“And the child?” Walter asked, with pardonable curiosity.
“Oh, I had almost forgotten the main part of my story,” Ravenspur proceeded. “The more I read of that case, the more convinced I was that I should be doing right in carrying out my promise to my dead friend. It was not a difficult matter. It only meant a journey to Italy and back, and the little one was in my safe custody. I leave you to guess what that child is called now.”
“Vera Rayne, of course,” Walter said.
“Quite so. From that day to this she has been with me always. But, mind you, I was not blind to the risk I was taking. If ever the truth came out, my life was not worth much. I knew that I should be tracked and followed, and finally lose my life, even if the search took twenty years. But, gradually, as the time wore on, I became easy in my mind. I had taken the utmost precautions to blind my trail, and the only accomplice I had was my old nurse, who has been dead for some years. Besides, Vera was growing up, and it seemed to me impossible to identify her with the baby not quite two years old. She is not in the least like her father, either, and that is why I made a mistake. I had quite forgotten that she might be very like her mother, and she I have never seen.”
XV
Dallas Makes a Discovery
“The danger would certainly lie there,” Walter said thoughtfully.
“My dear boy, that is just where the danger comes in,” Ravenspur replied. “I haven’t the remotest idea whether Vera is like or unlike her mother, but I fear that she must be, otherwise that man Silva would never have got on my track, as I have felt quite sure lately that he has done. Doubtless in some of his wanderings he has seen the girl, he has recognised the likeness, and made up his mind that he has found the object of his search at last. You see, he has only to make a few inquiries amongst the servants, who would tell him that Vera is my ward, and that, as to the rest, she is more or less of a beautiful mystery. One can understand now why he should come to my studio and steal that portrait.”
“I think I can see a better theory than that,” Walter said. “Wasn’t the portrait exhibited before it came back to the studio again? I seem to remember something of the kind.”
“Of course it was,” Ravenspur exclaimed. “I had quite forgotten that. Silva must have got his inspiration from the picture. I suppose that is why he made that murderous attack upon Sir James Seton the other night, taking him, of course, for me. But that is not the first warning I have had of the impending danger, and I am afraid it won’t be the last.”
Walter listened to this desponding view with impatience.
“But, surely, you are not going to take it like this, sir?” he expostulated. “By greatest good fortune we have discovered who your mysterious foe is. I think it has been a wonderful slice of luck, and we ought to take advantage of it. Surely you couldn’t do any less than place the matter in the hands of the police, telling them all that has happened. At any rate, you can do nothing else. They can drive this man Silva out of the country. If I may be allowed a suggestion, you will let Inspector Dallas know without delay. If you don’t care to tell him yourself, let me broach the matter. Indeed, it seems my imperative duty to do so. If you fell by the hand of this man now I should feel morally responsible for your death. And, besides, if anything happens to you, what are we going to do about Vera? She is not yet of age. She might at any moment be claimed by her mother, who you say is a perfect fiend. And, besides, though this is a minor matter, I am deeply attached to Vera myself—”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Ravenspur groaned. “The thing is hedged round with troubles and difficulties. You know why I was against your marriage with Vera, and how greatly distressed I was when I found everything out. If there had been nothing in the way, nobody would have been more delighted at a match like that than myself. But you see the danger, though you little know how deep and far-reaching those Corsican vengeances are. How do I know that if you marry Vera you would not be marked down for the same fate as myself?”
“I am prepared to risk that,” Walter said grimly. “Still, at the present moment, we have far more important things to talk about. And Vera must know nothing of this.”
“My dear boy, of course not. I should never dream of telling her. But sooner or later she must discover everything for herself, I am afraid. I have been thinking over what you said just now, and perhaps it would be as well to let the police know.”
“You will do it at once?” asked Walter eagerly.
“Well, no, I don’t propose to do it at all. You have been so clever and cool-headed in this matter that I have decided to leave everything to you. The whole problem is so complicated that I am utterly unable to grasp it. I can see no connection between the two, but I am perfectly certain that the death of poor Delahay is all part of the coil.”
“I feel that, too,” Walter said. “But we need not concern ourselves about that at present. By
