The Mystery Queen. Hume Fergus
happening. If you marry my niece, it is probable that you will shortly leave her a widow. No! No! In whatever way you look at the matter, Mr. Halliday, the match is most undesirable. Be a man-a man of honor-and give Lillian up."
"To be miserable with Lord Curberry," said Dan fiercely, "never!" And he meant what he said, as Sir John saw very plainly. This being the case the baronet used another argument to obtain what he wanted. "I have been young myself, and I know how you feel," he said quietly. "Very good. I suggest a compromise."
"What is it?" muttered Dan dropping into his chair again and looking very miserable, as was natural, seeing what he stood to lose. "My poor brother," went on Sir John smoothly, and crossing his legs, "has been struck down when most enjoying life. The person who murdered him-presumably the woman who called herself Mrs. Brown-has not yet been discovered in spite of the efforts of the police backed by a substantial reward. I propose, Mr. Halliday, that you search for this person, the period of searching be limited to one year. If you find her and she is punished, then you shall marry Lillian; if you fail, then you must stand aside and allow her to marry Lord Curberry."
"You forget," said Dan, not jumping at the chance as Sir John expected, "if I do bring the woman to justice, your arguments regarding my living on Lillian remain in full force."
"Oh, as to that, Mr. Halliday, when the time comes, I can find arguments equally strong on the other side. To use one now, if you revenge my brother's death, no one will deny but what you have every right to marry his daughter and enjoy her income. That would be only fair. Well?"
"Well," echoed Dan dully, and reflected with his sad eyes on the carpet. Then he looked up anxiously. "Meanwhile, Lillian may marry Lord Curberry."
"Oh," said Sir John, coolly, "if you can't trust her-"
"He can trust her," cried the voice of the girl, herself, and the curtain of the folding doors was drawn quickly aside. "Lillian!" cried Dan, springing to his feet and opening his arms. Sir John saw his niece rush into those same arms and laughed. "H'm!" said he whimsically, "I quite forgot that the folding-doors into the next room were open. You have been listening." Lillian twisted herself in Dan's arms, but did not leave them, as she felt safe within that warm embrace. "Of course I have been listening," she cried scornfully; "as soon as I knew Dan was in the house, and in the library, I listened. I told Bolly that I was coming down to listen, and though she tried to prevent me, I came. Who has a better right to listen when all the conversation was about me, and remember I should have seen him first."
"Well," said her uncle unmoved, "it's no use arguing with you. A man's idea of honor and a woman's are quite opposed to one another. You heard. What have you to say?"
"I think you're horrid," snapped Lillian, in a schoolgirl manner, "as if my money mattered. I am quite willing to give it to you and marry Dan on what he has. It's better to love in a garret than to hate in a drawing-room."
"Quite epigrammatic," murmured Sir John cynically. "Well, my dear, I am much obliged to you for your fifty thousand a year offer, but I fancy what I have is enough for me. I never did care for millions, and always wondered why my late brother should wear himself out in obtaining them. I decline." "Whether you decline or not, I marry Dan," said Lillian hotly. "What does Dan say?" The young man disengaged himself. He had kept silent during the passage of arms between uncle and niece. "I say that I can trust Lillian to remain true to me for twelve months."
"For ever, for ever, for ever!" cried the girl, her face flaming and her eyes flashing; "but don't make any promise of letting our marriage depend upon finding the woman who murdered my poor father."
"Ah," said Sir John contemptuously, "you never loved your father, I see."
"How dare you say that?" flashed out the girl, panting with anger. "My dear, ask yourself," replied Moon patiently; "your father has been basely murdered. Yet you do not wish to avenge his death and prefer your own happiness to the fulfilment of a solemn duty. Of course," added Sir John, with a shrug, for he now knew what line of argument to take, "you can't trust yourself to be faithful for twelve months and-"
"I can trust myself to be faithful, and for twelve centuries, if necessary."
"No, no, no!" smiled Moon, shaking his head, "you prefer pleasure to duty. I see you love yourself more than you loved your father. Well," he rose and waved his hands with a gesture of dismissal, "go your ways, my dear, and marry Dan-you observe I call you 'Dan,' Mr. Halliday, since you are to become my nephew straight away. When is the wedding to be?"
"You consent?" cried Lillian opening her eyes widely. "I can't stop you," said Moon, still continuing his crafty diplomacy. "You will soon be of age and you can buy your husband at once, since you dare not risk a probation of twelve months."
"I can risk twelve years," retorted Lillian uneasily, for in a flash she understood how selfishly she was behaving, seeing that her father's assassin was still at large, "and to prove it-" she looked at Dan. He understood and spoke, although he had already made up his mind as to the best course to pursue. "To prove it," he said steadily, "we accept your proposal, Sir John. Lillian will wait twelve months, and during that time I shall search for the woman who murdered Sir Charles. If I don't find her-"
"Lillian marries Lord Curberry," said Moon quickly. "No," cried the girl defiantly; "that part of the agreement I decline to assent to. Twelve months or twelve years it may take before the truth comes to light, but I marry no one but Dan." Sir John reflected on the dangers of aviation and swiftly came to a conclusion. "We'll see at the end of the year," he said cautiously, "much may happen in that time."
"So long as Lillian's wedding to Curberry doesn't happen," said Dan obstinately, "I don't care. But it is understood that Lillian is not to be worried about the matter?"
"That depends upon what you and Lillian call worry," said Moon drily, "so far as I am concerned I shall not coerce her in any way. All I wish is the promise of you both that you will wait twelve months before taking any steps to marry. Meantime, you must not see too much of Lillian."
"Oh," cried the girl, indignantly, "you would push Dan out of my life."
"It's a test," explained Sir John, blinking nervously. "You will be in mourning for the next twelve months, and should see few people."
"Of whom Dan will be one," she flashed out. "Occasionally-very occasionally, you can see him, but, of course, if you can't trust yourself to be true without being continually reminded that Mr. Halliday exists, there is no more to be said."
"I can trust myself," muttered the girl uneasily. "And I can trust Lillian," said Dan, promptly and decisively. "It does not look like it since you always wish to see one another. And remember, Lillian, you owe it to your father's memory to put all thoughts of love, which is self, out of your heart until the mystery of his death is entirely solved."
"There is something in that," said Halliday thoughtfully and Lillian nodded; "but of course I can write to Lillian." "Occasionally," said the baronet again, "you must both be tested by a year's separation, with a meeting or a letter every now and then. Duty must be the keynote of the twelve months and not pleasure. Well?" The lovers looked at one another and sighed. The terms were hard, but not so hard as Sir John might have made them. Still both the boy and the girl-they were little else-recognized that their duty was to the dead. Afterwards pleasure would be theirs. Silently they accepted and silently adjusted the situation. "We agree!" said the two almost simultaneously. "Very good," said Moon, rubbing his hands, "how do you intend to begin your search for the missing woman, Mr. Halliday?"
"I don't know," murmured Dan, miserably. "Neither do I," rejoined Sir John with great amiability. "Come to tea?" And to tea the lovers went as to a funeral feast. But Sir John rejoiced.
CHAPTER IV
AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE
Dan left the Mayfair house very mournfully, feeling that Sir John was indeed master of the situation. By a skilful appeal to the generous emotions of youth, to the boy's honor and to the girl's affections, he had procured a respite of twelve months, during which time the lovers could do nothing, bound as they were by silken threads. This would give Curberry time to push his suit, and there was always a chance that Dan would come to grief in one of his aerial trips in which case Lillian would certainly be driven to