The Gloved Hand by Burton Egbert Stevenson (black books to read .TXT) 📕

men in the grounds watching the house all last night, ready to interfere at the least sign of anything wrong. That watch will be kept up as long as Miss Vaughan remains there."

"That's good," he said. "I didn't know that. But just the same, she mustn't remain there. Even with the men on guard, you may be too late."

"Just what is it you're afraid of?" I asked him, curiously. "Do you think her life's in danger?"

"Worse than that!" said Swain thickly, his face suddenly livid. "Oh, worse than that!"

I confess that I caught something of his horror; but I shook myself impatiently.

"I can't believe that," I said. "But, in any case, our men will be at hand. At the least outcry they will burst into the house. And remember, the three servants are there."

"They cut no figure. If they didn't hear those screams the other night, do you think they would hear any others? You must get her away from there, Mr. Lester," he went on rapidly. "If she won't come of her own accord, you must use force."

"But, my dear Swain," I objected, "I can't do that. Do you want me to kidnap her?"

"Just that—if it's necessary."

"Then I'd soon be occupying a cell here, too. I don't see what good that would do."

"It would save her," he asserted, doggedly. "It would save her. That's the only thing to consider."

But I rose to my feet in sudden impatience; what consideration was she showing for him or for me or for anyone?

"You're talking foolishly," I said. "You'd much better be thinking of your own danger; it's much more real than hers." I had an impulse to add that, since she had chosen her path, it was folly to waste pity upon her, but I managed to check the words. "Has any new light on the case occurred to you?"

"No," he answered, listlessly, "I haven't thought about it. When do you see her again, Mr. Lester?"

"I'm to see her to-night."

"Will you give her a note from me?"

"Yes," I agreed.

His face lighted again at that, and he cleared a corner of his table and sat down to write the note. It was evidently difficult to compose, for he tore up two drafts before he got one to suit him. But at last it was done, and he folded it, rummaged an envelope out of a pile of papers on a chair, slipped the note into it, and handed it to me.

"There," he said, and his face was bright with hope. "I think that will settle it."

I was far from sharing his certainty, but I put the envelope in my pocket, assured myself that there was nothing more I could do for him, and returned to the office. Just as I was getting ready to leave, Mr. Royce came in, a chagrined look on his face.

"Mrs. Royce just telephoned me," he said. "She drove out there, as I asked her to, but Miss Vaughan refused to see her."

I had expected it, but the certainty that we had failed again did not add to my cheerfulness.

"Swain wants us to kidnap her," I said, with a twisted smile.

"I'm not sure but that he's right," said my partner, and went thoughtfully away.

I went to my rooms, changed, had dinner at a quiet restaurant, and then took the elevated for the long trip to the Bronx. It was after eight o'clock when I pulled the bell beside the tall gates to Elmhurst. The gardener was evidently expecting me, for he appeared almost at once and admitted me. Without waiting for him, I walked up the drive toward the house. The lights were on in the library, and I stepped up to the open door.

Then I stopped, and my heart fell. For there were two white-robed figures in the room. One was Miss Vaughan and the other was Francisco Silva. The girl was sitting at his feet.

They had evidently heard my footsteps, for they were looking toward the door, and Miss Vaughan arose as soon as I came within the circle of light. But if I expected her to show any embarrassment, I was disappointed.

"Come in, Mr. Lester," she said. "I believe you have not met Señor Silva."

The yogi had risen, and now he bowed to me.

"Our encounters heretofore have been purely formal," he said, smiling. "I am happy to meet you, Mr. Lester."

His manner was friendly and unaffected, and imperceptibly some of my distrust of him slipped away.

"I have told Señor Silva," Miss Vaughan continued, when we were seated, "that you have consented to act as my man of business."

"And it is my intention," broke in Silva, "to beseech Mr. Lester to consent to act as my man of business also. I am sure that I shall need one."

I was not at all sure of it, for he seemed capable of dealing with any situation.

"It would not be possible for me to represent divergent interests," I pointed out.

"My dear sir," protested the yogi, "there will be no divergent interests. Suppose we put it in this way: you will represent Miss Vaughan, and will dispose of my interests from that standpoint. There could be no objection to that, I suppose?"

"No," I answered, slowly; "but before we go into that, let me understand exactly what these interests are. Mr. Vaughan's estate I understand, is a large one."

Silva shrugged his shoulders.

"I have understood so," he said, "but I know nothing about it, beyond what Mr. Vaughan himself told me."

"What was that?"

"That it was his intention to give this place as a monastery for the study of our religion, and to endow it."

"Did he mention the amount of the endowment?"

"He asked me, not long ago, if a million dollars would be sufficient."

"Had he drawn up a deed of gift?"

"I do not know."

"Or made a will?"

Again Silva shrugged indifferently to indicate that he was also ignorant on that point, and I turned to Miss Vaughan.

"If there is a will," I asked, "where would it probably be?"

"There is a safe here," she said, "in which my father kept his papers of value," and she went to the wall and swung out a hinged section of shelving. The door of a safe appeared behind it.

I approached and looked at it, then tried the door, but it was locked.

"To open this, we must know the combination," I said; "or else we shall have to get an expert."

"I know the combination," she broke in; "it is ..."

But I stopped her.

"My dear Miss Vaughan," I laughed, "one doesn't go around proclaiming the combination of a safe. How do you happen to know it?"

"My father often had me open the safe for him."

"Does anyone else know it?"

"I do not think so."

"Well, suppose we see what is in the safe," I suggested, and, as she knelt before it, turned away. I, at least, did not wish to know the combination. That Silva already knew it I accepted as certain.

I heard the twirling of the knob, and a sharp click as the bolts were thrown back. Then I walked to Miss Vaughan's side and knelt beside her. The interior of the safe was divided into the usual compartments, one of them equipped with a Yale lock. The key was in the lock, and I turned it, swung the little door open, and drew out the drawer which lay behind it.

"If there is a will, it is probably here," I said; "let us see," and I carried the drawer over to the light.

Miss Vaughan followed me, but Silva had sunk back into his chair, and was staring abstractedly through the open door out into the darkness, as though our proceedings interested him not at all. Then, as I looked into the drawer, I gave a little gasp of astonishment, for it was almost filled with packets of bills. There were five of them, neatly sealed in wrappers of the National City Bank, and each endorsed to contain ten thousand dollars.

"Why did your father require all this money?" I asked, but Miss Vaughan shook her head.

"He always kept money there," she said, "though I never knew the amount."

"Oh, Master, receive me!"

I glanced at the yogi, but his revery remained unbroken. Then I laid the packets on the table and dipped deeper into the drawer. There were two bank-books, some memoranda of securities, a small cash-book, and, at the very bottom, an unsealed envelope endorsed, "Last will and testament of Worthington Vaughan."

"Here we are," I said, took it out, and replaced the rest of the contents. "Shall we read it now?"

"Yes, I should like to read it," she answered quietly.

The document was a short one. It had evidently been drawn by Vaughan himself, for it was written simply and without legal phrases. It had been witnessed by Henry and Katherine Schneider, and was dated only a week previously—but three days before the murder.

"Who are these witnesses?" I asked.

"They are the cook and the gardener."

"Do you recognise your father's writing?"

"Oh, yes; there can be no question as to that."

It was a peculiar writing, and a very characteristic one; not easy to read until one grew accustomed to it. But at the end of a few minutes I had mastered it. The provisions of the will were simple: Elmhurst and the sum of one million dollars in negotiable securities were left absolutely to "my dear and revered Master, Francisco Silva, Priest of the Third Circle of Siva, and Yogi of the Ninth Degree, to whom I owe my soul's salvation," the bequest to be used for the purpose of founding a monastery for the study of the doctrines of Saivaism, and as an asylum for all true believers. The remainder of his estate was left absolutely to his daughter, to dispose of as she saw fit. "It is, however, my earnest wish", the will concluded, "that my daughter Marjorie should enter upon the Way, and accept the high destiny which the Master offers her as a Priestess of our Great Lord. May the All-Seeing One guide her steps aright!"

There was a moment's silence as I finished; then I glanced at Miss Vaughan. Her eyes were fixed; her face was rapt and shining.

She felt my gaze upon her, and turned to face me.

"As your attorney, Miss Vaughan," I said, "it is my duty to advise you that this will would probably not hold in law. I think it would be comparatively easy to convince any court that your father was not of sound mind when he drew it. You see, Señor Silva," I added, "that there is at once a conflict of interests."

But Silva shook his head with a little smile.

"There is no conflict," he said. "If Miss Vaughan does not approve her father's wishes, they are as though they were not!"

"I do approve them" the girl cried passionately, her hands against her heart. "I do approve them!"

"All of them?" I asked.

She swung full upon me, her eyes aflame.

"Yes, all of them!" she cried. "Oh, Master, receive me!" and she flung herself on her knees by Silva's chair.

CHAPTER XXI THE VISION IN THE CRYSTAL

Silva laid a hand tenderly upon the bowed head, as though in benediction, but I could have sworn there was unholy triumph in his eyes. I caught but a glimpse of it, for he veiled them instantly and bowed his head, and his lips moved as if in prayer. The kneeling figure was quivering with sobs; I could hear them in her throat; and my heart turned sick as I saw how she permitted his caressing touch. Then, suddenly, she sprang, erect, and, without a glance at me, hurried from the room.

There was silence for a moment, then Silva arose and faced me.

"You see how it is, Mr. Lester," he said.

"Yes," I answered drily, "I see how it is."

I refolded the will, slipped it back into its envelope, restored it to the drawer, made sure that all the packets were there, too, replaced the drawer in the safe, closed the door, twirled the knob, swung the shelves into place in front of it, and finally, my self-control partially regained, turned back to Silva.

"Well," I said, and my voice sounded very flat, "let us sit down and talk it over."

He wheeled his chair around to face me and sat down. I looked at him in silence for a moment. The man was virile, dominant; there was in his aspect something impressive and compelling. Small wonder this child of nineteen had found herself unable to stand against him!

"I know what is in your mind," he said, at last. "But, after all, it was her father's wish. That should weigh with you."

"Her