Unknown (16 page)

“No, no, my boy, nothing,” Captain Franks disclaimed quickly, but from then on his eyes never left Martin’s face.

“Well, Martin agreed to do this, the miniature was put into a leather case and he went off to his ship with it in his pocket. He put it in the locked box in which he kept his own few private belongings and more or less forgot all about it until, nearing England, he had occasion to go to the box, and seeing the little leather case, opened it and took out the miniature. While he held it in his hand one of the crew came into his cabin with a message from the Captain. He hurriedly put the miniature back, locked the box and went on deck. End of Chapter One.”

“At a gamble, a Polwyn or a Prosser," Anthony remarked thoughtfully.

“Prosser,” Martin paid with a grin. “Abel Prosser. Well, my namesake didn’t attach much importance to the incident until they put into Falmouth, their first port of call. When it was time to sail for Fairhaven, Martin was told that Abel Prosser was still ashore. He knew, of course, that the reason might be that the man was too drunk to get himself aboard, but all the same, he was uneasy. Just how much has the man seen in his cabin? And if it was more that Martin liked to think, what was he going to do about it? Margin suggested that he should take a couple of men and go ashore to hunt Abel up, but the Captain refused. The wind was in the right quarter for them to continue their trip, and in any case, Prosser was no loss. A quarrelsome fellow whom none of his mates liked. So they set sail, and not very long after ran into trouble. A heavy sea was running, the legacy of a storm which was even then blowing itself out. Indeed, quite suddenly, the wind dropped and before very long, mist formed. The Captain, a Fairhaven man, bragged that he knew this piece of coast like the pack of his hand, but Martin, himself uneasy, was convinced that it was only a show of confidence on the Captain’s part put on to reassure the men—”

“This is a very long story—” Mrs. Trevose said plaintively, glancing down at her watch.

“But a very interesting one, don’t you think, my dear?” Captain Franks said gently, laying his hand over hers.

Mrs. Trevose gave a little shrug which suggested that she didn’t agree, but she raised no further objection, and Fenella noticed that she didn’t remove her hand.

“By this time,” Martin went on just as if he hadn’t heard the interruption, “the mist was erratic, sometimes lifting momentarily only to descend even more thickly so that it was impossible to see the shore at all. Then once again it lifted and the Captain gave a shout as they saw quite clearly two lanterns ashore. Course was altered and they turned to enter what they believed was Fairhaven harbour. But it wasn’t. It was the wreckers’ false lights, and before they could do anything about it they were on the rocks—”

More than one of his listeners gave a gasp of horror, but Fenella said under her breath:

“So that’s how you knew for sure that they were out that night—”

“That’s how,” Martin confirmed. “Well, my namesake was lucky. He was on deck when the crash came, and he was thrown clear overboard. He was a strong swimmer, but in the sea that was running and with a fairly heavy money belt round his waist, he wasn’t making much headway. He believed, in fact, that he would have drowned if someone hadn’t waded out waist high and helped him. Even so, he collapsed on the beach —and that, you might say, is the end of Chapter Two!” Mrs. Trevose stood up.

“I think, if you don’t mind, we’ll go indoors for the rest of the story,” she suggested. “I find it somewhat chilly—” and she led the way to the house.

There was really no choice but to follow her, although Martin, for one, regretted the move. Out in the garden there had been no possibility of anyone overhearing the conversation. Indoors, he couldn’t be so sure, particularly as Mrs. Trevose told Fenella to draw the curtains of the long, open French windows to keep out the midges.

There was a further delay while Anthony poured out drinks. Then Martin went on:

“The next thing he remembered was being in a very small cave, lying on a bed of dry seaweed. By the light of one dim candle he could see that a very lovely dark-haired girl was bending over him. She told him that her name was Elizabeth Trefusis—”

“Ah!” Anthony said with satisfaction. “Betrothed to Ebenezer Prosser although she detested him!”

“That’s the girl,” Martin agreed. “Ebenezer had got some hold over her father and she was the price of him holding his tongue. She also told him that the cave they were in was reached from a bigger, outer one by a short, sloping passage so that though the outer one was flooded at high tide, the inner one wasn’t."

“Oh!” Fenella exclaimed, turning to Rosemary. "
Our
cave! The one where you said the Lame Mermaid lived!”

Rosemary nodded without speaking as if Martin’s knowledge of the little cave didn’t surprise her. And Martin went on:

“Elizabeth had discovered it some years previously and had made it her special retreat, equipping it with a few bare essentials. She told him that she believed he would be safe here because the entry was so well hidden and so narrow that, so far as she knew, none of the local men were aware of it, a supposition which was confirmed by the fact that she had never found any signs of her little stores having been disturbed, Martin, not unnaturally, wanted to inform on the wreckers, but Elizabeth, partly, no doubt, out of loyalty to her own people, but largely out of fear, convinced him that if any of the wreckers learned that he was alive or of her part in his rescue, their chance of survival was slight. So they waited a day or two in the hope that any suspicion there had been of there being survivors might have died down.”

“A romantic situation,” Anthony commented. “Judging by subsequent events, it must have been,” Martin agreed. “Elizabeth was determined not to marry Prosser who had, she knew, been prime mover over the wrecking, so she went with Martin across country until they reached Falmouth. There Martin signed on another ship sailing next day for America and Elizabeth got the job of attendant to the Captain’s wife who was sailing with him. It was only when they had left port that Martin realised that the miniature, which he had always carried on him since Abel Prosser’s desertion, had somehow got left behind in the cave. Of course, there was nothing he could do to recover it, and worst of all, he’d forgotten the address of the people to whom it was to be delivered, although he remembered their name.”

“And the name was—?” Captain Franks asked eagerly.

Martin smiled.

“The same as yours, Captain! Franks. I gather you know something about this end of the story?”

“Not a great deal,” the Captain explained. “That such a miniature was sent, yes. The sender wrote a separate letter which was to have introduced Martin Adair—I can’t tell you how interested I was when I heard of
your
presence in Fairhaven, Mr. Adair! Many times I was on the point of asking you—however, I mustn’t digress like this. This letter was given to the captain of another ship which was expected to make better time than
Nimrod
would. Of course, your namesake never turned up, and it was concluded that he had been drowned with the rest of the men. I still have that letter and a note on it that it was acknowledged and the situation explained. To that, a further note recorded that no answer was received.” He looked enquiringly at Martin.

“No—for a very good reason,” Martin said regretfully. “When my ancestor reached America he took the first opportunity of going to see his friend to tell him what had happened. To his horror, he found that the family, and, indeed, practically the whole community had been wiped out in an epidemic of fever—typhoid, probably. So there was nothing he could do except write his account and hope that some time in the future one of his family might come to Fairhaven and look for the miniature—as my grandfather did as an American serviceman in the 14-18 War and as my father did in the Second World War.”

“And as you have done now,” Fenella murmured softly.

“As I’ve done now,” Martin confirmed. “And once again—without result.”

“So what has happened to it?” Anthony asked the question that was in everybody’s mind.

“I think, most likely, it was found many years ago,” Martin said consideringly. “And that whoever found it kept it—and their own counsel. I think that’s borne out by the interest that my name obviously aroused in other people than Captain Franks. Clearly I was suspected of coming here in the hope of getting what the local people have come to regard as theirs. Someone even suspected that I’d already got hold of it—hence the attack—” and he put his hand up to the back of his head with a rueful gesture.

“So now there are two problems,” Anthony said slowly. “Who has got it—and who hit you over the head?”

“That’s about it,” Martin agreed. “And the only thing one can say for certain is that it can’t be one and the same person who fits both bills. No, there’s one other thing. The police told me yesterday that they’re satisfied Tom Polwyn wasn’t my attacker. He’s got an alibi— On that particular day and at that particular time he was in Lostwithiel.”

“Who says so?” Anthony asked quickly, and Martin grinned.

“Someone who, so I’m told, always tells the truth, however disagreeable. Miss Prosser!”

“Oh!” Mrs. Trevose said slowly. “If it was anyone else—but you’re right, Mr. Adair, she is truthful.” She frowned and then went on in a puzzled way: “There’s one thing I don’t understand. No doubt it was a very charming miniature and had some value even beyond that of sentiment, but not, surely, sufficient to account for all the violence it appears to have caused. That is, if I am right in thinking that Mr. Adair is implying that Abel Prosser deserted so that he could get back to Fairhaven in time to tell his kinsman that
Nimrod
would be worth wrecking because of the miniature?”

“That’s how my namesake reasoned,” Martin agreed, watching her intelligent face with interest. He was fully aware of the opposition to him and to his intrusion into her family circle that Mrs. Trevose felt, but that didn’t prevent him from appreciating her very evident brains.

Mrs. Trevose shook her head.

“To me it doesn’t make sense,” she announced.

“Not if you’re thinking just in terms of the miniature,” Martin said softly. “But when I tell you that the frame was made of gold and that it was closely set with good sized diamonds—then it makes sense, don’t you think?”

“Diamonds!
” Just the sound of the word conjured up a picture in the mind’s eye of their liquid, sparkling beauty and for several moments no one could find anything to say. Then Anthony broke the silence.

“Worth goodness knows how many thousands of pounds,” he said slowly, speaking the thoughts of all of them. “And diamonds have never lost their value—in fact, if they’re good stones, they must represent a young fortune! ”

“But what an odd thing to do,” Mrs. Trevose said critically. “I mean, the miniature was surely sent for its sentimental value, the appeal that the mother and her baby would make to the grandparents. And then, to surround them in that flamboyant way with masses of diamonds—it wasn’t only in very bad taste, it was also, surely, very foolish, because it must have been a distraction from the picture—”

“Oh, but don’t you see, Aunt Gina, while we can’t know why the girl’s parents didn’t approve of the marriage, it could so well have been because he wasn’t as well-to-do as they thought their daughter’s husband ought to be. And even if it wasn’t in very good taste, I think it was awfully human of him to want to show his wife’s parents that not only could he afford to keep her and their baby in great comfort, but that there was enough left over to make them a very extravagant gift! He must have worked very hard—”

Mrs. Trevose shrugged her shoulders.

“Possibly—or just lucky! But whichever it was, it didn’t do the girl much good, did it? She died, which wasn’t very surprising seeing that living conditions even though superficially luxurious, were no doubt primitive.”

“So they were in this country in those days, Mrs. Trevose," Rosemary reminded her. “She might quite likely have met with the same fate if she had remained at home with her parents."

“That could have been so, of course, in those days," Mrs. Trevose admitted coldly. “But not now, one is thankful to know!"

“Just as one is also thankful to know that modem science can protect one even in otherwise dangerous conditions," Captain Franks put in quietly, and stood up. “Well, young man, I’ve been completely enthralled with your story. You've cleared up so many of our family mysteries tonight. And how my old father would have enjoyed hearing it all! But you haven’t quite finished it, have you?"

“Not quite, sir," Martin agreed as he, too, stood up. “But the rest is of more interest to my family than to anyone else. Martin and Elizabeth were married by the Captain before they reached America. For a time they were separated, she to work in the house of a wealthy settler, he on some new development project—roads, I think. One way and another, he did quite well, and eventually became his own boss and built a delightful home for himself and his family. Their great-great-grandson was the Adair who fought in the First World War, and his son, my father, fought in the Second. He married an English girl and settled over here—in Hampshire, actually, where I've lived most of my life. And that's about all, except that I’d give a lot to be able to find that miniature and hand it over to you, Captain Franks. Somehow I feel that old Martin would rest more easily in his grave if that was done!”

“Yes, perhaps he would,” Captain Franks looked at the younger man in a very kindly way. “But don’t go taking risks trying to find it. We don’t want another unpleasant incident like the last! Well, I must be getting along. Thanks for a very enjoyable evening, Anthony— and you, my dear!” with a odd, jerky little bow to Mrs. Trevose. And then, to Rosemary: “Can I give you a lift home, Rosemary?”

“That's very kind of you, Franks, but as a matter of fact, I'm taking Rosemary home myself," Anthony interposed before she could speak for herself.