The Mandarin's Fan

The ball was the best of the Marport season, as the Glorious Golfers were a body of young men with plenty of money and a great love of amusement.

The vast apartments of the Bristol were thrown open, and decked with flowers; an Irish Band, – The Paddies, – was engaged from London, and many people came down from the great city to be present.

It was a perfect night when the ball was held, and the terrace on the first floor of the hotel, or to speak more properly the balcony, was thronged with people.

It looked very pretty, as it was filled with tropical ferns and plants and trees, illuminated with Chinese lanterns and made comfortable with numerous arm chairs, and plenty of small marble-topped tables.

Between the dances, people finding the rooms too warm, came out to walk in the night air. There was no moon, but the night was starry and warm, and a soft luminous light was reflected on sea and land. Standing under the great fern-trees and amidst the fairy lights, the guests could survey with pleasure the vast waste of water stretching towards the clear horizon, and see the long pier glittering with innumerable lights. Needless to say, the terrace was much frequented by amorous couples.

Within, the ball-room, gay with flowers and draperies, with a waxed floor and many electric light in coloured globes, looked very pretty. The band was hidden behind a lofty floral screen, and played the latest seductive waltzes, interspersed with inspiriting barn-dances and quaint cake-walks. The women were lovely, and the dresses perfect, so the young men enjoyed themselves not a little. Rupert was present, looking handsome in his evening dress, but rather flushed and anxious. He was not sure if Miss Wharf would come, in which case Olivia would not be present. And, if the old maid did recover sufficiently to make her appearance, she would perhaps refuse to allow him to dance with the girl.

However Miss Wharf did appear though at a somewhat late hour. She was gowned in pale blue and looked very handsome, if somewhat stout. Olivia's dark beauty revealed itself in a primrose-hued dress, and Miss Pewsey looked more like a witch than ever in a black frock glittering with jet. This was the gift of Miss Wharf, as poor Miss Pewsey would never have been able to indulge in such extravagance. At the back and in attendance on the Ivy Lodge party, were Clarence Burgh and Dr. Forge. The buccaneer looked picturesque and dashing as usual and was dressed very quietly for one of his flamboyant tastes, though he showed to disadvantage beside the perfection of Rupert's garb. Forge wore a suit which might have been made for his grandfather, and which fitted his lank form ill. The doctor looked less his cool self, than was usually the case. His parchment face was flushed and his melancholy eyes glittered as they roved round the brilliant room. Rupert wondered if he was looking for Tung-yu, and glanced round the room himself to see if the Chinaman had arrived in Chris Walker's company. But he could not perceive him.

Putting his fortune to the test, and having come to no open rupture with the lady, Rupert boldly walked up to Miss Wharf and offered his hand. She gave him rather a peculiar look and coloured a little. But to his secret satisfaction she received him very kindly. Olivia took her husband's greeting with a quiet smile, rather cold, as she knew well Miss Pewsey was watching her face. As to that lady, she hovered round the group like an ugly old fairy, about to weave the spell.

"And where is the Major?" asked Miss Pewsey in her emphatic way, "surely he is present on this occasion."

"I am sorry to say that the Major is laid up with a bad cold," said Rupert. "I have just been to see him. He is not coming."

"A cold spoils his beauty," tittered Miss Pewsey, "dear me, how very vain that man is."

"A cold has not spoilt Miss Wharf's beauty at all events," said Ainsleigh, seeing his way to a compliment. "I never saw you look so well," he added with a bow.

"Thanks to Lavinia's nursing," laughed the lady. "Olivia can you keep still while that delicious music is playing. I'm sure Mr. Burgh – "

"I think Miss Rayner is engaged to me," put in Rupert promptly.

Miss Wharf tapped him on the shoulder with the very fan, about which there had been so much talk. "No I can't spare you," she said amiably. "I want to chat with you. Olivia?"

The girl exchanged a look with her husband and saw that his eyes were fastened on the fan. Resolved to give him a chance of talking to her aunt about it, she moved away on the arm of the buccaneer to join in the whirling throng. Forge offered his arm to Miss Pewsey, not to dance, but to escort her on to the terrace, and so it came about that aunt Sophia and Rupert were left alone in a quiet corner of the room.

Miss Wharf cast a side glance at the young man and seeing how handsome and gay he was, she heaved a sigh. Perhaps she was thinking of his father whom she had loved dearly, but if so, the emotion was only momentary, for she compressed her lips and drew herself up stiffly. "Mr. Ainsleigh," she said, "you never come to see me now. How is that?"

"I thought you did not wish to see me," said Rupert frankly.

"Oh yes I do. Your father was an old friend of mine, and for his sake I wish to be kind to you."

Rupert saw that she was unaware that he had met Olivia secretly, and had heard the story of the early romance. It was not wise, he thought, to bring up the subject, so he met her on her own ground. "You can be very kind to me if you wish," he said casting a significant glance on Olivia who floated past with Burgh.

Miss Wharf followed his gaze and frowned, shaking her head. "No," she said severely, "you must give up the idea of marrying Olivia."

"I can't do that," replied Rupert, thinking of his secret marriage, "and I don't see why you should refuse to let me love her."

"I can't prevent that," snapped Miss Wharf, "love her as much as you choose, but as another man's wife," and again she looked oddly at Rupert, who wondered what she meant.

"What an immoral remark," he said, "perhaps you will explain."

"Mr. Ainsleigh I will be frank with you," said the lady calmly, "you have no money, and are liable to lose Royabay. I hold a mortgage it is true and by the end of the year I can foreclose; but that, I shall not do if you give up Olivia. If I foreclose, you know well enough that your other creditors will come down on you, and you will lose all. I hold the scales," added she significantly.

"I see that well enough Miss Wharf, but many things may happen before the end of the year."

"You mean that you will get the money to pay me and others?"

"I might even mean that," answered Rupert coolly, "and if I am a bad match, I don't think Mr. Burgh is a better. I have at least a position and a clean name."

"What do you know about Clarence Burgh?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing, save that he is an adventurer, Miss Wharf. He comes from no-where, and swaggers about Marport as if it belonged to him. He has no recognised position and he is not a gentleman."

"Oh but he is, and I want him to marry Olivia."

"And thus you would condemn Olivia to misery. She loves me – "

"A girl's love," said Miss Wharf coolly, "she'll soon get over that. Mr. Burgh is Lavinia's nephew, and I have promised Lavinia that Olivia shall be his wife."

"Why in heaven's name?" asked Rupert angrily, "he has no money."

"Oh yes he has, and may have a chance of getting more. Lavinia has been a good friend to me for years and years – all my life in fact, Mr. Ainsleigh. I owe much to her, and I intend to repay her. Her heart is set on this match and Olivia must marry Clarence."

"Olivia shall not."

"Olivia shall. I set my will against yours Mr. Ainsleigh."

"You'll find my will is stronger," said Rupert coolly.

Miss Wharf gave a short laugh. "Try," she said curtly; then her hard eyes softened and her cold manner grew warmer. "Don't let us quarrel," she said gently. "I wish you well, and would give you anything save Olivia – "

"Which is the only thing I want."

"How rude of you to call Olivia a 'thing,'" said the woman lightly, "you may make up your mind that if you marry her, I shall leave my money to Miss Pewsey."

"Do so. I don't want your money."

"Five hundred a year is not enough," sneered Miss Wharf, "but I may have more. What do you say to five thousand – "

"Oh," interrupted Rupert coolly, "so Olivia has told you about the fan – or perhaps Miss Pewsey."

"It was Olivia. I believe Clarence Burgh told her. This fan," Miss Wharf unfurled the article, "means five thousand pounds – "

"Or a cut throat," said Rupert quickly.

"Pah! how foolish you are, as though such a thing could happen in England. Were we in China I admit that I should be afraid to keep this fan; but as it is I am perfectly safe. See here, Mr. Ainsleigh," she added bending towards him, "if you will give up Olivia I will give you this fan and you can get the money to pay off your creditors."

"No," said Rupert at once. "I need thirty thousand, not five. And even if you were to give me the thirty thousand I need, I would not sell Olivia for that sum."

"Look at the fan first," said Miss Wharf and gave it to him.

Rupert's nerves thrilled as he took the dainty trifle in his hand. So much had been said about it, so much hung on it, of the meaning of which he was ignorant, that he could not look at it without feeling the drama it represented. Balzac's remark about killing a Mandarin in China to obtain a fortune, occurred to his mind. This fan dainty and fragile, might cost the life of such a Mandarin. It all depended into whose hands it fell.

The fan was exactly as the advertisement described. On one side the pale green sticks were enamelled and smooth; on the other thin slivers of jade covered the wood, and were inscribed in quaint Chinese characters in gold. The handle was of gold, and therefrom hung a thick cord of yellow silk, with four beads and half a bead thereon. Three beads and the half one were of jade, but the remaining ball was of jasper. What these might mean Rupert could not understand, but apparently they were connected with the secret of the fan, whatever that might be. Certainly, whatever its significance, the secret dealt with the life of Lo-Keong, with the life of Dr. Forge, and with the life of Miss Wharf, seeing she now possessed the article. All the time Rupert furled and unfurled the fan, admiring its beauty, she kept her cold eyes on him. "Think," she whispered, "five thousand pounds may gain you a few months respite – you may be able to save the Abbey."

Rupert shook his head. "If I lose Olivia I don't care about keeping Royabay. It can be sold up and I'll go abroad to the Colonies to work for my living."

"Without Olivia."

"No. With Olivia. Nothing will buy her from me."

Miss Wharf finding all her arts fail, snatched the fan from him, and bit her lip. Her eyes flashed, and she seemed on the point of making some remark, but refrained. "Very good, Mr. Ainsleigh," said she. "I'll see what I can do with Olivia. You have ruined her."

"What do you mean by that, Miss Wharf."

"You'll find out my friend," she replied clenching the fan fiercely. "Oh, I am not so blind, or so ignorant as you think me."

Ainsleigh turned crimson. He wondered if by any chance she had heard of the marriage, and it was on the tip of his tongue to put a leading question to Miss Wharf, when Chris Walker came up. He was not alone. With him was a small Chinaman with the impassive face of the Celestial. Tung-yu – as Rupert guessed he was – wore a gorgeous yellow gown, with a kind of blue silk blouse over it. His feet were encased in thick Chinese shoes wonderfully embroidered and his pig-tail was down. Several ladies cast avaricious looks at these gorgeous vestments, and especially at the blouse, which was heavy with dragons woven in gold thread. In his thin yellow hand with long finger-nails, Tung-yu held a small ivory fan, and he stood impassively before Miss Wharf, not even casting a look at the fan in her hand, which he was prepared to buy at such a large price.

"This is Mr. Tung-yu," said Chris boyishly. "He wants to meet you, Miss Wharf. He admires English ladies."

"I fear I can't speak his language, Chris."

"He can speak ours to perfection," said Walker.

Tung-yu bowed politely and spoke in admirably chosen English. "I was at Cambridge," he said calmly, "and I know of your Western culture. If you will permit me, madam." He took a seat beside Miss Wharf.

Chris, seeing his friend well established looked around. "Where is Miss Rayner?" he asked. "Oh there she is – the dance is over."

And so it was. The dancers were streaming out on to the balcony and the room was almost empty. Burgh, with Olivia on his arm, came towards Miss Wharf, and Chris hurried forward to ask Miss Rayner for a dance. But quick as he was, Rupert was quicker. He had seen his wife dance with one admirer, and was not going to let her dance with another. "Miss Rayner is engaged to me," he said, and offered his arm with a defiant look at Burgh, to whom he had not been introduced.

Burgh showed no disposition to let Olivia go, and scowled. But his eye fell on the Chinaman seated by Miss Wharf, and he suddenly moved away. It seemed to Rupert that the buccaneer was afraid. Chris remained to protest, but Ainsleigh ended the matter by abruptly taking Olivia out of the room. Miss Wharf frowned when she saw them depart and opened her mouth, as though to call Olivia back. But on second thoughts she contented herself with another frown and then turned to speak to Tung-yu. "I have heard of you," she said.

"From my friend, Mr. Walker," said the polite Chinaman.

"Oh yes, and from someone else, through a third party. I heard of your advertisement – "

"What advertisement?" asked Tung-yu.

"About this fan," and Miss Wharf waved it under Tung-yu's narrow eyes, which did not change their expression of indifference.

"I do not understand, Madam!"

The lady looked astonished. "Why. Didn't you advertise for the fan?"

Tung-yu permitted himself to smile. "Who told you I did?" he asked.

"Mr Ainsleigh, who left just now, told a friend of mine, who told me," said Miss Wharf. "I understood you wished to possess this fan."

"No," said Tung-yu indifferently, "the advertisement was placed in the paper, by a compatriot of mine called Hwei. He asked me to see anyone who called about it, as he was engaged. I saw Mr Ainsleigh and told him what he told your friend. You must apply to Hwei."

"And have my life taken," said Miss Wharf with a shudder.

This time the Chinaman was not able to suppress a start. "I do not quite understand, Madam?" he reflected.

"Oh, yes, you do, Mr Tung-yu. Hwei would murder me to get this fan. I prefer to sell it to you for five thousand pounds."

The Chinaman's face became impassive again, though his eyes looked surprised. "I assure you, this is quite wrong, Madam. My friend Hwei wants the fan, because it belongs to a Mandarin who received it as a gift from his dead wife. So dearly does this Mandarin prize it, that he is willing to buy it at any price."

"Even five thousand pounds?"

"I believe so. This Mandarin is rich." He turned his narrow eyes again on the lady. "Did the person who said that Hwei would go as far as crime, tell you the Mandarin's name?"

"No. Who is the Mandarin?"

"I fear I cannot tell you madam. Hwei did not tell me. If you like I will bring him to you."

Miss Wharf hesitated. Her avarice was aroused by the hope of getting rid of a trifle for five thousand pounds but she did not wish to risk herself alone with a blood-thirsty celestial. "If you will come also," she said, hesitating.

Tung-yu reflected. "Madam, I will be plain with you," he said gravely, "as I am here, I can act on behalf of my friend Hwei – but to-morrow."

Miss Wharf tendered the fan. "Why not take it to-night and give me a cheque," she said quickly.

"To-morrow," replied the Chinaman, rising and bowing politely, "I will call on you, if you will permit me. Mr. Walker will show me the way. I will then arrange to buy the fan at a price to which you will not object. Meanwhile – " he bowed again and gravely departed.

Miss Wharf, rather annoyed and surprised by this behaviour, looked round for Miss Pewsey, to whom she was accustomed to tell everything. The little woman appeared at that moment pushing her way through the crowd in a state of excitement. "Oh, Sophia!" she said, throwing herself down. "Oh, Sophia."

"What's the matter?" asked Miss Wharf coldly.

"I might ask you," said Miss Pewsey, parrying the question, "you look so upset, my Sophia."

"It is with pleasure then," said the old maid, dryly, "I have arranged to sell this fan to-morrow for five thousand pounds."

"Oh," Miss Pewsey clasped her hand, "What joy; you will be able to add to your income. But, Sophia, I really can't keep it any longer. That Major Tidman – "

"Well. What about him?"

"Mr. Ainsleigh said he had a cold and was confined to his room. I went up to see, as I don't trust that Major a bit. He's so wicked. I went to his room, and peeped in. Sophia," added Miss Pewsey in a tragic manner. "He is not there – the room is empty!"

CHAPTER IX

The End of the Ball

Miss Wharf looked at her excited little friend with an indulgent smile. "Really I don't see why you should trouble," she said with a smile. "Let the Major do what he likes."

"He's up to some mischief," persisted the old maid, "and I'd like to find out what it is. He is supposed to be keeping his room, because of a cold, and I find he is not in. People with colds," added the lady, impressively, "do not go into the night air."

"How do you know Major Tidman has?"

"Because he would be at the ball, were he in the hotel. I shall ask Clarence to see what he is doing."

"Why?" asked Miss Wharf, puzzled.

"Because – oh, just because," replied Miss Pewsey, tossing her head in a sharp way, like the Red Queen in Alice's Adventures. "But the fan, dearest Sophia? – Can't I take charge of it?"

Miss Wharf grasped the fan tighter. "No, certainly not. It is worth five thousand pounds."

"And perhaps more," said Miss Pewsey. "Remember, dearest Sophia, that is the sum offered, but you might ask more. It is very important that this Mandarin should get the fan back. Dr. Forge told me."

"Why is it important?"

"Theophilus didn't tell me that, but he said that this Mandarin – I quite forget his queer name – would give even more than five thousand to get it back."

"His emissary didn't seem very anxious to buy."

"Oh, that is craft," rejoined Miss Pewsey, tossing her head. "The Chinese are very double, Theophilus says."

"I don't think so, Lavinia. I would have sold this fan for a few pounds had I not known such a large sum was offered. Tung-yu is not a good business man, or else the Mandarin must be a millionaire."

"He is – he is. I wish you would let me conduct the business, and do let me take the fan?"

"No, I shall keep it."

"Sophia," said Miss Pewsey, solemnly, "that is dangerous. Rupert Ainsleigh hates you and needs money; he might kill you to get that fan, and sell it for five – "

"Nonsense. I cannot be murdered in a house full of people like this. I know another Chinaman hints at murder – you told me so – "

"Olivia told me to tell you," put in the little woman, quickly.

"Well, Hwei isn't here, and I'll sell the fan to Tung-yu to-morrow."

Miss Pewsey would have said more, but at this moment Dr. Forge approached, with a crooked elbow and a dreary smile. "Allow me to take you into supper, Miss Wharf."

"Certainly," she rose and took the arm. "I am really hungry. Lavinia?"

"I shall look for Clarence. I must find out what has become of Major Tidman," and the old maid hurried away while the doctor escorted Miss Wharf to the supper-room.

Clarence was not drinking at the buffet, though his aunt went there to find him as the most likely place. Nor was he in the ball-room, although a new dance had begun. She could not see him in the card-room, but finally ran him to earth on the terrace, where he was leaning against a tree-fern with folded arms and with his wicked black eyes fixed on a couple some distance away. Miss Pewsey followed his gaze and her eyes also flashed, for she beheld Rupert talking with Olivia. Both their heads were bent, and they conversed earnestly. The little woman hated Olivia and detested Rupert, so the sight was gall and worm-wood to her. "Why don't you ask her to dance?" she demanded, touching her nephew's arm.

"Because there would only be a row," he rejoined sullenly. "I feel inclined to spoil that chap's looks I can tell you."

"Do you really love the girl, so?"

"Yes I do. I'd give anything to marry her, and I shall too."

"There's not the slightest chance. Ainsleigh will not surrender her I can tell you."

"Then why did you make me waste that fan."

"You didn't waste it on her," said Miss Pewsey coldly, "she refused to take it like a fool, and now Sophia has it, there is no chance of getting it back. Had I known the fan was of such value, you wouldn't have caught me advising you to part with it. If you knew what this Hwei said, why didn't you tell me the fan was valuable."

"I did not see Hwei until I had parted with the fan," said Clarence crossly, "and we can do nothing now."

"You are not so bold as Major Tidman," she whispered.

"What's that?" asked the buccaneer sharply.

"He's not in his room," rejoined Miss Pewsey in a low voice, "he pretends illness, to carry out his plan to get the fan."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Tung-yu is in the hotel. The Major will try and get the fan to sell it to him."

"In that case he would have come to the ball and have seen Miss Wharf to get it from her."

"No. He has some other plan. What it is I don't know. But I wish you would look round for him, Clarence, and watch him."

"Bah! It's all stuff." Burgh turned to look at the sea and the pier and the luminous night. "I'm getting sick of this business," he went on discontentedly, "and but for the chance of gaining Olivia, I would bunk out on the long trail. There's a barky out there," he continued pointing to the right of the pier, "yonder – the one with the green light. I saw her anchor early in the afternoon – a kind of gentleman's yacht I fancy. She'd just do for me. I'd like to take a boat and pull out to her and then get up steam for the South Seas. There's a clear path leads there, down channel," and he stared at the flickering green light which winked amongst many red ones.

"You'll never get Olivia," said Miss Pewsey, in a sharp tense voice, "and you can go away as soon as you like. Meantime, look for Major Tidman and tell him I want him."

Clarence lazily stretched himself, and moved off along the balcony. At the end there was a flight of shallow steps leading down to an iron gate which was open. Thence one could pass to the Esplanade and the beach, if so inclined. But the guests kept to the populous end of the balcony where the lights clustered. Near the stairs, there were hardly any lamps, and a screen of flowers curtained it off from the rest of the hotel. Clarence passed through this floral arch, and Miss Pewsey lost sight of him. Her eyes turned to the couple she hated, and she carelessly moved near them. No one noted her as the balcony was not so full, and she sat down behind a fern where she could hear without being seen by the two, she was spying on. Their voices were low, but hate sharpened Miss Pewsey's ears, and she listened intently.

"My aunt is much more amiable to-night," Olivia was saying, "I suppose the chance of making five thousand pounds has appealed to her."

"She gave me the chance of making it, provided I gave you up," said Rupert, "and she lost her temper with me because I declined."

"Will you never be friends with her?"

"I fear not, while Miss Pewsey is in the way," said Rupert. "Olivia, it is that woman who makes all the mischief."

"I think it is," replied the girl with a weary smile, "but she seems to have a kind of hypnotic power over my aunt – "

"What do you mean?"

"Aunt Sophia has bad headaches and Miss Pewsey sometimes hypnotises her to send away the pain."

"Miss Wharf is foolish to allow her to do such a thing. That little woman is no more to be trusted than her scamp of a nephew is."