Rose Noble was a sinister man, and, though he came but seldom into the light, was undoubtedly concerned in some of the greatest robberies of his time. He was never taken, and the police of more than one country feared his name, for he had a reputation so evil as to be almost fabulous and was commonly believed by those who knew him to be gifted with second sight. That he deserved this fame I can testify, for Mansel, Hanbury and I had made our fortune in his teeth: we had more than one brush with him and found him a monster of iniquity, bold, swift and strong, in whom there was no pity at all. I do not say that he had second sight; but his instinct was supernatural, and I do not think that any living being could deceive this terrible man.
Now, had we not made our fortune, Rose Noble would have made his; and, since nine hundred thousand pounds is a huge sum of money to forego, I was not greatly surprised that he was, so to speak, returning to the charge: and, as it was Mansel that had captained our enterprise, it was, I suppose, natural that Rose Noble should pitch upon him. How he would use the papers which he had stolen I could not think, but Mansel had said plainly that they could be turned to his hurt, and his demeanour had shown me that this hurt might be very sore.
On my return to Maintenance I told George Hanbury my news, to find that he shared my concern: but, since Mansel had promised to apprise us if trouble came, yet week after week went by and brought no message, we began to believe our apprehension baseless and the robbery nothing more signal than a flash in the pan.
It was early in the following that Hanbury and I spent three fine days at White Ladies in the New Forest, that is to say, at Mansel’s country home. This he shared with his cousins, whose name was Pleydell. It was not our first visit, but the Pleydells were absent when we had been there before, and, though the four Sargents in the gallery had told us what to expect, I do not think that either of us believed that all five members of one family could prove so charming.
Adèle Pleydell was the youngest and had married Captain Pleydell : I learned later that she was American by birth. She and her husband seemed very young for their age. Major and Daphne Pleydell were clearly older and were by one consent treated as the heads of the house. Yet all were equal; and, when once Adèle Pleydell affirmed that she was an interloper and the only one of them whose ancestors had not known White Ladies, there was an amicable uproar, and Major Pleydell said gravely, “That I regard as one of the misfortunes of our House.”
She was a tall, slim girl, very graceful and wonderfully and beautifully made. Her face was lovely; her thick, dark hair, lustrous; the light in her fine, brown eyes, a glorious thing. She was quiet, yet tireless and seemed to do all things well: she could drive a car and could ride with any man: yet she was always maidenly and looked as delicate a-cock-horse as when, in silk and satin, she sat to a piano and lifted her exquisite voice. She was naturally eager and responsive, and I shall always see her, as did Sargent—with her beautiful lips parted and her soft, brown eyes alight.
If the others were less attractive, that was no fault of theirs, for I think Adèle Pleydell would have diminished anyone. She was plainly their darling, yet did not seem to know this; and, since she was very quick-witted, this one simplicity made her the more worshipful.
Hanbury and I, as was natural, fell down at her feet, and I am proud to remember that she made us free of her friendship, before we had known her an hour.
So, indeed, did they all: and I do not think I ever paid a visit one half so agreeable.
Much was made of the adventure to which I have already referred, and, when Major Pleydell proposed that they should go fishing in Carinthia later that year and then explore the very scenes of our endeavour, the idea was heartily received.
“And you’ll come and stay with us,” said Daphne Pleydell, addressing Hanbury and me. “If they will let us the farm we rented before, we shall have plenty of room, and Jonah’s a poor showman when it comes to talking of himself.”
That this was so I proved the very next day, for I rode with Adèle in the morning at six o’clock and found she knew next to nothing of what Mansel had done. Be sure I enlightened her, if only for Justice’ sake.
When I had finished, she set her chin in the air.
“Tell me,” she said. “Is Rose Noble the man to take this lying down? I mean, nine hundred thousand is a bag of money to lose.”
I suppose I hesitated, for her head was round in an instant, and her steady, brown eyes were on mine.
“Didn’t you know,” I said, “that Mansel was lately robbed?”
She let out a cry of excitement and checked her horse.
“I never knew,” she said. And presently, “Go on.”
I shook my head.
“It’s not my secret,” I said. “As it is, I’ve said too much.”
With that, I would have gone forward, but she leaned down and caught my rein.
“Tell me,” she pleaded, “tell me. I swear I’ll not breathe a word.”
In the end I yielded, and, before we were back at White Ladies, she knew as much as I.
When I said I was concerned, she laughed.
“I snuff a romance,” she cried. “Jonah, the celibate, has had some passionate affair, and he’s frightened to death that Rose Noble will bring it
