down." She paused, and her voice leaped an octave. "George turned me out into the rain."

"Great God! Did he go that far?"

She was on her feet by this time pacing the room.

"He turned me out into the stormy night. I fled from his fury, drenched with rain. At the gates of the gardens round the house I met with the Prince. He had been hanging round the place fearful for my life. He implored me to come on board the yacht and stop the night. I was almost distracted with terror and anger. I went." She paused again. "From that moment I was lost."

"It was not your fault," Giles assured her.

"No; it was not my husband's fault either, but the fault of that wicked wretch Denham. He came the next morning, guessing where I had gone in my distress. He brought a note from George, who bade me go with my lover, the Prince. It was a lie. The Prince was no lover of mine then. I demanded to see my child, but George refused. It was all Denham – Denham. George was under the thumb of the wretch. The Prince behaved like an honorable gentleman, and spoke up for me. But it was all of no use. George was determined to have a divorce."

"You mean Denham was determined to have one," corrected Giles.

"Yes, yes. He was the one who ruined me. Then the Prince said he would make me his wife as soon as the decree was pronounced. I agreed. What else could I do? My child was refused to me. I was blamed by every one, and the whole island was against me. I sailed for Europe in Prince Karacsay's yacht. A few months later the decree was pronounced, and he made me his wife. Since then I have been happy – that is as happy as I could be, knowing that my child was lost."

"Did you make inquiries about her?"

"Some years later I did. Then I learned that George, with the child and Denham, had sailed for Europe. The vessel was wrecked. The report said that George Franklin and his child were saved. Denham's name was given as one who was drowned. I rejoiced when I saw that punishment had overtaken my enemy."

"But Denham was not drowned."

"No; it was George who met with that death. Denham, to get what little money remained, took the name of George Franklin. I do not know how he managed to deceive the people of the ship; but he must have done so in some way, to get the false report put in the paper."

"Did Denham not tell you when you unmasked him at Rickwell?"

"He made some sort of explanation, but I think much of it was very false."

"How did you come to discover him?"

"Olga did so. She knew a part of my story. That was why – as perhaps you saw – she was always uneasy when I touched on Jamaica."

"Yes; I remember that, Princess. Well, I must get Mademoiselle Olga to tell me how she discovered all this. But on what terms did you leave Denham?"

"I told him that I would give him a month to make restitution to my daughter Anne, and then if he did not I would inform the police."

"Did he agree?"

"No; the wretch defied me. He told me that Anne had murdered Daisy Kent out of jealousy, and said that if I moved a finger against him he would have her arrested."

"He could not do that without harming himself."

"I don't know," said the Princess wearily; "he is so clever that he seems to do what he likes. I have taken no steps, because I wished to get some advice as to how I should act under the circumstances. For this reason I tell you."

"I will do my best, Princess. But how was it Anne came with you?"

"Olga managed that. She knew Anne was at the Priory. I don't know how. Olga knows much. I wish she and Anne would come back again. I hope nothing has happened."

Even as she spoke the door opened, and Olga entered the room looking haggard and worn out. "Anne!" cried her mother. "Where is Anne?"

"Lost!" replied Olga, dropping exhausted into a chair, "lost!"

CHAPTER XXII

OLGA'S EVIDENCE

Giles saw in the girl almost as great a change as that which had taken place in her mother. Formerly haughty and self-possessed, she was now quite exhausted and broken down. Her dress was muddy and wet and in disorder. She had a grey face and red eyes. Huddled up in the chair, she looked a pitiable object – the ruin of what was once a beautiful woman.

"Anne lost?" cried the Princess, clutching at a chair to steady herself. "Olga, what do you mean?"

Olga did not answer. She closed her eyes and let her umbrella fall with a crash. Giles saw that the girl was quite worn out. Hastily filling a glass with undiluted whiskey, he held it to her lips, and made her drink the whole of it. Shortly the ardent spirit did its work. She sat up and began to talk in a stronger tone; but the excitement was artificial, and would die away soon. Princess Karacsay saw this, and urged her daughter to tell her story quickly before she collapsed, so that the police might be sent in search of Anne.

"The police will never find her," said Olga, with an effort. "She is with Mark Dane. He has taken her away."

"Dane?" echoed Giles. "Denham's secretary?"

Olga looked at him with an inquiring air. "How much do you know?" she asked, bracing herself up.

"As much as your mother could tell me. I know that Anne is your half-sister, and – "

"Yes." Olga tried to rise, but sank back again. "She is my sister, my dear sister, and I love her with all the strength of my nature."

"Ah," said Ware sadly, "why did you not talk like that when last we met, mademoiselle?"

Olga passed her hand across her forehead. "I was mad, I think. But that is all over. You need have no fear now, Mr. Ware. My passion for you has spent itself."

"Olga!" cried the Princess, scandalized, "you rave!"

"No," answered her daughter; "I did last time Mr. Ware and I were together, but now I talk sense. Did he not tell?"

"I told nothing," interposed Giles quickly; "and you had better relate when and where you left Anne, so that we can find her."

"I'll do all in my power to save her and bring her back to you, Mr. Ware. I was mad to talk and act as I did; but I have been punished by the loss of Anne."

"Olga!" cried the Princess in desperation, "for Heaven's sake speak reasonably! Why did you go out with Anne last night?"