Mrs. Jasher leaped to her feet.
“They could not recognize me. I wore--” Then she stopped, confused at having so plainly betrayed herself.
“You wore a veil. All the same, Mrs. Jasher, you are too well known hereabouts for anyone to fail to recognize you. Besides, your remark just now proves that I am right. You wrote this blackmailing letter, and I demand an explanation.”
“I have none to give,” muttered the woman fiercely, and fighting every inch.
“If you refuse to explain to me you shall to the police,” said Sir Frank, rising and making for the door.
Mrs. Jasher flung herself forward and clung to him.
“For God's sake, don't!”
“Then you will explain? You will tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Who murdered Sidney Bolton.”
“I do not know. I swear I do not know,” she cried feverishly.
“That is ridiculous,” said Random coldly. “You say in this letter that you can hang me or save me. As you know that I am innocent, you must be aware who is guilty.”
“It's all bluff. I know nothing,” said Mrs. Jasher, releasing his arm and throwing herself on the couch. “I only wished to get money.”
“Five thousand pounds--eh? Rather a large order,” sneered Random, replacing the letter in his pocket. “You would not ask that sum for nothing: you must be aware of the truth. I suspected many people, Mrs. Jasher, but never you.”
The woman rose and flung out her arms.
“No,” she said in a deep voice, and fighting like a rat in a corner. “I tricked you all down here. Sir Frank, I will tell you the truth.”
“About the murder?”
“I know nothing of that. About myself.”
Random shrugged his shoulders.
“I'll hear about yourself first,” he said. “I can learn details concerning the murder later. Go on.”
“I know nothing of the murder or of the theft of the emeralds--”
“Yet you hid the mummy in this house, and afterwards placed it in your arbor to be found by the Professor, for some reason.”
“I know nothing about that either,” muttered Mrs. Jasher doggedly, and with very white lips. “That letter you have traced to me is all bluff.”
“Then you admit having written it?”
“Yes,” she said sullenly. “You know too much, and it is useless for me to deny the truth in the face of the evidence you bring against me. I would fight though,” she added, raising her head like a snake its crest, “if I was not sick and tired of fighting.”
“Fighting?”
“Yes, against trouble and worry and money difficulties and creditors. Oh,” she struck her breast, “what do you know of life, you rich, easy-going man? I have been in the depths, and not through my own fault. I had a bad mother, a bad husband. I was dragged in the mire by those who should have helped me to rise. I have starved for days; I have wept for years; in all God's earth there is no more miserable a creature than I am.”
“Kindly talk without so much melodrama,” said Random cruelly.
“Ah,” Mrs. Jasher sat down and locked her hands together, “you don't believe me. I daresay you don't understand, for life, real life, is a sealed book to you. It is useless for me to appeal to your sympathy, for you are so very ignorant. Let us stick to facts. What do you wish to know?”
“Who killed Sidney Bolton: who has the emeralds.”
“I can't tell you. Listen! With my past life you have nothing to do. I will commence from the time I came down here. I had just lost my husband, and I managed to scrape together a few hundred pounds--oh, quite in a respectable way, I assure you,” she added scoffingly, on seeing her listener wince. “I came here to try and live quietly, and, if possible, to secure a rich husband. I knew that the Fort was here and thought that I might marry an officer. However, the Professor's position attracted me, and I decided to marry him. I am engaged, and but for your cleverness in tracing that letter I should be Mrs. Braddock within a very short time. I have exhausted all my money. I am deeply, in debt. I cannot hold out longer.”
“But the money you inherited--”
“That is all bluff also. I never had a brother. I inherit no money. I know nothing of Pekin, save that a friend of mine sends that scent to me as a yearly Christmas present. I am an adventuress, but perhaps not so bad as you think me. Lucy and Donna Inez have heard no wickedness from my lips. I have always been a good woman in one sense--a moral woman, that is--and I did wish to marry the Professor and live a happy life. Seeing that I was at the end of my resources, and that Professor Braddock expected a legacy with me before marriage, I looked round to, see how I could get the money. I heard that you were accused by Captain Hervey, and so last night I wrote that letter and posted it in London, thinking that you would yield to save yourself from arrest.”
Random laughed cynically.
“You must have thought me weak,” he muttered.
“I did,” said Mrs. Jasher frankly. “To tell you the truth, I thought that you were a fool. But by tracing that letter and withstanding my demand, you have proved yourself to be more clever than I took you to be. Well, that is all. I know nothing of the murder. My letter is sheer bluff to extort from you five thousand pounds. Had you paid I should have passed it off to the Professor as the money left to me by my brother. But now--”
“Now,” said Random, rising to go, “I shall tell what you have told me to the Professor, and--”
“And hand me over to the police,” said Mrs. Jasher, shrugging her plump shoulders, “Well, I expected that. Yet I fancied for old times' sake that you might have been more lenient.”
“We were never anything but acquaintances, Mrs. Jasher,” said Random coldly, “so I fail to see why you should expect mercy after the way in which you have behaved. You expect to blackmail me, and yet go free. I must punish you somehow, so I shall tell Professor Braddock, as you certainly cannot marry him. But I shall not hand you over to the police.”
“You won't?” Mrs. Jasher stared, scarcely able to believe her ears.
“No. Give me a day to think over matters, and I shall arrange what to do with you. I think there is some good in you, Mrs. Jasher, and so I shall see if I can't assist you. In the meantime I shall have your cottage watched, so that you may not run away.”
“In that case, you may as well hand me over to the police,” she said bitterly.
“Not at all,” rejoined Random coolly. “I can trust my servant, who is stupid but honest and is devoted to me. I'll see that everything is kept quiet. But if you attempt to run away I shall have you arrested for blackmail. You understand?”
“Yes. You are treating me very well,” she gasped. “When shall I see you?”
“To-morrow evening. I must talk the matter over with Braddock. To-morrow I shall arrange what to do, and probably I shall give you a chance of leading a new life in some other part of the world. What do you say?”
“I accept. Indeed, there is nothing else left for me to do.”
“That is an ungrateful speech,” said Random severely.
“I daresay. However, we can talk of gratitude to-morrow. Meanwhile, please leave me.”
Sir Frank went to the door and there paused.
“Remember,” he said distinctly, “that your cottage is being watched. Try to escape and I shall have you arrested.”
Mrs. Jasher groaned and buried her face in the sofa cushion.
CHAPTER XXII. A WEDDING PRESENT
Mrs. Jasher had thought Random exceedingly clever in acting as he had done to trap her. She would have thought him still more clever had she known that he trusted to the power of suggestion to prevent her from trying to escape. Sir Frank had not the slightest intention of setting his soldier-servant to watch, as such was not the duty for which such servants are hired. But having impressed firmly on the adventuress's mind that he would act in this way, he departed, quite certain that the woman would not attempt to run away. Although no one was watching the cottage, Mrs. Jasher, believing what had been told her, would think that sharp eyes were on her doors and windows day and night, and would firmly believe that if she tried to get away she would be captured forthwith by the Pierside police, or perhaps by the village constable. Like an Eastern enchanter, the baronet had placed a spell on the cottage, and it acted admirably. Mrs. Jasher, although longing to escape and hide herself, remained where she was, cowed by a spy who did not exist.
The next day Random went to the Pyramids as soon as his duties permitted and saw the Professor. To the prospective bridegroom he explained all that had happened, and displayed the anonymous letter, with an account of how he had proved Mrs. Jasher to be the writer. Braddock's hair could not stand on end, as he had none, but he lost his temper completely, and raged up and down the museum in a way which frightened Cockatoo out of his barbaric wits. When more quiet he sat down to discuss the matter, and promptly demanded that Mrs. Jasher should be handed over to the police. But he might have guessed that Sir Frank would refuse to follow this extreme advice.
“She has acted badly, I admit,” said the young man. “All the same, I think she is a better woman than you may think, Professor.”
“Think! think! think!” shouted the fiery little man, getting up once more to trot up and down like an infuriated poodle. “I think she is a bad woman, a wicked woman. To deceive me into thinking her rich and--”