The Secret of the Tower

The Secret of the Tower

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Secret of the Tower, by Hope,
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Title: The Secret of the Tower
Author: Hope, Anthony
Release Date: November 17, 2003 [EBook #10057]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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THE SECRET OF THE TOWER
BY ANTHONY HOPE
1919

AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER OF ZENDA," "RUPERT OF
HENTZAU," ETC.

CONTENTS
I. DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST
II. THE GENERAL REMEMBERS
III. MR. SAFFRON AT HOME
IV. PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE
V. A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT
VI. ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE!
VII. A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER
VIII. CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE
IX. DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM
X. THAT MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO!
XI. THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES
XII. THE SECRET OF THE TOWER
XIII. RIGHT OF CONQUEST
XIV. THE SCEPTER IN THE GRAVE
XV. A NORMAL CASE
XVI. DEAD MAJESTY
XVII. THE CHIEF MOURNERS

XVIII. THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE
CHAPTER I
DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST
"Just in time, wasn't it?" asked Mary Arkroyd.
"Two days before the--the ceremony! Mercifully it had all been kept
very quiet, because it was only three months since poor Gilly was
killed. I forget whether you ever met Gilly? My half-brother, you
know?"
"Only once--in Collingham Gardens. He had an exeat, and dashed in
one Saturday morning when we were just finishing our work. Don't you
remember?"
"Yes, I think I do. But since my engagement I'd gone into colors. Oh,
of course I've gone back into mourning now! And everything was
ready--settlements and so on, you know. And rooms taken at
Bournemouth. And then it all came out!"
"How?"
"Well, Eustace--Captain Cranster, I mean. Oh, I think he really must
have had shell-shock, as he said, even though the doctor seemed to
doubt it! He gave the Colonel as a reference in some shop, and--and the
bank wouldn't pay the check. Other checks turned up, too, and in the
end the police went through his papers, and found letters from--well,
from her, you know. From Bogota. South America, isn't it? He'd lived
there ten years, you know, growing something--beans, or coffee, or
coffee-beans, or something--I don't know what. He tried to say the
marriage wasn't binding, but the Colonel--wasn't it providential that the
Colonel was home on leave? Mamma could never have grappled with it!
The Colonel was sure it was, and so were the lawyers."
"What happened then?"

"The great thing was to keep it quiet. Now, wasn't it? And there was the
shell-shock--or so Eustace--Captain Cranster, I mean--said, anyhow. So,
on the Colonel's advice, Mamma squared the check business and--and
they gave him twenty-four hours to clear out. Papa--I call the Colonel
Papa, you know, though he's really my stepfather--used a little
influence, I think. Anyhow it was managed. I never saw him again,
Mary."
"Poor dear! Was it very bad?"
"Yes! But--suppose we had been married! Mary, where should I have
been?"
Mary Arkroyd left that problem alone. "Were you very fond of him?"
she asked.
"Awfully!" Cynthia turned up to her friend pretty blue eyes suffused in
tears. "It was the end of the world to me. That there could be such men!
I went to bed. Mamma could do nothing with me. Oh, well, she wrote
to you about all that."
"She told me you were in a pretty bad way."
"I was just desperate! Then one day--in bed--the thought of you came.
It seemed an absolute inspiration. I remembered the card you sent on
my last birthday--you've never forgotten my birthdays, though it's years
since we met--with your new address here--and your 'Doctor,' and all
the letters after your name! I thought it rather funny." A faint smile, the
first since Miss Walford's arrival at Inkston, probably the first since
Captain Eustace Cranster's shell-shock had wrought
catastrophe--appeared on her lips. "How I waited for your answer! You
don't mind having me, do you, dear? Mamma insisted on suggesting the
P.G. arrangement. I was afraid you'd shy at it."
"Not a bit! I should have liked to have you anyhow, but I can make you
much more comfortable with the P.G. money. And your maid too--she
looks as if she was accustomed to the best! By the way, need she be
quite so tearful? She's more tearful than you are yourself."

"Jeanne's very, very fond of me," Cynthia murmured reproachfully.
"Oh, well get her out of that," said Mary briskly. "The tears, I mean,
not